Tick, tick, tick. The sound of the clock was the only noise in the room. A thin boy with raven black hair sat at his desk, tapping his pen against a book. The boy looked up at the clock in annoyance. That ticking really was obnoxious when he was trying to concentrate. He sighed and returned to glaring at his paper. It was his French homework. Fucking French! Why the hell did he take that stupid class again? He grimaced in remembrance of the "conversation" he'd had with his mother about it.
"You may need language skills someday, Bill. And besides, you might go to France one day." She had said. He'd tried and tried to argue, to get out of it. He'd even skipped once or twice…okay 15 times. But he couldn't help it; the shit was hard and confusing, and he just couldn't bring himself to like the stupid language.
'Seriously,' he though miserably to himself, 'what the hell am I supposed to do with this? What the hell are the Passé Composé and the Imparfait!'
He let out a groan and suddenly his head met the surface of his desk. A frustrated sigh came out of his nose. 'Life sux.' Silence descended on the room once more. Except for that damn clock. There it hung, ticking away, mocking him, oblivious to his distress.
Tick, tick, tick.
Bill let out a frustrated yell. Half an hour later and he still hadn't gotten any further. He just didn't get it. He knew he had to do, but he really didn't want to. He didn't want to seem weak. He sighed and pursed his lips. He knew he needed to do it though. His grades depended on it. Hanging his head in resignation, he lifted himself out of the chair and out of his room. He stood in his doorway a moment, glaring at the closed door across from him. His gaze shifted back to the innocent-looking French homework on his desk. As much as he disliked getting help, he knew he needed it.
Resigned to his fate he took a step towards the other door, slowly raising his hand to knock. For a moment he just hung there, hesitating to disturb his brother. 'Come on pussy, just do it.' He whispered to himself, and brought his hand down quickly to rap on the wood surface.
There was a shuffle inside the room, and a long pause. Bill raised an eyebrow. Perhaps Tom hadn't heard him. He raised his hand to knock again when the door opened a crack. Tom's head popped out. He looked mildly annoyed, but when he saw Bill, standing there timidly, his expression softened. Tom rested his head against the door and looked questioningly at his twin.
"What is it Billa?"
Bill bit his lip. He could tell by the way Tom was hiding his body behind the door that he'd interrupted his brother at the worst time possible. Nervously he cleared his throat.
"Oh, I see you're busy. It was nothing; never mind." He whipped around, his face burning a slight pink color. He couldn't believe himself. He'd just interrupted his brother jacking off! How embarrassing! Just as he took a step towards his room Tom's arm shot out, dragging him into the dreadlocked teen's room. Tom's hand gripped his stomach, holding their bodies tightly together.
"I surely hope it was 'nothing' you decided to bother me with Bill. Cuz if it was 'nothing' then I will be very put out." Bill whimpered in Tom's arms, which gripped him harder by the second. He starts stuttering. Oh how he hated when he stutter around Tom.
"Ah. I-I just wanted some h-help with my French. You know, since y-you're so amazing at l-languages." He could practically feel Tom's smirk on the back of his neck. Tom's grip relaxed a bit and he went back to being gentle. He slowly nuzzled the back of Bill's neck, breathing in the scent of his brother's hair. Bill always smelt like green apples.
"Yes Bill, flattery will get you everywhere, won't it?" Bill relaxed. Tom wasn't mad at him anymore; never really was. He smiled.
"Well in that case, you are the most wonderful, most amazing, sexiest boy alive." Tom's arms had loosened enough by now that he turned in his brother's arms and threw his arms around Tom's neck. Tom was smiling sweetly back at him, the smile he only reserved for his brother. Tom really did love his baby brother; who couldn't? The boy was just adorable. Said boy was still flattering him, leaning much more toward his dramatic side.
"Yes, you sexy, smexy boy, with your smexy dreads. And your big, strong, smexy arms! Oh, don't even get me started on your smokin' hot body! OMG, you eyes are so damn gorgeous! And your lips, ah your sinful lips!"
Tom rolled his eyes and jerked Bill's body against him. "Okay! I get it. You can cut it out now."
Bill's mouth shut with a snap. He looked up at Tom, who was smiling crookedly at him. He smiled back and leaned into Tom, his face expectant. Tom decided he would indulge him, for now. The dreadlocked boy leaned in and pressed a light kiss on Bill's lips. That got Bill to beam at him and he eagerly kissed Tom back. This started up and alternating series of kisses. Tom pecked random places on Bill's face and in return, Bill would pull him into a kiss on his lips, each time getting deeper and deeper until it left them both breathless.
Tom reluctantly leaned back, panting slightly, eyes shut. He rested his forehead against Bill's and they tried to calm their beating hearts. He opened his eyes to look into his twin's identical golden brown ones.
"So…" he grinned mischievously, "what about French don't you understand?"
Bill pouted at his twin. He'd been fully enjoying kissing and now Tom wanted him to concentrate on French? Dammit! He groaned and leaned back into his brother. He tried nipping Tom's neck; usually that would distract him if nothing else would.
"Tomi, I don't want to think about stupid French right now. Its so… stupid!"
"Your face is stupid. You don't see me trying to get away from it do you? And don't try that; it's not going to work this time." Bill huffed and ceased his nipping. He didn't look offended at the face comment. If anything, he looked amused.
"It's your face too, mein Dummkopf Bruder." Tom just rolled his eyes again, a thing he seemed to do around his brother more and more these days. Bill was stalling, and the poor boy didn't even know he was doing it. Or did he? Tom looked closely at his baby brother. Yep, there was that innocent little smile. Bill was fully aware of what he was doing. Tom shook his head and placed a small kiss on Bill's nose.
"Don't even try it. You came here for a reason and I doubt it was to get into my pants. Or lack thereof." He had just remembered that he was clad in only a pair of boxers. Bill did too, and he gazed down at Tom's body in appreciation before biting his lip.
"Okay, but after we're done with the god awful French can we…?" he trailed off, raising an eyebrow. Tom (being Tom ^_^) knew exactly what he was talking about and smirked at his brother.
"Of course. Now," he pushed Bill backwards so he was lying on the bed. He placed himself on top of Bill and began his lesson.
"You are learning about the past tenses, yes?" he waited for Bill to nod. "As you know these tense are the Passé Composé and the Imparfait." Another nod from Bill. "So can you tell me how both tense are formed?"
Bill scrunched his nose in concentration, not that that was easy with Tom on top of him, but he tried to remember learning about all this. He'd been in class the day they'd learned it, but for the life of him he couldn't remember. Tom moved against him and suddenly, it clicked. That had been the day Tom had first made out with him in the bathroom. Now if only he could remember what the bloody teacher had been saying. He licked his lips, tasting Tom faintly, and hesitantly answered.
"The Passé Composé is formed by the helping verb and the past participle?" Tom's hand found its way to the waist of Bill's pants. He smirked as his baby brother's eyes fluttered shut and he let out a breathy moan. Tom touch always did that to him.
"Yes Billa? And how is the past participle formed?" Tom was rubbing through his pants now. Bill could hardly concentrate but forced himself to; reasoning that if he didn't get it right, then Tom would stop and the wondrous sensations coursing through his body at that moment would be gone.
"Um… ngh. The-the past participle of the -oh- verb."
Tom's smirk was even more pronounced now. "Mhmm. And the helping verb? What's that?"
"Ngh. Its-it's the present tense of -Mmmm- avoir or e-être. Oh!"
Tom had started kissing his neck and reached up to pull down Bill's zipper. He slipped a hand into Bill's pants.
"Good boy. Now," he stopped his movements, making Bill groan in despair.
"Tomi." Tom merely shook his head, already used to Bills pleading by now.
"Nah ah ah. Tell me about the Imparfait first Billa." Bill bit his lip. Why did Tom have to stop? He sighed and continued what he knew. The sooner Tom got back to what he'd been doing, the better.
"Its made with the imperfect stem and the imperfect ending. You use the nous for of the present minus the O-N-S." he said it all in a rush, hoping to get Tom's hand back. Luckily his did, and more. Tom rewarded him by putting a hand in his boxers and stroking him not only once but twice, up and down his full length. Bill threw his head back in pleasure. It had been a long time since Tom had touched him like this. Tom rubbed his thumb against the slit. Too long. Definitely too long.
But just as suddenly as it started, Tom removed his had, and all manner of pleasure with it. He gave his brother a quick peck on the cheek and stood up off the bed. Bill stared at him incredulously. Boy, if looks could kill. Tom smirked down at his baby brother.
"Well it seems as if you've got a handle on this French shit. You don't really seem to need my help anymore. So I guess I'll go get something to eat." He turned and headed out of his room, presumably to raid the fridge. Bill sat there a moment, stunned. Had that really just happened? Did Tom really just up and leave like that? A second later, he shot off the bed and out of the room.
"Tomi wait! You not finished mister!" a pause as he ran down the hall. "Tomi I still don't get it!"
In the distance, laughter could be heard, only proving to frustrate the raven-haired teen even more. But we all know Tomi will come back to take care of Bill's 'little' problem. After all, he has a little problem of his own the needs to finish with.
-Das Ende-