#man this show is really next level like oh my godddddd

[zelkams-art]

you need not suffer anymore

[lokilickedme]

Chem!Tom & Anja, smut, "Johnny Feelgood" by Liz Phair

*warning - song lyrics

The prompt thingy is HERE

“I hate that song.”

Tom stopped where he stood, behind the bar with a towel in one hand, drying an ale glass and looking like the supermodel he rightfully should have been.  It never failed to strike Anja hard in the feels when she thought of all the things he could have should have might have been…but in the end, through whatever convoluted twist of fate was responsible for putting them in the same place at the same time, he was none of those things.

He was something far more important.  He was hers.  And he was standing there looking at her with that look, she knew the one, that look - the one that had infuriated her for so long she no longer put a timeframe on it.  The one that reminded her just how oddly handsome he was, how off-center attractive, how stinking hot that man would never stop being in her eyes.

(1041 more words under the cut)

She’d never thought him particularly gorgeous, but over the years she’d settled into a reconciliation of her feelings toward his looks.  He was just beautiful, and beauty was in the eye of the beholder, wasn’t it?  He looked like his father, he looked like his daughter and he looked like their two babies together and he looked like himself, first and foremost.

The odd man out in this equation was herself.  Short, small, redheaded, pleasingly plump-ish from a combination of what was most likely a set of curve-inclined genetics and two pregnancies far too close together.  And Tom loved it, every delightfully squishy inch.

“What’s wrong with that song?”

She stood the broom against the bathroom door and crossed her arms over her chest, where his eyes kept straying.  “It’s about an abuser.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Fairly sure, yeah.”

“And who told you that?”

“You think I can’t figure it out for myself from the lyrics?”

A slow grin was erupting across that angular face, the same grin that gave her babies far too often.  She’d have to stay out of reach of those freakishly long arms of his or she’d be doomed.

“Are you sure Cara didn’t tell you that?”  He shook his head and tucked the glass into a rack under the bar.  “Little Miss Social Justice Warrior.”

“You’re not being nice.”

“Moderation is a memory, dive right in and let him send me, I could take this in doses large enough to kill - “

“Gross, stop.”

He slung the towel over his shoulder and hefted himself over the bar, not even bothering to go around even though the little hip-level swinging door was just a few feet to his left.  He had that sneer in his eyes, the one that always preceded a good mocking followed by an even better fucking.  God he loved to tease her.  Her memory skills sometimes got slippery, a lingering gift from the nasty little brain fluid infection that had been such a turning point in their life together, and he’d never been one to humor her lapses in sharpness.  He also never humored her straitlaced upbringing and the resultant tendency toward naivete that sometimes exhibited itself.

He could be a ruthless bastard.

But she knew she was right.  It was a shitty song about a shitty man and she didn’t like when it cycled through the jukebox.

“I wish you’d take it out.”

The grin widened across Tom’s face and he slid down off the bar, landing on his feet with a solid thud on the hardwood floor.  So tall, so solid, so heavy.  His thinness was an illusion.  And that solid thickness to him carried over into more than just his bones.

“Oh I��ll take it out alright.  The question is, do you want it out here or shall we scoot this into the office?”

“I meant the song.  The record.  Take it out of the jukebox.”

But he was already unbuckling his belt, humming loudly, pausing just long enough to raise his head and wink a lascivious little wink at her.  “And I never met a man who was so pretty inside, he’s got petals on the bed of his sweat sock drawer…”

“Don’t come any closer, I mean it.”

He made a big show of yanking his belt out of the loops of his jeans, giving it a good pop before doubling it and pointing it at her.  “And who the fuck am I to criticize him ‘cause I really need him now…”

Down went the zipper.  Anja felt her cheeks pink up with heat.  Tom had never worn underwear for as long as she’d known him, and he definitely hadn’t started tonight.

“Johnny feel good, Johnny right on, Johnny miss you, Johnny light on…”

He had her now, looping the belt around her neck and giving it a gentle tug before she could try to move away.  But he wasn’t interested in restraining or subduing her.

He just wanted her.

“Never realized I was so dirty and dry  - “  And with that his hand went down the front of her pants, long strong fingers sliding up under her to nudge just slightly inside.  “Whoops, gonna have to change that line, it’s not factually correct.”

“Oh my god, shut up you perv.”

His other hand came up to cup her breast, giving it a squeeze in just that way, the way he knew would make her head drop back and her lower lip tuck in between her teeth.  He slid a thumb across her nipple and listened for the groan he knew would take him the rest of the way from partially aroused to full blown rock solid.

“Oh godddddd....”

There it was.

“And I've never met a man I was so crazy about.”

He giggled softly against her throat.  Of course she knew the words.  She probably secretly liked the song, maybe just a little.  Anything could be twisted into something halfway good if you moaned it just right.  And his little Anja always did it the way he liked it.

“Say it.”

“What?”

“The next bit.  Say it.  I want to hear you say it.”

Strong arms went around her back, bending her till her balance was no longer in her own control, forcing her to trust him not to drop her flat onto her back.  And as always he waited until he felt her hand everything over to him before he lowered her gently to the floor and set about tugging her jeans down around her knees.

Panties next.

No fight, despite her annoyance.

“Say it, baby.”

He nudged her thighs apart and she raised her knees so he could settle between them, reaching down to push his own jeans down far enough to free himself.  The sight of her soft body beneath him and her eyes closed and her arms reaching for him had him so goddamn hard...

“Say it.”

She bit her lip, hard, and just as she felt him push into her she buried her face against the side of his neck, smelling the sweet scent of beer in his hair.

“And I liked it, let me tell you I liked it more and more...I liked it...”