#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...”

[strange-spaghetti]

☽☼ King Crimson ♪ 

I don't think I've ever seen one of my original flautist/saxophonists before, so hearing Mel Collins play, my reaction was absurd & I had no means of toning down my enthusiasm because OhMyGod! Incredible! I went berserk! My entire being: enamored & amazed. Sometimes the sax & horn levels were too low & his monitor must have been too high (& he will gesture to the s.e.). But the flute! He sounded gorgeous. Every time he picked up the flute, I was beaming. FRAME BY FRAME! Having flute on Frame By Frame was my favorite aspect of the night. That! was So! good! Belew Crimson is my favorite (sorry, Greg- sorry, Wetton- sorry, dude I can't recall the name of because frankly I only really go to that era when I want Mel, Lizard, & crazy jazz textures X)... Definitely not enough Simmons *bongk-pingk* electronic drums, but maybe that's a novel Broof thing they don't want reflected on them now. I don't know, I think Simmons is kind of just as synonymous with Crimson as mellotron... which also was very mildly done, but psyched whenever Fripp went for his keyboard. TONY! Man, too cool. What a character & a player. Maybe because of my horrible car speakers I expected the chapman stick to be louder (haha, duhmb), but way cool & sounded (&felt) beautiful on Starless. Starless was pretty shaky getting into it. &! I think, unless he was on some SERIOUS delay or loop, The Sax Was Dubbed! he went to fix the mouth piece & uhh.., sax was still playing. The dudes in front of me noticed too, so I can't be making it up. A lot of the heavyheavyheavy metal-esq jams that ya know scatters out & then collectively comes back after a few minutes to f*cking HIT you back into the song AHHHH!!!!! I was so excited to experience that. I love the long tedious & sometimes dragged bits that are Absolutely necessary to play contrast to the build up & bring back, like I get psyched watching videos of them do that & it was SO! Great to live in one of those moments. Professionals, dudes. An honest to god skill being able to do that sh*t live, in one take, right before you. Super incredible.  "Who's doing this?" Oh, my god, Alice that's Fripp! Godddddd, I love him! His way of playing is out of this f*cking world & he can make a guitar sound like a synth or a percussive instrument. A craftsman. There was this moment, wish I could remember which song, where the lights went dark red (not much stage design or lighting, which for them, works). This red presence canvased all & then there was Fripp: a vision in front of green illumination coming from the screens of his rack interfaces. (Hi, I love lighting a lot) I soaked it up. Gorgeous & the longest of my memories because the sight of it was deeply beautiful & I was just. there. Living & truly in love with life in the present beautiful moment of looking upon Robert Fripp. Not just was it wonderful to hear King Crimson songs & watch them perform, but Robert Fripp, ya know? I love his style & solo work a lot, I admire him a lot & what moves him to do what he does & practice. A lot of what he has spoken of & speaks of resonates with me & makes sense to my way of being; musically, spiritually, just being a thoughtful human being. Ah, I saw Robert Fripp. : ) Ah! & Mel Collins☆, & Tony (again) which man oh man that man. He makes everything just a little bit brighter which is funny to say since ya  know bass, but definitely a key ingredient to full pieces of music... The singer reminded me of Billy Sherwood, that may sound daft. He just moved like him. I only know of the singer because of a photo of him & pH. His voice works, & I'm for sure hard to please in that area. Singers matter, not sorry to say. Unique one of a kind instruments that time will take & alter, you can't say that about any other musical device. Like EASY MONEY! Sounded so tight! & Even from the Bah-Dee-Dow-Dow's !!!#@$##^@#$! AHHH, Yes! So happy they did that one. They did Cat Food.. which f****ck Tony! Killer! THE.THREE.DRUMS. How in the World! That was some out of sight synchronization oh my god. From the tiniest little miscellaneous percussion, they were on it! Pat was fun to watch. Rhythmic motions within the silence & of the thundering sound. Very cool... Nice piano bits that found it's way in... "No matter how closely I study it, no matter how I take it apart." Indiscipline was very different, of course no one can beat Belew, but that was really good & HAVING. MEL. THERE! ughghhh oh mygod. F*ck your composition, SAX anywhere & everywhere! Flute in any song! Give.me.it! Like flute in Frame By Frame!!! Bonkers! Absolutely mad. So in love. How can I ever listen to that song now knowing what Mel Collins has done to it?♡ ... A lot of my night was actually really bad haha. I got lost so I missed the first 15 minutes. I entered when Pictures of a City was ending : ( Really bummed. Can't recall Moonchild or In the Court just know that of course Mel Collins took 80% of my attention. I love you Fripp, but don't put an original woodwind/horn player parallel from you.... Alright: Mel Collins. The red shoes, Dig. The glasses constantly going on & off- double dig. Pretending to throw your sax, shut up! you’re still as f*cking cute as ever. Watching him adjust his equipment was cool. Fripp really didn't fiddle about with his guitar sounds if I remember correctly. Oh! except a really out of place ~groovy~ psychedelic wah-wah pedal which could have been from the singer's guitar, but that was fun. I liked that a lot. There was a guy there with a Christian Death shirt a row in front of me. When walking out I talked to him, showed him my Rozz Williams tattoo. He was heavily tattooed everywhere. This crowd felt like a bizarre scene. a third of these folks were younger & really stylized, it was kind of a spectacle to me- so many interesting looking people. & when I got to my correct seat after intermission (yeah part of being late) like the row I was in - all young. The dude next to me was f*cking good looking. What the hell is that all about? I wonder if he was like god this chick is c*mming whenever the sax plays. UGH! MEL. I hate how far I was. He would do these incredible things & it's like I NEED to "woo!" ya know!? I was so close to screaming his name because OHMYGOD! He definitely gave me a new experience. I've heard live sax/flute before (hell, I’ve recorded jazz musicians) & I’ve heard/seen Winwood's flautist/saxophonist but it wasn't really anything, even being that they were Chris Wood's compositions; it was nice, but I didn’t feel AT ALL like how I felt here- it could not compare to how moved or how over the moon ecstatic I felt for Mel Collins playing his & McDonald’s parts. Goshh.  King Crimson was one of the first bands I got into after my decade & personality shift, & I started collecting their CDS in 2016. An immense & heavily decorated atmosphere within the music, they are one of the best bands on the planet & I'm beyond happy I got to see them. I meant to see them in 2016, but I was still new to them & I didn't want to take off work. I really really really hope to see Fripp & them again. Oh, god please let me have the chance to hear Mel Collins play again, holy f*ck. (she's still on ‘im)... I haven't stopped! But i will end this here & maybe do a Mel Collins rave the next time I watch a Bryan Ferry video or listen to Camel or Chris Squire. Oh! last thing (this massive entry was written two separate days) & today I listened to Poseidon in the car to & from work & I skipped Pictures of City because I'm going to be sour about that forever, but! then after work I listened to it & %$!#$%Y@ F*ck! Mel! I really wish I got to hear him start that song off. Still too scared to look up what I missed. Next time I'm taking a taxi to begin with from the train station... I walked south of a street when I needed to have gone north... 30 f*cking minutes walking in the WRONG direction. But I made it & King Crimson was wonderful.･`✧*☆’☽゜ ...Hm, I don’t think I mentioned Mel Collins enough. Robert Fripp, who’s that?