Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Anthropomorfic - LJ/Fandom
Thanks: Many thanks to Sage for beta.
Notes: So many disclaimers! This is my first anthropomorfic! I know nothing about BDSM! I'm not trying to represent or encode anyone's experience of the recent deletions (aka strikethrough)! These characterisations are what happened when some stuff I read mutated in the twisty radioactive psychedelic swamp places of my mind! Fiction! Fantasy! Etc.
Warnings: Het, kink, role-playing, excessive italics.

Making Up Is Hard To Do

by china_shop


LJ leaned in the doorway, quietly watching, as Fandom slammed her way around the kitchen, thwacking her coffee mug down on the counter and twisting the faucet too hard so that water sploshed everywhere—including all down the front of her blouse.

Her hands were shaking.

LJ's heart ached. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was a mistake."

"Yeah, it was." She didn't look at him. "Look, just get out of my face for a while, okay? I'm so mad at you, I could— I could—"

"What?" LJ eyed her warily. An angry Fandom was unpredictable and quite possibly dangerous.

Fandom's lips curled bitterly. "If I say 'kill you', will you suspend me for death threats?"

LJ shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Don't be stupid."

Fandom whirled around to face him, her fists clenched. "How is that stupid? How is that any different from what you did? Jesus Christ, get out of here!"

LJ hung his head, letting the full force of her anger wash over him. Absorbing it. He took a deep breath but he didn't back down. "I want to make things right," he told her. "I mean it—I fucked up. Let me make it up to you."

Fandom's voice rose in fury. "You cut me off, you fucker! You were ashamed of me! You made excuses to your stupid friends and made me feel like I didn't matter." She took a step forward, bringing her fists up as if to punch him, then she turned away abruptly.

That hurt. They were supposed to be a team, and he had no idea how to stop the world from coming crashing down. He swallowed. "I love you."

"No," said Fandom, "you don't. You never loved me! You think I'm a freak!" Electric rage crackled in her hair, in the brightness of her eyes. "How is that love?"

LJ ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Baby, you spend half your time telling me how kinky you are. What am I supposed to think?"

Fandom scowled at him. "Would you stop being so high and mighty fucking reasonable?! You betrayed me, okay? You tried to prune me and control me and make me fit the safe Disneyfied version of Fandom you want me to be." She flung her arms in the air, her peacock-colored blouse shimmering, her icon earrings glinting in the late afternoon sun. "How can you not see that—that I'm beautiful because I'm free! Free to say and feel and sing and dance and fuck and rant—" She choked and brushed angry tears from her eyes.

"I know," LJ told her, captivated by her beauty, her energy, her passion. "Believe me, I know!"

Fandom snorted. "See, you say that, but then you—"

"I make mistakes." LJ nodded soberly.

"Yeah. Damn you." Fandom turned away again. She pulled a packet of Oreos out of the cupboard and opened it. She didn't offer him one.

He looked at his feet. Was it really too late? It couldn't be, could it? He watched her rigid shoulders as she made coffee. "I screwed up," he said steadily. "How many times do you want me to say it? I'm not like you—I don't live in a world where it's okay to say anything you want. I take one wrong step and I've got News Media riding my ass like you wouldn't believe—or you."

"Ha!" she said, sounding vindicated. "So I guess now I know where your loyalties really lie. With yourself! If all you want is an easy life, I don't know why I'm even bothering."

LJ swallowed his frustration. "Look, I heard a rumor. I overreacted. I'm sorry." He took a small step forward, held out his hands, wrists together, begging. "Can't we—?"

Fandom shook her head vehemently. "I can't act out with you right now. I'm too fucking mad. I'll hurt you." She ate an Oreo cookie.

"I'll risk it," said LJ, determined to prove he'd do anything. "Come on, baby. What's the point in fighting if we can't have some mind-blowing make-up sex?" He risked a glint of humor.

She narrowed her eyes. "I thought you didn't approve of my porny little self. I thought you were trying to keep your distance, keep your community untainted by my perverted ways."

LJ blinked at her, astounded. "Fandom, I love your porny self," he said, earnestly. "What do you think we've been doing all these years? I want you to use me. You're my life, baby. You're my heart."

Fandom lifted her chin, challenge in her eyes. LJ braced himself. Fandom licked her lips, slowly. "Who's your mama?" she said.

LJ suppressed a shiver, that familiar frisson of discomfort he always felt when they role-played parent/child, but he answered readily enough. "You are."

Fandom smiled thinly, and put her coffee down on the counter. She pulled open the drawer by the oven and pulled out a wooden spoon. "You've been a bad boy, haven't you, LJ?"

"Yes, mama." LJ took a small step forward.

Fandom's smile faded. "I'm going to have to punish you."

LJ nodded mutely.

"Pull down your pants," she said, "and lean against the counter."

She watched while LJ emptied his pockets onto the counter—wallet, car keys and a handful of change—and then unbuckled his belt. Under her scrutiny, his breathing sped up and he felt light-headed. His cock swelled with anticipation. He braced his hands on the edge of the counter by the cookery books and stuck out his bare ass invitingly.

Fandom came closer. She smacked the spoon against her palm, once, twice. Then she stopped. "No."

LJ glanced up, surprised.

"No," she repeated, and dropped the wooden spoon on the floor. "Not like this. I don't want to be your mom." She took a step back. "Stay here. Take your clothes off."

"What—?" LJ stood up again, confused. Afraid she was going to leave.

"Wait and see," she said. "You're going to have to trust me."

He bit his lip. "All right."

"Do it," she said. "Completely naked and ready for whatever I want."

"Yes." He unthreaded his tie and hung it over the ladder-back of a kitchen chair. By the time he'd unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, she was gone.

The next five minutes were nerve-wracking. LJ stared at the apples in the fruit bowl and wondered: Was she going to humiliate him? Hurt him? Whip him till he bled? Was she packing her bags and leaving while he stood naked and semi-erect in his kitchen? Had she called all the neighbors to come and laugh? She was flaky and unpredictable and unbelievably smart, and she felt everything so deeply—he had no idea where her current mood would take them. But they belonged together. Wherever it was, he was willing to go. At the very least, he could be sure it'd be one hell of a ride.

"Who pwns you?" Her voice was velvet and silk.

He turned from the fruit bowl to see her standing, ripe and luscious in the doorway, naked but for a red leather harness and a large black dildo.

Gladness rushed through him. He could do it this way. More than that, he wanted to do it this way. "You do. Mistress."

"Don't forget it," she said, sternly. There was sparkle in her eyes, a gleam of determination, but her air of hurt and despair had dropped away. Fandom was back with a vengeance. LJ had never been so glad to see her. "Kneel down."

LJ dropped to his knees without a word. Fandom sauntered toward him, her hips swaying, her silicon cock bobbing up and down. LJ's lips parted, he was so eager to taste her. His cock grew hard. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She stopped directly in front of him, only inches away. He could smell her skin, the musk of her pussy. She was round and beautiful and perfect. "Kiss my ass, you pathetic back-stabbing corporate bitch," she told him. But the words sounded rehearsed now. There was fire, but no bitterness.

He inhaled sharply, not caring what she called him. Just wanting her. "Yes, mistress."

She pivoted on the spot, and he leaned forward to reverently kiss first one ass cheek and then the other. Her skin was hot and sweet and he didn't want to stop, but she pushed him away roughly, sending him sprawling against the kitchen cupboards. "Behave!"

"Yes, mistress." He returned to his kneeling position.

"Good." Fandom turned to look down on him. "Now suck my cock."

LJ opened his mouth obediently, trying to disguise his pleasure and relief, and Fandom slid her big black cock between his lips.

He welcomed it, opening wider, and grabbed the counter to hold himself steady while she slowly, surely fucked his mouth. He moaned, wanting desperately to touch her, to touch himself. Needing relief. But she didn't give him permission and he knew better than to take the initiative here. That wasn't the game.

Her breath was harsh and loud in the quiet of the summer afternoon. LJ could almost feel the sound of it on his skin—across his belly, down his thighs. It filled his world, eclipsing the past, the future, any thought of comfort or satisfaction. He wanted to give to her. She honored him by accepting his services.

He sucked hard as though she'd feel it, concentrated and swallowed her down. He moaned again, and when she finally gasped out "You may", his relief was vast and deep.

He raised one hand to her and ran his fingers along her damp cunt, sneaking them up behind the base of her dildo and tugging gently at the coarse curls there.

She widened her stance and quickened her thrusts, and he pressed two fingers into her, where it was hot and wet and needy, and rubbed his thumb delicately against her clit.

She growled with pleasure and grasped the edge of the counter for balance. "Fuck," she said, surging forward, and LJ took it hungrily. Fandom stretched up onto her toes and rocked against his hand, against his mouth, her cries growing loud and hoarse. "Fuck, yes," she said. "Take it. Let me use you."

I want you to, thought LJ, and as though she heard him, she came then, trembling and urgent, her body tightening and tensing, her juices slick on his hand. Her cries colored the air like magic. LJ's cock throbbed in sympathy.

She clenched around his fingers for a long moment, then stepped away so his hand slipped free. "Now," she said, breathless but still in charge, "wank for me."

She set the nearest chair—the one with LJ's tie draped across it—in front of him, and straddled it so her cock jutted between the vertical bars.

"Slowly," she said.

LJ ran his hand up the outside of his thigh, across his belly, determined to put on a show for her. The tips of his fingers skirted the base of his cock, and the hum of energy and arousal that flowed through him from head to foot was like an electric current.

"Wait," said Fandom, and beckoned him forward.

LJ stopped reluctantly and leaned in, and she tied his necktie across his eyes in a makeshift blindfold.

"That's better." Her voice was creamy satisfaction. "Now show me."

His hand felt a hundred times more sensitive now. He stroked his fingertips up and down his cock, and then grasped himself and began to rub, holding back as much as he was able but wanting and wanting. Images of Fandom flashed through his mind, in all her moods, naked and clothed, laughing and sneering and arguing heatedly, and always always powerful and vibrant. He rubbed his thumb across the head of his cock, spreading moisture, so caught up in the tumult of images and sensation that he was only barely aware she was moving.

A faint click and his hands were suddenly drenched with oil, smooth and slippery, easing the movement of his fist. He flung his head back and tightened his grip, his hand speeding up helplessly now. Tension mounted like a wave.

"You're all mine," said Fandom in his ear. "My bitch." And LJ moaned inarticulately.

Something round and cool and hard pressed between his shoulder blades, jumbling his senses and distracting him. His hand faltered as he tried to identify it. It rolled down his spine, leaving a tingling trail, slipping a little against his sweaty skin.

"I'm going to fuck you with this," said Fandom.

"Yes, mistress," LJ gasped, and he moved his knees apart so she could press it—whatever it was—against his ass. The pressure parted his ass cheeks and kept going, further forward until it was hard up behind his balls. "God!"

Some part of Fandom—her wrist, perhaps—brushed his ass, and he was lost. He came hard, sparks and darkness and gratitude and pleasure tumbling through him.


They lay naked and sticky under the kitchen table, and Fandom rolled the apple she'd abused him with across first his chest and then her own, back and forth, back and forth. She was heavy-lidded and drowsy with sex, and LJ's heart thudded with love whenever he looked at her.

He pressed kisses into her hair. "I can't keep you here," he said softly. "There are a hundred other places that would welcome you."

The apple stilled against his solar plexus. "Don't think I haven't thought about it."

"But you haven't left." He nuzzled her ear, stroked her hip. "I'm glad."

She shrugged one shoulder. "All my stuff's here. All my memories. Besides—"

"What?" He tried not to cling to her. It had to be her decision.

She snorted softly. "GJ would be lousy in the sack," she told him. "Have you seen his default layout?" She leaned up on one elbow and grinned down at him. "Missionary position all the way, baby."

He covered her fingers on the apple and met her eye, making a hundred silent promises.

Fandom tilted her head ruefully. "One more chance," she said, and bent down to kiss his mouth.


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