Tom Holland smuts

UST

You were having a hard time keeping the snarl off your face. Once again Tom "Mr Smug" Holland was showing off. It was enough to make you scream. It felt like everything you said, he argued the point; every little mistake you made was greeted with a raised eyebrow. Even when you were praised for an idea or an action the sardonic grin on his face made you want to slap it off.

Sat at your desk at the back of the room at least you were spared having to see him constantly, but for his irritating habit of keeping on swinging round you'd never know about the smirking. Dear god but you loathed him. Smug, stuck up, know nothing, rich boy. Stuck in your contemplation you'd missed the start of your tutors directions, until the dread words fell from her mouth

"I will be pairing you up for this project and you will work together, the marks being split evenly between you." You watched as she picked up the class list and began naming groups. You tensed inside waiting to hear your fate, just knowing what was going to happen. You'd had nightmares like this - ones where you were forced into Tom's company, his face hovering in front of you, his well structured body pressing you against the wall - that errant curl falling over his forehead, the deep warm brown of his eyes glowing, the tufted eyebrow untamed, each small freckle catching your eye as he listed off your failings. 

You snapped back as your name fell from Ms Husains lips, watching with dry mouth as her finger slid down the page till it stopped and time s l o w e d and Toms name fell, like a tomb closing from her lips. You sighed, resigned - a spark of resentment alive in your eyes as once more he turned round in his seat his strong jaw clenched a barely concealed wave of emotion crossing his face as he swallowed. You closed your eyes, wishing for the harsh beeping of your alarm to wake you from the living nightmare this class had become.

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"For fucks sake Tom, can't you concentrate for 2 fucking minutes!" 

you hissed at him, frustration boiling over as he once again disregarded the main thrust of the argument you were carefully outlining for the conclusion, typing rubbish instead. It had been a horrendous 2 weeks getting the project to its near final state, and you were longing for it to be over.  Being near him made you so uncomfortable your stomach would churn and palms get damp at the sight of his rigid posture, as he turned away from you and you noticed how he clenched his fists by his side everytime you were near.

You laid your head down on the well scrubbed kitchen table in Tom's house. Just trying to hold on for a while longer. Staring at the wooden grain, the faint smell of polish invading your nostrils, mixed with a warm, deep, woody smell coming from your left where Tom was sitting tapping away on his laptop. A half drunk mug of tea pushed to one side lending its aroma too. You breathed in deeply taking in this homely, enticing, manly scent feeling it wash gently across your frayed nerves, sparking confusion inside you, as your body yearned for more.

Eyes closed you focused on the smooth timbre of his voice, like warm honey as it soothed your nerves and awakened an ache inside. You tried to push it down. Had been trying for days now, but he was just always there lurking in your thoughts. In your dreams. 

Strange dreams where he was just out of reach, where he teased and taunted you, making you want to storm away, till last night when he'd pressed those perfect lips against yours and you'd woken gasping, nipples tight under your tshirt. But in person he was the most irritating man you'd ever met. You hated him. It was just being in proximity to him so often that was causing this right? It wasn't as if he even cared - he hated you too, you saw the looks he tossed your way, being careful to look away as you turned to catch him, the way he always seemed to take a deep breath when you leaned in across him to update the charts for the project, the irritating tapping of his fingers in rhythm against the counter, his mug, the laptop.