Rating: NC-17

Pairing: DannyXSam

Length: Part one: approx. 1300 words. Part two: approx. 3200 words. Part three: ?

Background info: Post PP. Danny and Sam are a well-established couple in their mid-twenties. Canon with where the show left off.

Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom

"This is such a joke," Sam muttered darkly. Danny grinned and glanced at her; she was draped across the armchair, legs hanging over the arm, bare feet swaying slightly as she absently kicked them.

"I know." He said, his attention sliding back to their flat screen television mounted to the wall. The pre-game hype was his least favorite part of their Sunday football-watching ritual. Pretty, scantily-clad, fully-grown women jumping up and down while waving pom-poms no longer held any perverse pleasure for him. The only thing that made it bearable was Sam's incessant need to find the dumbest looking college frat boys in the stands and describe him in detail. Unfortunately, on that particular Sunday in early January, there were no shirtless men with face paint on. Every member of the audience sat huddled together beneath thick blankets and hats, scarcely discernible as people.

"I mean, I don't even know why they're having a game," this surprised him. Ever since they'd started dating, she'd taken a liking to Sunday football. It started as his family's tradition, but he'd started inviting her along when they started dating. When they moved in together, the tradition continued. Now, three years later, she loved it. "It's so obvious who's gonna win."

Danny snorted. She wasn't lying; the game would be an easy win. As far as the Jaguars were concerned, the Ravens were nothing more than an irksome gnat buzzing between them and the playoffs. "I know," he repeated, leaning back against the couch and crossing his hands behind his head. "Jaguars," he said confidently.

"Ravens," Sam said at the same time, just as confidently.

Their dumbfounded expressions were nearly identical as they gaped at each other.

"You seriously think...Ravens...are gonna beat the Jaguars?" Danny leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. Sam scrambled up, quickly adjusting herself to sit in a more intimidating position. Oh, this is gonna be good.

"Um, have you seen the Ravens' defensive line?" She gestured to the screen without looking away. He glanced up and was met with the image of an overweight man shovelling a hotdog drenched in ketchup into his mouth. "It's fucking unstoppable," she drew his attention back to the present. "Jags would have an easier time plowing through a brick wall."

"Good thing their offensive line is like a steam roller," Danny laughed. "Jaguars could easily crush Ravens' defense."

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?" She said dangerously.

And things just got interesting!

"Hell yeah, I wanna bet," he nodded enthusiastically. "Ten bucks on Jaguars winning."

"Oh, no," she shook her head and shimmied forward so that she was perched right on the edge of the chair, leaning sensuously close. At that angle, Danny could see directly down her shirt. His cock twitched. "I was thinking of something a little more...personal,"

He swallowed thickly. "Personal?" He repeated, his voice suddenly hoarse. He cleared his throat.

"Mhm," she hummed, drumming her fingers against his knee.

It was no small secret that his sex life with Sam was incredible. She was far more adventerous than he was originally expecting, basically a try-anything-once kind of girl. It was because of her that he'd blossomed in his own right, discovering that he rather liked being in control of their sexual encounters. Not that he never let her dominate; it's just that, no matter what, he always ended up on top, pinning her down, roaring into her neck as sweat dripped off his face and his hip bones rammed into hers. Sam was totally fine with it, too, saying it was a huge turn-on when he took control.

She said something. "What?" He croaked. Fuck, I'm already getting hard.

"I said, let's do something a little different." She edged closer, hand drifting up his thigh. He worked hard to keep his muscles from tensing beneath her touch and failed miserably. "How about...if the Jaguars win...I'll submit to you for the rest of the day. And I mean really, truly submit."

Every ounce of blood in his body seemed to drain directly into his cock. He'd been dying to try a full-on Dom/sub scene with her for quite some time. He tried to say something witty, but all that escaped his throat was a strange, whistly exhale. Sam smirked. "But," her fingertips teased the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, sliding up past the end of his shorts and slowly creeping higher, "if the Ravens win," he was positively straining against the zipper of his pants, "you submit to me for the rest of the day."

He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but before he could get a word out she fell forward on her knees and palmed his erection forcefully over his shorts. "Fuck," he gasped, bucking his hips up against her as she rubbed him firmly. He could not, for the life of him, figure out how she always managed to rile him up in under two minutes. Just by talking. Fucking vixen, he thought.

"So?" She squeezed him and his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.

"I-I don't...know..." he managed to hiss. Through the slits in his eyelids, he saw her disapproving frown. Part of him wanted to agree, if only because he knew that if he did, she would offer him some much needed release. But another part of him whined in discent. If he was being honest, the Ravens' defensive line really was top-notch. As hard as it was for him to admit, the Jaguars might actually have to fight to win the game.

But, he thought, Ravens' offensive line is crap. There's no way they'll land even one touchdown. Gotta win points to win the game, it's not enough to just block the ball.

All rational thought went flying out the window when she unzipped his pants and freed his erection. It stood tall and proud, knotted with veins between Sam's slim fingers. "Let's go, bud, we don't have long before the game starts. I need an answer," she pumped her hand up and down his shaft a few times, just hard enough to keep him riled up, but not enough to offer him relief. He could practically feel her smirking.

"Fine, okay, yes, I agree," He burst after a few silent seconds. She squeezed him again, his eyes flew open, and she began pumping him in earnest.

"Good boy," she crooned.

"Fuck...fuck..." He could not stop his hips from thrusting up to meet her every time her hand slid down. I'm not even in her, he thought. How the fuck does she do this?

He could sense release nearing. Everything was tightening, his breaths were sharper and more ragged, his hands balled into fists against the couch. Sam doubled the speed of her pumps in response, squeezing and twisting slightly, sending tremors of pleasure through his body. The moment her free hand rose and fondled his balls, though, he promptly exploded with a string of curse words spewing through his clenched teeth.

The high wore off moments later, sending him collapsing backwards against the couch. He managed to force his eyelids half-open, watching as Sam daintily licked the mess he'd made off of her fingers. She kept eye-contact with him as her tongue swirled over the pads of her fingers.

"This should be a good game," she sighed as she lifted herself back into her seat. She smirked when he did not respond.

"I'm suing the Jags if they lose," he managed to force out a few minutes later.