I wrote this a while ago – it was kind of spur-of-the-moment, in that, I just ... sorta opened up a blank document one day and started typing – people on DA (deviantART) seemed to enjoy it - and, I've been kind of hungry for reviews lately, and am too lazy to update anything old - so ... I figured I'd post this.

Enjoy!

WARNING: It gets a little kinky!

ooo

"'t's so stupid ..." She'd uttered, shielding jerky-stuffed behind curved, smirking lips. "Wha' kin' of a ..." she swallows, "... chowder-head celebrates a six-month anniversary?"
He'd rolled his eyes, and attempted to place yet another strip of the meat-by-product between her lips. "... That would be you're kind, and generous husband, dear!" he replied, feinting an insulting-tone at the last word, and failing completely, as she rolls her eyes –– gazing at the carefully perched candles, and lightly inhaling the scent of rose petals, Freddie Benson had realized that any attempt for a romantic evening with his fairly-new bride had been botched as well.

She simply didn't do romantic –– it wasn't in her. Considering that their marriage proposal had taken place in front of gas-station restroom, he had almost astounded himself at the now-gone thought of any story-book romantic moment with the 'blonde-headed demon' that was the new Mrs. Benson.

Dinner had been a dud. The restaurant to which they had gone –– under his mother's recommendation –– had served nearly nothing but bean-paste and water; hardly anything considered edible by his wife or even himself –– so ... they'd stayed in, together in a glowing, candle-lit apartment - feeding each other ( ... that was ... if she felt in the mood enough to share) the dried strips of beef he had so graciously picked up for her, and a few large dollops of spray whip-cream.

He sighed slightly, as imperfect as this evening had gone, it was generally pleasant - he was with her after all, and all-at-once he had noticed the bright grin threatening to burst behind his lips as he gazed at her. Her blue eyes, which were focused intently on the over-turning nozzle of the whip-cream can, seemed to sparkle in the darkened atmosphere, and her disheveled blonde locks spilled out like a halo around her face –– '... No angel' he chuckles.

"Wha'?" she asks, cheeks puffing cutely as the contents of the can filled them. "Wha's f'nny?"
Yet another laugh breaks free. "... You're ... gorgeous –– I love you, Sam .." he mutters, staring at her with an almost (in Sam's opinion) pathetic adoration.
"Mm." she grunts, rolling her eyes. She then slides her fingers beneath the plastic jerky wrapper, and holds a strip out to him. "Open wide, nubb"
He complies, his once-wide grin dissolving, as she violently stuffs the strip between his lips, nearly igniting his gag reflex.

Then, before his mind gained the quick-wit to register the next few fleeting moments, her lips had found his, and were savagely ... and pleasantly — ripping them apart.
"Mmmh ... Sam?" he muttered, slight confusion at this recent 'attack' piercing the feathered mass that once were his thoughts. "... hmm –– sweetie? ... Benson?"

"What?" she hissed, arching against the rapidly growing bulge in his pants, and rubbing up against him - having somehow positioned herself in his lap, her legs around his waist. "... take me to bed ... now!" She demands, giving his buttocks a swift nudge with the back of her heel.
Quick to obey, Freddie shifted his weight and stood up, knees weakening under the jolts of glorious electricity which shot through him.
Once, inside the shelter of their bedroom, Freddie was reminded of one of the thousands of reasons why he had fallen in love with Sam.

ooo

"Hmm ... happy?" he purred, brushing his lips lightly against the base of her throat, and nipping lightly at her ear, as they lay in a sated, sweaty heap beneath the sheets.
"Mmm ..." she purrs, arching her neck to allow him to fill the area with kisses. "... I'm about to be." she stated, matter-of-factly –– pulling back, and placing a brief kiss to his chin. "You're taking me to dinner, Fredward; that new rib joint that just opened up ..."
He peers at her suspiciously, "Oh, am I, Benson?" he remarks, slyly "... and what if I refuse?"
"Then ..." she hisses. A devilish look in her eyes as she leans dangerously close to him. "... You, Mister Benson, won't be gettin' any 'a Mama for a full week and a half!" She chuckles evilly in triumph, as his face turns a ghostly white.
"You, mean?" he rasps, nervously.
"Mmm-hmm" she hums, grinning seductively, going to work on his jaw-line, and nipping deliciously at his earlobe.
"S-s-s-sam ..." her hisses, mass amounts of moisture building behind his lips at his wife's ministrations. "... St-stah-stop ... Nothing?" he squeaks in question, dreading the thought of a possible loss of ... contact.
"... Nope ..." Sam replies, now circling the skin of his cheek with her tongue in a torturously slow pattern. "... and I know how much you like ..." she purrs.
"Oh, yeah ..." he sighs - a sweet breathy sound.

"So?" she grins, halting her ministrations, and meeting his eyes with a daring glance. "Take me to dinner?"
"... Get dressed ... and grab your coat." he replies, hastily. "And Sam, promise me one thing ..."
"Yeah?"
"Eat fast."