DISCLAIMER: I do not own iCarly. The storyline is my own work of fiction. Any similarities of the situations depicted to any situations, real or fictional, are purely coincidental.

A/N: Just a little Spam one/two-shot. I have always thought they have an insane amount of chemistry despite the age difference. So anyway – here ya go…I couldn't resist.

STORY RATING: M – adult/sexual situations, explicit depictions of sexual acts

iAm Eighteen…
Part One

"Can you believe it?"

"I know!"

"It's over – we did it! We are officially high school graduates!"

"EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" The two girls squealed with excitement as they danced around Carly's bedroom. They had just returned from their Senior Graduation party for a celebratory sleepover at the Shay's apartment.

Sam tossed her long, blonde waves over her shoulder as she took a seat on the edge of Carly's bed. "My mom never thought she'd see this day come."

Carly sat beside her best friend and put an arm around the shorter girl's shoulders. "Well you showed her!"

"I guess I did. Who knew Mama had it in her?"

Carly bobbed her head from side to side and raised her hand in the air. "Me!" she exclaimed setting them off in a fresh round of giggles.

They spent the better part of the night gossiping and reminiscing about things that had happened throughout the past four years. They discussed their fears about the upcoming fall and college and about how they were going to make this summer together a special one. When sleepiness finally drifted over them – it was well past midnight.

About two'o'clock in the morning Sam awoke to her stomach growling and her mouth parched. She glanced over at Carly's sleeping form beside her. Careful not to wake her friend, she slipped out of the bed to see what she could find downstairs. She stood still a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dark. Then she crept out into the hall and down the steps.

Sam wandered into the kitchen. Opening the fridge she pulled a pitcher of water from the top shelf. She used her toes to scratch the back of her calf as she poured herself a glass. After putting the pitcher back she closed the fridge door but not before stealing a leftover leg from the bucket of fried chicken she'd discovered hidden behind a carton of orange juice. With the light of the fridge now gone, she was again left in complete darkness.

She was in the process of turning, glass in hand, chicken leg secured between her teeth, when she realized someone had crept up behind her in the dark. She could make out a shadowy form only a couple of feet away. Letting out a muffled shriek she jumped back, sloshing water all over and down her bare leg. She dropped the cup and reached blindly for the nearest item she could use for a weapon. She swung out – hitting her target over and over with a loaf of French bread until she finally realized a voice was begging her to stop. A very familiar voice.

"Spencer?" she asked voice slightly muffled by the poultry appendage still held firmly between her jaws.

She reached over and flicked on the light switch flooding the kitchen with brightness. Spencer lay in the fetal position on the floor, whimpering. "Please stop. Please."

Sam dropped to her knees beside him tossing the now mangled loaf aside and spitting the chicken leg across the floor. "Are you okay?"

"Who knew such delicious baked goods could damage a spleen?"

Sam cocked her head at Spencer. "Do you even know where your spleen is?"

"No," Spencer admitted looking up at her through squinted eyes.

Shaking her head Sam stood and held out her hand to help Spencer up. "Sorry about that. What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?" she asked as he was again up and on both feet. She gave him a once over. He was clad in a plain white tee and blue boxers with bright green frogs all over them. His hair was disheveled from sleep and the beating he just took but he looked really cute. She'd always harbored a little crush on him but right now – the stirrings she was feeling went deeper than that.

Spencer rubbed his ribs with one hand and his shoulder of the opposite arm with the other. "I live here," he said momentarily distracted when he finally really looked at her and realized she was wearing a very skimpy tank top and sleep shorts that barely covered her perfectly rounded bottom. "You don't. So the real question is what are you doing sneaking around in my kitchen in the middle of the night?"

Sam shrugged as she bent to pick up the discarded piece of fried chicken off the floor. Spencer forced himself to look away as her shorts rode even higher giving him a clear view of ass. Dusting it off, she took a bite. "I got thirsty – and hungry. I came down for some water and in the process worked up an appetite as well." She licked her greasy fingers.

He watched fascinated as slowly she slid each one in and out of her mouth. Swallowing hard he gestured dramatically toward the fridge. "Well…uhhhh…help yourself to some…ummmmmm…chicken."

She wasn't blind to the fact that he was mesmerized by the way she sucked on her fingers. Purposely she flicked her tongue out and licked the tip of her pointer before closing her mouth over it and drawing it out with excruciating slowness. She saw desire flicker into his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably. "What?" she asked coyly.

"Huh?" He shook his head trying to rid it of the fantasy he had of him bending her over the kitchen counter.

She tossed the remnants of the chicken bone aside and wiped her hands on her shorts. If I don't make the move, this'll never happen, she thought to herself. She stepped forward until she stood right in front of him. Lifting a hand she placed it on his chest. Then the other. Slowly, torturously, she slid them up, over his shoulders, around his neck. She lifted up on her toes so her mouth hovered near his puffing hot, moist breaths against his already tingling lips.

"What are you doing Sam?"

"C'mon Spencer, you can't deny that there has always been something between us."

He could feel her breasts pressed so invitingly into his chest, her scent so rich and seductive. He didn't want to – he had to, he told himself. He'd been fighting it for so long now he didn't dare stop now. "I not only can – I have to." Reluctantly he unwound her arms from his neck. "I have to," he repeated. "You're my sister's friend. Not to mention – there is a big age gap between us."

"I am eighteen now. Perfectly legal if that is what you are so worried about." She placed her hands on her hips and pouted, hurt slightly that he was turning down her advances.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Yeah – and you so look the part right now." She may have been making childish gestures but he couldn't deny she was all woman – her curves so readily on display in her skimpy excuse for pajamas.

Sam saw his gaze dip to her already hardened nipples straining against the thin cotton of her camisole before focusing again on her eyes. It gave her a thrill. She raised her eyebrows in a challenging manner. "Oh I don't huh?" Boldly she crossed her arms across her waist, gripping the hem of her shirt between her fingers. "How about now?" she asked before swiftly pulling her top over her head.

Spencer immediately felt his mouth go as dry as the Sahara Desert. And – although he tried to fight the futile battle – he felt the blood beginning to pool in his lap. "Holy nipplage!" he cried before he could stop himself.

Sam let out a throaty laugh. "What's the matter Spencer? Haven't you ever seen a pair of tits before?"

He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her soft pink-tipped breasts. "I-I…ummmm…no – I mean yes, yes…" he stammered. He almost reached out to touch her before he realized what he was doing.

Even though her heart was hammering an erratic rhythm against her chest, Sam continued with her brazen flirtation and once again took a step forward. "Good. Then I am assuming that means you know what you need to do now." She inched closer and for the second time wound her arms around his neck. This time he didn't push her away. "Kiss me," she demanded.

His body was screaming for him to oblige but his mind was trying to be rational about this. Sam, his little sister's spitfire sidekick, the girl who ate his food, destroyed his property and slept on his couch more often than not. Sam, the alluring woman before him, her body so warm, so soft, so supple. "Sam, we shouldn't." But, as his hands found their way to her hips, he already knew they would.

"Shut up and kiss me," she repeated delving her fingers into his hair and pulling his lips toward hers.

"Yes ma'am." He crushed his mouth down on hers and a moan escaped her lips. The sound of it reverberated through his body and his already growing erection instantly became rock hard. He found himself groaning his own appreciation, sliding his hands up her bare back, reveling in the smooth, silky feel of her skin beneath them.

Sam changed the angle of the kiss and, using her tongue, running it along his lips, she demanded entry. Spencer needed no more encouragement and parted his mouth; his tongue instantly met hers in a dance so incredible, so gratifying, so…forbidden. He had hoped the moment his lips touched hers it would have satisfied the intense curiosity he had always had about her, instead it left him wanting more. And, tearing his mouth away from hers to rain kisses down her jaw, her throat, more he took.

Sam dropped her head back and purred her enjoyment as Spencer's lips tickled a path over her already warming flesh. "Spencer?" she asked on a sigh.

"Hmmmm?" he responded not breaking the contact of his lips on her skin.

She cupped his face in her hands and guided his gaze back to her. "What took you so long?"

He pressed a kiss to her lips as she took one of his hands in hers and placed it on her breast. He gave it a gentle squeeze and she moaned. "Damned if I know," was his only reply as he rolled a nipple expertly between his thumb and forefinger.

Sam's eyes rolled back into her head. "Oooh – Mama liked that," she said, her voice a timbre deeper than usual.

Spencer pulled back slightly, easing the grip he had on her breast but not dropping it completely. "Should we really be doing this?" he asked searching her eyes for something that would make this whole situation seem less surreal. Sure he had always had fantasies about him and Sam – ones ranging from erotic, sexual encounters that would put acrobats to shame to typical mundane activities like watching television together curled up contently on the couch. But he had always tried to ignore them – it would have been wrong to act on them. Until now…

"Shut up Spencer. I told you – I'm eighteen now," she said before teasingly nipping at his bottom lip. "We are free to do what I know I have always dreamt about…" she looked at him through lowered lashes, "…and what I am sure you've dreamt about as well."

"Have I ever told you how hot it is when you look at me like that?" He was gone and he knew it. Why fight the inevitable? he decided.

"No."

"Well it is."

"Good. Bedroom?"

"Now?"

"Yes please."

Spencer deftly slid his arm beneath her legs and scooped her up. She fused her mouth to his. Together they stumbled into his bedroom...

END NOTES: More to come in the next chapter. As always - feedback is appreciated. This is my first attempt at Spam so I hope I am doing them justice!