A/N: I found this on an old flash drive and have been kicking around the idea of posting it for a couple weeks now.
So here it goes...
iGNITION
The morning after your 21st birthday celebration is quite possibly the worst day of your life. If you've done it right, you feel like shit. Your head is throbbing. Every cell in your body is screaming with dehydration. You wake up in unfamiliar surroundings to the smell of vomit. It takes you several minutes to determine your location and the location of the inevitable vomit. The latter is usually a residual scent from either your clothes or the chucks still stuck in your nasal passage. A good friend will make sure that you do not actually sleep in your own vomit. It's in your best interest to make sure this friend has a strong stomach. If they're a sympathy puker – you're screwed.
The last thing you did before you passed out is still a mystery – and could very well be for the rest of your life. Unless someone took video. Then you're really fucked because they will show it to everyone. Trust me, while you and your friends and your siblings will find it hilarious – your grandmother will not. If possible – delete the evidence.
You're legal now. Ironically, this is also around the time you will stop getting carded every twelve seconds. But while this birthday marks the true end of the underage era – when something ends – another begins.
And so to mark this new beginning, Freddie Benson awoke to deafening music being blasted through the iCarly studio. Now, it was close to four in the afternoon but in his condition time didn't matter.
Angrily, he threw a pillow from the bed toward the sound. When it didn't stop he grabbed the next closest item – a plate – and threw that too.
He heard it hit something and break.
But the music continued to play.
He sat up in bed – crying out in pain as the sudden position change practically caused an aneurysm in his head. "SHUT IT OFF!" he yelled, palms curled around his temples as he winced at the volume of his own voice.
The heavy drum beats and lyrical repertoire continued. Freddie managed to get one eye open just enough to see the illumination of the pole and a flash of blonde hair.
"Sam, please…," Freddie whined.
Like any plea of his, she was never quick to respond. Freddie flopped back down on the bed, resting his forearm over his eyes. "SAM!" he begged. There was a brief pause as the current song ended and a new one began.
"Why me?" Freddie whimpered.
Even though his arm covered his eyes, he could see flashing lights in the dimly lit room. Knowing that the only way his ears would have peace is if he got up and hit the power button himself, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed until his feet hit the floor.
Still completely naked, Freddie rummaged through the twisted bed sheets for something to cover himself. Under one of the blankets was a towel. It was stiff and crusted. A closer look revealed a mark that suspiciously resembled a blood stain.
"Oh great," Freddie grumbled as he checked himself for lacerations. Not seeing anything obvious on his limbs or torso – he dared to hope that maybe it wasn't blood after all. Pizza sauce? Taking steps across the room and with the push of a button he was rewarded with the beautiful sound of silence.
In a pair of red boy shorts complimented by a tee hosting the trademarked Superman logo, Sam approached him.
"HI FREDDIE!" she shouted less than a foot from his ear.
If she wasn't a girl, Freddie would have swung– probably missing – but he would have at least tried.
"Arrrrrgh," his eyes and fists squeezed closed as he fought his current hungover state. "Don't you have a headache?" he asked his fellow celebrant.
"I was high not drunk out of my mind," Sam explained as she folded her arms over her chest. Glancing down between his legs, she began to smile. "Didn't think you had anything left," she said noting the state of his penis.
"Yeah, well, I have to pee."
Freddie made his way to the bathroom where he spent a solid three minutes, urinating. The neon glow of his pee further indicated his acute state of dehydration. Before he was finished he heard the music start again.
"Fuck," he mumbled as he flushed the toilet. Turning on the sink he washed his hands only to find the bathroom completely out of towels. With nothing to wipe his hands on, Freddie attempted to shake them dry. Water droplets flung against the mirror and the wall.
As he looked into the mirror, Freddie noted that in addition to feeling like he'd been hit by a motor vehicle (again) – he looked the part. Hair was sticking out in all directions, eyes were bloodshot and the telltale dark circles finished his morning after look. Studying his reflection, the one thing he didn't see were signs of injury. No cuts. No scrapes. No bruises – including hickeys. But he did have the beginning of a giant pimple right on the side of his nose.
How he managed to survive the night without any physical damage was a miracle. Perhaps there was a God after all.
Stumbling back into the studio, he was met by the sight of Sam standing there with her back against the pole, looking almost innocent.
Loose blonde curls spilled over her shoulders. Her long shapely legs were crossed at the ankles, while her arms were stretched up above her head. One hand grasped the pole, the other held a remote control which she used to direct him to the chair.
"You know that's my shirt, right?" Freddie wasn't sure why the hell he even mentioned that. Maybe because he had a feeling he wasn't getting it back in this lifetime.
"You know I don't care, right?"
Freddie shrugged and examined the chair - not ready to let his guard down around Puckett. She'd been in the room alone for at least five minutes, which was plenty of time to wreak havoc.
He found nothing out of the ordinary upon investigation and so he sat back down in the chair, more than willing to sit through another strip tease. Sam aimed the remote at the stereo and clicked the button. The track changed once.
Then twice.
Then a third time.
Finding the right song, Sam tossed the remote aside. Freddie's attention drifted to her partly open mouth, where her tongue ran deliberately across the base of her front teeth. Her gaze dropped to her free hand which slid from the space between her legs, up through her cleavage before joining the other hand above her head.
Pivoting slowly to face the pole she took a step sideways, leaving her feet shoulder width apart. At the same time she leaned forward, flattening her back. Her shorts rode up and she looked ready to take it from behind.
Freddie nervously chewed his finger nails. The fun they had last night was one thing – but now that sobriety had arrived – he knew that things were probably going to get awkward in a Galaxy Wars second.
He didn't even have to look between his legs to know that...
Yes.
The probably was now a definitely.
He continued to watch Sam dance. She was bent over in half, hair puddling on the floor as her cheek rested flush against her leg. Giving him a defiant stare Sam swung her body over to the other leg. Her shorts barely covered anything and Freddie had to actually stop himself from getting up out of the chair and rubbing his hardened cock all over her ass.
The fact was, that in all the years of torturing him – she'd never been quite this cruel. Freddie feared that this latest form of her gluttonous punishment might be the death of him.
No. It would be the death of him.
Seriously.
How the fuck do you fight back against this?
Her body moved with the music in waves that isolated every curve of her body. He wasn't sure whether to focus on her ass or her breasts or that thing she was doing with her mouth.
it's the remix to ignition
hot n fresh out the kitchen
mama rollin' that body
got every man in here wishin'
She was on the floor now, full straddle, still facing the pole. Chest pressed to the ground, ass lifting up a few inches in the air. He had no idea how she was doing it, but she was able to bounce her pussy against the floor in perfect timing to beat.
Bounce, bounce
Bounce, bounce
Bounce, bounce
Bounce
(breathe)
Bounce
Bounce
Bounce
"Sam, you should stop now." Freddie reluctantly closed his eyes. "I think I might actually cum just watching you."
She laughed.
"I'm serious," Freddie went so far as to cover his eyes with his palms. He was sure that Sam would never let him live it down if he were to climax at this very moment.
"You can look now."
Her voice held that bit of an inflection that sometimes indicated she was messing around. Today, Freddie wasn't taking any chances. Splitting his fingers open ever so slightly he dared to peek through them.
And fuck.
Sam's – er – his shirt was on the floor and…
Her hand was down the front of her shorts and…
He was fairly certain she was masturbating.
Like shutters, his hands slammed closed blocking the view from his sight. "Sam, I'm serious. You have to stop!"
All he heard in reply was a light moan.
Yeah. She was definitely fingering herself.
All he could imagine was how she looked last night when she reached orgasm. White of her eyes showing under fluttering eyelids. The way her body trembled beneath his and Carly's as she cried out for more.
Unable to take it anymore, Freddie figured he might as well take the leap of faith that Sam might be game for some post-birthday coitus. Wouldn't hurt to try right?
Approaching her cautiously, he covered himself with both hands – just in case.
"About time," she growled, grabbing him by the back of his neck. Roughly pulling him closer, her lips crashed against his. It was a short sloppy kiss but it seemed Sam had other plans. She shoved her wet fingers in his mouth. Freddie sucked hard, swallowing the juicy Puckett venom.
Why did girls have to taste so fucking good?
"On the bed," Sam commanded. "Now."
Freddie moved as fast as he could to get back to the bed. Resting his ass on the edge of the mattress he reached out to embrace Sam. But the ever impatient blonde, planted a palm on his bare chest pushing him down against the sheets.
Sam's eyes raked over his body and Freddie couldn't help feeling protective of his erection. With one hand in a defensive position, he leaned on his elbow keeping his sights on Sam's next move. Crawling on top of him, he saw an intense hunger in her gaze that made him feel vulnerable - like the last piece of bacon at a buffet. When she started to slide her body back up his, with her ample chest touching every bit of his arousal and torso, Freddie was almost ready to beg for mercy.
Across the room the cum shot chart hung on the wall, reminding him of his birthday wish. Just about half the boxes were checked – regretfully, his body gave out before his libido.
When Sam caught him looking at the chart instead of her, Freddie managed a crafty, "You owe me a few more."
"Ditto," Sam replied smiling viciously as she reached between his legs cupping his scrotum. As Freddie's breath hitched he let his eyes close for the briefest of moments. As Sam's mouth descended, Freddie felt an exhale of hot breath near the head of his erection.
Gripping the sheets tightly he uttered, "Put it in your mouth."
Hearing Sam clear her throat agitatedly he added a hasty, "please."
To which she replied, "Nahhhhhh."
"Saaammmm," Freddie groaned. That was cold and cruel and so typical of Sam.
The bed creaked as Sam flopped down next to him.
Freddie turned his head to look at her lying there with legs spread wide. "I think I hate you right now," he told her.
"I hate you too, Benson," Sam replied as she began to wriggle out of her shorts.
Their proclamation of mutual dislike was still confusing to Freddie, but as Sam curled a finger his way, urging him closer – he didn't fucking care.
Sealing his mouth against hers, his hands slipped between her thighs to her preheated pussy. Aiming his cock at her entrance, he thrust in feeling her body contract beneath him. She choked out a weak, "Freddie stop."
"What's wrong?" Freddie asked as he caught her wrinkled brow, and scrunched up nose.
"Can you go a little slower? I'm kinda sore," she admitted in an uncharacteristically meek demeanor.
"Yeah, sure."
Freddie shifted his weight a little, gently pulling himself almost all the way out leaving only the tip inside her. Stopping to kiss Sam again, he let his hips move delicately forward.
"Mmmm, much better," Sam cooed between kisses.
Admittedly Freddie has some difficulty keeping the pace since his body wanted to skip the caution laps and speed right to the finish line. But for Sam's sake he held on to this sensual rhythm.
The orgasm escaped him accompanied by a low grunt.
After a night of wild passion – sober sex was almost disappointing.
In fact, the cuddling afterward was better than the intercourse.
Fuck, Freddie thought to himself – he really had to get his shit together if he ever wanted to have an actual girlfriend.
Nestled in Sam's cleavage, Freddie felt her run her fingers over his shoulders. "Sorry," he apologized, not only feeling embarrassed but a little self-conscious. He vowed that no matter what – he would find a way to get a little more practice so this would never happen again.
He was surprised when Sam didn't have a snarky comeback to his apology. Instead she kissed the top of his head and hugged him. "So what do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
WTF? Small talk with Puckett? Was that even possible?
"Packing I guess," he replied, detaching himself from Sam. He should probably get started since it was a long ride back to school.
As he pulled out, he started to drip a little onto the sheets. Grabbing the closest item, the old crusty towel – he was about to wipe himself clean when Sam stole the towel right out of his hand.
"That's mine," she said hiding it behind her back. "Use this." Her underwear were tossed at his face.
"You might want to bleach that towel," Freddie advised as he cleaned himself. "I think it has blood on it."
"Yeah, I know" Sam said avoiding his eyes. "Carly would have freaked if I got it on her sheets."
"Oh God," Freddie swallowed as the bile climbed up his throat. "Sam, did you have your…?" He couldn't even finish the sentence – and to think he'd been sucking on her hand.
Her fucking hand!
"Uh, no. It wasn't that." Sam blushed as she got off the bed.
"Then what was it?" Freddie felt the flush rising through his body to the tips of his ears. "Do you, uh, have, um, something going on – uh, down there?"
Most uncomfortable question EVER!
"Nothing unusual," Sam shrugged as she slipped the Superman tee over her head. "Everybody bleeds a little their first time."
Wait a minute. Freddie stopped dead in his tracks. "What did you just say?"
I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I can't remember if this was the original ending or if I started a sequel...Let it know if it was worth reading. -Gemma