Chapter 8: Making Her Move
Disclaimer: Q: Have you now or have you ever owned iCarly? A: I don't see how that is pertinent to the matter at hand. Q: Sir, please answer the question. A: This isn't really- Q: Sir, answer the question. A: No, okay. I don't own it. Have you no sense of decency left. At long last, have you no sense of decency left.
Note: Hey, did I mention this was rated 'M'? I did? Cool.
Note, the second: I know I usually post these in the morning, but I will be occupied tomorrow. Additionally, I have gotten so many kind requests for a faster update (along with some thinly-veiled threats, I believe), that I thought I would post it a little early. Chances are the next chapter will be back to the morning on Monday.
"What's wrong with boys?"
Spencer looked up from the sculpture on which he was working. His sister came into the apartment and sat down on the couch in a huff.
"Seriously, is there a special rule that you all like have to be dropped on your heads as children or something?"
Spencer stood up and sat down next to Carly. "I'm gonna guess this has something to do with boys," he said.
She gave him a look. "Har har. No, not boys, just Freddie."
"Ouch."
"You know what I mean. A girl asked him out today, a very, and I say this only observationally, hot girl, and he turned her down. Can you believe that?"
Yes, Spencer thought, but he didn't say. "Did he say why?"
"He 'didn't really want to get into it', he said." Spencer wondered if it irritated Freddie as much as it did him when she used that voice. "God, Spencer, you don't think he might still have a crush on me, do you? I thought he had gotten over that, but if he's not accepting this date..."
"Nah, he doesn't."
"Why wouldn't he have a crush on me? I'm adorable."
"Of course you are." Girls really confuse me, he thought. "You don't want Freddie to have a crush on you, do you?"
"Nooo. But I don't need the idea that he might to just be dismissed out of hand, like there was no possibility that a boy would have a crush on me."
"But-"
"That's not the point!" The door opened and Sam came in. Spencer noticed she swept the room quickly with her eyes. "Thank goodness you're here, Sam. Spencer's too much of a boy to get it."
"Get what?" Sam asked.
"Well, one, that I'm adorable and it's not surprising if boys have crushes on me." Sam waved in agreement, as if she understood anything Carly was saying. "And that Freddie is a complete idiot."
"Well, I've always thought that, but you argued against me. What makes you say it now?" she asked.
"Do you know that Michelle did ask him out, and he said no?"
Spencer watched Sam's face, and for the briefest of moments he thought he had seen her lip almost twitch into a smile, but then it was gone. Carly didn't notice, probably still musing over Spencer questioning her adorability factor. "Did he? Why?"
"He wouldn't tell me. You should help me make him tell."
"No way. The less I'm involved in the nub's 'love life' the better." She did the quote gesture with 'love life', and Spencer laughed. She looked at him, and he tried to make his face a serene as possible. He wasn't sure if it worked, but Sam looked at him less as if he knew something and more as if he were going to have some type of seizure. "Sounds to me like the boy knew it was a prank or that major dumpage was coming his way. Either way, who cares?"
"Sam, he's our friend."
"Eh." Sam shrugged. "Besides, isn't it his business? Why do you need to get involved?"
"Because if I didn't get involved in you guys' business, the two of you would never find love! Both of you are hopeless. I should just get the two of you together, so the rest of Seattle doesn't have to suffer. Grr. I'm taking a shower." She stomped upstairs. Spencer saw that Sam appeared deep in thought.
"I guess I'll go then," Sam said. She headed toward the door.
"Hey, Sam."
"Hmm."
"Freddie's at fencing. He won't be home for an hour."
"Oh. I mean, why would I care?"
"Didn't say you did. I just thought you might have been going over there to do Carly's dirty work for her. I know how hard it is to resist her."
"Hmmm."
"You want me to make you a BLT, Sam?"
"No." She sat down on the couch. "Make me three."
Carly was out of the shower by the time Freddie came over. Spencer had thought about texting him to let him know to lie low, but he also knew the longer he put Carly off, the more insistent she would be.
"Fredward Benson," she said, as soon as he came in. Spencer heard Freddie mutter "oh, crap". Sam looked up from the couch, but said nothing.
"What's up, Carly?"
"Don't 'what's up' me? Why aren't you going out with Michelle?"
"Didn't want to," he said.
"Didn't want to? Didn't want to? Freddie, she's perfect for you. She actually is into all those nerdy things you do. She's beautiful. She likes you."
"Carly, I already talked to her. She understood."
"Well, I don't."
"I'm sorry, Carly, but you don't need to work on my love life. Work on your own. Whenever I meet the right person, it will happen."
"What if you never meet her?"
"What if I already have?"
Carly paused. "Freddie, you don't-"
He looked at her. "Jeez, Carly, I didn't mean you. I didn't mean anything. I'm just saying, don't try to force it." He got up and walked out the door.
"I'll have you know I've been told I'm adorable," she yelled.
"Um-" Spencer said.
"I'm going to take a shower," Carly said.
"But you just did," Spencer said.
"Shower!" She went upstairs.
"Hey, Sam." She looked at him. "Maybe you should go see if Freddie is okay."
"Seems fine to me," she said.
"Sam."
"Fine. The things I do for you people." She left the apartment. Spencer smiled. Then he thought about next month's water bill. His smile faded.
"Hey, nub, what's going on?" They were on the fire escape. It seemed to Freddie so much of their lives recently had been spent there. She stood at the window, while he was sitting on one of the stairs.
"Nothing."
"So I hear you can't even score when girls throw themselves at you."
"Are you here to torture me, Sam, or be my friend?"
"Friend. Sorry." She sat down one stair below him. "I can't help my mouth sometimes."
"I know."
"So why aren't you going out with Michelle?"
"Not my type, I guess."
She turned to look at him. "She's exactly your type, Benson! She's like this female you who happens to be trapped in a cheerleader's body."
"Do you want me to go out with her, Sam?"
"I don't care. I just think it's strange you said no."
"She is a lot like me, but I don't really want that. It'd be weird, like dating myself. I think I would prefer to find somebody who likes some of the same things I do, but is different enough to make life interesting."
"Well, good luck finding her," Sam said. Freddie smiled wanly behind her. "So what did you tell her?"
"I told her I would love to go with her, but only as a friend. I said it was complicated, but that I was kind of involved with somebody."
Sam's head shot up, and she looked back at him. "What? Who?" He stared at her like she might possibly be the stupidest person alive. "Oh. Well, we're not, you know, really involved."
"So you think I should date Michelle, and she should be okay with it if I just randomly make out with my best friend."
"Oh." They sat in silence. "I guess we could cancel the game if a real relationship would occur."
"I told you she's not my type. But you can quit if you want."
"I'm not quitting!" More silence. "So I guess we need to hold off on the possibility of other relationships while we play our game."
"Game could last a long while, Sam."
"I don't have plans. You, Benson?"
"I'm in for the long haul."
"'Kay. I guess I should go rescue Carly before she turns into a prune. Later, Freddie."
"Night, Sam."
It seemed so easy when he had talked about it to Sam, but it wasn't. He really did like Michelle, and he would have said yes to her easily if it hadn't have been for Sam. He didn't know if what he told Sam about wanting somebody not like him, a sort of not-quite-opposites-attract thing, was true, but he knew that when he thought of Sam, it was an all-consuming thought, and no other girl did that to him.
He lay in bed. Michelle had been really cool about the whole thing; she seemed to understand enough to know he wasn't rejecting her, just that he was involved. Unlike Carly. He knew if Carly pushed matters, she could make things worse. He was fretting about that when the hand stroked his bare leg. He jumped, barely keeping a scream from coming out.
"You know, if I was an assassin, you'd be dead already, Freddie," Sam said. She was sitting on the edge of his bed; he hadn't even noticed any change in weight. She ran her hand along his right thigh, moving from knee to the edge of his boxer shorts.
"Well, you about gave me a heart attack, so almost mission accomplished. What are you doing here, Sam. My mom's home." He looked at the window. It was still locked. "How did you get in?"
"Oh, Freddie. You didn't think I wouldn't eventually be able to get through your locks, did you?"
"Sam, what are you doing?"
"Playing tag. You're it, by the way." She smiled at him. There was no doubt, no fear, no hesitancy in that smile.
Still, Freddie couldn't help himself. "Sam, you shouldn't do this just because of anything I said earlier."
"I'm not," she said. "Not really. What you said was very sweet, and I can understand why another girl would want to be with you." Freddie stared at her. Perhaps even more surprising than the fact that he had been making out with somebody who said he was her sworn enemy was the fact that she said what she just had with a straight face and absolutely no sarcasm in her voice. "But Mama doesn't get swayed by words. I told you I just needed time. Until I was ready. And I'm ready. And I think you better be prepared for your turn, Benson, 'cause Sam's upping the stakes." She looked at his crotch. "I do see that you are ready, though." And she rubbed his cock through his boxer shorts.
"Sam-"
She moved up and put her face right in front of his. "Stop being a girl, Freddie. I don't swing that way. I told you, you're not taking advantage of me. Now, look at me and tell me: you want this, don't you?"
"Yes," he said. She nodded, and gave him a quick peck on his lips. She moved back down, and unlatched the button on the front of his boxer shorts. She pulled his dick out. Freddie saw her trace her finger down his cock and for a moment expected to suddenly wake from a dream. But this was real.
She wrapped her hand around him and pulled up.
"Sam."
"Freddie, stop trying to stop me."
"I'm not. I just don't want you to rip my skin off. Hold it just a little looser." She relaxed her hold a little and looked at him. He nodded. "Use some of the Cowper's fluid."
"The what?"
"Uh, at the top of my...the fluid. It acts as a lubricant." Cowper's fluid? Sometimes I hate the medical books here. Sam rubbed the top of his penis, where fluid had formed. Freddie shivered, and his eyes rolled back. Sam watched him react, and she did it more, slowly rubbing the fluid around the head of his penis, so that it was covered with the natural lubricant. Freddie's head was thrown back, and he was clutching the sheets. She moved her encircled hand down his shaft, and this time the lubricant did make it much easier.
"Fuck," Freddie said, through gritted teeth. Sam smiled. Freddie appeared to take to cursing pretty well in certain situations.
"You seem to know a lot about this, Freddie," she said.
"Seventeen-year-old boy," he said, pointing at himself. He thrust into her hand. Her stroke was maddeningly slow, compared to what he was used to on his solo explorations.
"Sam?"
"Yes, Freddie?" She didn't take her eyes away from his penis. She seemed entranced by the sight, or it could have been possibly how he seemed to levitate off the bed, pushing himself into her grasp.
"Can you...will you-"
At this, she did turn to Freddie, smiling, as if she knew what he wanted. "Yes, Freddie?"
"Can you take your shirt off?" She smiled. He thought she would refuse or mock him, but she let him go and pulled her shirt off. As soon as she tossed it to the floor, she resumed her hold on, and if anything her rhythm seemed to be slower. To Freddie, it was exquisite torture.
"You can get the bra, Freddie. You gotta learn sometime." Freddie reached around with one hand and grasped the clasps in back. It's simple mathematics, he thought, and after a moment released the pressure on the clasps, and Sam's bra fell forward. She shook it off one arm, and then let go of him for a second to let it off the other. She returned her hold and tossed the bra to the floor with her other hand. Still keeping her hand, she scooted up so that her breasts accessible to him. He touched one her nipples.
"You really like boobs, don't you, Freddie?"
"I like yours," he said.
"Such a flatterer." She watched as his hips raised each time she stroked down, matching her rhythm. "You know what happens at the end of this game, right, Freddie?"
He looked at her.
She bent down and licked around one of his nipples. "You get to be inside me. You get to be inside my pussy. Do you want that, Freddie?"
He nodded. Some part of his mind thought about reading how the French called an orgasm le petite mort, which seemed appropriate, as he felt he might die.
"I want that, too. I want you to fuck me."
He gasped. "Sam!"
"What?"
"I'm going to cum."
Oh!" She moved down, still stroking him, so that she was less than a foot from his cock.
"Move...back," he groaned.
"What?"
He waved. She scooted back, just in time. He grunted, a growling, guttaral explosion, and he felt his orgasm in the center of his being.
"Holy crap!" Sam said. Her stroke paused for a second, but then she returned. He felt the shudder of his body lessen as each spurt shot out. He began to breathe normally, feeling a little lightheaded.
"Damn, Freddie, you could kill somebody with that. Remind me not to play Assassin with you anymore." He felt laughter bubble in his throat. His eyes were still closed. Her stroking had slowed, but she still had her hand around him.
He opened his eyes and looked down. His ejaculate trailed from his groin to nearly his chest.
"Sam, can you help me?"
"What do you need?"
"Could you get me a washcloth from the top right drawer in the bathroom. Rinse it with warm water." She let him go, and went to the bathroom. Sam's being really nice, he thought. He giggled silently. She just gave you an orgasm, and you think, wow, she's being nice.
She came back with the cloth. He held his hand out for it, but she pushed his hand aside and began to clean him, moving the cloth from his chest down to his groin.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah?"
"Is that normal?"
"Is what normal?"
"You know, the amount."
"Oh, I don't know. Not for me, really, but I guess since it's been a while."
She was cleaning around his belly button and looked at him. "I thought you were a seventeen-year-old boy. How has it been a while?"
"I just haven't, you know, since we started playing."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I guess I just wanted the next time to be with you."
"Oh." She appeared to think about that. "I'm done. What should do with the cloth?"
"Rinse it in the sink and throw it in the shower. I'll take care of it tomorrow."
She did, and when she came back, he was sure she was going to leave. But instead, she gestured for him to scoot over. He did, and she lay down on the bed on her side.
"Is that how you do it when you're alone?" she asked.
"Um, no. I usually do it in the shower."
"Shower? I thought you guys did it into a grey sweat sock or something?"
"Yeah, how am I going to explain that to my mom? You know she goes through my room like the CIA. Everything can be washed away in the shower." She nodded. "Uh, Sam?"
"Hmm."
"What are you doing?" They both looked down. Sam had his flaccid penis held between her fingers.
"I don't know. It looks kind of cute."
"Cute?"
"Yeah, so tiny, like a little bird."
"Can you not say 'tiny' in reference to my penis?" he asked.
She laughed. "Well, it wasn't tiny before. Why is that?" she asked.
"I don't know. Some guys are just bigger flaccid. One of the guys in one of my PE classes called it being a 'grower, not a shower'. Sam, could you stop that? My penis is not a marionette." Sam was moving his penis back and forth, making the head of it look like a drunken mushroom.
"It's like he's wearing a helmet," she said.
"Oh, god," Freddie said.
"Sorry," she said. "I just haven't seen very many. Not counting ones in movies or accidentally seeing my mom with her gross boyfriends, yours is the first real one I've seen." She had let go of his cock, but was still stroking it absently with her finger.
"Well, I'm pleased to introduce you to the world of penises," he said. She laughed at that.
"Freddie?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't think any less of me, do you?"
He sat up. "Why would I think that?"
"Because i did that, you know. My mom says once a guy gets what he wants, he acts like the girl is a slut."
"Sam, you're not a slut. And you're not your mom. And whether you did that or not, I think you're great."
"Thanks, Freddie."
"Sam?"
"Yeah."
"Unless you plan on round two, you might want to stop." She looked down. His penis had hardened again under her touch.
"I guess I should probably go back to Carly's."
"Okay." She got out of bed. "Hey, Sam." She turned to him. "Thanks." She nodded, then laughed.
"You owe me big time, Benson." He nodded.
She headed to the door. "Sam!"
"Really, Freddie, I can't. My wrist is sore. I'm not used to that."
"Uh, I was just gonna say you might want to put your shirt on."
She looked down. "Oh."
After she left, Freddie was asleep within two minutes.
He woke up early the next morning, making sure to thoroughly rinse out the washcloth. He started a load of laundry with it and his boxer shorts. Not supposed to mix them, but oh well. He checked his room for any possible sign that he had a girl in there with him.
He had a girl in there with him. He grinned stupidly at the thought. He had Sam in there, and she had made him have an orgasm. Life couldn't get any better.
His euphoria crashed a few hours later when he realized he had to tag next, and unless he was prepared to give Sam a medical exam, his knowledge of the vagina and how it worked was severely limited.
He silently cursed his mother. Thanks to her, he could name every part of the vagina and its inner workings. There were multiple medical books around the apartment, and he had seen the vagina in pictures and drawings. But as for sexual understanding of the vagina, his mother had ensured his knowledge was stunted. She had given him the TALK, which had put him off sex for about six months when he was thirteen, especially after she showed him a film of a woman giving birth.
He needed to know what to do. Sam had made him orgasm; he didn't want to have his tag and completely disappoint her. If he was a normal boy, he would just watch porn on the computer. Unfortunately, his mother checked his browser history regularly. He could have used the computer in the iCarly studio, but both Sam and Carly used it also, and he could imagine their reactions if they stumbled across what he had been doing. Gunsmoke was out of the country at the moment and unreachable by phone, and he could have gone to Spencer, but it was about Sam. He didn't think he could say, hey, I want to learn how to make Sam cum. Can you tell me how? Spencer had said he thought of Sam as a little sister, and Freddie imagined what Spencer would say if Freddie had asked that question about Carly. Spencer probably would have punched him, and Freddie wouldn't have blamed him.
Finally, Freddie realized there was only one place left he could go. He didn't want to, but where else could he turn? Maybe Sam would understand that he didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't want to even face that possibility.
His mom was home again that night, but he took a bus anyway. He wasn't sure how long he would be gone. If there was no help to be found, he would be back right away, maybe just long enough to go join a monastery.
He rang the doorbell. Please make this worth it. The door opened.
"Hey, I was wondering if you could help me."
"Sure, Gibby's always there for a friend."
A/N: The next chapter is the first and likely only chapter that will include no Sam. I know. I'm sad, too. But I hope that the Freddie and Gibby interactions will make it worth it.
I know some people probably expected Michelle to play more of a part after the end of the last chapter, but she served the purpose I needed her for. Again I make no promises she won't be back, but it's more likely, I think, that Matt would make a reappearance (or I guess, an actual appearance) before Michelle does.
So, are you guys gonna put those pitchforks down? Are we cool now?
Thanks for reviews from: LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, pos, S. Benson, kimmyAllen, Vetiver, Termite Tornado, Moviepal, KarmaLord, Princess Starlight, MissSeddie, Daniyell37, mamaluvsangst, maxiefae, clarksonfan, adore202, SeddieBennett, and popcorn1001.
Princess Starlight: I would not be the first man who has fallen for the bat of an eyelash. Yet, I remain steadfast. But wasn't it better that we waited? Didn't it feel right? Okay, I'll stop-sorry, I'm writing this after working on the first draft of the next chapter. It's been putting me in the mind of finding something perverted to say about everything. But you got to wait for it.
adore202: I wish I could. As I am writing this comment, I do have the next chapter complete and about half of chapter 10. However, I still have editing to do on both of them. I hope that this chapter will get you through until you come back. At least when you come back, you'll have the Gibby chapter and two additional ones to look forward to.
SeddieBennett: You hate cliffhangers? You must have loved this chapter!
S. Benson: Was she jealous? That's one of the questions, isn't it? I enjoy writing this way, in which we never know exactly what Sam is thinking, but have to rely on her words and actions, and, even then, we know that Sam is capable of lying.