I apologize for the delay in this. I got writer's block like crazy. The songs that FINALLY gave me inspiration? Grace Potter and the Nocturnal's "Paris (Ooh La La)" and Iron & Wine's "Flightless Bird American Mouth". Also "Shake" by Jesse McCartney.
Sam woke up much warmer than she could remember being since her mother died. It only took a moment of disorientation to realize that the cause of her warmth was Freddie, who had stayed the night with her per her request.
She usually woke up cold. Not just the cold that left you shivering, cold that was brought on by accidentally falling asleep without covers on. Sam woke up in cold sweats because the realization that her mother was gone from this earth left her feeling somewhat empty inside. No matter how long it had been since Pam Puckett died, a part of Sam would never got over it.
She was Sam's mother, and she was gone.
In those last few months, Freddie, Carly and Spencer (and even Gibby) had become her lifeline. Without them, and with Melanie gone at her fancy boarding school, Sam would have lost her way for sure. Probably resorted to a life of crime, escalated from her previous offenses. But no, Sam had had people to lean on, a wonderful boyfriend who supported her, and friends who helped her become more than she had ever imagined was possible.
In their sleep, Freddie had wrapped his arms around Sam's waist protectively. In doing this, he also unintentionally ensured that Sam was well trapped against his waist.
Attached to his waist was his groin area, where he was having the same problem that men complained of every morning.
Sam was torn between wanting to cringe away with embarrassment and wanting to laugh her head off. The only thing that kept her from wriggling out of Freddie's embrace was the warm tension in the pit of her stomach that reminded her of the night she brought her report card to Freddie and the hot make-out session they had afterwards. They hadn't had the opportunity for a repeat performance since. That longing feeling mixed with the wall of prodding body parts that was Freddie behind her made Sam feel flushed.
Try hard as she might to ignore her wily teenage hormones in favor of focusing on her future, her body was not willing to ignore Freddie. It was easier to do when Freddie was still a scrawny nub that hadn't hit puberty yet. Now he was, as Carlos so aptly described, "a wall of luscious man meat".
Carlos was really just so intuitive and accurate sometimes.
"Sammie?" Freddie mumbled, finally waking up. His arms clenched tighter around Sam's stomach, and she smiled. From what Sam could tell, either nobody else was awake yet or nobody was home. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was well past noon. So nobody was home, then. Most weekend afternoons had Spencer noisily rambling around the apartment, building a sculpture and Carly usually either had plans with Sam and Freddie or was at the pool. Sam could hear no noise coming from the rest of the house, which meant that Spencer was out shopping for sculpture supplies and Carly was out swimming. If she was home, she would have been playing music or watching television as background fodder for whatever she was actually doing. Like Sam, Carly hated complete silence. "What time is it?"
"Just after one thirty."
"Really?" Freddie said, sitting up and checking the clock on the table beside Sam's bed. Sam noticed how Freddie quite reluctantly let go of Sam, but was not as hesitant about maneuvering Sam away from the straining pant fabric near his waist. Sam also noticed that Freddie had what had to be the world's most adorable case of bedhead ever. It was all tousled and sticking up in places where he had put gel in it to keep it in place for the dance the night before and then slept in it.
Sam couldn't help herself.
She really couldn't.
Freddie caught on to Sam's intentions a second before her lips connected to his. Unbeknownst to Sam, he had been suffering from the same feelings of longing and frustration with being unable to be fully alone together. Freddie tried to keep control at first, keeping his hands to himself (they had a tendency to wander) but Sam had other plans. Before he knew it, Sam was tracing the line of his lips with her tongue and Freddie placed his hands on either side of Sam's hips and yanked her on top of his lap.
"Holy chiz, Benson. You trying to kill me or something?" Sam whispered against Freddie's ear, a breathy moan that only brought back the issue in Freddie's pants that he had so valiantly defeated just a few minutes prior to their current situation with thoughts of his mother and Gunsmoke in the intimate embrace he had walked on in his kitchen three days ago.
"Says the girl who initiated this," Freddie groaned. Sam's mouth was pressing against his neck and the shell of his ear and he was glad that he wasn't standing because his knees might have gone out by now. However, it seemed like Sam had near complete control of herself and that was just unfair. She could turn his legs to jelly with a smirk on her face while he sat there completely, mercilessly at her disposal?
Not on his watch.
A few months back, before Sam's mom died, Freddie discovered this spot on Sam's collarbone that elicited a moan from Sam that if Freddie hadn't had Sam in his grasp and known that there was nobody else in the room, he would have sworn that Carly had done it. It was high-pitched and girly and squeaky and not like Sam at all.
Of course, Freddie had catalogued it for future use, just in case any situations like these ever came up again.
With ninjalike speed that would have made Sam proud had they not been in a rather compromising situation, Freddie had flipped them over so that Sam was lying beneath him on her bed, hair splayed across the sheets and safely out of the way of what his main goal was. Freddie loved Sam's hair, but it wasn't nearly as beautiful when it got in his mouth or laced in his clothes like thread.
He dragged his lips in long, lingering kisses from the tip of Sam's ear down her neck and was rewarded with several moans from his girlfriend that had him smirking against her neck, a smirk that was quickly erased when he reached her collarbone and Sam responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing down onto him.
"Unngh." Freddie tried to articulate his spinning thoughts, but just couldn't. In the span of five seconds, Sam had flipped them back over and was kissing him intensely, tongues battling and hands roaming.
Every time Freddie's fingers found a new sensitive spot on Sam, she mewled and ground her hips down onto his. The embarrassment that she had had earlier concerning Freddie's arousal was long gone, replaced by a sense of feminine power and awe that she could make him feel like that and a similar sense of just wanting to rip his clothes off and get it on already.
That's exactly what she did.
Before her oddly moral and gentlemanly boyfriend could object, Sam made quick work of unbuttoning Freddie's shirt and throwing it across the room, lifting the undershirt over his head and raking her nails along his stomach and down the line of hair that descended into his boxers.
Freddie froze underneath her. Beside her brazenness in removing her shirt the last time they were in a situation like this, they had never gone this far before. It wasn't that he had never wanted to; he was a teenage boy with raging hormones. Of course he wanted to take things farther. But he had so much respect (and also a little bit of fear) for Sam and his mother had always raised him right, taught him how to treat a lady and gave him a very explicit and mentally scarring sex talk. He wasn't going to pressure Sam into doing anything she wasn't truly ready to do.
"Nub, stop worrying. I can hear the gears in your head going overtime. This is something I want. You know me; if I wanted to stop, I could break both of your thumbs. Stop thinking so much, it's actually killing the vibe a smidge." Sam murmured. If she had wanted to back out, she would have done it. She wasn't entirely sure at that moment if she was fully ready to have sex with Freddie, but she did know that she wanted him right then and they were both wearing far too many clothes for her taste.
Sam took the hand that was resting on the waistband of Freddie's dress pants and brought it slowly up his body, lingering on his chest a little bit before twining her fingers in the hair at the nape of her boyfriend's neck and bringing his mouth up to hers.
Freddie unfroze his limbs and placed both of his hands tightly on her thighs, burrowing up further and further underneath the red dress that he loved so much until his hands rested on either side of-
Freddie opened his eyes and gawked down at the bottom half of Sam's body. He knew that Carly, though girly, wasn't much of a risk taker when it came to underclothes. Being best friends with two females, you just came to know these things. But covering Sam's more womanly parts was a pair of black panties trimmed in fire engine red lace.
Sam raised her eyebrow and smirked when Freddie met her gaze, pupils dilated.
"I thought you'd like them."
"Them?"
"Well duh. With Carlos and Carly, did you really think they'd let me leave the house for a dance with only the hot underwear?" Sam still refused to say panties. "I'm wearing a matching bra. Silly Freddie."
Freddie tore her dress off so fast that one of the straps popped. True to her word, Sam was decked out in a strapless bra that was black with red lace.
"Carlos is gonna kill you for ripping the dress, you know."
"Uh huh."
"He might forcibly introduce you to one of his gay friends, tell them that you play for their team."
"Uh huh."
"Then he'll suggest that you guys have a threesome with E.T."
"Uh hu-not funny, Sam."
"Well it's not my fault if you were distracted by Mama's hot body. I could have gotten you to agree to naming your future kid Fruit Loops or something."
"Maybe I was distracted. What exactly are you going to do about it?" Sam said nothing, just covered Freddie's mouth with her own. Freddie thought he was in the clear until Sam's hand wandered to his belt and undid it, sliding it from the belt loops of his pants and throwing it with an impressive crack across the room. She unsnapped the button on his pants and slid down the zipper.
"I'm in my bra and underwear and you're still 50% covered. That needs to change. If I'm this exposed, you're going to be too. Capiche?"
"Capiche." Freddie used his feet and lifted both himself and the mass of girlfriend on his lap off the mattress so he could pull his pants (but not his boxers, Sam might kill him for getting totally naked and he would prefer not to die just yet) down near his knees. His butt fell back to the bed and Sam collapsed clumsily pressed to his chest with a muffled oomph against his lips. He reached behind Sam's back and grabbed the fabric of his pants and yanked them off, sending them to join the pile near Sam's closet door that consisted of Sam's dress and his shirts and belt.
"Much better."
Taking one deep, bracing breath, Freddie moved one of his hands from it's position on her hip to her bra, nudging it out of the way and teasing her nipple. He brought his other hand up to her other breast and had fully unclipped her bra (in record time for an unexperienced sixteen-year-old, mind you) when Sam's bedroom door opened and the loud, horror-movie-quality scream that could only belong to Carly Shay rang throughout the room.
"Oh my god! Are you two-"
"No! We're not, Carls, this just looks really bad." Sam said quickly, sliding off Freddie's lap and pulling the blankets over both of them before Carly had the chance to see Freddie's erection straining against his nerdy yet admittedly adorable Galaxy Wars boxers.
"But...but...you two are..."
"I'll be out in a second, just give me and him a chance to get dressed. He needs to head home anyway, before Crazy assassinates him for not coming home."
"O-okay. Just...ew." Carly stammered, running out of the room and slamming the door behind her. Once again listening to the commotion in the other rooms, Sam deduced that Spencer wasn't home yet. That was a saving grace Sam hadn't expected. The upcoming talk with Carly was going to be enough without having to explain the situation to Spencer.
"Here are your clothes. I suggest that you don't come here for at least eight hours, unless you want up in the Spanish Inquisition that I'm about to get from Carly."
"I still can't believe we didn't hear her coming."
"Right? Although you can do some things with that mouth, Benson. We should definitely regroup soon, sometime when we're definitely not going to be interrupted."
"Definitely." Freddie said, pulling his undershirt over his head. He was in a hurry to get in and out of that apartment as fast as possible. He felt bad for Sam and what she was about to be subjected to, but he wasn't up for hearing Carly squeal and live vicariously through he and Sam's interludes.
"Wait!"
"What?"
"Don't put that undershirt back on."
"Why not?"
Sam looked at her feet. Standing in front of him in just that criminally sexy bra and a pair of boxer shorts that he was sure she had stolen from him a while back and now used as shorts, she looked more beautiful than anyone should ever have a right to. "I want to keep it. I'm your girlfriend and I don't have nearly enough articles of your clothing."
Freddie smiled and took the shirt off, pulling it down over Sam's head and laughing because it was quite obviously two sizes too big for her.
Once Freddie was composed enough to make it to his house without arousing unwarranted attention from his mother, he leaned over and kissed Sam on the forehead. "I love you. Good luck with Carly."
"Thanks. Love you too."
Sam walked him to the apartment door, where Freddie kissed her one more time before walking over to his own place of residence toward his own battle with a crazy brunette. Sighing, Sam made her way up to Carly's room, mentally steeling herself for what was sure to be an agonizingly thorough discussion of her and Freddie's budding sex life.
000
Later that night, after Carly had grilled her for over three hours, Sam had retreated to the studio for a marathon session of Modern Warfare 3 to get the image of Carly describing childbirth out of her brain. By the time she finally got back down to her room to rummage for her stash of Fat Cakes, there was a box of condoms resting delicately on her pillow.
Sam picked up the box, noting that Carly had purchased the average size.
"Hey, Carls!" Sam only shouted because Spencer still wasn't back (he was on a date with some chick he had met at the doctor's).
"What, you little trollop?"
"These won't fit Fredward."
"What do you mean, they won't fit?"
"Just that: they won't fit. These are way too small."
"Oh my god, too much information!" Carly shrieked. Sam stood her ground, knowing what was coming next. "...Really? They're too small?"
"Totally. You should have scooped him up when you had the chance, Shay. You don't know what you're missing."
There you go. Don't kill me for the wait! Please?
Is it bad if I have boycotted iCarly until they get Freddie and Sam back together?
Reviews? I adore them. Would it be too dramatic to say that they are the reason I exist?
If you want to follow me on Tumblr, my url is amyclough . tumblr . com. It's much easier to yell at me to write on there, since I'm on Tumblr at least three times a day if not more.