(oh god this seems so out of character)

"Hey, Freddork." Sam starts off, walking into his apartment, sitting on the couch and propping her feet up on his mother's coffee table like she owns the place.

He pushes her feet off the table but she automatically replaces them, punishing him with a hard punch to the shoulder. "What's your problem, Fredwina? Your mom isn't even home. Get over yourself."

He rolls his eyes, "One, my name isn't Freddork, or Fredwina, or whatever you say, it's Fredward." He sniffed, "Two, why are you here, bugging me, when you could be bugging Carly or someone who, you know, actually likes you?"

"Freddie, Freddie, Freddie," She condescended, "I know you like me, you wouldn't have let me in the first place if you didn't like me."

He sighs, "You threatened to break my door down."

"Well, I didn't and you still let me in. Besides, Carly's busy with her senior report and instructed Spencer to inot/i let me in." She sighed lightly, bored. "Poor little Freddumb." She leaned back, smiling in that arrogant manner she had, and he felt something just... he didn't know how to describe it. It was nearly a snap, more of a click, but he knew that he had reached some mythical, Freddie-Benson-not-taking-any-shit point that he had never reached before.

He turned to her, quickly, and she almost didn't notice it, but soon her back was pressed against the couch, and his hands were pinning her arms, and their legs were strange and tangled and ohgodwhatisheabouttodo-- His eyes look mad-- madder than she's ever seen him, madder than when she revealed he had never been kissed, madder than, well, anything she had ever seen before.

"My name--" He seethes, teeth clinched, "is Fredward." With that, his hands clinch harder around her wrists-- enough to hurt the tiniest bit, and his lips are against hers, pressing down with enough ferocity to make her wonder where this part of him had been locked up inside their little Freddie Benson.

Though, to be honest, he isn't quite so... little, anymore. She always knew she was stronger than him, but his weight is keeping her pinned and she isn't sure when he exactly became that way.

He's pulling her by the wrists and she's actually iletting/i herself be dragged by him, to his front door-- only, wait, instead of the front door, she's being pulled down a hallway to the room at the end that she always called "The Nerd Lair", or, to be more specific, Freddie Benson's bedroom.

"Whoa, Freddork. What do you think you're doing?" She questions as he pulls her in and clicks the lock on his door, followed by clicking another lock and turning another. She wonders if his mother knows about them.

He pushes her, hard, back and she lands with a thud on his bed. There's a strange silence between the two as she wonders if really just idid/i that, and he seethes at her. The room hums with the sounds of his running computers and the sound of his slightly feverish breathing.

He seems to hover over her, and she looks through blonde tresses that fell over her eyes at his flushed face. She starts to sit up but he pushes her back down, and she feels his weight again as he holds her, pinned, for the second time that day.

Their eyes lock for the briefest of seconds before she cranes her neck and kisses him, his weight shifting as he climbs over her, and he breaks the kiss. "What's my name?"

She grins mischieviously. "Freddork."

He runs a hand up her t-shirt, lips on her neck, and she arches her back. He's tracing patterns on her chest and she groans when he stops to ask her again, "What's my name?"

"Fred--" She gasps as he runs his hand over her breast, stopping to squeeze it through her thin bra, "--wina!"

His other hand fumbles slightly with her bra clasp and she speeds up the process by tugging her shirt off while he manages to undo her bra after a few attempts. She pulls off her bra and leans back, somewhat uneasy over the fact that Freddie is looking at her face with that highly determined look instead of at her chest like all the other boys do, even when she's fully dressed.

His fingers are wandering, down her bare stomach and over her denim skirt, and she can feel heat radiating off his hands. He's got his lips on her neck again, and is biting slightly and she doesn't know who itaught/i him that because it's just so good and she gasps as he runs his hand up her skirt and it surprises her once again just how ibig/i his hands have gotten as he runs a single finger up her, over her panties.

Her toes curl slightly and she moans, and he takes that as a cue to ask her once more, "What's my name, Sam?"

The way he adds her name makes it seem like he's egging her on, so she pants the wrong answer again, "Freddumb."

He's got his hand in her panties now, stroking her opening too slow for her liking. She moans, his mouth is sucking on her collarbone and her legs wrap around him, pushing his hand harder against her. He's just started to lightly insert a finger, shit, ino,/i two fingers, when he asks her again. She gives him another wrong answer, so he keeps going, sliding his fingers in and out of her as he sucks lightly on her skin.

She clenches around his knuckles as he suddenly stops, fingers still inside her, but not moving. She moans in protest, but he doesn't move, besides suddenly removing his lips from the indentation between her breasts and he pulls his fingers out of her.

"Freddie?" She pants, and he starts again, kissing a trail down her stomach before pushing her skirt up and pulling her panties down, smirking so slightly that she couldn't see it. He hesitates before licking a straight line up her folds, and she wraps a single leg around his head, the other hanging over his shoulder.

The sound is muffled as he asks her, and she responds. "Freddie," she pants, breath hitched, and he traces a line over her sex. "What's my name?"

"Fred," her voice hitches as he licks up again, sinking his tongue into her folds, "--ward," she groans, and he inserts a finger again. "Say my name."

She moans, "Fredward," and he pumps another finger in her, she moans his name again, and again, and he pumps her faster and faster, tongue lapping at her clit and she can feel her orgasm washing over her in waves. She can't breathe and for a second, she isn't sure if she ever wants to again.

She pulls him down on top of her, naked chest heaving into his clothed form and she can't help but laugh when he asks her a different question.

"Was that really that hard?"