Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nickelodeon. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
His eyes flutter shut for a moment. "I've wanted you for years," he whispers softly, bending to murmur into her ear.
"And I want to linger over your body and savor every stroke, teasing every nerve of your skin." His tongue sweeps across the pulse at her neck, and she gasps, gripping his shirt tightly with both hands.
He breathes into her ear. "You're Sam Puckett, and I want to make you come long and hard."
She pulls him to her again and his hands are still glistening wet as they clamp onto her waist. There is barely enough time to enjoy the slickness of his tongue and the cold water seeping into her skin because he mutters in the most seductive voice she's ever heard, "Let's go."
Within two seconds, he is both dragging and leading her out of the school and down the street. In the back of her mind, she vaguely makes out the din of people rushing past them, but her sense of hearing is overwhelmingly dwarfed by the immediacy of Freddie…
His powerful body moving quickly a few steps ahead of her, guiding her with a damp hand bound tightly to one of her own.
His heady, masculine scent wafting a few feet in front of her.
His lusty eyes and that feral, mischievous grin that occasionally peeks over his shoulder at her.
She doesn't even feel her legs moving at all, and she's rather surprised that they don't just turn to jelly right there.
She loses track of where they are, lightheaded with lust. Right, left, right, up through a fire escape…A fire escape…Freddie expertly navigates his way…Rhythmically pounds his feet and moves swiftly and skillfully, echoes throbbing on the stairs…
Fuck, she's wet…
"We're here." She hears him pant as they stop in front of a window she knew very well. The iCarly studio; a dim light from the window fills the room.
At the center was the carpet and a couple of bean bags. The place where they fight constantly, the place were they first found their feelings for one another. This place…is…fucking perfect…
She suspects that Carly was mostly likely out with Spencer somewhere, due to it being unusually quiet downstairs.
And the idea of Freddie's hands roaming her flesh as she stands on untouched, virgin medieval stone sends a shiver through her body.
The lust courses through her and she must resist jumping him against the wall. She remembers his sweet, sweet promise…I want to make you come along and hard…
She resumes the role of prey, and as she catches his gaze, she silently lets him know that she hereby relinquishes all power to the hunter, that he can do anything to her that he pleases, that this tacit submission is what now makes her loins throb with anticipation.
He takes a step towards her and brushes a stray lock off of her cheek. She closes her eyes and can faintly smell cherries on his breath.
"Sam," he whispers softly, as his head descends to hers.
The kisses in the AV room had been frantic, wild. Now Freddie chastely caresses her lips with his own, and she can meticulously memorize the texture of his mouth, the hard lines of his waist where she clutches him with one hand, the silky strands of dark brown hair in her other. He holds her gently at the waist, heating her skin through her thin shirt.
His lips slide to her jaw, her chin, her neck, and she tilts back her head, eager for his tongue to touch every bit of available skin. A small moan escapes her, and she realizes that her hands have been roaming of their own accord, fingers making small circles on his back, lightly brushing at the hem of his polo shirt.
The two of them go slowly. A bit too slowly, Sam thinks. She remembers the feeling of Freddie's still moist hands erotically caressing her thighs and the tops of her breasts, but right now his hands are staying put at her waist, dry, and gentle. He's being so gentleman-like it's maddening.
She wants to be touched, dammit.
But even as these thoughts flit through her mind, her hand moves up to Freddie's chest, and she feels the warm pulse of his quickening heartbeat beneath her palm.
Freddie Benson's raw, animalistic, freaking perfect heartbeat.
She had wanted him to ravage her, take her completely, and use her for his every sexual whim. And now, as he lightly begins to nibble at her collarbone, she knows that she wants to ravage him just as much, to taste him and devour him and imbibe him whole.
A hand snakes up his polo-shirt and rests lightly on the left side of his chest. He lets out a sharp gasp against her throat and she grins in satisfaction.
The tide has turned…
She pulls his face up to hers, swiftly removes his polo shirt, only leaving him in his single white undershirt. His eyes widen and he shudders slightly as a new sensation washes over him, and then he gasps when Sam sticks out her tongue and slowly sweeps it up his neck.
"What was that?" he breathes out harshly.
"Never thought I could do that, did you Benson?" she murmurs in between nibbles.
"Now I'm in control…every inch…of you…"
Her fingers brush against his nipple and he arches into her. "Sam…"
She slips her other hand beneath the hem of his white undershirt and traces lazy circles along his hard abdomen. His muscles clench, and he lets out a low moan.
"And you know what isn't fair?" she whispers into his ear, purposely tickling him with her breath.
"In that classroom, in here…" She lightly nips at his earlobe with her teeth. "You were wearing clothes…"
And just like that, she and Freddie yank his undershirt over his head.
Her fingers and mouth wander and stroke at random. Hands explore his waist, his shoulders, his powerful arms, and her tongue travels aimlessly, dips into his navel and out, creates erratic webs of sweat across his skin.
Since when does he have muscles…she ponders.
His muscles are long, hard, and lean, and as her eyes gaze over his shoulders, she realizes how surprisingly narrow they are. Sam has always been attracted to hulking men with figures that look as though they could swallow her up whole.
But Freddie's build is perfect in its own way, she realizes, because the grip of his large calloused hands at her waist is firm, the muscles of his stomach clench with every caress of her fingers, and the taste of his skin is salty and tangy, and it sends a rush of warmth shooting downward.
She roughly backs him up against the wall and assaults his right nipple with her tongue. He releases a low grunt and bucks against her, letting her feel the increasingly pronounced bulge against her stomach.
She grins against him as she lets her lips slide across his chest to the other nipple, where it nips teasingly, and then across his collarbone, along the length of his arm, again into his navel.
The overwhelming need for more of his skin consumes her, and his constant stream of savage groans only encourages her more…
She kicks her shoes and socks off of her legs and runs a barefoot down to his ankles, encouraging him to do the same. As she lifts her head to capture his mouth and dive her tongue inside, she lets her fingers softly trace downward to stroke the skin just above his belt.
She begins to move her fingers to the buckle when his hands abruptly leave her waist and grab hers. He slowly lifts her arms out and intertwines his fingers with hers.
"Not yet," he whispers against her lips.
"I want to see you first." She gasps as he bends his head to suck at the sensitive skin where her collarbones meet, and his tongue lightly traces a meandering path along her neck.
She clutches at his hair and feels herself melting into him. Her position of control has abruptly flown from her and returned to Freddie, leaving her once again in his complete power.
This lack of consent, this theft of dominance, this violation of her will…
It turns her on even more…
And she knows that she only ever had power to begin with because he allowed it. She may be able to nip and lick as she likes, but she is utterly subject to him. The thought sends a fresh wave of wetness into her panties.
He kisses just at her ear and nudges her neck with his nose, lightly whispering against her skin.
"Take it off, Sam. I want to see you give yourself to me."
No disobedient thought could possibly cross her mind now. Her legs move slowly backward to bring her just beside the bean bags. Between them is a space nearly as long as the room itself, and she finds the distance satisfyingly frustrating. Her eyes lock on Freddie's as she slowly pulls the tails of her shirt over her head, and lets the garment slide noiselessly to the floor.
His eyes widen and darken as he takes in the sight of her. A smirk crosses her lips as she notices the bulge in his pants jump a bit. She proudly juts her chest out and feels the dark green lace dig into the undersides of her breast. The fabric pulls at her pebbled nipples, and the tension is just delicious…
Freddie's mouth drops open and his eyes seem to slide out of focus as he watches her flesh against the lace. Then he blinks and directs his gaze downward.
"Your shorts, Sam," he speaks in low, rolling tones.
"Take off your shorts."
She bites the corner of her lip and slowly brings down the zipper. Instead of letting it slip off on its own, she bends over; sliding lower and lower along with the garment, letting her breasts gently undulate beneath her.
Where is this wantonness coming from?
She yields to the impulse to obey, but some carnal force heating her insides makes her want to do so as seductively and as tantalizingly as possible. Her eyes have never left his face, and she sees his Adam's apple bob as he takes in several large gulps of self-control.
She rises slowly, straightening her long legs and stepping out of her shorts. Her feet stand firmly apart from one another and her shoulders pull back. Freddie lets out a strangled sort of moan as his eyes catch the large, slightly darkened patch in the center of her dark green panties.
"More," he rasps, and his voice is so soft, she almost has to read his lips.
Without hesitation, she reaches around and snaps open the clasp of her bra before flinging it to the side. She feels the weight of her breasts drop as they are released, free in all their glory.
And then, before she has time to gauge his reaction, Freddie crosses the room in three broad steps and fastens his lips to her left nipple.
Snakes of fire course through every nerve, and she has to remind herself to breathe. In the heat of the moment, Freddie had forgotten to put more water on his hands and his bare hands are roaming along her naked thighs and hips, his bare tongue is laving her naked nipples.
Sounds escape her lips, but instead of giggles they are moans, moans of pleasure and desire that come out in low erotic tones, and as she presses his head harder to her chest and arches into his mouth she thinks that this is it, this is the one, because pleasure like this can only come once in a lifetime.
His lips crash onto hers and pries them open with his tongue as his hands move up to the perky breasts so recently abandoned by his mouth. He rubs, swirls the sensitive tips, and gently massages the mounds of flesh, letting them ripple between his fingers, experimenting with their weight. Her mind tries to process the unfamiliar contact but she couldn't possibly be analytical now.
Heat is all she feels: his heat searing into her, her own radiating back into him.
She pants against his mouth and unsuccessfully tugs at his belt buckle, needing more raw heat, knowing that what waits for her in his pants may very well sear her skin.
Without moving that delicious mouth from hers, he moves his hands behind her and places them at the very tops of her thighs, right at the edge of her lacy underwear. Effortlessly, he lifts her up and sets her down on the bean bags, leaning her into the cushions.
He pulls his head back and she sees his lashes lift. The eyes are darker than she's ever seen them before, and they nearly drip with want. Her breathing is short and shallow, and she feels a thin layer of sweat against the leather of the bean bag. Never tearing his eyes from her face, his fingers fly to the buckle at his hips and pull out the belt in one single tug. He roughly pushes down his pants and then crouches on top of her, knees bent, a certain organ barely pressing against her thigh.
All that separates them is two thin scraps of fabric.
A wicked grin crosses his face and he plunges his tongue into her navel. Fuck yes, what a tongue…The way it dips and swirls and oh my god, he's heading there…
But no, he teases her mercilessly and skips down below the lace, placing hot open-mouthed kisses along her trembling thighs, ever so slowly easing his way up toward what she so hopes is his final destination but never quite making it…
Her legs open wider of their own accord and she grips his hair, trying to force his head upwards to relieve the aching and throbbing beneath that freaking piece of fabric. She bucks her hips in frustration, and looks at him in wild, frantic desperation when he picks his head up completely and moves it close to her face, in the precisely wrong direction.
"I think," he whispers into her ear, "you need a lesson in patience." He lightly grazes a nipple with his teeth.
"I've waited this long, Sam, and now I'm going to milk every…single…second…" He punctuates each word with a long, drawn-out suck on her breast, and then moves on to the other one. She doesn't know where her hands should go, and they dart out at random, touching every spot of his skin that she can reach.
And then—"Oh, fuck…" There's a finger pressing against her panties, and it's tracing the outline of her lower lips through the fabric. His mouth is doing things to her neck and a finger finds its way under her panties and slips inside her.
And oh, there are hot, white lights dancing in front of her eyes because Freddie fucking Benson is touching her where no one has ever touched her. His thumb finds that aching bundle of nerves and circles it with a painfully, torturously slow rhythm. Her hips start moving against his fingers, and her thighs spread further apart, allowing him to dip inside her even more deeply.
Abruptly, his ministrations stop, and her eyes fly open, desperate to know how he could possibly bring her pleasure to stop this way. And then she looks at his face, and sees the questioning, confused, slightly curious look about him, and he lightly dips into her once.
That's it then. He's felt that treacherous membrane. Knows that she's untouched…
An uncomfortable heat settles in her cheeks and she prays to God and whatever angelic souls have any chance of existing that he won't care if she's inexperienced, won't care that the rumors were all a lie, won't care that she's been misleading them and goddamn them all. She lets out a long breath, and nods once in acknowledgement.
The corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly, his nostrils flare, and his eyebrows dip low in the center, accentuating the fierce emotion beaming out from those amazing dark brown eyes.
He adds a second finger inside her and releases a low growl. Those eyes send her another piercing, tacit message.
His mouth descends, his fingers plunge, and a calloused thumb circles that inflamed nub ever so gently. A gasp escapes her, and her pelvis begins to rise and fall, moving with the thrusts of his fingers and his tongue. Knots of pleasure are flooding from her tongue and the tips of her breasts down to that surface beneath his thumb, and all of the tension is building up inside that tiny bundle of nerves and it feels so goddamned good, she can barely think about anything else.
All she knows is that this is Freddie Benson and fingers and pumping and circling even faster and her hips and the tiny fireworks behind her eyes and bucking and increasing intensity and pleasure building up so much she knows she'll fucking explode!!
She climaxes with a heady groan into Freddie's neck and she feels her entire body shudder beneath him, muscles clenching around his fingers.
As she slowly regains coherent thought, she is aware that she is no longer wearing her panties and that Freddie's head has moved down to the area so recently dominated by his hand, and he is hungrily lapping up the sticky juices on the insides of her thighs and lips and Jesus, that's his tongue inside her.
Barely recovered from her first orgasm, Sam feels her pulse quickening once more as his tongue and fingers work in unison. She throws her head back and clutches those silky strands of dark brown hair in her fingers, forcing his face deeper into her, desperate for those chords of pleasure to race through her once more.
She comes faster this time…Faster and harder…
Even as she feels her release unfolding, Freddie continues to thrust into her with that fantastic tongue, and even though she begins to climax within seconds, she feels herself coming over and over, nearly drowning in that mouth.
He finally lifts his head, and she looks down at him between her breasts. Her chest is heaving as she tries to regain her breath, and her nipples are reaching for the ceiling, more aroused and erect than she has ever known them to be.
Those eyes glint mischievously, and his tongue darts out to catch one last drop of her release. That look is primal and dirty, and her shoulders automatically brace themselves for the unexpected, her hands gripping the carpet on either side of her.
He slowly crawls up her body with all the litheness of a cat, letting the bare skin of his gorgeous chest graze her legs, her hips, her stomach. He opens his mouth so she can see that it is still filled with her juices, and without warning, he fastens his lips onto a nipple and coats it with her sticky fluids, smearing some onto the other nipple with the hand that only moments before had been plunging into her like there was no tomorrow.
She gasps at the contrast of her body heat to the shockingly cold air hitting the moistened tips of her breasts, and she arches her back, feeling her nipples straining to get closer to him.
That's what she wants. Closeness to him. She wants to feel him the way she has never felt anyone before, and she wants to bring him to the height of pleasure she has only just discovered exists.
A sudden jolt of clarity settles over her, and though she is writhing and moaning in heady tones, her aim is certain and Jesus, please let it be true.
She slides a hand down his side, feeling the silky smoothness of his ribcage, his waist. When her fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, she lightly trails them along the edge of fabric, bringing her hand between them to play with the coarse hairs trailing down.
He groans against her breast as it suddenly slams into him with what she is about to do, and her hand slips under the waistband of his boxers and wraps around him.
Fuck, there's that heat she'd been craving, and it's pulsing and twitching in her hand. Touch has always fascinated her, but testing her own boundaries has always distracted her from experimenting on other people. She vaguely wonders what he feels like all over, and as she clutches his hair and holds him close, she slowly moves her other hand, gliding it downward, tracing his length from base to tip.
His breath against her bare skin is coming out in short, ragged gasps, and she feels him steadily hardening and thickening in her hand.
Freddie is caught off guard, and she takes the opportunity to flip him over so that she straddles his stomach, one hand firmly pressed against his chest and the other behind her, still deep in his boxers. His eyes roll back as she puts slight pressure on one of the heavy sacs at his base.
Truth be told, she really has no idea what she's doing, but she's just so overwhelmed by curiosity, and the glazed look in his eyes is making her wet again, so she slithers down to his torso to settle on his knees.
His chin is tilted back, and his hands clutch the bean bag so tightly his knuckles have gone white. His chest rises and falls in deep, steady breaths, and she knows that he's trying to control himself, knowing what she's about to do when her fingers play like that with the waistband of his boxers.
But it isn't enough. She can feel that she's turning him on, but she needs to see it in those fucking beautiful eyes.
"Look at me," she whispers to him, and his head snaps down, eyes wide, dark, desperate.
That's sufficient for her. She locks gaze onto his and doesn't lift it, even as she teasingly tugs his boxers down his legs and off of his ankles.
And there he is. All of him.
Her eyes run over him in fascination, and her cheeks redden as she realizes that she has every right to do so. Freddie had claimed her as soon as he placed a finger on her bare skin, and now she wants to capture him and learn just what the sensation of touch can do.
She feels his body clench beneath her as she slowly lowers her head, and primeval instinct overtakes her…
Her tongue darts out to touch his tip…
He shouts her name at the brief contact, and Sam wants to see if she can make him do that again. Several times in slow succession, she swiftly meets him with her tongue, and then tries one long, sweep up his length. His pelvis bucks into her face, and she raises her eyes to see him violently clutching at the bean bag, a trickle of sweat pooling into his navel, glistening in the various dim neon lights.
She tilts her head to the side and feels her groin start to burn again. Memories assault her. It may have been minutes earlier, it may have been hours, since she felt Freddie all over, felt nothing but him and his presence in every cell of her body. She grinds against his calves for momentary relief.
He has to feel the same way because of her, needs his whole universe to narrow and funnel into the one pointed fact of her existence.
She opens her mouth up wide and encases him as far as she is able. Her hands run circles over the exposed flesh at the base and behind the sacs underneath. Bobbing her head up and down ever so slightly, she grins inwardly when she realizes the effect she is having on him.
Because something tells her it's exactly what she had been after. His pelvis is arching up to meet her, his head is thrashing from side to side, and pouring out of his mouth is the most delicious stream of incoherently mumbled syllables she's ever heard.
If it's even possible, she thinks that he's lengthening in her mouth, but she doesn't want him to lose himself just yet. Not before he's had a chance to make contact with her body's deepest and most secretive parts.
She releases him with a small pop and stares at what before had been delectably large and what is now impossibly long and thick, and an angry shade of purple.
And that, she knows, will touch her everywhere.
Busy observing the effects she has reaped, she is caught completely unaware when Freddie roughly pulls her up under the arms and flips her over with a brutal kiss.
It's brutal but it's intimate and wonderful and his hands are roaming everywhere. She finds herself panting as his mouth leaves hers to slid his tongue down along her neck, her jawline, that very sensitive spot behind her ear. He whispers into it.
"I want you."
And even though she has read them in his eyes countless times before, the words are beautiful, lyrical, erotic, and hearing them voiced out loud makes her nearly choke with emotion.
She cups his face in both hands and whispers, "Then take me."
Bracing his powerful arms on either side of her, he maneuvers himself up and over her entrance. This is it, she thinks and she spreads her legs wider.
But he doesn't move at all; he is waiting for her signal. She gazes at his face and is convinced she's never seen an expression so tender and concerned.
This is Freddie concerned about her…
She nods her head once in assent.
"I love you, Sam," he whispers, and thrusts into her.
Maybe it's the shock of his words and the lightness and warmth her tingle all over, but somewhere in her mind she realizes that she isn't experiencing the excruciating pain that generally marks a girl's first time.
All she feels is a giddy sort of happiness and the stark, reassuring knowledge that Freddie Benson is fully sheathed inside her and her hands are gripping his back and he's looking at her with that swirling, melding fusion of concern and affection she knows will be fixed in her memory for years to come. She makes a small movement with her pelvis and a searing shot of pleasure races through her as he slides along the walls of her tight passage.
It as though a sudden beam of understanding passes between them and Freddie starts to thrust forward. Then backward.
Slowly, agonizingly, he moves within her, adhering to a steady, unhurried pace to ease her body into the feel of him, but even when she feels the burning need to move faster around him and wraps her legs around his waist to pull him deeper inside her, his rhythm remains frustratingly consistent.
His lips move to her neck and his wonderful hands are entwined in her hair, and the pace of his thrusts increases by only the tiniest increment.
He's teasing her, she knows, permitting her to experience this fullness, this sense of completion, for as long as possible.
She allows herself to melt into him, letting his body take over hers as her pelvis rises and falls in time with his. Small moans escape her mouth when she feels him sinking deeper and deeper, touching spots within her she had never known existed.
His beautiful name is coming out of her mouth in short, airy breaths, and as his speed slowly and maddeningly increases, so do the snakes of pleasure that surge throughout her body.
Their breaths mingle together, pant together in escalating intensity, and she feels herself clamping around him, urging him on and making him grunt in those delicious, animalistic tones.
Who could have ever described pleasure and completeness like this?
Physical euphoria pumping, pumping, pumping, through every ounce of blood, safety, and warmth and such fucking happiness that should only exist in fairy tales…
Hips slap ferociously together…muscles clench…juices flow and flow…everything is on fire…and she's falling…falling…falling…
Her orgasm soars and rushes through every nerve of her body, the wind is roaring in her ears, and somehow she identifies that scream as her own, and it seems like it never ends because Freddie is still thrusting into her with that frantic pace because he wants her to come long and hard, and sweet Jesus, she does, over and over and over…
With a long earthy groan, he finally lets himself spill into her, and somehow, the sudden rush of his seed inside her makes her come again…
Their bodies convulse together, and for an instant, Sam's mind goes numb…
After their shared shudders subside, Freddie lightly kisses her lips and looks at her with an expression of satisfaction that surely must mirror her own. Without disconnecting himself from her, he slides down to her side and encloses her in his arms.
Sam sighs into his warmth, and the slight fluttering of her stomach makes her eyes close and she snuggles closer. He places a kiss on the top of her head.
"Freddie?" she softly murmurs into his chest.
"What you said before—you know, before you—umm…" She takes a deep breath.
"Did you really mean that?"
The two seconds of silence that follow are almost painful with suspense. And then his hand lifts her chin so she can see his face, and those eyes are boring into hers.
"Sam, Princess Puckett," he says firmly, "I am utterly, completely, and desperately in love with you. I have been for years, and I know I will be for years to come."
He traces her cheek with his thumb, and his lips turn upwards in a smile. "Does that answer your question?"
Exactly when she started crying she doesn't know, but though she has never been the sentimental type god knows, hell the whole universe knows, she feels the tears as they start to flow, and she knows that as she smiles up at him, her blue eyes must glisten at him like precious stones.
She nods and sucks in a breath. "I'm asking because…well…I think I'm falling in love with you."
With those words, a softness crosses over his features, and he looks so gorgeous and blissful he could be an angel.
"I know," he says, wiping a tear from her nose.
"But it feels so good to hear you say it out loud."
She beams at him and holds him closer. They are still intimately joined, and as they gently kiss each other while they fall asleep, she knows that this is true happiness, and she never wants to let him go.
Moments later she is in that hazy stage where everything seems foggy, when she feels him vibrate beneath her head and hears a soft chuckle.
"Freddie?" she says sleepily, looking up at him. "Are you okay?"
"Huh? Yeah, it's just that your hair against my chest is…" There's a twinkle in his eye.
"…Making me feel ticklish."
Author's Note: Like what you read? There's a Poll on my profile for everyone to vote on. It decides my next iCarly fanfic. And I'm letting the reviewer choose the fanfic. The summary for each fanfic is on my profile. Don't worry though you don't have to choose wisely on one choice you may vote twice. (Polls close on July 31, 2009) PEACE