What did they do with the damned spatula?

A/N As you all may or may not know, I've been pretty obsessed with The Earl of Sandwich's story No River to Take Me Home. During the tale, there were several mentions to Sam and Freddie, who are an established couple, having a vacation and taking with them Gibby's mom's big spatula. It was referenced several times. I've included an excerpt of chapter 7 that reveals Sam's unnatural attachment to the spatula. "But Why?" I asked EoS. "Why is Sam so attached to the spatula? What did they do?" So, he released his "rights" to what happened in the hotel room to me, where I plan on making it incredibly inappropriate. I hope he approves.

They were parked in front of the Emerald Hotel. It was one of Seattle's finest places of lodging. Or so said the sign anyway. Gibby was thoroughly confused.

"Explain this nonsense one more time Sam. I'm not sure I get it totally."

Sam's right eye twitched and she shook her head. Gibby didn't care. He was owed an explanation. He blinked several times in succession and cleared his throat. Sam released a pained sigh.

"Fine! Freddie and I never actually went to Walla Walla that week...we never made it out of Seattle at all. We just stayed here for five days. Are you happy?" Her voice dripped with irritation.

"Buy why?" He asked. It seemed like a fair question to him. Sam put her hands under her legs and sat on them. He gathered that this was a precautionary measure to keep herself from physically striking him. He was grateful.

"Gibby...vacation's a state of mind. We had an awesome time here. I refuse to go into further detail about it."

He threw his hands up. "Hey, I don't want to know. Really. I just want to understand this bizarre request you laid on me. That's all."

She let out a long whoosh of air and gave him a glance of pure murder. When she saw that he wasn't budging she resigned herself to peevishly repeating the request.

"We left in a hurry. We forgot a few things. I need you to go in there and get them. I've already notified the manager. He knows you're coming. The whole thing is arranged Gibby," she said.

"Yeah, I get that. Why can't you just do it? Why does it have to be me?" He inquired, searching her face for some sort of meaning. Again, he felt it was a fair question.

She removed one hand and delivered a punishing blow to his right arm. He barked in pain and immediately began massaging some feeling back into it, kneading the muscle with his fingers.

"You're really trying my patience today Gibby! The reason is that I can't face these people! It's a combination of a few things. I stole a bunch of towels, an ashtray, and a small painting of Poseidon. Don't judge me! They charge you for all that stuff anyway. I felt like it was owed to us. That's the first thing." She stopped here. Gibby saw that she was undergoing a painful internal struggle. She really didn't want to explain herself further. He was about to take pity on her and just do it as a favor when she spoke again:

"The second thing is that one of the items we left...well, let's just say it was left in an incriminating position. The third is that practically the entire room was visibly covered with our DNA by the end of that week."

"Oh God!" Gibby hollered, disgusted. "What happened to your refusal to divulge any details?"

Sam overlooked this comment. "Look dude, it's just too humiliating for me or Freddie to face. I need this favor." Her eyes were pleading with him desperately. "Please?"

He paused. "...Fine."

She whooped and punched him again, albeit more softly this time. Gibby got out of the car, muttering to himself. He should've known Sam would have an additional motive for coming to see him today. She was such a damned rascal. He walked to the building and entered it, hoping this situation would play out smoothly. He was bad nervous...he hoped no brass upper-level types would start sweating him about any of the mysterious reasons Sam had given for not completing this task herself. He supposed he would tell them he was her attorney...but only if they pushed him. Right. He was some young hotshot attorney who'd already successfully sued the piss out of several big corporations. That ought to put the fear into them.

The lobby was adorned with deep green carpet and golden chandeliers. Oil portraits hung on the walls and lovely flower arrangements were sprinkled around with a calculated air. A classy place indeed. He approached the front desk. A large man was arguing belligerently with the clerk here.

"Listen fella...I've already paid for my suite! I have a reservation for Christ's sake!" The man's face was fire engine red and large veins were bulging from his neck. The desk clerk stonewalled him with an expression of utter indifference.

"I'm sorry sir...but you're on the late list. Your reservation has been transferred to the ah...Lucky Seven Motel. It's a fine place, with it's own pool...and it's only about nineteen blocks south of here."

"That's BULLSHIT! I'm sick of it! Call the manager tough guy! I'll have a word with him now!" the man's voice broke a little on the last word. The clerk's face remained as rigid and solemn as an Athenian statue.

"I can call a taxi for you sir! We'll even pay your fare..." he said jovially, in stark contrast really, to the expression on his face. The man lost whatever iota of self control he had left.

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" he blundered, waving his arms in the air for dramatic effect.

Gibby was enjoying this whipsong, but after a few seconds his impatience got the better of his amusement. He stepped calmly around the yelling bastard and spoke directly to the clerk.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm here to pick up a parcel under the name Benson. I was hoping I could just get it and slide right on out of your way." He gave the clerk a wide grin – letting him know that he'd been appreciating the snake-bully act. The clerk grinned right back.

"Of course sir! We've been expecting you! Just a moment please." He wandered off to rummage through some room behind the desk.

Gibby turned to find the red-faced man absolutely speechless with inarticulate rage. Gibby winked at him. The man made a garbled, choking sound that was evidently some expression of disbelief. The desk clerk emerged with a moderately sized cardboard box.

"Here you are sir. Just sign here." A piece of paper was produced. Gibby signed it with a flourish. "Thank you very much!" He exclaimed happily. The clerk nodded. "You're welcome sir. Please have a wonderful day!"

Gibby took the box and exited the building with it, leaving the two men to continue their savage little dance. He shook the box. It apparently only contained a single item. It seemed to have some length to it...and it made a sturdy sound as it hit either side of the box. He returned to his car and found Sam sitting on the hood. She got up and smiled at him.

"You got it!" She yelled. She raced over to take it out of his hands. He held it up above his head...out of her reach.

"What the hell's in here Sam? It's only one thing. You said you guys left a bunch of stuff," he asked sternly.

"That's none of your damn business you shirtless nub! Just give it!" She jumped into the air, making a few fruitless efforts to snatch it out of his hands.

Gibby's eyes widened as a horrifying connection formed in his mind. He barely hid the accusation in his voice:

"Sam...is this my mom's big spa-"


The force of her shout caused him to retreat several steps. He held out the box warily. She yanked it out of his hands and held it to her chest, as if she were afraid he might dare try to remove it. Gibby needed to calm her down. He was currently an enemy – some ugly intrusion on her scene. If he was fool enough to joke around and make a grab for the box now that she had it...he would likely draw back a bloody stump.

"Just keep it Sam. Don't worry about it okay? I'm gonna try like hell to forget this as soon as humanly possible anyway." He tried to maintain a soothing cadence.

She visibly relaxed. They stared at each other for a few awkward moments.

"I'm hungry," she muttered. "Let's go get some ribs." She walked round to the passenger side of his car and let herself in.

Sure. Ribs. Whatever. Gibby thought. Before he started the car, he couldn't help but ask: "Why couldn't you have just bought another one? Why all this rude effort?"

Sam gazed shamefacedly down into her lap. "...sentimental value," she whispered.

This was good enough for Gibby. He turned the key.


"Walla Walla, Sam?" Freddie asked me, his brow scrunching, as if my suggestion was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard.

"Yep," I replied, popping my p. "So pack it up, Fredwina. We're gonna be tourists for the week."

He continued to frown at me in confusion. "But… why?"

I smirked, not the least bit tempted to divulge my plan. "Have I ever led you astray?" I purred seductively.

His breath hitched as he caught my double meaning. He shook his head, his eyes already glazing over.

I smiled broadly. "Good," I replied confidently. "Then pack everything we'll need for 5 days of camping."


Camping? In Walla Walla? Why? I tried not to obsess over the idea, but it just didn't make any sense. Why would she want to go there? Why camping? I mean, it was a freaking miracle that my mother was letting me out of her sight for this long to begin with, but then to have to convince her that I would be perfectly safe sleeping outdoors? Sam was really giving me a brutal task to accomplish just getting that past her.

My mom was unaware that it was just going to be Sam and I. I didn't lie when I told her that Sam's mother was going to be there, I just… didn't tell the truth. I wanted to feel bad about it, but I wanted the time alone with Sam too much to care.

We'd finally gotten to the point in our relationship where we were 100% comfortable with one another. Due to the fact that we'd been friends for years, we'd assumed that the "get to know you" phase would be fairly minimal. It was in some ways. Yes, I knew her favorite color was yellow, but I had no idea that she liked it when I played with her hair. Yes, I knew that she praised good ribs like it was a religion, but I had no idea that she bit her bottom lip when she wanted to kiss me when I was talking. Most of the things we were learning about each other were physical, but there were definitely some emotional barriers that we had to cross.

For Sam, it was finally accepting that she deserved me. For her to get over the idea that she wasn't good enough for me.

For me, it was trusting Sam with really personal stuff, really scary personal thoughts and fears that I was still afraid she'd exploit to her advantage, or use against me.

It had been a long year. But we were solid now. She knew she was good enough for me. Heck, she probably thought she was too good for me now. And that's good. Because it was true. I mean that in the least self deprecating way. I think it's healthy for all men to think their female counterparts are better. Gives them something to work for.

And I knew that Sam would never break my trust in her. I knew she'd never exploit my fears for her own benefit or make fun of me. It only took one nightmare, after a particularly disturbing week of Discovery Channel programming. Sam was obsessed with the channel. I couldn't tell you why. But every time I was there, they kept showing programs about 2012, and the end of the world, and all that other stuff that I usually go out of my way to avoid. But the cute way the carnage sucked her in, the adorable way the orange color of artificial cheese powder from the Cheetos stained her fingers as they hovered over the bag during a particularly riveting scene, had me focusing on her instead of the show and I tried to block out my discomfort because I knew it was something she wanted to watch.

One night, I fell asleep on her couch while she was watching. The shows must have gotten lodged into my subconscious and I had the most messed up dream. Walking around in complete darkness, shouting out for anyone, but knowing that they were all gone. Knowing that all of humanity had been lost and I was all that was left. I climbed over rubble mixed with bodies and suddenly felt myself falling down a deep ravine that had come out of nowhere, the earth swallowing its last inhabitant.

I was jerked awake and tried to wipe away the disturbing nature of the dream. Sam was sitting up, eating cookies and watching yet another apocalypse show. I sat up in a bit of a daze and tried to shake off the dream. I then saw that yet another 'oh-my-god-we're-all-going-to-perish-at-this-exact-time-on-this-exact-day!' show was on. This one detailed the 30 days following Earth's demise. I huffed, trying to hide my unease.

"Relax Freddie, you're not gonna die in the apocalypse", she said sarcastically. I tried to smile with her, knowing she was just kidding with me. But that wasn't what I needed. I needed to be able to tell her this and know that she wouldn't laugh at me. That she wouldn't tell the world and make it into a joke. I needed to trust her.

So I told her. I told her that I wasn't scared of the world coming to an end. That I'm petrified of surviving it. I described in perfect clarity the dream that I'd just had, being able to see the rubble of the buildings and the bodies.

Her face paled and she immediately changed the channel to Girly Cow.

Without a word, she leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, pained.

I shrugged, not wanting her to know that I just hadn't gotten to the point where I trusted her yet.

She huffed. "C'mon, dorkwad, you're taking me to get pizza. I'm hungry." And that was that; we didn't have to watch apocalypse shows anymore.

I spent the day running around for random camping items. Between myself and Spencer, we had all the basics, like tents and sleeping bags, but camping with Sam required different items. Specific items.

Do you think this girl was going to be satisfied with a regular camp griddle and the matching tiny spatula for eggs and bacon in the morning? No. I don't think so.

By the grace of god, Spencer had a giant griddle that could be used over a fire, but all the spatulas, including ours, were being used in some sort of giant useless sculpture.

So I traipsed over to Gibby's to see if I could borrow one of his.

"Um, sure?" He answered, waiting on an explanation. I wanted to give him one, but I shrugged, deciding to keep as many people out of the lie as possible in case my mother went on a rampage and started questioning everyone about what they knew, using tactics that hadn't been used since the Spanish Inquisition.

So, I simply took the sleek black spatula and thanked him, smirking to myself at the thought of 5 glorious nights to myself with my beautiful blonde she devil.


Camping? Are you out of your mind? No, I don't like camping. I'm no sissy, but did I really want to sleep on the ground outside and have to pee in the woods? Not particularly.

But I wanted Freddie to be gearing up for this mentality. I wanted him to have the idea that this week would be a week truly AWAY.

Away from Carly and her annoying but sweet perfectionism. Away from Spencer and his lovable and chaotic personality. Away from his overbearing but well intended mother.

Just. Away. And camping really encompassed the idea of "getting away from it all". I already knew that vacation was simply a state of mind. I just needed to get Freddie on board.

It wasn't that we needed the time away, I think our relationship was pretty solid, but I really just craved the time alone that we never seemed to have enough of. Having my best friend and my boyfriend get along so well was awesome, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't getting enough time with just Freddie. Time to do disgusting things like snuggle on the couch and let him pet my hair like I was a god damn puppy. I loved it. But no way would I allow him to do those things in front of other people. It was a stretch just letting him do them to begin with. And then there were the other things that we liked to do when no one else was around….

Sex had been an uncomfortable subject for both of us to talk about. Neither one of us knew what to say, and both of us knew just how inexperienced the other was. We had been each other's first kiss, and while there may have been a few kisses in between the first kiss and our relationship, there was definitely not anything else. We had no idea how to have a conversation about it.

We communicated through actions. We both patiently pushed at the other's boundary lines. So slowly, that a random person would never be able to tell the difference between one make out session and the next. But I could tell. Hell, I could count the new goddamn centimeters of skin that he would explore each time. But it was perfect. We never had to talk about where it was going to lead. We both knew what the end result would likely be. We knew we both wanted to end up there. Eventually.

There was never a time when either one of us had to tell the other to stop or slow down. There was always a sort of peaceful chaos to it. Frenzied and passionate sure, but romantic and innocent at the same time.

And while everything that led up to it was slow and controlled, the actual deed was sudden, unexpected, uncontrolled, and devastatingly beautiful.

Carly had thrown one of her famous hobo parties at the end of the school year and it had been a blast, the party began to wind down leaving only Carly, Gibby, Freddie and myself in the apartment. I sat down on the couch watching Freddie, somewhat intently, as he laughed and talked with Carly and Gibby so naturally... so... Freddie. I could feel my gaze intensify and he must have felt it too because he caught my eye and the air in the apartment shifted dramatically. So dramatic that it was as if Gibby felt it too because he cleared his throat awkwardly before asking Carly to go grab a smoothie, his voice a little shaky at the end of his question. Our eyes never left each other as Carly asked if she could get us anything, we both simply shook our heads and she left following Gibby out the door with a shrug. It was just us, eyes fixed on each other, all alone in the apartment with this new air of what felt like lust swirling around us.

We stared at each other a few moments, before I broke across the room, throwing my arms around him and he ended up slammed against the fridge. I kissed him hard, not knowing what had come over me, but needing him to kiss me back, to hold me, to touch me.

He didn't disappoint. Hats, scarves, jackets and gloves came flying off of us at a maddening pace, trying to dispel as many layers of clothing between us while our mouths continue to battle it out for dominance. After a few minutes of tug of war between our lips and tongues, he pulled back, both of us out of breath.

"Upstairs?" He whispered.

I nodded, he pulled my hand and I followed him up the stairs, into the iCarly studio. He locked the door and pulled a curtain over the clear glass and turned around to face me again.

All of a sudden, my nerves assaulted me. What were we doing? Why did this feel so different than a normal make out session? I guess because it almost always happened as we were watching TV, so we were naturally in a sitting/lying position and it didn't feel so foreign to lean over and start kissing.

But now, we were both standing, in the middle of a room, waiting awkwardly for the other to make a move.

He reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently.


I smiled. "Hey."

He smiled back, lifting my hand to kiss it. I melted a little at the gesture and went to raise his hand to kiss it as well.

At the last minute I decided to put his finger in my mouth and suck on it softly, dragging my teeth along the digit lightly and looking up at him from under my lashes.

All the air in his lungs escaped with a whoosh and he had me pinned down on the couch so quickly it made my head spin.

He kissed me harshly, nipping at my lips and moving his mouth over my chin, my neck, the hollow of my throat. I was making noises that were ridiculously embarrassing, but every time I did it, he would moan and kiss me a little harder.

I liked it. A lot.

He was breathing so rapidly, I thought he was going to pass out, but in my selfishness couldn't find it in me to care, so long as he kept sucking on my neck like that.

His fingers traced the hem of my shirt and he slipped them underneath to the skin of my stomach. Normally, when he'd touch me under my clothes, he took his time, tracing every inch of my skin, making faint patterns with his fingertips. I both dreaded and revered the delicious ache that would twitch in my breasts as I waited for him to finally touch me.

This time, his touch was firm, but still gentle, and he quickly made his assent to my nipples. My own breath hitched as I was surprised by his pace, but thrilled and relieved that the ache I was feeling was being alleviated. At least in my breasts. It was increasing down a bit lower.

My embarrassing mewls increased as did his ministrations on my nipples. He gently pulled, flicked, and squeezed the best he could under the constraints of my shirt and bra. It was frustrating him, I could tell, but I could read it in his adorable face that he didn't know if he should ask if I wanted to take it off.

The answer was a resounding yes.

Without a word I pulled my shirt over my head and reached behind me to flick the clasp of my bra. Freddie's eyes grew wide and he maintained eye contact with me as the bra straps fell down my arms and off my body.

I waited for him to look. He didn't. Still staring into my eyes with a look of paralyzing fear overclouded with lust.

"S'okay." I whispered. "I want you to."

The words broke him out of his trance and he looked. He licked his lips and sighed heavily.

He raised his hand tentatively and traced his finger over my nipple. I cried out and arched my back, trying to get back the firmer touch I'd had before. He let out a shaky breath and leaned in to kiss the center of my chest, running both his hands up my naked torso and allowing his hands to cup the sides of my breasts, while his mouth kissed every inch of them.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered reverently in between worshipping me with kisses.

I smirked. "Are you talking to me or my tits?" I replied crassly as my breath continued to hitch when he flicked his tongue over the nipple.

He let out a chuckle. "Both," He laughed again and sucked my nipple into his mouth and gently squeezed my breasts with his hand. I moaned and he dragged his teeth over the tip, making my hips rise off the couch into his. He groaned loudly.

"I want you," I admitted wantonly. I wasn't being impulsive, and it certainly wasn't the first time I'd felt this way, he knew that. But it was the first time either of us had admitted it out loud.

He looked up suddenly, looking not quite surprised as he did… excited. "I want you, too," He said, kissing my lips again with the careful worship that he'd paid to my breasts. "So much."

And then we just knew it was the right time. There was no pretense or worry that the other wasn't ready. We just were.

I'd had an aggravatingly embarrassing incident when my birth control pills had fallen out of my backpack a few months back. He picked them up and handed them back to me with raised expectant eyebrows, and I admitted begrudgingly that yes, I was on the pill, and no, that didn't mean that I was ready to give it up yet. Luckily for him, he simply nodded and dropped the subject.

As humiliated as I was then, it meant that we didn't have to have the conversation now, and our lack of planning this event wasn't going to throw a wrench in the progression we were making. I highly doubted Freddie had a condom on him, and it was nice that it wasn't necessary.

Much to my surprise, he did. As I laid on the couch watching him take off his pants, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out the foil packet. Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows expectantly.

He simply shrugged. "I didn't want to make you feel like it was all your responsibility," he said as he stepped out of his pants, his boxers tented.

I licked my lips. How much do I love this boy?

I pulled him on top of me and kissed him hard. "You don't need it. But thank you."

He nodded and continued to kiss down my neck and torso, pushing his hips into mine, eliciting a deep moan from me.

He dipped his tongue into my belly button and moved his hands over the tops of my pants and flipped the button and pulled the zipper down excruciatingly slowly. My nerves were in hyper drive and I just wanted him to just… do it already.

But he didn't, taking his time, pulling my pants over my hips and down my legs, where I kicked them off. His hands caressed up my legs and toyed around the top of the elastic of my underwear. His breath was coming in short pants and he was kissing and licking my ear. My hips were gently rocking, trying to get him to move his hand inside the, by this point, soaking wet satin. We'd done this before as well, though I'd never taken off my pants before. He'd never had so much mobility with his hands, and he used it to his advantage, tracing his fingers along my inner thigh, dancing them over the crotch of my panties.

He moaned into my ear and whispered, "You're so fucking wet," before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

And now I was even wetter. Freddie never swore. Ever. And hearing him do it in a sultry voice in my ear while he was touching me in the most intimately way possible? Yeah, it did things to me.

The noise that came out of me sounded more like a wounded animal than anything resembling a sexy whimper, but I was beyond turned on. I needed him.

I reached down and palmed him through his boxers and he groaned huskily into my neck. I stroked him a few times, enjoying how hard he felt underneath my hand, feeling a strange sense of pride that I was the one making him react this way.

He slipped his finger underneath the fabric and inside my slick folds and I gasped, nearly hitting the ceiling at the rush of sensation that came with his touch. But it wasn't enough. I needed him.

"Freddie, I need you," I whispered.

He nodded his ascent and I slid his boxers over his hips and over his legs, finally seeing all of him for the first time. I don't know what I had expected. I'd never seen one in real life before and I'd always imagined that they were ugly, weird dangly things.

But I didn't feel that way at all. Maybe it was a combination of things. Seeing Freddie want me just as much as I wanted him, knowing that it was Freddie, and knowing how vulnerable he was, he was just… gorgeous.

And I had no idea how THAT was going to fit into ME. It was just not logistically possible. I'd heard that first times usually hurt a girl, and now I knew why. They were trying to fit slot A into a clearly too small slot B. Thanks mother nature. You're a raging fucking bitch.

Freddie slipped off my panties and looked unabashedly at my naked form much as I'd looked at his. I wondered what he was thinking. But before I had a chance to ask, he had lined himself up at my entrance and started pushing slowly. I gasped in pleasure as I felt him start to stretch me in gloriously good ways, but gradually, the pleasure faded to pain. I was right. Slot A wasn't going to fit. The pain was getting to be too much to handle and it felt as if Freddie was being met with a brick wall of resistance. I was about to ask him to stop when he thrust his hips harshly once and I felt something rip. My arms gripped around his neck tightly. I would have punched him in the face, but the pain nearly paralyzed me. He kissed my lips softly, murmuring "I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry," over and over and I could feel his body shaking over me as he tried to stay as still as possible.

Silent tears slipped down my face as I realized that the worst was over, and we'd both given each other something beautiful.

The pain started ebbing and I began kissing him back, pulling his tongue into my mouth. He moaned and his hips moved infinitesimally and he stopped and apologized again.

"I'm okay now, I think. Just go slow," I instructed.

And then we moved. Slowly and gently he held my waist in one hand, while his other held himself up, pushing into me again and again.

It was pleasure tinged with pain, but the pleasure was definitely winning out. But before there was time for anything to happen for me, Freddie dropped the arm that was holding himself up and I felt all his weight on top of me, as he started pumping faster.

"I can't… you feel so good… Sam…" He whimpered.

I held him close and met his thrusts with my hips, causing him to groan loudly as he spilled into me.

He lay on top of me for a few seconds before we heard the front door opening downstairs.

Our eyes grew huge and we stared at each other, paralyzed, as we heard Carly and Gibby starting to head up the stairs.

We frantically split and ripped our clothes on, panicked that we would be caught in a state of undress. It was bad enough that the room reeked of sex.

I was pulling my shirt over my head when Carly and Gibby got to the door.

"Hey! Why is there a curtain over the door?" We heard Carly say.

The doorknob rattled as we tried to zip and button random items of clothing.

"The door's locked!" Carly said surprised.

A second of silence occurred before she shouted.

"EW! Sam and Freddie, you have 10 seconds to get dressed and get out of there. And you better not have sullied any of my furniture!" She wailed.

We opened the door not even 5 seconds later to find a disgusted Carly and a very amused and very smiley Gibby on the other side. Carly stood, arms folded, foot tapping in complete disapproval. I didn't really have time to give her my best 'oh just get over it' speech because Freddie grabbed my hand and lead me downstairs without a second look. He wasn't going to let a judgmental Carly ruin our perfect moment, and we retreated down the stairs, completely untainted by anyone in our perfect bubble.

All that thinking about our first time was just making me anxious to get going. It was frustrating to know that all of this packing was superfluous, and we wouldn't actually need any of the shit he was shoving into the bags, but I couldn't ruin it.

I stood by the car, waiting for him to pack the giant griddle and spatula, and I laughed at the thoughtful and appropriate gesture he'd made for me. He was right; those camp stoves were not equipped to serve the likes of me.

We waved goodbye to Spencer and Carly who'd helped us pack and promised to call as often as we could, given that we had hardly any cell service in Wala Wala. Right. That's why we won't be calling.

We were in the car for 2 minutes when I saw it. The Emerald Hotel.

"One of Seattle's finest places of lodging," read the sign.

"STOP!" I shouted. "PULL IN HERE!"

Freddie noticeably jumped and pulled into the parking lot of the hotel.

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

I smiled widely.

"Yes. You can park now. We're here."

His mouth opened to ask a question and his brows furrowed.

"But I thought… aren't we going camping?" He questioned confusedly.

I smirked at him and he just shook his head, pulling into a spot and turning the car off.

He sighed, "I'll go check in."

I smiled widely.

And I watched his cute little butt as he walked to the lobby to check us in.


I should have known better. In fact, I'm pretty sure I *did* know better. Sam didn't strike me as the camping type. But it makes sense that she'd want everyone to think we were camping. Away from Seattle. Away from cell service. Just away.

I was sort of annoyed with all of the time I'd spent researching the parks near Wala Wala, and planning outdoorsy events for the two of us. Just in case we ever got bored of having sex.

Not likely, sure, but possible.

I walked into the lobby, and took in the lovely ambiance. This place was fairly classy, with its golden chandeliers and expensive looking oil portraits hung on the walls. The place was absolutely drenched in the scent of flowers and I noticed that there was an abundance of floral arrangements on every surface available. I approached the desk and asked for a room.

I got a suite with a kitchen, since our budget would be severely depleted paying for a hotel instead of a campsite, but I'd packed enough food for us to cook, and I was relieved to be able to do it all on a stove instead of over a fire.

We loaded all of our bags and necessary equipment into the room, or rather, I did, while Sam watched TV from the large king size bed. I put the food away in the fridge and started putting clothes away in drawers when I heard Sam scoff loudly.

"Jeez, you're like Carol fucking Brady over there! Can't you relax for a freakin' second!" Sam whined at me from her designated spot on the bed.

I smiled at her annoyance at my obsessive compulsive habits and continued to put things away.

She huffed again when I began putting her clothes in drawers and shoved me out of the way.

"I'll do this, Carol, go make me some eggs, I'm hungry."

"When are you NOT hungry, Sam?" I asked lightly.

She hummed and gestured me toward the kitchen.

I cracked the eggs and listened to them sizzle on the pan as I dug through the drawer looking for a spatula. There wasn't one.

Damn it! What was up and the world's shortage of spatulas these days?

I rushed out to the car to retrieve the one I'd brought and resumed cooking Sam her legendary breakfast. I'd learned enough to know that when Sam asked for eggs, she meant eggs, bacon, toast with honey and waffles.

I carefully placed the waffles on a plate, and I was about spread honey on the toast when Sam burst into the kitchen, scaring the crap out of me and causing the spatula to fall out of my hand and into the open jar of honey.

She laughed at her juvenile attempt at humor and I scowled as I pulled the spatula out of the honey jar.

I looked over at her, "Do you think this is fu-" I stopped short.

Because what Sam was wearing literally took my breath away.

She was dressed in a tight green tank top that was thin enough to show the faintest outline of her nipples, and short enough to reveal her tanned midriff, including the tiny pink belly button ring that I was so fond of. Below that was a pair of panties made in heaven. Light pink boy shorts that were cut for her ass, and her ass alone. They were slung low in the front, and cut high in the back so that the perfect amount of ass cheek was revealed.

She knew this was my weakness. That strutting around in revealing tanks and shorts were much more alluring than being naked. It was like giving me permission to look, but at the same time leaving a tiny bit to my imagination.

I was brought out of my reverie by seeing her lick her bottom lip.

"You're dripping honey all over the place," She murmured.

She took a step closer to me and licked the fist that held the honey laden spatula, where drops of honey had fallen.

I hissed as my dick responded to her tongue licking my skin. She sucked some of my skin into her mouth and ran her tongue over it and I moaned, picturing the way she sucked my dick like that.

She pulled away and bit her lip before she took the spatula out of my hand and picked up the jar of honey before retreating out of the kitchen.

I pulled my t-shirt over my head and followed her, knowing well enough to know that half naked Sam with honey is always going to be a good time.

She knelt on the bed, looking me up and down before pulling the green tank top off her body, revealing the most beautiful set of breasts to me. I wondered if I would ever get tired of looking at them.

Probably not.

Instead of rushing over to her like I really wanted to, I watched from across the room to see what her next move would be.

I arbitrarily noticed that she'd shut all the drapes, effectively making the room nearly blacked out, and the only light was from a few scattered candles, making the ambiance in the room a sexy, romantic one.

She raised her hand and made a "come here" gesture with her finger, but I simply shook my head and smirked. She pouted and flicked a glance over toward the spatula covered in honey on the bedside table.

She picked the sticky utensil up and proceeded to lick up the… shaft of the kitchen tool. Why was this so sexy? Why? I mean, I got the phallic reference, but it shouldn't be turning me on this much to watch my girlfriend suck honey off a spatula. She closed her eyes and hummed in approval.

"Delicious," she purred. "but I wish it was something else."

I growled and palmed my dick through my jeans, wanting to prove to myself that I could resist her, at least a little. I wanted to be the one that she couldn't resist. I wanted her to beg me, instead of how it always was.

Don't get me wrong. Sam was a sexual goddess. A vixen. She would have me begging for her within seconds normally. But I was desperate to prove to myself that I was just as desirable for her.

Her eyes widened as she saw me touch myself and I could hear her gasp a little. I'd never done anything so brazen in her presence and I couldn't deny that her reaction had made me a little smug. She reigned in her reaction and she realized that this was turning into a battle of wills.

She put the spatula down and dipped her finger into the honey jar and ran a tiny circle of the sweet nectar around her pert nipple. Her breath shortened and her mouth opened a little as she felt her round breasts, that were now simply begging for my attention. They would be so sweet, and sticky, and I just wanted them in my mouth.

But I held my ground, gripping the top of the dresser behind me with one hand and unzipping my pants with the other.

She bit her lip and kept her eyes trained on my crotch. I smirked again, knowing that she bit her lip when she wanted her mouth on me. Her tongue darted out to lick her lip and I messed up by envisioning her tongue licking my dick. I moaned at the imagined visual in combination with the actual topless visual in front of me.

She smirked at me and took both hands and played with the top of her panties, teasing her fingers inside the delicate pink lingerie. My breaths came quicker as I watched her fingers pull the fabric down over her hips and off her legs. Then she laid down on the mountain of pillows, elevating her so she was nearly sitting up, beautifully naked, her legs slightly spread, as her hands shyly traced down her stomach and halted her movements before she reached any lower.

It occurred to me that she'd never done this in front of me either, even though I must have imagined it 100 times. I was worried she was feeling self conscious or nervous for some reason. It would have been ridiculous, but I didn't want her to feel that way. But I remembered my secret weapon. The one that tilted the power scale in my direction.

I looked her in the eye, licked my lips and said, "Please fucking do it. For me?"

She visibly shuddered and I saw her fingers creep down to the place I so desperately wanted to be right now. Then all of her vixen pretense went away as she surrendered to the sensations. She moaned when her fingers slipped through the wet folds and disappeared inside of her.

I swallowed roughly as I watched her other hand come up and start fondling her breast, squeezing and lightly pinching the nipple.

"What are you thinking about, Sam?" I asked roughly, noticing for the first time that my own hand had taken my dick out and started stroking.

Her eyes fluttered open, and they darkened as they took in what I was doing. Her mouth opened again and she moaned, "You. It's always you."

I stalked over to the bed and knelt beside it. I leaned in close to her ear and sucked her earlobe into my mouth, giving it a tiny bite.

She whimpered and her hips rose off the bed. "What exactly about me are you thinking of?" I whispered.

She moaned and her fingers moved faster. "I- I… don't know…" she whined.

I smiled, knowing that she damn well knew, she just didn't want to tell me.

"Can I tell you what I think about?" I whispered huskily.

She whimpered her agreement.

I brought my hand back to my painfully hard dick and stoked it once gently.

"I picture you doing exactly what you're doing now. I imagine how you must touch those perfect breasts."

She cried out softly and her fingers worked deftly over her clit while her other hand pinched her nipple again.

"More," she begged.

I stoked my dick again, wishing that I had something to lubricate it with, knowing that god's greatest lubricant was inches from my fingers.

"I picture how wet you are, how you'll let me watch your fingers glide inside that beautiful pussy." Yet another word I've never said in her presence. I wondered idly if I've ever even said it aloud. No, I don't think I have.

She nearly screamed and her fingers flew over her clit, her other hand plunging fingers into her pussy and her back arched off the bed.

"More!" she screamed.

"I imagine watching you come for me. Seeing your whole body tense as you scream out my name," I continued, my own body screaming for release as my hand flew over my dick.

Her body bowed into a delicate arch off the bed and her face twisted in concentration as she cried out, "Freddie! Oh! OH! I'm… AHH!"

After a few seconds of her body shaking in its aftershocks, she fell back on the bed in heap, and I removed my hand from my dick. Somehow it just didn't seem appropriate anymore. I wondered if anyone had actually died from blue balls.

She started laughing nervously, which made her perfect breasts jiggle around and I had to force my eyes to her face.

"I can't believe I just did that!" She said, her face flushed as he brought her hands over her eyes.

"Are you kidding? That was the hottest thing I've ever seen!" I insisted.

She shook her head, not believing me, still embarrassed.

I pulled her hands away and kissed them softly, before realizing that they tasted like HER. I moaned and sucked her fingers into my mouth, licking the taste of pure Sam, mixed with a hint of honey. It was heavenly.

I stood up from the floor and crawled on top of her, not letting go of her hands yet.

She whimpered when she felt my hardness press into her. I held onto her wrists and held her arms over her head.

"Fuck, Sam, I've never wanted to be inside of you so badly."

I'd never sworn this much in my entire life. But now that I'd begun talking, I couldn't seem to stop, and it didn't appear that she minded.

She moaned and pulled down my boxers and pants with her toes since I still held her wrists in my hands and had no intention of letting them go.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, yet again doing something we'd never done, and I naturally lined up with her entrance and thrust forward.

Good god, would that never cease to be the most amazing thing on this universe? That first initial thrust when my dick was finally surrounded by the tightest, wettest, hottest heat that felt like velvet. No, the answer was undoubtedly no, nothing would ever feel that good.

She cried out and simultaneously tightened her legs around my waist and arched her back, allowing me to penetrate deeper than I ever had before. I swear, my eyes rolled back into my head in pleasure.

I continued pushing into her slow and deeply. As soon as I'd gathered my wits, the talking resumed.

"You're so fucking tight, Sam. Goddamn, it's so good." I wondered if this was all too much for Sam, if she didn't like hearing me talk to her this way, but she gasped and moaned, pushing her hips to me with renewed enthusiasm.

"Ah! Yes. Yes… so good." She echoed, and hearing her voiced spurred me on.

"You like it when I talk to you like that?" I teased.

She smirked. "Fuck. Yes," she gasped as I picked up my pace.

I leaned in to her ear and whispered, "So you'd like it if I told you that I love fucking your tight little pussy?"

"Ohmigod." She moaned lowly, her body tightening up like it does before she comes.

"Are you gonna come, Sam?" I asked, my body preparing for release, knowing that I was seconds away from giving Sam her own.

She nodded furiously. I slammed into her harder and she released her legs from around my waist and pulled her knees into her sides, allowing me to pound her furiously while still driving deep.

"Fuck, you're so damn sexy. Come for me, beautiful girl." I ordered, and she responded, screaming out nonsensical sounds and words, the only intelligible one being, "Freddie", which in all honestly sounded more like, "Fred-ah!"

I finally let myself go, pumping twice more into her before releasing with a groan. I lay my head down on her belly and kissed it reverently.

I looked up and she was smiling brightly.

"That was amazing," she said breathlessly.

"What was?" I asked cheekily.

She shook her head. "All that talking. Phew!" She fanned herself theatrically.

I smirked and shrugged, happy that she liked it, and happy that I didn't have to keep my thoughts to myself anymore.

She shook her head again, "All that because I licked a spatula."

I hummed. "Yes. God bless that spatula."

I racked my brain trying to figure out how the spatula was left in an incriminating position, and I even figured that the honey and spatula was left on the bedside table and they forgot it, but I sort of prefer this ending. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the fanfic of a fanfic, and go read No River to Take me Home by Earl of Sandwich. Yeah. I need a cold shower now.

Thanks a bazillion to my BETA and great friend Emma, Aussiemma, who Beta'd this. MUUAHH

And to the Earl of Sandwich, thanks for providing such smut worthy material.