Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/335056.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      iCarly
  Relationship:
      Freddie_Benson/Sam_Puckett
  Character:
      Sam_Puckett, Freddie_Benson
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Awkwardness
  Collections:
      Porn_Battle_XIII_(Lucky_Thirteen)
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-08 Words: 1633
****** Fill in the Blank ******
by frogy
Summary
     Sam is going to have to make the fourth move. She knows it's the
     fourth move because she's the one who kissed Freddie first. She's the
     one that took her top off first. And, she's the one who took his
     pants off first. Everything else was mutual, but she's still ahead.
     Or behind. Whatever.
Notes
     Unbeta'd. Let me know if you catch any mistakes.
Sam is going to have to make the fourth move. She knows it's the fourth move
because she's the one who kissed Freddie first. She's the one that took her top
off first. And, she's the one who took his pants off first. Everything else was
mutual, but she's still ahead. Or behind. Whatever.
The point is that it's the middle of the afternoon, her mom's out with her new
boyfriend, the rabbit farmer, so she and Freddie are taking the opportunity to
be at her house, in her room, in her bed.
They're finally almost there, she's in just her panties, he's down to his
tighty-whiteys. The first time she saw them she couldn't stop laughing. It took
her almost two weeks to convince him to let her back in his pants.
Freddie's been keeping his hands on the small of her back, curled around her
ribcage, tugging at her thigh, the one remaining slip of fabric an imaginary
do-not-touch zone for his hands. Her nipples drag against his chest, too light
and not enough. She wants him to pinch them, to move his mouth down to bite and
suck. But, his mouth is busy with hers.
He's more gentle with her than she is with herself.
She once asked him why it didn't seem like he wanted more, that he was never
the one leaving a trail of hickeys down her neck while he's mysteriously
started wearing a scarf since they started this again. Freddie swears it's not
that he's such of a gentleman, just that he really likes kissing her. It's a
good thing she likes kissing him.
She's grinding down on his thigh. Freddie's thrusting up against her hip. Sam
doesn't know why they're not fucking yet, the meager fabric between them is not
preserving anyone's modesty. She's got to be getting him wet through her
panties. His hands slip down her back stuttering to a stop right before they
meet cloth and the space they've left is cold. She shivers down on him at least
in part because it's not warm enough for this.
His hands don't move any further south. She really is going to have to make the
next move.
"So, are we going to fuck?" she asks sitting back on his leg, tossing back her
long blond hair. It would be embarrassing to admit she's practiced that move,
but whatever. She knows it's sexy.
"What?" Freddie stares up at her from where he's sprawled on his back on her
bed. The gobsmacked expression on his face is the same one he sometimes wears
when she and Carly suggest things for the show.
"Do you want to have sex? It doesn't have to be a big deal," Sam says, moving
off of him, sitting back on her feet.
Freddie pushes himself up so he's sitting too. "Not a big deal?" he says,
incredulous. "Of course losing my virginity is a big deal. You've never done it
before either." His last statement rises uncomfortably like a question.
"I know what I haven't done," she snaps at him.
"We haven't talked about it."
"What's there to talk about?" Sam crosses her arms over her chest. This is
already more of a conversation than it really requires. "So do you want to or
not?"
"Yes, okay," Freddie says sounding more defeated about it than the situation
calls for. "You sure don't pull any punches."
"You already knew that about me," Sam says, uncrossing her arms. "Now go get a
condom."
"How do you know I have one?" Freddie asks. But he gets up from where he's
sitting to look for his pants where she'd thrown them to the other side of the
room. "You're the one who wanted to do this."
"You're a boy, of course you have a condom in your wallet," Sam answers,
getting up to push her panties down and off before sitting back on her bed.
"Plus, I checked when I stole $10 from you the other day."
It's a mark of how long they've known each other that he doesn't bother looking
up at that admission.
Instead, he finishes digging through his wallet and turns around, condom in
hand. He turns around and stops in his tracks.
"What are you looking at?" Sam squirms.
"You. You're gorgeous."
"Oh." She doesn't know what to do with the reverent tone of his voice. "Well,
get on with it."
Freddie fumbles towards her pushing his underwear down nearly tripping over it
all in his haste. She's glad his back was turned when she took hers off.
There's no sexy way to do that.
Sam leans back, resting her weight on her hands, sitting at the end of the bed.
Freddie stops when he gets to her. He can't get the condom open, muttering
about 'tear here' my ass' before using his teeth to finally rip open the
packaging.
Getting it on doesn't go any better, pre-lubed slick and slippery in his hands
until it's a strung out slimy mess.
"Just sit down and let me handle it," Sam says, reaching out and grabbing
Freddie's hip. She pulls him onto her bed, manhandled him so he's leaning back
against the headboard.
He goes where she wants him with only a modicum of grumbling. "If you'd filled
me in on your plan I would have practiced." He wipes his hands off on the pink
bedspread she’s had since she was little.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Sam leans over him to rummage
around in her nightstand drawer producing another condom.
“I’d have liked avoiding looking like an idiot,” Freddie
says. “Seriously, I didn’t even need to get up. You had
everything right here.”
“Stop complaining, you’re about to get laid.” Sam has a
point. Her neatly manicured nails have no problem opening the wrapper and her
hands are steady when she puts it on him.
"How do you want to do this?” Freddie asks.
"Just stay there." Sam straddles his lap, hands on his shoulders. She stills
for a second, looks at Freddie, sinks down a little, and then a little more.
She stops.
It's big, bigger than her fingers could have ever prepared her for. She feels
Freddie trembling with the effort to not thrust the rest of the way into her
everywhere they're touching, his shoulders under her hands, his thighs against
her calves. This is why she's doing it with him.
"Sam, I--" Freddie chokes off. "You-- you've got to do something."
"It's big." She really means 'it hurts' but Sam doesn't show weakness.
"You don't need to start flattering me now," Freddie says, voice a desperate
whisper.
"Like I would." Sam rolls her eyes. If she stays very still, it's almost okay.
"Just-- let me," Freddie starts, never quite getting the words out, instead in
one move sitting up, wrapping his arms around her, sinking the rest of the way
in.
And "ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," cuts off his attempt to kiss her. She can't help it.
"Shit, sorry," he moves back, forward, without going anywhere, "I'm sorry."
"Just stop moving."
Freddie stops, arms wrapped around her. She's taller than him like this, but
her back is bowed, forehead resting on his shoulder. Sam focuses on breathing
in and out, slow and steady. She blinks and her eyes focus. She can see down
his chest, his stomach to where they're joined. They're really doing this.
As the rushing in her head clears Sam realizes Freddie's talking. "God, you're
so gorgeous. You don't even realize how pretty you are with your eyes and your
jokes and your smile," a constant stream of babbling in her ear.
She picks her head up to kiss him, to stop him from embarrassing himself.
Freddie meets her eagerly and groans into her mouth, uncoordinated and sloppy.
He doesn't shut up, choking out all his favorite things about every time their
mouth's break apart, finally granting his hands free reign to wander with his
words.
"That spot right here." He moves his hand down to rub his thumb along the
crease under her breast. She arches into it.
His hips are hitching up now in tiny, desperate moves kept in check by her
weight on top of him.
Sam thinks this might not be so bad if she can just unclench her hands from
Freddie's biceps and rub at her clit. She doesn't get to find out. Freddie
tenses up beneath her words cutting off in a strangled noise as he comes.
Sam rolls off him, disengaging as awkward and uncomfortable as getting on,
suddenly empty and hollow. She rolls away from him, leaving him sprawled behind
her. She wraps her arms around herself, cold now that they're not touching.
Freddie was right. This means something.
She hates this pink bedspread.
"Hey," Freddie says, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"What?" Sam asks. If he asks if she's okay, she's going to kill him.
Freddie stays silent. He rolls up behind her, puts an arm around her so they're
spooning. It's okay, she guesses. They stay like that for some indeterminable
length of time, pear-phones on the other side of the room so she can't check.
"Hey," Freddie says again. Sam makes a noise of encouragement and he continues.
"Do you want to get cleaned up and go to Meatopia?"
Meatopia is Sam's new favorite restaurant. They serve meat wrapped in other
meat, also french fries. Freddie hates it. Sometimes he just wants a salad and
he's willing to argue that that's a perfectly valid life choice.
"Yeah," Sam says. "That would be nice." She makes no move to get up. Instead
she curls her hand up to hold Freddie's arm where it's wrapped against her.
"Freddie?"
"Mmm?"
Sam continues. "I-- you too." He can fill in the blank.
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