iCarly Porn Story: Costume Changes

“Ta da!”

“…Wow.”

“Well, what do you think? I bet no one will even think to dress as this for the party.”

Freddie shifted uncomfortably in his seat unsure whether to encourage his onetime crush or go with the whole brutal honesty thing. His eyes gave a quick sweep of her body, all of which was conspicuously hidden behind a large Styrofoam Casper the Friendly Ghost costume. He had thought that Halloween was the one time of year girls chose to dress in the sluttiest thing they could find and not risk the judgement associated with actually being a slut. Unfortunately Carly chose to ignore this clause and stick with the most cynically boring costume she could find. The look on her face, the one of sheer excitement and pride decided for him whether or not he should lie to spare her feelings. His lips curled into a tight smile and he nodded.

“What? You don’t like it?” she frowned, picking up on his obvious lack of enthusiasm.

“It’s not that,” he defended, his hands gesturing wildly, “I mean, you look adorable. You always do.”

“But,” she encouraged, her arms crossed. She looked insanely ridiculous; a mixture of silliness and seriousness rolled into one large costume which in its production looked like it may have burned another hole in the ozone layer.

“But I thought girls like to be all girly on Halloween?” he queried.

“You mean slutty.”

“I mean girly,” he corrected with a heavy sigh.

“Whatever. Cos you made such an effort,” she mumbled under her breath, her eyes to the sky.

“Hey!” he cried, “I’ll have you know this costume took a lot of time.”

“You threw on the tux you wore to the iCarly Awards, bought a fake plastic gun and called yourself James Bond. Hardly imaginative.”

He was ready to defend himself, hand poised for some serious emphatic gesturing but he was cut off by Carly’s bedroom door slamming open and her blonde best friend’s dramatic entrance. He was momentarily offended by her sharp entry and was fully ready to chastise and berate before he noticed her costume. Or lack thereof. He glanced sideways to confirm the Carly’s reaction and much like he expected her face fell. Casper didn’t look so friendly anymore.

“What?” Sam asked, taking a messy bite from the candy apple in her hand.

“Sam!” Carly shrieked, looking thoroughly unimpressed, “Where’s your costume?”

She looked down at her own attire; jeans, Ramone’s t-shirt and an army jacket completed the quintessential Sam Puckett look and she appeared genuinely bemused by Carly’s question.

“You said you were having a Halloween party, you said nothing about costumes,” she stated flatly, munching on chocolate covered apple. A little trickle of melted candy oozed down the side of her chin and Freddie fixated there, fascinated by the path it took.

“Did too! I told you; Halloween Costume Party. Sam! Please. You look stupid.”

“Says the giant condom,” she quipped, grinning. Freddie snorted a laugh and immediately regretted the action when Carly shot him a death glare.

“I’m Casper actually,” she informed her friend, with grave seriousness, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you; you always have to be like this.”

Freddie glanced between the two friends, amazed at how pouty Carly managed to get her bottom lip without it looking completely absurd. He knew Sam would crack; she always did.

“Argh, wait,” she grunted marching purposefully towards the desk. Both watched in both awe and confusion as Sam pulled open the stationary drawer, picked out the post its and a glitter pen and wrote something on the little white piece of paper. Finishing with a firm full stop she straightened back up and slapped the sticker to her chest before turning round with a proud smile. Despite himself, Freddie laughed again, this time louder than before and if it was at all possible Carly looked even more agitated. The sticker across the front of Sam’s black shirt read “Bella ‘I Suck More Than Blood’ Swan” in very large, very sparkly letters and Freddie knew that this meant war. Not only had Sam shown up sans costume but she had also just insulted what was perhaps Carly’s favourite book of all time. Half of him wanted to duck for the inevitable throwing of very heavy objects.

“That’s not funny,” Carly told her, making an irritated noise with her tongue.

Catching Freddie’s smile, Sam chuckled with him. “Oh come on Carls. It’s pretty funny.”

“It’s not and you,” Carly turned sharply towards the boy in the computer chair knocking the ceiling light as she moved, “You shouldn’t encourage her.”

His mouth fell open to protest but he snapped it shut realising arguing with a giant Casper would get him nowhere. Instead he nodded his compliance, averting his gaze to his lap. Sam rolled her eyes.

“Ok so you’re going to tell me off for not making an effort when Freddie can come as a waiter and it’s cool? Double standard Carls!”

“Hey! I’m not a waiter!” Freddie’s voice was shrill when he interrupted and perhaps a higher pitch than he originally intended.

“Yeah, he’s not a waiter,” Carly echoed, “He’s James Bond.”

Looking sceptical, Sam glanced between the tech nerd and her best friend for visual confirmation of what she believed to be the biggest joke of the night. So far.

“I’ve got a gun and everything,” he said, pulling out a small plastic toy from his pocket. Carly shook her head at the boy and shifted over to his side, her hand forcing him to lower the prop back down.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t pull out that thing too proudly there big boy,” Sam deadpanned. Making a face at the delinquent, Freddie put the gun back into the pocket of his black tuxedo and patted it just to make sure it was nestled safely inside. Well, he didn’t want any more repeats of the waiter episode later.

“Anyway, at least Freddie made some sort of effort,” Carly resumed, smirking a little, “Sam you can’t stick a piece of paper on you and say that’s what you are.”

“Well what do you want me to do Carls? I’m not running back to my house on Halloween night; it’s like Night of the Living Tiddlywinks out on those streets with all the kids and their grabby hands. Plus there’s not a costume shop in miles that’ll be open this late. Or have anything this late. So I guess you’re stuck with Bella.”

“Well actually…I have a few options for you.”

Sam made a noise, something akin to a grunt before urging her to continue becoming more than a little impatient with the idea she had gone three minutes without any candy on Halloween.

“Ok so me and Wendy went shopping for costumes last week. She didn’t like my choice, who knows why, it’s totally awesome,” Carly paused to grin and pose in her oversized outfit, “So she picked up a few things for me just in case.”

“Ok, well show,” Sam ordered, leaning back on the doorframe.

“Stay there,” Carly instructed before waddling off to her closet. Freddie watched Sam’s eyes dart around the room, from floor to ceiling to bed to TV before finally coming to rest on the boy himself. Her eyes fluttered up and down and she fixed him with a scrutinising look before visibly blanching.

“You’re gross.”

“You look like feet,” he retorted, wrinkling his nose.

“So we have a few choices,” Carly panted, clearly struggling under the weight of the Styrofoam. She plonked an armful of clothes onto her mattress before rifling through and muttering considerations under her breath. Eventually she re-emerged and held up what Sam could only assume was a sex outfit. It had a corset, red tassels hanging from everywhere and fishnets that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Dismayed, Sam switched her gaze from the outfit to her friend who smiled hopefully for the costume she had offered.

“Heh heh heh,” Freddie chortled lowly, eliciting glowers from both girls.

“No freaking way,” Sam snorted disbelievingly, “I’d rather smell Benson’s ass.”

“Ok, so it’s a no for the first one…how about this!” Carly exclaimed pulling out an army girl outfit. Sam raised her eyebrows, unimpressed with her choices thus far.

“This?” She offered a playboy suit with hope and adoration in her eyes.

“I’d pay to see Puckett in that,” Freddie interjected, grinning from ear to ear. Unfortunately the slight came out more as a come on and both girls looked rather perplexed by the sudden admission.

“Keep your pervish fantasies to yourself their Dweeb,” Sam barked, ostensibly revolted.

“Sam, please you have to choose something!” Carly whined, doing her best to stomp her feet.

“Ok how about this? You be the army girl and I’ll wear that…giant condom outfit.”

“Heck no! This costume is way to amazing to give up.”

“Carly…” Sam bleated, whimpering ever so slightly for full effect. Carly was not to be messed with, not tonight. Freddie watched the usually mild mannered girl stand her ground, effectively staring Sam down and beating her into submission. He fully expected Sam to throw a tantrum – to scream and kick and let everyone know that she would not be told what to do. But he also knew that Sam was aware of the importance of this night for Carly. She had planned, primped and preened for weeks before, even managing to ship Spencer off to her grandfather’s for the weekend. There were two things Freddie knew about Sam; one) she was a selfish, self-centred brat who never failed to humiliate him or anyone similar to him and two) she adored Carly more than anything else in the world. With that last oddly heart-warming thought, he knew she had been beaten. Something retreated in her demeanour; she relaxed and sighed before striding across to where her best friend stood and flicked through her choices. She picked one quickly and Carly squealed in delight, smacking her lips to Sam’s cheek.

“Thank you Sam,” she giggled.

“Yeah, yeah. You seriously owe me like twenty.”

With that, she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and Carly resumed getting ready, telling Freddie she was going downstairs to finish setting up. He offered to help but she refused, saying something about how he was getting a tough time and to relax before the party but Freddie knew it was more a case of her not wanting him to interfere with her pre-planned decor set. So instead he waited, twiddling in his thumbs in the computer chair and feeling more than a little self conscious. He tried picturing waiters and he was certain that was not what he looked like. Well only a small resemblance but not enough to be constantly berated over.

“What? Did they measure this for a five year old seriously?” Sam grunted, emerging once more. Casually glancing in her direction (and fully prepared for a fat jibe) Freddie found his breath catching in the back of his throat and the insult was swallowed far and away, the image of her bent over in a sailors costume and putting on red heels forever etched in his mind.

“So many guys are going to be hitting on me,” she complained with a dramatic sigh, “Like I need that shit? All I want to do is eat my weight in candy…is that too much to ask?”

She hadn’t even yet noticed the boys failure to respond, instead rambling on about how awful she expected the night to be and how there at least better be beer. And she certainly didn’t notice him cast a sweeping appreciative glance up and down her now curved body, poured into tight sailor three-quarter length navy trousers and strained white, bow tied, half top.

“Carly can go shit if she thinks I’m wearing the hat,” she continued to gripe, throwing the cap onto the bed in one dismissive fluid movement. “Where the hell did she go anyways? She makes me wear this thing and doesn’t stick around to see if it’s ok? You coming Fredlumps? The party needs its waiter.”

The whirlwind that was Sam Puckett had disappeared out Carly’s bedroom door leaving a stunned Freddie sitting trying to control the sudden stirring in his lap. He hadn’t quite accounted for the effect Sam might have on him dressed…like that. But then again the only other people he had ever seen dressed said way were porn stars so it wasn’t any wonder she would elicit similar feelings. At least this was how he rationalised it. Sighing he came to a startling realisation; if that was how all the girls would dress tonight, he was about to have some serious problems.

As it turned out, every girl didn’t have the same effect on Freddie as Sam did in a provocative Halloween costume. Freddie was both thankful and confused by this unexpected turnout in events, and tried desperately not to think about how in a room full of scantily glad seventeen year old girls, he could only think about one in particular. Instead he focused all his attention on Carly, who manoeuvred awkwardly around in the kitchen of her city apartment and complained bitterly about what she thought was a lack of imagination in costume choices.

“Army girls, sexy witches, cheerleaders, really? I mean I get it. I do. It’s the one time of year us girls can get away with it, plus it’s very Mean Girls-esque you know? But I just thought at least one person would make some sort of educated costume effort,” she ranted, refilling a large orange bowl with toffee popcorn.

“Educated costume effort?” Freddie raised a quizzical eyebrow, his beer bottle pressed to his lips.

“You know what I mean,” she smirked, “I expected…a little bit of class.”

“So let me get this straight. You expected class from a bunch of high school kids in an apartment where there is alcohol being served and no adult supervision. Really?”

“I know,” she sighed, busying herself with red plastic cups, “I guess I was just clinging to that one bit of childhood I had left. Feels like we’re growing up so fast, all changing, maturing, trying new things and it’s just…”

Carly dragged off catching the path of Freddie’s fixated gaze to their blonde friend, who in turn was staring hungrily at a bowl of red liquorice guts. She was not stupid. She had noticed the subtle changes in their relationship namely Freddie’s longing stares and Sam’s blissful obliviousness. The usual social high school mating ritual would have been adorable if she discounted for the extreme personalities both exhibited. The crush had clearly withdrawn Freddie from reality and at the best of times he could hardly concentrate, while Sam was trying even harder than usual to make the boy squirm in physical pain on a daily basis. Carly negotiated this down to Sam’s lack of social skills and basic understanding of a boy crush. In fact, Sam probably thought Freddie’s newfound adoration was some form of torture or prank in itself.

“I can’t believe Sam didn’t make an effort though, she usually loves dressing up as something gory and scaring six year olds,” she remarked casually.

“She looks like she’s going to eat the bowl as well as the contents,” Freddie chuckled back, as if ignoring Carly.

“Yeah, she told me she doesn’t want to bloat hence the lack of food,” she snorted a short laugh and joined Freddie on a stool at the counter.

“Not like Sam,” he mumbled distracted by the blonde’s change in location to the sofa.

“Nope,” Carly concurred, “But Nathan is here tonight, she has like the biggest crush on him.”

“I didn’t know she was dating anyone,” the boy supplied coolly.

“Not dating,” she corrected, “They’ve just made out a couple of times. It’s totally weird, usually Sam’s chews ’em up and spits ’em out but she’s making a real effort with this one.”

“He’s a keeper?” Freddie queried, barely taking his eyes off her. She laughed, loudly, at something the boy on the sofa whispered in her ear and both Freddie and Carly fixed their attention to the sofa.

“Mmm maybe,” Carly considered as she awkwardly slid off the stool, catching her foam outfit on the corner of the kitchen counter. Freddie glanced in her direction watching amused as she struggled free and slid out past him. “All depends if you’re ever going to ask her out.”

Mid-swig, Freddie snorted out beer the sticky smelly liquid spewing down his black tuxedo jacket. Had he really been that obvious? He thought he hid it well given that he was dealing with some rather confused and new feelings about a girl who only a few months back he had loathed more than tick baths and ointment. But he didn’t have time to probe Carly’s girl brain or even to ask how in the heck she had worked out what his brain couldn’t even yet fathom, as Casper was off mingling in the classy crowd. It would have been easy to chase her down and grill her, but an active part of him chose not to. Mostly because he was afraid if he took his eyes off Sam Puckett for more than ten seconds she would be slinking off to the upstairs bedroom in that outfit with someone who could never appreciate it as much as he did right now. So instead he watched and waited, drinking copiously until Sam had finally moved from the sofa to the manmade dance floor at the foot of the stairs. It was torture, this is what he concluded. He had to watch her writhe and dance with boy after boy after girl and it drove him to the brink of insanity. He wasn’t brave enough to cut in but he wasn’t sure he was ok with simply waiting. Fortunately the blonde decided for him, and approached red faced and panting.

“Gimme a drink,” she demanded, swiping the bottle from his hands.

“Sure, no problem Sam,” he replied, his tone dripping sarcasm.

She thrust the bottle back to him, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand and sighing theatrically. He swore the more he prodded, the more she enjoyed getting a rise.

“Why you sitting here all alone Fredwina? Carly’s costume too much of an obstacle?”

“Just not in the party mood,” he seethed, forcing a smile.

“Yet as the night wears on, the more you look like a waiter,” she grinned, gesturing to his attire. True, his jacket had gotten lost in transit and yes his bowtie now lay open against the collar but in his estimations he probably looked more like a sloshed prom attendee than a waiter. He could feel his lip pout of its own accord and Sam examined his profile, breathless.

“Come on, come dance with me,” she offered, still fighting to regulate her breathing.

“Sure you can keep away from your boyfriend for ten seconds?”

“Come on Dipthong,” she repeated, quieter this time as she grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the middle of the room.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do when he got there and both to his relief and dismay, Sam led the way. She was immediately on him, invading his personal space and sashaying her hips to the soft, melodic beat booming from the iStation. Stunned, he stared at the top her head counting each erotic movement her body made, her hands held high. Whether it was the alcohol or simply the charge of electricity in the air, he shuffled forward placing two tentative hands on either side of her hips to guide her closer. Despite her dipped head he could see a coy smile play on her lips and she began to grind with him, both finding an easy rhythm. If he was honest, Freddie was not a natural dancer. He was pretty much like every other teenage guy out there; robot moves or let the girl use you as a pole. Those were generally his options. Sam however made an easy partner, rolling her body and being careful not to touch him with her hands but instead guiding him into her rhythm. It was agonisingly painful to watch her gyrate her hips back and forth, bumping him ever so slightly and not be able to hold her with his hands. He swore, the more effort she put into grinding the more he wanted her to stop out of sheer fear of what might happen in front of his classmates. Lips parted ever so slightly and feeling like he couldn’t catch breath Freddie leant down, his forehead touching hers. He watched her intently now, her own mouth falling open, her pants short and sharp as she rocked back and forth against his middle. The little sounds she made, the way her face contorted and how her arms hooked up around his neck reminded him of something he’d only seen done in the privacy of a bedroom. Or, depending on the film, office classroom or hot tub. He had to do something fearing that if she kept moving this way his pants would be the next part of his costume to go, so his hands found her bare waist slowing her movements ever so slightly. He could feel her regulate her breath, her entire body relaxing in his hold and he held her there, afraid of any more friction between them. Panting hard the friends stood close and Freddie wasn’t sure if was from physical exertion, heat or embarrassment but Sam’s face flushed with colour and without another word she pulled away, leaving him cold.

After their little display in living room of the Shay household Freddie was fully prepared on leaving and doing what any normal teenage boy would do after experiencing something like that but Freddie found his curiosity for Miss Samantha Puckett in a tight sailor outfit insatiable. For the next half hour his eyes stalked her around the room but she seemed oblivious to the attention and instead refocused hers on earlier interests. Carly hadn’t approached him again, except once to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He had to hand it to her; despite the blistering heat in the apartment she managed to stick her heavy duty costume out. Just as his attention seemed to waiver to a nearby conversation about Splashface and the Double Rainbow guy, out the corner of his eye he saw Nathan lean forward and capture Sam’s lips with his. At first he wasn’t entirely sure if this was happening, he had drank more than his considerable share of alcohol and had to blink several times to make sure he wasn’t actually hallucinating. It turned out he wasn’t. Sam kissed back with vigour and Freddie fought the churning feeling in his gut right until she pulled back. He swore he saw her eyes flicker to his if only for a moment and he broke. Slamming his seventh beer on the counter top, he made a not so conspicuous exit up the stairs holding down his rage until he was safely inside. A carefully placed photo of the three friends sat atop the computer table and Freddie picked it up, throwing it against the back wall. It landed with a soft clap to the carpet floor and he immediately regretted his action. Sighing, he began to pick up the shards of glass from the carpet and in doing so didn’t hear or see the door to Carly’s bedroom opening softly.

“What happened to that?” Sam asked from the other side of the room.

“The noise from downstairs, must have vibrated and knocked it from the table,” he mumbled without glancing back.

“Yeah I’m surprised the neighbours haven’t complained,” she offered lamely.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself though,” he said flatly, tossing the shards into the bin and placing the photo back onto the desk.

“It’s ok,” she breathed.

“Ok? Seemed more than ok when I was down there.”

“What are you trying to get at Freddie?”

“Nothing. You just seemed to be having a great time is all.”

“Is this about Nathan?”

“Who?” He played dumb, shooting her a blank stare.

“Nathan. The guy I was kissing.”

“No. Why would it be about him?”

“I dunno, you just seemed to high tail it out of there pretty fast when I was on the sofa with him.”

“Well I didn’t leave because of you.”

“No?” her voice squeaked, husky from shouting over music.

“When did you meet Nathan actually?”

“I don’t know, two…maybe three weeks ago. Why do you not like him or something?”

“No actually,” Freddie admitted meeting her halfway in the middle of the room.

“Is it cos he’s in the football team?” she quizzed, holding his gaze.

“I don’t want anyone else kissing you.”

“Because you want to be the only one who kisses me?” she sought confirmation with expectant eyes and alcohol soaked breath. The question should have sent shockwaves through the atmosphere, and ten weeks ago it probably would have but things were different now. They were different.

“I just don’t want anyone else kissing you.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one who wanted to keep this a secret?”

“I don’t want anyone else kissing you,” he repeated, firmer this time.

“And honestly that was fine with me,” she continued, ignoring his repeated sentiments, “Because let’s face it, I don’t exactly wanna be seen with a Nub like you an-“

Suddenly he closed the distance between them, his lips covering hers and silencing her arguments. He had had enough of talking. He was sick to death of discussing things, over-analysing every single touch, every word. And maybe under the haze of Dutch courage he finally gathered the nerve to do something other than talking. She didn’t fight it; instead she relaxed into the kiss, her hands fumbling for the front of his shirt. She could feel him nudge her backwards to Carly’s bed and the surprising part was she found herself letting him. They stumbled and fell to the mattress, the springs popping beneath them. He’s not exactly sure how long they lay there, kissing and exploring each other on top of their best friend’s bed but he was forcefully jolted back to reality when her hands fell to the belt of his slacks.

“What are you doing?” he panted between kisses, manoeuvring so he lay half on top of her, his leg between her thighs.

“What does it look like Nub?” she growled, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. His hand slid up her bare middle, a finger sneaking under the flimsy half top of her costume and grazing the underside of her breast. Her breath hitched at the sensation, arching her back off the mattress. This wasn’t entirely unfamiliar territory; they had made out before and that came accompanied with a wide vary of heavy petting and teenage fumblings but this felt different.

“This is a really bad idea,” he mumbled, his nose pressed to the side of her neck nuzzling her there. She let out a happy sigh, her hands falling back against the bed.

“No it’s not,” she encouraged with a breathy whisper. He smiled into her skin, alternating between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh there. A hand found its way to her breasts, kneading the soft mound beneath a firm touch. She let out a moan and he felt his cock stir, hardening against her thigh.

“This costume has been driving me crazy all fucking night,” he told her, “All I’ve wanted to do is rip it off.”

“Please do,” she laughed. He grinned and began to pull the top above her head. She obliged, holding her arms up and slipping out, lying free against Carly’s My Little Pony bedspread. Mesmerised by the shape and feel, Freddie found his mouth gravitating to her nipple, wetting it with his tongue before capturing it in his teeth.

“Oooh,” she let out, her hands twisting in his hair. He moved to the other breast lavishing it with enough attention to almost distract her from his hand, now travelling south towards the waistband of her sailor pants. Just as he was about to dip a finger beneath the soft fabric he felt her catch his wrist in a vice like grip, preventing him from going any further.

“Sam I’m sorry I thought you wanted…” he stuttered, meeting her heavy lidded eyes.

“No, no I do,” she reassured, “It’s just…well…”

“What? You afraid?”

“No. Hells no. It’s…”

She dragged off, gazing up at the perplexed boy weighing heavy on top of her.

“What?”

“I get loud, Benson.”

“Huh?” he blinked uncomprehending. Mostly he just wasn’t sure if he had heard her correctly.

“I get loud. As in screaming, moaning, dirty talk…the works.”

“Oh right.”

“If you don’t wanna do it…”

“You kidding me? I’m pretty sure my cock can die happy with those words.”

She rolled her eyes but her mouth still smiled, her cheeks blushing deep crimson.

“It doesn’t matter Sam, music’s loud enough to drown out a dying cat,” he teased, nuzzling a sensitive spot behind her ear. He felt her relax again, her fingers loosening their hold on his hand, letting him resume his path into her pants. He could hear her inhale sharply when he dipped in a cautious finger, only to find her deliciously wet from sheer anticipation.

“What got you like this?” he queried, being careful to avoid her clit.

“You. All I could think about was fucking you when we were dancing. I was throbbing so much it hurt,” she supplied, licking her lips.

“What did you imagine us doing?” he asked, curiosity titillated.

“You…bending me over on your desk…” she dragged off, raising her hips from the bed, impatient. She needed him to be at her core, where desire pulsated and throbbed through her aching sex but the boy was relentless. He chuckled at her eagerness, nuzzling the valley of her breasts and her head lulled back when he dipped a finger inside, rolling her clit beneath his thumb.

“Oh fuck…Freddie…” she panted, eyes shut. Eager to see what other noises he could elicit, he rubbed a little faster before pumping a finger inside, groaning inwardly at the tightness surrounding him. True to her word, Sam’s moans bounced off the bedroom walls and rather than being amused or even surprised by the sheer volume of the noise it spurred Freddie on. His hips moved of their own accord against her hip and she writhed against him desperate for more friction. “More…more,” she begged, her hand flitting desperately to his, trying to change the pace. He batted her away, completely in control and in retaliation for her impatience he pulled his hand out.

“I said more Frednerd,” she snapped, and he smirked at the pure frustration she exuded. She had propped herself up on her elbows and glared at him, flushed with colour.

“Calling me names? You really think that’s going to work?” he chuckled, his fingers now tracing the waistband of her underwear. He felt her shudder and his grin widened.

“Well it’s always worked before,” she half sighed, half moaned despite herself.

“Yeah well not tonight,” he told her, climbing on top to straddle her slight body. He brought his hands up her sides, fingers grazing the curve of her naked breasts as he pinned her arms to the bed above her head. “Tonight, I’m going to make you beg for it Puckett. You know how long I’ve wanted to do this? You drive me crazy and I wanna fuck that nasty, horrible person out of you. For once, I’m going to win.”

She laughed a low and husky sound and raised her head off the mattress to try and capture his lips with hers. He leant down as if to meet her before pulling back with a smile.

“So no gentle first times huh?”

“Wait what?” he asked, suddenly confused. His gaze met hers, thrown by the question. “This…I mean you’ve done it before? Right Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I have Dweeb,” she replied, “I was just trying to spare your feelings. I thought you were safe-guarding your virginity for your future wife.”

He stared at her and never before had she seemed so…blank. She was utterly unreadable in that moment, but whether or not the concerned gentleman in Freddie lost the battle of wills he probably would never know because he moved down quickly, devouring her in a hot kiss. Shocked by the electricity shooting between them Sam lost her breath, her head spinning. He was quick to give it back, trailing wet lips down her neck and past her naval. She found her hands pulling at his hair of their own accord, her hips raising off the bed when he nestled her pelvic bone. He reached up, sliding her pants and underwear down her legs so they pooled at her feet and he followed off the bed, kneeling on the soft carpeted floor. A soft, happy sound escaped when he began kissing up her leg from her calf to her inner thigh, teeth grazing as he went.

“Is this what you did with her?” Sam croaked out, opening her eyes to the ceiling.

She could feel him nudging her legs further apart, his breath inches from her core. She shivered, hotly anticipating what came next.

“Is this what I did with who?” the boy asked, his voice vibrating through her. She was about to answer when he lowered his lips to her folds, planting soft kisses there.

“Oh God!” she cried out, pulling on his hair. She nearly forgot the question, Freddie still worshipping her with his mouth.

“The girl you screwed?”

A horrifying thought flashed like lightning into her head; was it Carly? Did she teach him this? Because Sam knew that this wasn’t just instinctual – what he was doing right now came from experience. And lots of it.

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

He had stopped and Sam’s curiosity won out. She craned her head up gazing down at him perched between her thighs. He fixed her with a dark look and she gulped audibly before lying back down. Did he she really want to know?

The feel of his tongue was shocking as it glided between her folds and her body reacted with a sharp jolt. Any thoughts of anyone else other than her and Freddie were eclipsed by the sensations now wracking her core.

“Oh, oh, oh!” she screamed, her pitch getting louder the faster he worked his expert tongue over her throbbing clit. His mouth devoured her hungrily and his hands came up to try and still her frantic hips. She let out a mix of both expletives and loud moans when he pushed a finger back inside, crooking it so it reached her g-spot. One touch, that was all it took, and Sam came apart with his name screaming from her lips. Freddie planted feather light kisses against her thrumming sex until he felt her relax beneath him, her breathing shallow.

“Oh…my God,” she gasped, fingers still tangled in his hair and eyes clenched shut. She felt him move, his weight switching back to the bed and he slid up beside her, burying his face into the crook of her neck.

“You smell amazing,” he murmured against the soft skin.

“Don’t be a nerd,” she commanded through heaving breaths, her head falling to the side. Eyes met and both teenagers let out simultaneous laughs before she rolled over and pushed her mouth to his. Hot, heady kisses ensued and Sam found it ridiculously sexy that she could taste herself off his tongue, and finding that she was desperate for more. “Know what I’ve just realised?”

“What?”

“I’m naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt. No fair. You hiding scales or something?”

He laughed against her lips, bringing a hand up to stroke her face when he felt her nimble fingers begin to undo the buttons of his now creased white shirt.

“It’s a shame though,” she whispered, pulling her face away and instead watching the path her hands took as they continued to unbutton and unravel, “Seeing you go down on me dressed like that…hottest thing ever.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, taking the lead and throwing a leg over his middle, “But don’t you ever dare tell anyone I said.”

With that he raised up slightly, helping her remove the shirt and discard it beside the bed. She was surprised; pleasantly so. Freddie had apparently filled out since the last time they filmed the paddling pool bit for iCarly. He now bore what resembled a six-pack and his arms felt considerably firm under her delicate hands. She traced down his torso, scratching with her nails and drawing a hiss from the boy below her.

“You like it rough,” she teased with a laugh. What she didn’t expect was for him to push his hips forward, grinding his erection into her still wet pussy and she gasped at the sensation of hardness and rough fabric.

“Yeah and?” he quipped, holding her hips to his.

“Never had you down as an S&M fetishist, is all.”

He pushed again and she groaned, her hands tightening into fists around the belt of his black slacks.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Puckett.”

She responded with a harsh kiss, her breasts pressed against his chest in what was essentially hard and soft moulding together. Running his fingers down the length of her back he was surprised at how utterly fascinated he was with the curve of her spine, tracing it obsessively and he was more than disappointed when she pulled back, shimmying from his lap and backing up a few inches from the bed. Eyes tracing the length of her completely naked body, he found himself fighting something primal, some animalistic instinct to take her then and there and a part of his mind wondered if she’d like it.

“Stand up,” she ordered. Who was he to ignore a beautiful naked girl? He stood up from the bed, hair dishevelled, love bites tracing his collar bone and was suddenly rather self-conscious. She eyed him like pray, long black eyelashes fluttering when she slowly closed the distance between them. Their lips never met; instead her hand flitted down to his crotch, palming him there.

“Christ…” he muttered, eyes directed to the heavens. He thought he had done something wrong when she pulled her hand away and was fully ready to apologise despite earlier sentiments voiced of him being the one to control the situation. Unfortunately his body was ready and more than willing to relinquish that control if she would just put her hands on him again. Prayers were answered when he watched her undo the buckle of his belt, pulling it free in one swift movement before beginning on the buttons and zipper of his pants. His cock twitched and if possible got even harder at the image of her falling to her knees, pulling his pants and boxers down with her.

There he was, all of him, ready and waiting in front of her and she realised then that not only did she want to do this she needed to. She needed to learn about him; what turned him on, what he liked, what made him weak. She needed to know. As if by instinct she lowered her tongue to his tip, licking there. She was more than a little surprised when his hips jolted forward, his hand grasping the top of her head. Heat shot down her belly, earlier memories assaulting her and she instinctively took him in, her mouth strained around his impossibly long member. Sam Puckett would later deny it but something about her being on her knees, Freddie’s hand pulling on her hair and pushing himself further inside, something about the loss of control and the paradoxical feeling of being in control beat inside, pulsating in her veins. Her hands found his exposed base, originally as leverage in an effort to help in her task but she realised with the way he moaned her name and his fingers tightened that it perhaps did a lot more than that. She bobbed her head, trying desperately to take him all in, sucking and licking frantically when she felt him lengthen even more inside her mouth. She could taste him finally; salty and warm and it was all she wanted. Pushing the boundaries and testing the limits, she moved one hand to his balls giving them an experimental squeeze. He bucked and swore, pulling her away from him. For a moment she thought she had done something wrong, she had crossed a line that shouldn’t have been crossed but when her panicked gaze met his she realised the desire there was enough to melt her to her centre.

“You can’t…” he breathed, “If you keep doing that, this is going to be over too quick.”

Smiling seductively, she let her tongue sweep over her cum stained lips and Freddie groaned again, falling to his knees to meet her in an exhilarating kiss. His tongue probed and explored, his hands once again finding her breasts, teasing her pebbled nipples.

“I’m on the pill,” she spoke into his mouth. He took that as his invitation to lower her to the carpeted floor, but she pushed back and his eyes shot open, confused. “I wanna be on top,” she said between kisses as way of explanation. He wanted to laugh; it shouldn’t have surprised him her need to dominate. Instead he manoeuvred them both to the floor, lying back against Carly’s ridiculous purple rug. Keeping his eyes trained to hers, Sam backed up positioning herself above him, still propped up on her knees. “Gimme your hands,” she requested and he did so without question, taking both her small palms in his. Expelling a long breath, she lowered herself down wincing in pain when he met her barrier. Something flickered in his eyes and she knew he knew so she debated between running or pushing down to get it over with quickly. Freddie saved her from the decision, sitting up and guiding her hands to his shoulders as his took her waist.

“Just…take it slow,” he advised, his breath hot against her chest, “There’s no rush. Nice and slow.”

Thinking back she was grateful for how he handled it. She was grateful for his nerdy maturity and his nubish sensitivity even if it did detract from the rough and ready atmosphere she seemed to crave.

“Don’t be nice to me Nerd,” she growled, “Don’t you dare be nice.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied, eyes trained on where they met, “Right after this part is over, you’ll be wishing you never said that.”

Desire shot down into her pussy and her hips involuntarily thrust downward, swallowing him whole in one swift and sharp movement. She cried out in pain, her fingernails digging into his shoulders leaving more tell tale marks that would be damned near impossible to explain to his mother later. She was hot, tight and wet, a delicious combination which nearly made him forget all the loving concern he was earlier consumed with and he fought the urge to thrust.

“You ok?” he panted, fingers nipping at the skin of her waist.

“Just go.”

He began to pump rhythmically, slow at first until he was sure her moaning was from pleasure rather than pain. She flattened her palms across his chest, the sharp pain subsiding and giving way to a feeling she didn’t recognise. It wasn’t like before when he had gone down on her; the slow burning feeling down below came and went in short waves and she found herself missing the earlier ministrations of his tongue and fingers. She figured then that this part must be for the boys because although she felt something remarkable, some feeling of fullness and closeness the sensations from earlier were of a different intensity. Freddie noticed her lack of enthusiasm and sat up again, an arm tangling loosely around her waist.

“Let’s switch,” his whispered breathy suggestion came between gentle thrusts.

“Why? Are you not enjoying it?” she asked, stilling in his lap.

“No I am, but I’m pretty sure you’re not.”

He kissed her then, stealing her breath.

“I don’t care. I don’t think it’ll matter anyway.”

“It will,” he assured, still moving gently inside her. The slow, soft rhythm was killing him and all he could think of was it would be the most fantastic way to go.

“It won’t, just lie back down would ya? I can do this.”

“As sexy as that offer is…”

“Shut up Benson.”

“No,” he growled, inches from her lips and illustrated his point with an interesting change of angle and hard thrust, one that drew an appealing expletive from the blonde. “Would you just shut the hell up, you stubborn girl. For once…just let me do it.”

Silenced and stunned by the boy’s change in demeanour (which she would admit in the moment was perhaps the sexist thing she had ever and probably would ever experience), Sam allowed him to pull out, effortlessly lifting her from the ground, her bare legs wrapped around his waist. She felt his hands grip her backside, his eyes trained to hers. She was breathless when he lay her back against the bed again, falling down on his arms surrounding her with his musky scent and her heart beat against her ribcage so hard she was afraid she might just implode. Her breath became shallow when he trailed a hand down her front, his fingers returning to her clit with renewed affection. Or determination; she wasn’t exactly sure which emotion drove him to the perfection that occurred down there. She let out a deep throated moan when he stroked long and hard against her beating core. So distracted was she by the ministrations that it felt like the most natural thing in the world when he pushed inside of her again, filling her to the hilt. He didn’t ask if she was ok; he didn’t need to. Her breathing was deep, a soft shine gleaming from her pale skin when he began to thrust, all the while keeping his fingers carefully trained to the place that caused her to writhe just so. She felt amazing around him, still impossibly tight despite the change in position. And while Freddie knew the new circumstances may have been a tad vanilla to some, he also knew that this way he could hit her in the spot that would make her scream and beg. She just needed a little coaching and guidance.

He was deliberately slow, delivering sharp, hard thrusts in a tangent rhythm with his nimble fingers.

“Freddie,” she gasped, her finger nails scraping up his ass, “Fuck me. Please…God please.”

He maintained a conscious pace, unhurriedly bringing his hand down her thigh, tips of his fingers dancing down the back of her left leg until he reached a particularly sensitive spot behind her knee. He tickled there and she cried out, her hand covering the one he had placed behind her knee. Smirking he basked in the sound of her repetitive calls for God and her desperate pleas for him to quicken his speed and he found himself amazed at how her back arched and she brought her leg up and back, allowing him better access. Such natural, instinctive reactions spurred him on and he quickened up, flattening his palm on the mattress beside her head and pushing himself up to angle inside her. His other hand returned to her soaking clit and he was briefly concerned of the mess they’d leave behind when they were done. He could barely keep his eyes open, panting from the vigour with which he pushed himself inside and his head humming with her screams.

“Oh fuck Freddie, I…oh…Freddie I’m…” she moaned, her hands grasping desperately at his hair. He felt her tighten wonderfully around his cock, her spasms coming and going in waves beneath him, her hips moving with his in an uneven regularity as she fought to hold onto the feeling. But Freddie wasn’t done. He continued with his assault on her body, managing to flip them over and bring her onto his lap, sitting with him. His lips caught hers in a bruising kiss and swallowed her whimpers of protest at the blend of sensations wracking her below. He kept thrusting into her, his pace fervent and he found himself amazed at the mix of sweat and sex between them, a result of the sheer closeness, the unbelievable desire to touch the other. Still attached to her mouth his hands tangled in her now damp hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat to his hungry lips.

“Christ Sam,” he muttered against her skin, wracked with the sensation of her desperate thrusts as she fought her way back to orgasm for the third time that night. His eyes shot open at the feel of her hand between them and he groaned when he realised she was playing with herself in his lap. Stars shot across his irises and he grunted his release into her moist shoulder, biting down hard. She was still moving and writhing, gasping and panting as she struggled to get there and he impulsively batted her hand away, flicking his thumb over her clit. She came apart with a piercing scream her head tilted towards the heavens, giving him a glorious view of her sweat shined chest. He couldn’t help it; he collapsed backwards on the bed taking her with him and she rolled off to his side. The sound of their breathing as they fought to control it was the only noise besides the beat of the music from the still raging party downstairs.

“Do…do you think they heard?” she breathed, pressing the back of her hand to her head.

“I dunno…you were pretty frickin’ loud Puckett,” he chuckled, rolling back over so he covered her. The boy just wouldn’t let her breathe and she found it oddly exhilarating that someone would want to touch her that much. Clumsy kisses traced her jaw line, her body humming pleasantly beneath his. She didn’t notice his hand retrieve the sailor cap she had so quickly disregarded earlier, and he fitted it to her head smiling. “Shame you didn’t wear that during.”

“Ooh kinky much?” she grinned, taking off the hat and placing it atop his messy bed head. He pulled a theatrical face and she laughed despite every fibre of her being reminding her that he was still a dork, and that this was so far from cool and sexy. But honestly, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“So…are we going steady now?” he broached the subject with such sincerity she wanted to laugh but she held back, only rolling her eyes.

“No, I hate that term,” she blanched.

“Girlfriend and boyfriend?”

She made a face, her noise wrinkling adorably.

“Then what?”

She paused, considering something. “How about…we stay Freddie and Sam? No ties?”

“Sam…” he sighed, his forehead falling against her breasts.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she chastised, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking him back up, “Stay Freddie and Sam. No ties…except…we just kiss and fuck together? No one else allowed to do those things.”

His mouth pulled into a smile. He knew this was as romantic as it got with Sam Puckett so he decided to cut his losses and run with it. “I can agree to that.”

“Good,” she confirmed, her tongue sweeping over her lips, “Now get off, I heard my phone buzz amidst your girly screams.”

“Eh…pretty sure that was you.”

He was met with a swift kick to the gut as she clambered naked to the bottom of the bed, searching for her phone in a mess of clothes and underwear. When successful she held it up in the air, crawling back up to his side. She would never admit it but falling into the crook of his arm, her head on his beating heart made her feel that fuzzy way she’d heard about in films.

“It was Carly,” she murmured, to a now half asleep Freddie.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She says I better not have de-flowered her bed sheets.”

“Ha.”

“Did I?”

“Did you what?” Freddie asked, shifting to his side to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Did I de-flower her bed sheets? Or was that done before?”

His brow furrowed, perplexed by the question. “How should I know? I’m hardly the one she goes to about stuff like that. Isn’t that your department?”

“So…she wasn’t the girl?”

Eyes widened when realisation dawned, and he found himself tracing the side of her face charmed by the vulnerability she exuded.

“No. She wasn’t the girl.”

“Good…that’s all I need to know.”

Erring on the side of caution, Freddie gave her space, watching her expressions as she digested the last forty-five minutes.

“Hey…” he whispered, nudging her, “So I know you’re probably gonna call me a dork and cause me a world full of pain for asking but…wanna snuggle?”

She snorted, giving his chest a light punch with her fist but he took this as his invitation and pulled her close, resting his chin atop of some very messy blonde hair. To his surprise she didn’t protest or fight it but rather curled into the foetal position in his arms, head close to his chest.

“Hate you,” she mumbled. He smiled.

“Hate you too.”