By the time he was seated next to Pam in the back of the theater, he hadn’t really had a chance to process what had led up to that moment.
They’d been in line for tickets, he remembered dimly, and an argument had broken out amongst the various members of their group. Dwight, of course, had been the first to speak up about their movie choice; “Music and Lyrics looks like the dumbest movie ever made,” he’d spat, prompting Kevin to snicker about Hugh Grant and his issues with hookers, and garnering them both a stern look from Angela, who’d shot back with “Romantic comedies are the safest bet. There’s bound to be some fooling around,” (she’d whispered the last part, as if it were sinful just to mention it), “but it’s safer than something like 300, which is just going to be …” she actually shuddered when she glanced at the movie poster, “… innapropriate.”
At that point, Kevin started chanting “300! 300!”, and Dwight began to join in, albeit much quieter, after seeing the glare Angela had shot him. Jim had glanced down at Karen at that point, giving her a nudge with his elbow. “You still up for romantic comedy? Or are gore and victory more to your liking?”
“As much as I love the idea of seeing hundreds of half-naked men traipsing around-”
“THREE hundred half-naked men,” he’d corrected with an exaggerated wink.
“Okay, as much as I love the idea of seeing three hundred half-naked men traisping around, I think I’m more in the mood for something light and airy,” she’d replied, giving him a meaningful look.
Seeing as how they’d spent the past three nights talking again about their relationship, in light of the new information Karen had unceremoniously received during Roy’s angry outburst at the office last week (“She was my fiancée, Halpert! What kind of man are you?!” had been the kicker for Karen, who’d left abruptly after that and hadn’t spoken to Jim for two days), Jim decided it was safe to pick something that was bound to make love look simple and easy. Even if it never was.
So the group had split up, with Michael, Dwight and Kevin heading off to 300, Jim, Karen, and the rest of the group choosing Music and Lyrics, although he noticed Pam standing off to the side, staring up at the ‘Now Playing’ board and fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. After he paid for his ticket (and Karen’s, although it had actually taken him a moment to remember to do so), he’d been pulled off towards the snack bar, Karen’s hand loosely draped over his arm. He glanced back and watched Pam pay for her ticket.
Karen had insisted on paying for the snacks, since Jim had paid for the movie. She stood in line while Jim hovered off to the side, grabbing napkins and straws. He glanced up from the array of popcorn seasoning (dill pickle really intrigued him for some reason) to find Pam standing a few feet from him.
“Excited about Hugh Grant?” he’d asked, after a moment of silence. They’d experienced a lot of silence lately.
“Oh, no, I’m, um, I’m actually-” she stuttered, shredding the napkin in her hand into little bits of confetti, “-I’m going to see Pan’s Labyrinth. My drawing teacher said the effects and costumes were amazing, so …”
“So you’re just going alone?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I didn’t really want to see Music and Lyrics anyway and just … decided to go for it,” she says, making a sweeping motion with one hand before letting her eyes drop to the bits of napkin on the carpet.
“Cool. Well, have fun, Beesly,” he said quickly, as Karen approached with a bag of popcorn and two sodas.
“You’re not watching the movie with us?” Karen asked as she passed, offering a brief smile that seemed almost relieved.
Jim strode off towards the theaters before the conversation could continue.
***
Karen’s hand hadn’t left his throughout the previews (since when were they fifteen minutes long?) and his palm was starting to sweat in that uncomfortable, claustrophobic way. As the movie’s opening scenes began to unfold, her head found its way to his shoulder, and her fingers left his to rest on his thigh.
He was already bored, and started to wish he’d gone to see 300 with the other guys, even if it really wasn’t his type of movie. He had started to feel antsy, shifting in his seat. Unfortunately, Karen had taken that as a sign that he was uncomfortable for another reason, and when her fingertips began to circle slowly upwards, he suddenly just needed to get out.
“Bathroom,” he’d murmured, lifting her hand from his leg and letting it drop into her lap.
“The movie’s just getting started,” she’d whispered back, a hint of anger in her voice.
“Sorry,” he’d replied, shuffling down the row and out of the theater.
It was too bright in the lobby, and it had taken him a moment before his vision cleared. For some reason, he just felt like running. He pulled a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He just didn’t feel right, he decided. Something had to be done.
***
The theater was dark when he entered, and he stood at the back for a moment while he waited for his eyes to adjust. He spotted the back of her head and slipped quietly down the stairs to her row before sliding into the seat beside her.
She jumped when he sat, and he whispered, “Okay, so for once I agree with Dwight … that was the worst movie ever.”
“You watched, what, ten minutes of it?”
“I really hate Hugh Grant,” he confessed with a grin.
Her eyes met his as she giggled, “Then why did you agree to see it in the first place?”
His smile faded a bit, and he watched as hers did, too. “Karen wanted to watch something light, I guess,” he said.
“Oh.”
They sat in silence for a moment before he leaned in again. “So what’s happening?”
“In the movie?” she asked.
He wanted to say No, with us, but simply nodded instead.
“I don’t know, actually,” she smirked. “It’s in Spanish, and subtitled. And you’ve been distracing me for the past five minutes.”
“Sorry, I’ll shut up,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat.
“No, don’t,” she said, and her hand was suddenly grasping his. “I miss talking to you.”
He smiled, and she didn’t let go.
***
It was subtle at first. Pam’s thumb began to trace his wristbone almost unconsciously. He’d glanced at her, but she stared blankly ahead, and he allowed his palm to open slightly and offer her the sensitive underside of his wrist.
He honestly didn’t know what to make of it. But this was Pam, and this was Pam touching him more than she’d touched him since the day he came back to Scranton, and for the moment, that was all that mattered. So he sat back and pretended she didn’t know what she was doing.
When her hand slid to his thigh, he managed to surpress the sudden intake of breath it caused. He did his best to continue to watch the movie, but it became exponentially more difficult once Pam’s fingers began to trace circles along his inner thigh. Only unlike his experience a half hour before with Karen, Jim couldn’t even begin to contemplate leaving. He glanced at Pam out of the corner of his eye, but she remained passive, staring straight ahead, as if she were completely unaware of her hand’s illicit activities.
If that’s how she wants to play it, he thought, arousal spiraling dangerously through him. Her fingertips continued to trace patterns along his inseam, moving steadily higher, until her knuckles brushed against the front of his pants.
He gasped, and her hand stopped moving for a fraction of a second, and during that time, he felt completely terrified that she was going to stop. He scanned the rest of the theater, which was almost empty, save for a few people towards the front. He didn’t dare look at her.
But just as suddenly as her movement had stopped, it started again. His fingers tightened on his armrests and his hips pushed against her hand. He was already losing control; he felt drunk, like he was on the blurred edge of reality and some strange sort of dream. A dream where Pam was caressing him through his jeans, and his head was falling back against his seat, and he was trying desperately to contain the moan that was threatening as her grip tightened.
The tip of her index finger slid delicately along his hardness, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He was so close to the edge that he could no longer hold back a pathetic whimper, his hands clenching into fists when he heard her breathing quicken. She leaned closer to him, letting him feel her breath, hot against his neck, and before she could pull away, he grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand hard against himself, his hips thrusting upwards towards her warm palm.
And when she nipped at his earlobe, he was done. He surged upwards in his seat, breathing her name in a hoarse whisper, his fingers tightening around her wrist as he held her hand against him. She groaned in his ear as he sank back into his seat, breathing heavily, his fists unclenching.
It took him a few tries before he could string words together. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and then had to shut them abruptly in an attempt to collect himself when he took in her appearance; face flushed, eyes half-closed, breathing like she’d just run a few blocks. It was really too much for him to take.
At least until he noticed that her hand, which had just finished touching him in a less-than-innocent way, had slipped between her thighs. Her head fell back as her hips rocked against her seat and all of a sudden, Jim couldn’t breathe.
“Oh God, Pam,” he whispered harshly, biting back a groan when she grasped his fingers roughly and pulled them down, down.
“Please,” she gasped, arching her back and pushing herself against him. “Just … I’m so close.”
He let his fingers run against the seam of her jeans, smiling to himself when she thrust desperately against him. It seemed like everything around them had melted away, and it was just this one moment that mattered. Pam clutched frantically at his forearm, forcing him closer, harder against her center, panting in his ear.
When his thumb pushed insistantly against her, using the roughness of the denim to his advantage, her head fell forward against his shoulder. And when his palm pressed hard against her, she rocked against him once, twice, her fingernails digging into the skin of his arm as she whimpered his name over and over again in release.
By the time her breathing had returned to normal, he was gone.
Dark by falldownmore
Story Notes:
This story was inspired by unfold, and therefore dedicated to her. Clothed, public sex for the win!
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is my first fic that isn't actually a oneshot. I have an idea of where it's going to ... but for now, some angsty-yet-somehow-slightly-fluffy smut!
falldownmore is the author of 11 other stories.
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