Author's Chapter Notes:
This was definitely inspired by the billion times that I've read "stoplight" by honey_wheeler. I didn't want it to be just a fantasy. And, it was influenced by the "Jim in Charge" challenge that someone needs to do already (hint hint), but I just kind of found myself writing Pam in charge. Because who doesn't want to take charge of Jim?
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Pam's not sure what it is about being in Jim's car that drives her crazy. She thinks that it could be the fact that she's in like a Jim capsule. Something that's completely his, complete with his clean, masculine smell in every inch of fabric; fabric that is rubbing against the backs of her knees as she sits in the passenger seat. Everything around her is his. It's kind of like how she felt in his bedroom, sitting on his bed, in the place where he sleeps, undresses and fantasizes (maybe about her?). Like being inside Jim. Except, this is very different because there is nowhere to go. She's not even a foot away from him, and they're in here alone. She felt thrilled and breathless in his bedroom, but she feels downright aroused here.
She wonders if it's normal to have such a strong reaction to just sitting next to someone in their car. But then again, Jim isn't just someone.
She looks over at him and blushes, unbuttoning the top button of her blue striped blouse when she feels stifled and hot all over. He's so tall and long and she thinks that he should maybe have a bigger car. But he's so adorable, seemingly oversized and so, so masculine (she uses that word a lot when thinking about him) in it that she's glad he doesn't.
She realizes that he could reach across her and touch the door and still have to bend his elbow. He's that close, and his arm is that long. She takes an unsteady breath, and he glances over at her, his expression a bit amused and a bit questioning. She shrugs and smiles and he looks away, shaking his head.
He could reach over and slide his hand up her skirt, if he wanted to. She wouldn't have a problem with that. Just thinking it she feels a throb low in her belly, and she moves a little in her chair in a vain attempt to ease some of the pressure.
She thinks about what he would do if she asked him to touch her. Just said, "Jim, will you touch me? Please?" She has to close her eyes when she realizes that he probably would, with enough coaxing. He would want to touch her. Composure is impossible at this point and she begins thinking things that are completely reckless.
Why not? It's not wrong. What's stopping us? I want him and I'm sure that he wants me. Why not just take it? You're trying to be a new woman, Pam. You're trying to be braver. Just do something about this before you explode.
"Jim?" The roughness of her voice doesn't surprise her, but he gives her an odd look that tells her he is. His face is questioning again and actually concerned, and that does nothing for her desperate state so she looks away and stares at the road ahead. It's late; not many cars are around. The desolate scene makes her bold. "Pull over."
"What?" He's smiling, about to laugh.
"Pull over, Jim."
Something in her face makes him go serious, and he does as she says. When they're still, the car still running, Jim turns the radio way down and turns to her. "What's wrong?"
She looks over at him and into his eyes, her expression intense. "Give me your hand."
"What?"
She raises her eyebrows and extends her own hand, palm up. They're both still for a few long moments, and then he swallows and slowly lays his hand in her own, like she's going to read his fortune again. But she doesn't. Instead, she turns his hand over and pulls it toward her legs, placing it just above her knee, where her skirt has ridden up.
He stares at his hand on her thigh and doesn't move it, his face frozen, his eyes widened slightly. She's not sure if his brain has shorted out or if it's started working overtime.
The rapid thrum of her heartbeat has set up camp at the apex of her thighs, and her hands are shaking. She covers his hand with hers and pulls her skirt up further with the other. She drags his hand up her leg, spanning the remaining space, and she exhales heavily when his warm palm and long fingers are burning against her upper thigh. Her eyes drift closed and she sinks back into the seat.
"Pam..." His voice is deeper than usual, but still tentative, and it sends a chill through her.
"Shh," She whispers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.
With her free hand, she slowly unclips her seatbelt and it snaps back into place at her shoulder. Nervous, she lifts up a little and uses both to slide her underwear off. She doesn't dare look at him when she drops them on the floor; she's blushing so hard and she can't believe that she's being so audacious and it's Jim whose wide hand is still like acid on her thigh.
She finally feels strong enough to lift it off of her, and threads her fingers through his while she rises up on her knees and turns to him fully, her eyes still pointed downward. When she eases onto his lap she can tell that he's holding his breath and shocked out of his mind with no idea of what to do, but he leans back slightly to accommodate her. She smiles a little at that. His instinctual thoughtfulness is so endearing, and her heart just swells.
She raises her eyes to meet his, finally, face-to-face and straddling him, and she's pleased to see that his eyes are glazed over. A feeling of pride floods her and she grins.
I can do that to him.
When she brushes her lips against his in a chaste kiss, he doesn't respond immediately. His hands come up to rest on her hips and she sighs against his mouth. He groans softly, deep from his chest, and he takes her by surprise when one of his hands is suddenly on the back of her neck and his mouth his hard on hers as he catches her bottom lip between his.
Then her fingers are in his hair and on his shoulders, and they're both panting and kissing eachother so hard that she's faintly aware that they'll be bruised when this is all over. The first time his tongue touches hers she gasps at the raw pleasure of it all, and she can't even think anymore. Her body just takes complete control as she feels him tug hard on her hair, and she falls down heavily on him and moans at the feeling of his erection pressing against her bare center, just the material of his pants separating them.
"Holy god," She whimpers at his hand on her breast over her shirt, and her hands are grappling with his belt of their own accord.
She doesn't even remember getting his zipper down or freeing him from his boxers, and she only notices when she feels him in her hand and hears his rough moans against her neck and her lips. When she sinks down onto him, she actually lets out a choked shout, but she feels too good and utterly complete to be embarrassed. She has to let her body get accustomed to his size, and she wants to laugh that this part of him is as long as the rest of him, but she's too busy nearly dying to even consider doing it.
While she would probably be content to stay like that forever, he isn't so content. The strained noises that he's making alert her to that, but those sounds coming from Jim are so sexy that she can't think about anything else. She's grateful that he takes matters into his own hands, literally, as he grasps her sides and raises her like she's nothing, then pulls her back down onto him, hard. She thinks that she shouts again, but who knows or cares, because he's set a rhythm and the instincts ingrained in her make her work with him, moving in perfect, seemingly practiced, sync.
It feels like they've been doing this together forever. It's just so right. Everything she's always heard about really great sex but never actually experienced herself and now she is, and Jim is the one giving it to her, and it's too much to take. Their hips are straining against eachother, and the muscles in her thighs are burning, and oh god it's so good it almost hurts. Up and down, inhaling and exhaling, she feels the steady build starting at her center and moving out and down her legs, up through her stomach and into her breasts. She knows she doesn't have long.
She breathes his name and kisses him deeply. Just as his tongue coils around hers, that pressure, that wonderful paradox of so much pleasure and a sort of tingling pain completely overwhelms her, pulling tight like a rubber-band and then snapping within her. As she gasps and rides it out, she hears him go over the edge with her, punctuated by a sharp and breathless, "Fuck!" and a surge of wet heat filling her up.
She slumps against him heavily, feeling sated, the dull, pleasant aftershocks between her legs and the knowledge that Jim is still inside her; the ache in the back of her neck and through her shoulders, the dampness on her lower back and between her breasts. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and just breathes him in, her stomach giving a sick kind of lurch when she feels his fingers light on her back, one hand tracing up her spine. A good lurch. She's never felt so wonderful in her entire life, and all at once she wants to laugh and sob.
The laughter wins out, a bit hysterical sounding, and all she can say is, "That's the first time I've ever heard you curse."
Then, she notices that his touch is hesitant and that shoulders are tense. She can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, and with her eyes closed she can see the pain on his face as he registers what's just happened. Her heart aches, and she feels suddenly like she can't breathe because it hurts so badly. She can't stand it. Hurting him. She knows that she's hurt him enough in the past years to last a lifetime. He takes his hands off of her finally and puts them on her waist, gripping her hard. He goes to lift her up and off of him, but she panics and holds him tighter, her thighs clamping around his hips in refusal.
"Pam," He says, and his voice is thick and rough like he's not sure whether to cry or fuck her again.
"Roy moved out two weeks ago," Her voice is small and muffled against the material of his shirt and the skin of his neck, and it only takes a few seconds for his body to relax completely before his arms are around her and he's hugging her for all that he's worth.
She can't breathe again, for different reasons, but she finds that she doesn't mind it at all this time.
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