Author's Chapter Notes:
This started as a oneshot but quickly grew into something a bit more than I bargained for. I apologize to those waiting for an update on June 10th. I guess I've got drabbley smut on the brain...
In my last fic (Cracking the Code AKA "Chocolate Cake") Jim was just trying to learn. In this one, he's the professor. Intrigued?
In my last fic (Cracking the Code AKA "Chocolate Cake") Jim was just trying to learn. In this one, he's the professor. Intrigued?
Pam and Jim sat on his couch, her legs across his lap. There was a baseball game on but they weren’t really watching it. They had split a bottle of wine and baseball had suddenly become a lot less interesting than kissing. But it was lazy, slow kissing, the kind of kissing that wasn’t necessarily leading towards anything just yet. It was punctuated by occasional questions like “what was your favorite lunch as a kid” or “did you ever have a crush on one of your teachers”. Pam loved nights like this – just the two of them, learning new things about each other, Jim’s mouth occasionally on her skin reminding her of what she had to look forward to later.
“Okay,” Pam said pulling away from him, the taste of him on her mouth making her feel brave. “One word to describe your first time.”
“Quick,” Jim answered, and Pam laughed.
“Quick? That’s . . . too bad.”
“Well, I wasn’t always the sexual dynamo I am now, Pam.” His tone was joking, reminding her of when he had suggested Michael’s futon was genius – a bed and a couch all rolled into one.
“No?”
Jim shook his head. “It was an arduous learning process.”
“Arduous, huh? Yeah, I’m sure you hated every second.”
“Oh, not arduous for me. For them.”
Pam’s stomach flipped a little, thinking of them, the women he had slept with before her. She knew about Karen and Katy, but she often wondered about the others, the nameless, faceless, numberless women he had learned with. She and Jim never really talked about that stuff – the past and all its messy angst. They avoided discussing their near misses together and their individual pasts, probably because so much of her past included Roy, and Roy was also a part of their angst and near misses. And then there was Karen, and that was all still too recent and too uncomfortable to get into just yet. It was all braided together in a messy tangle that apparently they had decided was best just left alone, at least for awhile. The closest they had come to discussing anything about his past was not really a discussion but a quick exchange in a moment of passion during their first time. Jim had reached towards his nightstand and she had stopped him, told him it was okay, she was on the pill. And he had asked if she was sure and she had moaned out a yes and said, unless you have some kind of diseases I should know about. He had kissed her hard, a slight smile on his mouth. Just a bad case of killer nanorobots, he had said and she had laughed but then he was inside her and she wasn’t laughing anymore.
Now Jim kissed her again, his mouth soft and delicious on hers, and she certainly couldn’t imagine describing doing anything with him as arduous. She doubted those past women would have either. Jim always underestimated his appeal to women, always acted surprised that anyone would find him attractive. But Pam knew the truth. He had an indefinable, sneaky sort of attractiveness. A stealth hotness that kind of snuck up on you and all of a sudden what had been cute sweet Jim was now smoking hot sexy Jim and you couldn’t even understand how you had not seen it before. She knew that the women in his past must have seen that same thing. Some of them must have even loved him and it made her wonder if Jim had loved any of them, if he had ever had his heart broken before her.
She pulled her mouth away from his and leaned to kiss his neck, right under his ear. She didn’t want him to see her face when she asked, “So . . . how many women had to suffer for my benefit?”
She felt him stiffen subtly, and she suddenly wished she hadn’t asked. He knew her number: a big old ONE. And he knew exactly who her one was: Roy. But Jim had years in high school and college and pre-Dunder Mifflin to account for. Even the dates she had occasionally heard about at the office, times when he had left work quickly, Kevin sometimes giving him a creepy, knowing smile. She really had no idea how many women there might have been in his past. And despite his joking, sarcastic tone before, he was an amazing lover. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that he’d gotten his mad skills in the bedroom from just a couple of women.
But now that the question was out there, she sort of wished she could take it back. Maybe she didn’t want to have names or numbers or stories. Maybe it was just okay not to know.
“You know what? Forget it. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” She pulled away from him and leaned back on the couch, embarrassed.
His hand rubbed her leg, just sort of mindlessly, but his fingers, his knuckles brushing her thigh through her thin pajama pants made her want to just change the subject and go back to kissing.
He looked up at her then, his joking replaced by a more serious expression. “No, it’s okay. I mean . . . you have a right to know.”
She shook her head. “No. I really don’t. It’s the past and—“
His other hand, the one that wasn’t teasing her thigh in that delicious way, reached out and tilted her chin up to look at him. He was always doing that – making her look him in the eye. It was impossible for her to be dishonest with him when he looked at her like that.
Pam took a deep breath and did some quick calculations in her mind.
“Less than 20?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Jim laughed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Wow. I’m flattered, Beesly. But 20? You think I’d be able to find 20 women to sleep with me?”
Pam nodded earnestly. “Absolutely I do.”
Jim turned, his face flattered and grateful and open. He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap so that she was facing him, straddling him.
“Less than 20,” he confirmed. He kissed her again, his tongue tasting her bottom lip. “Less than 10,” he said, his breath soft against her mouth. His hands slid under her t-shirt and up her back so that his arms were curved up around behind her, his hands grasping her shoulders. He pulled her gently down against him and she could feel him hard between her legs.
She slipped her hands under his t-shirt, sliding up his smooth, warm skin. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying her touch.
“Eight?” she guessed. She moved against him slowly.
He nodded his hands sliding from her shoulders down to her hips.
“Exactly eight? Including me?” God, she couldn’t help herself. Why did she really need to know?
Jim laughed a little and opened his eyes. “Um, it’s kind of difficult for me to do math in this state.”
“You can’t count up to eight when you have a hard on?”
Jim pulled her hips tight against his and she gasped a bit.
“No. I can’t.”
She removed her hands from inside his shirt and slid them up into his hair, tugging it gently between her fingers. “No wonder you’re always slow with your expense reports.”
Jim kind of squinted at her, smiling. “Are you implying that expense reports turn me on?”
“No, I’m just implying that you get hard ons at work.”
Jim kind of wagged his head in agreement. “Well, yeah, but—that’s really your fault.”
Pam pressed down onto him, onto the reason for his sudden math difficulties, and he inhaled sharply.
“You’re changing the subject,” she breathed into his ear and he shivered slightly.
“Nine,” he said, defeated. He grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head in one swift motion and dropped it onto the floor. His hands wrapped around her ribcage, his thumbs brushing against the underside of her breasts.
Nine. That wasn’t really so bad, was it? It averaged out to be less than one a year from when he was 18. That didn’t seem so terrible. Still, it was a lot more than her one.
“Do you remember all of their names?”
Jim reached around and unhooked her bra, sliding it off of her shoulders and down her arms. His hands cupped her breasts and now it was her turn to have difficulty with her thought process. Math or otherwise.
“Of course I remember their names. Who do you think I am? Todd Packer?”
Pam laughed. “Oh, God no. You think I’d be doing this with Todd Packer?”
She reached for his shirt and pulled it off.
“Now,” his breath was soft and warm against her skin and she shivered a bit. “I don’t want to talk about other women.” He kissed her collarbone. “Or Todd Packer.” His mouth found her nipple and he teased it with his tongue. Pam twisted her hands more tightly in his hair. He kissed over to the other breast. “Let’s focus on you.”
“Okay,” she gasped. She may have been nosy, but she wasn’t stupid. If Jim wanted to focus his attention on her, then who was she to argue? Besides, something about thinking about him with other women had turned her on in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
He somehow managed to lift her up and lay her down on the couch so that he was half on top of her, his mouth barely leaving her body. He pulled the drawstring on her pajama pants and she held her breath as his hand dipped down underneath. But he didn’t touch her right away. His knuckles grazed the sensitive skin on her inner thigh, brushing lightly against her but not seeking out the spot he knew she liked. She lifted her hips up, pressing closer to his hand.
“Did you want something?” he asked, his voice thick and low in her ear.
She reached up and wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her, showing him with her tongue exactly what she wanted. He took the hint. His fingers dipped down, inside, finding the place that always made her gasp. She thought to reach for him, too, to return the favor but his touch was so intoxicating that she couldn’t make her body do anything else except accept it, enjoy it. So he’d been with nine women. Big deal. If this was the result, she’d take it.
His fingers pressed and stroked and she felt her need building. He knew how to make her come, with his hands and with his mouth, but she didn’t want to take turns tonight. She wanted them to come together.
She reached for the drawstring on his pants and started to yank them down kind of roughly. Again, Jim got the hint. He helped her remove his pants and helped her remove hers and then he was hovering above her, close, but not close enough. She reached between them and held him, sliding him against the slickness he had created with his kiss and his touch, enjoying the sound of his ragged breath as she did. Then she guided him and he pushed deep and she half gasped, half sighed at the feel of him sliding in, all the way in. He started to stroke out and in again, slowly, but she wanted it harder. Deeper. She pulled restlessly on his lower back but Jim was teasing, moving at his own luxurious pace.
Pam felt an actual ache, like a hunger, like a yearning in her belly and between her legs. She could feel every inch of him as he slid in and out of her, but it was like scratching an itch with the palm of your hand instead of your fingernails. It just wasn’t enough. She needed more.
“You’re killing me here, Halpert,” Pam groaned.
She felt his smile and his breath against her ear. “What, this isn’t working for you?”
She grabbed onto his back again, trying to force him deeper but he was bigger and stronger than her and he resisted, keeping his tortuously slow tempo.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice throaty and low.
Jim had managed to implode a lot of her sexual inhibitions in the last few months and she was often amazed at the way she acted when she was naked with him. But talking during sex, telling him exactly what she wanted, was something she still couldn’t do. Hell, it had taken her years just to get up the courage to admit she had feelings for him. How was she supposed to now be able to tell him how she liked to be . . . well . . . fucked? In the height of her passion things would slip out – his name or a spontaneous . . . um . . . prayer of sorts. But he wanted her to talk to him now, while her brain was still actually functioning? While her verbal censors were still acutely active?
Jim paused, buried deep inside of her, not moving at all. She squirmed beneath him trying to create the slippery friction she needed.
“Jim . . . just . . .”
His mouth was on her ear again, his tongue sliding just slightly inside. “Just what?” His teeth grazed her earlobe.
Jim moved again, pulling out slowly, but this time he pushed in harder, deeper, and Pam gasped.
“Like that?” he asked and she nodded against the couch pillow, clinging to his back.
She lifted her legs, pulling them back so that her hips tipped more and he was inside her even deeper. Jim dipped his head in concentration and plunged again and again, his breath coming faster and harder.
“Mmm, God, just like that,” she moaned before she even realized it. Clearly her verbal censors were shutting down with his every stroke.
God, she was so close now. Jim moved his hips in a way that just hit her in all the right spots and she felt the familiar warmth, the glow, building.
“You feel so good,” he whispered in her ear and that did it. She was done, breaking through the glass ceiling or falling through the floor or whatever.
“Oh Jim!” she gasped against his chest as he drove into her again, shuddering and holding deep and still inside of her. She could feel him coming, feel him pulsing as she clenched around him. She wrapped her legs around the back of his, her hands stroking down his back and up again, finally tangling in his hair.
He kissed her softly, catching her bottom lip between his. She loved this feeling – their bodies tangled together, linked, warm and slick. She loved how he looked at her when he kissed her after making love, his eyes open and just . . . open.
“Well,” Pam said, once they had caught their breath and their heartbeats had settled into a more normal rhythm again. “That was not quick or arduous.”
Jim smiled and brushed her hair back from her face. He kind of shrugged. “You bring out my best performance, apparently.”
“What, you rise to the occasion?”
Jim shook his head, chuckling. “That was just . . .”
“You do your best work when things get hard?”
“Stop,” he said and kissed her, and she let him.
“So . . .” she said when he had rolled off of her and gathered her in his arms, spooning her so that she could feel the soft hair on his chest against her back, the bend of his long legs behind hers. “About these nine women…”
“Here we go.” Jim kissed her hair and pulled her closer. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter End Notes:
This was just going to be a oneshot, but I can't seem to do those. I always seem to want MORE (TWSS). So we'll learn a little about Jim's past, just for fun...
