After they got the offer on their house, things moved insanely quickly.
They flew to Austin (well, from Philly to Austin) the weekend after Dwight and Angela's wedding to look at houses, after spending most of the week online looking for information school districts and neighborhoods and commute times. They went through every room in the house and got rid of the junk that had somehow accumulated and started packing away things they didn't need and selling or donating things they didn't want. They flew back to Austin and put in an offer on a house in neighborhood with great schools and a park nearby and they were ecstatic when it was accepted. Then things kicked into overdrive: boxes got packed, a U-Haul got rented, food was donated (mostly to Dwight, who assured them that it would be put to good use as animal feed), goodbyes were said. Jim and his brothers left in the U-Haul and in Pam's Yaris (she thought it was hilarious to watch Pete fold himself into that tiny car) on a Saturday, and Pam and her mom Helene left with the kids on a Tuesday. By the time they made it to Austin on that Friday, Pam was ready to pull her hair out, but they'd made it and had a home and she was so excited. It had been a little over a month since they'd pulled into the driveway of their house in Scranton and interrupted Carol, and it had been a whirlwind.
Oh, and through all of this, Jim had quit shaving. Pam was very into the result.
On their first Sunday in Austin, they were sat on the floor of the living room surrounded by boxes: some moving, some pizza. Phillip was shrieking with laughter at Cece as she ran in wide circles around the room. Jim was watching them with a smile on his face and a hand idly scratching through the hair on the underside of his chin. Pam was watching him. For the first time since they'd started the process of picking up their shared life and setting it down again 1700 miles away, things settled--in an unsettled way, obviously, in that they had a million boxes to unpack, but she couldn't find it in herself to worry about stuff like that when her husband was reclined on one elbow a foot away, all long and lean and lithe and probably more words that started with L and even better than all of those, he was all bearded and sexy as hell.
They'd been so busy over the past several weeks that intimacy had taken somewhat of a backseat. Their alone time had been relegated to quickies, which were great and definitely served their purpose. But she missed looking at him, touching him, being touched by him, taking things slow and being languid and lazy and even more L words that she couldn't think of because her brain started to get fogged with lust.
"Um, hey," she said, and had to clear her throat because her voice came out a little husky. "Wanna get them ready for bed?"
He made a face, one that she'd seen him make a thousand times to the cameras back at Dunder Mifflin, and she got a little thrill at the fact that she was the only person that got to see it now. Even if he was making it in response to something she'd said. "Kind of early, right?"
"They'll pass right out, neither had a good nap today. And..." She trailed off and bit her bottom lip. She was pretty sure he'd catch her drift, but for good measure she let her eyes roam across his stretched out body and linger at the fly of his jeans long enough to make him blush a little.
"Oh," he said on an exhale, barely more than a low whisper.
They were off the floor in a flash. The bedtime routine had never gotten finished so quickly.
Once their (somewhat surprised) kids were safely in bed and on their way to a good night's sleep, Pam found herself being hauled up and against Jim's chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and smirked down at him as he carried her through the house and to the master bedroom. "Assertive. I like it."
"I can't help what happens when you give me those come-hither eyes, you know that."
"Well I can't help what happens when you stretch out on the floor like that." They made it to the bedroom and he quite literally tossed her onto the bed. She only had a minute to be thankful that they'd put the sheets on earlier before she got distracted by Jim stripping his shirt off.
"Get ready to start tripping over me every day, then, because if that's all it takes to get you hot and bothered..." he trailed off as she one upped him and removed both her top and her bra.
They got in a race to get out of the rest of their clothes (a race they both won even though she was first) and he settled himself on top of her. He kissed her, kind chaste considering their lack of clothing but also just a little desperate, and she cupped his face in her hands so that she could capture the sweetness of it all.
Sweetness quickly gave way to pure and unadulterated want at the feel of his beard beneath her palms, the way it scratched against her chin and lips in a way that she knew would leave the skin pink and sensitive and dear god she'd never really had a beard fetish before but she definitely had one now. She slanted her mouth underneath his and kissed him back in a way that was definitely desperate but decidedly not chaste. The sound she made against his mouth wasn’t very chaste either; it was downright lascivious.
Jim made a sound too—a deep groan—and pulled back to look down at her. His lips were parted and his eyes were dark and heavy lidded but he still had the presence of mind to raise an eyebrow at her. "You okay down there, Beesly?" She thought she might melt or combust or something like that because his voice sounded like sandpaper mixed with gravel and sex and he looked like every fantasy she’d ever had all rolled up into one and it set her aflame.
"Yes—oh! Yes," her voice hitched as she answered because he'd shifted off to one side of her and reached a hand down to cup her. She was ready, more keyed up than she'd ever been and all it took was one practiced finger to slide against her to make her arch her back off of the bed.
"Holy shit, you’re so wet." His voice was a hiss between his teeth and she jerked against his hand. That practiced finger moved against her again, a little more insistent this time. His teeth found her shoulder, just above her collarbone, and he bit down gently before laving the spot with his tongue. Another finger joined the first and as they both slid inside her he whispered “fuck, yes” across the skin of her neck. Her hips snapped towards his fingers, towards the heel of his hand as it pressed against her, and one of her hands grasped the back of his head and held him to her. He responded by burying his face in her neck; his beard rasped against her throat and she shuddered.
“That feels so good—” Her words were breathy and disjointed and he chucked at them, a dark sound that reverberated through him and into her.
His fingers twisted inside of her, his thumb teased the spot that was aching for his touch. “This?”
“Yes, but—” she tilted her head so that more of her neck was exposed to him and pushed her hand against the back of his head. “This, your beard, it’s so good.”
“You like it then, huh?” She could tell by his tone that he was surprised but pleased. He dipped his head and sucked at the skin covering her collarbone hard enough to leave a mark, but she didn’t care. The sensation of his soft mouth juxtaposed with his rough beard was exquisite; who gave a damn about getting a hickey when he was making her feel the way she felt.
“Yes, god yes.”
“Doesn’t hurt?”
She shook her head, unable to remember how to make words leave her mouth because he had started to work his way down her body. The between her legs worked harder faster deeper and she was shaking by the time he pressed the flat of his tongue against one of her nipples. She still had a hand on the back of his head and she pushed him towards her at the same time that she arched her back towards him. She wanted more and told him so with the pressure of her fingers against his scalp, the rolling of her hips against his hand, the breathless and nonsensical chant that was dancing across her tongue.
The tether inside Jim that made it so easy for him to remain calm and collected snapped. He made a sound in the back of his throat that could only be described as a growl and gave Pam what she wanted. His mouth closed on her skin and he worked his free hand underneath her so that he could hold her still because she was writhing all over the place. She couldn’t keep up with the individual stimuli; they coalesced into an unending stream of wet harsh slick rough hot hard heavy more more more yes yes yes—
Her body arched almost violently into his and he rubbed his cheek against the skin between her breasts and she came hard against his hand. She had only a second to even attempt to come down from an orgasm that made her eyes to roll back into her head, before she felt him push on the backs of her thighs and his open mouth take the place of his hand.
Her thighs clenched against his face automatically and his hair grazed against the skin there. He knew what she liked and he gave it to her diligently, dutifully. The familiar sensations of his tongue against her and inside her and the gentle suction of his lips were all magnified by the brand new sensation of rough and soft, abrasive and yielding. She was sensitive, almost too sensitive, and she teetered on the line between too much and not enough. It was delicious. It wasn’t long before she was coming again, harder than the first time.
Jim pressed his face into the inside of one thigh and she felt his breath come in pants against her skin. She knew that he was waiting for her, didn’t want to push her before she was ready for him again, but goddamn was she desperate for him. “Jim, please,” was all she had to say before he pushed himself up the bed towards her and settled his body over hers.
He kissed her, hard and relentless and messy and just as desperate as before. She kissed him back the same way and could taste herself on his tongue. She was already impatient but the taste of him mixed with the taste of her drove her so wild that she couldn’t stay still and his length slipped against her twice (and to be honest, she wouldn’t have minded if he did that about a hundred more times) before he pressed his hips against hers and stopped them both from moving. He ground out a low “stay still” from between clenched teeth and it was the sexiest fucking thing she’d ever heard. She did as she was told and he finally finally slid inside her to the hilt.
She watched his head roll back and his body stretch as he pushed into her as deep as he could. It made her antsy, ready to feel him move against and inside of her, but he lingered. She bucked against him in an attempt to scratch the insistent itch that burning through her, but he still had his hips against hers and kept her from finding the friction that she was aching for. A desperate whimper escaped her lips and he laughed from somewhere up above her. She arched her back, reached for him, hooked her hands behind his neck and pulled his head towards her. His mouth found the hollow of her throat, her collar bone, the spot right in front of her earlobe, and finally her lips. She opened her mouth beneath his and felt his tongue glide against hers and only then did he start moving.
It didn’t take long for pressure to build low in Pam’s stomach. She held Jim’s head near hers so she could whisper in his ear and feel the scrape of his beard against her shoulder as he gasped and panted into her skin. His movements became erratic and jerky and he was close, too. Her hands moved from the back of his neck: one threaded through his hair, the other slipped between their bodies and touched herself so that she touched him, too. He thrust into her, deep and hard and without any semblance of control, and she exploded. Jim did too, just a split second after her, and he pressed against her almost but not quite hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to make her tense and release a thousand times over until she couldn’t do anything but let it wash over her.
Jim collapsed against her after he finished and stayed there for a moment or two before he rolled to one side. She immediately missed the weight of his body on hers but she didn’t have to for long because he wrapped one long arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He dropped a soft kiss against the top of her head and she smiled against his chest, against his slowing heartbeat.
They stood in the bathroom the next night, tired from a long day of unpacking boxes and chasing children. Pam had just gotten out of the shower and worked serum through her wet hair in front of the mirror. Jim leaned in the doorway and watched her and she met his eye in the mirror. He made no attempt to hide his gaze at it traveled across her bare shoulders and over the outline of her curves underneath the towel she was wrapped in.
“What are you looking at over there, Halpert? Your handiwork?”
He made another one of those faces, one of the ones that was just for her now: a crooked half smile, a quirked eyebrow, a tilt of his head. He had no idea what she meant by “handiwork” so she opened her towel and showed him the whisker burned patches of skin that decorated her neck, her chest, between her thighs.
Jim’s mouth fell open in shock and he covered the distance between them quickly. His fingertips traced the outline of one of the larger spots, right at the swell of her breast. “Pam, I’m so sorry. Do they--did I hurt you?” His eyebrows were knit together in worry and he sounded almost distraught.
Pam cupped his face in her hands and gave him a soft kiss. “You didn’t. It felt so good.” She kissed him again, a little less soft than before. “In fact,” she said as she grabbed his hand and tugged him into the bedroom, “wanna give me some more?”
