(no subject)
Title: A Heavy Thing To Carry
Pairing: Pam/Karen
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Karen can't help but hold a grudge.
Karen wakes up in the middle of the night from a terrible dream with a sharp inhale. She flounders in the sheets briefly, reaching, reaching, reaching for something that isn’t there before she realizes that Pam isn’t in bed. “Pam?” she calls, panicky.
There’s a thick moment of terrifying silence before a thin, faraway voice replies, “Yeah?”
Karen throws off the comforter and gets out of bed. “Where are you, Pam?” she calls.
“Nowhere,” Pam calls back softly.
Karen finds Pam in her living room, fingering the framed picture on the shelf next to the TV. It’s a good picture, a cute picture, from the office, where Pam somehow got shoved in next to Karen, under Jim’s arm, just before Michael snapped the photo. Karen and Jim bookended Pam like grinning sentinels, both dressed in white button-up shirts and grey slacks, the only difference being that Jim was wearing a tie. Pam glowed becomingly between them in her pink sweater and floral skirt.
Pam looks guilty when Karen wanders into the room. “What’s up?” Karen asks.
“Nothing,” Pam says, too quickly. “Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep without you.”
Pam’s expression softens immediately, and she crosses the room in three steps to pull Karen into a kiss. Karen lets her, but she doesn’t bring her hands up to Pam’s waist like she normally does. Pam deepens the kiss, bites Karen’s lip plaintively, pleads for her to buy in, but Karen only allows Pam’s tongue to sweep into her mouth, warm and soft.
“Do you not want to…” Pam half-asks, pulling away, acting like the only reason Karen’s not responding is because she’s tired. “We can go back to bed, if you want.”
But of course Karen wants to. Karen always wants to. A moment does not pass in Karen’s life when she does not want to, and she curses her body sometimes for it, for betraying her need even when she’s angry at Pam. Already, just from that one kiss, all of Karen’s heat seems to be focused almost painfully at that one point between her legs. She can feel the wetness pool there, slick warmth that makes her want to buck her hips up against Karen’s naked thigh. She WANTS Pam, wants her right now, pressed up against the living room wall, begging and scratching and writhing. She wants to shove her hands up under the thin cotton sleeping shirt that Pam is wearing and grasp her breasts, roughly enough that she whimpers, but gently enough that she still pushes forward, looking for more contact. She wants to rub Pam’s sex through the material of her panties until she’s almost crying, then maneuver aside the crotch in one swift motion and sink three fingers into Pam’s center until she breaks and shudders around Karen’s hand. Then she wants pick Pam up, carry her back to bed, throw her down on the sheets and, after divesting her of every scrap of clothing, eat her out until she’s come at least three times more, until she’s sobbing, until it’s too much, until she can’t think about anything except Karen, not even Jim. Especially not Jim.
Yes, Karen wants to, but instead she shrugs and shuffles back into the bedroom. Pam follows her and crawls onto her side of the bed. Karen rolls to face away from her, and Pam sighs, but just starts drawing random patterns on Karen’s back instead of arguing. “Karen, where are you?” she finally asks, in a whisper so insubstantial that it nearly gets lost on the way to Karen’s ear.
Karen has to wait for a moment, breathe a few times, before she can say through her tears, “Nowhere.”
Pairing: Pam/Karen
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Karen can't help but hold a grudge.
Karen wakes up in the middle of the night from a terrible dream with a sharp inhale. She flounders in the sheets briefly, reaching, reaching, reaching for something that isn’t there before she realizes that Pam isn’t in bed. “Pam?” she calls, panicky.
There’s a thick moment of terrifying silence before a thin, faraway voice replies, “Yeah?”
Karen throws off the comforter and gets out of bed. “Where are you, Pam?” she calls.
“Nowhere,” Pam calls back softly.
Karen finds Pam in her living room, fingering the framed picture on the shelf next to the TV. It’s a good picture, a cute picture, from the office, where Pam somehow got shoved in next to Karen, under Jim’s arm, just before Michael snapped the photo. Karen and Jim bookended Pam like grinning sentinels, both dressed in white button-up shirts and grey slacks, the only difference being that Jim was wearing a tie. Pam glowed becomingly between them in her pink sweater and floral skirt.
Pam looks guilty when Karen wanders into the room. “What’s up?” Karen asks.
“Nothing,” Pam says, too quickly. “Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep without you.”
Pam’s expression softens immediately, and she crosses the room in three steps to pull Karen into a kiss. Karen lets her, but she doesn’t bring her hands up to Pam’s waist like she normally does. Pam deepens the kiss, bites Karen’s lip plaintively, pleads for her to buy in, but Karen only allows Pam’s tongue to sweep into her mouth, warm and soft.
“Do you not want to…” Pam half-asks, pulling away, acting like the only reason Karen’s not responding is because she’s tired. “We can go back to bed, if you want.”
But of course Karen wants to. Karen always wants to. A moment does not pass in Karen’s life when she does not want to, and she curses her body sometimes for it, for betraying her need even when she’s angry at Pam. Already, just from that one kiss, all of Karen’s heat seems to be focused almost painfully at that one point between her legs. She can feel the wetness pool there, slick warmth that makes her want to buck her hips up against Karen’s naked thigh. She WANTS Pam, wants her right now, pressed up against the living room wall, begging and scratching and writhing. She wants to shove her hands up under the thin cotton sleeping shirt that Pam is wearing and grasp her breasts, roughly enough that she whimpers, but gently enough that she still pushes forward, looking for more contact. She wants to rub Pam’s sex through the material of her panties until she’s almost crying, then maneuver aside the crotch in one swift motion and sink three fingers into Pam’s center until she breaks and shudders around Karen’s hand. Then she wants pick Pam up, carry her back to bed, throw her down on the sheets and, after divesting her of every scrap of clothing, eat her out until she’s come at least three times more, until she’s sobbing, until it’s too much, until she can’t think about anything except Karen, not even Jim. Especially not Jim.
Yes, Karen wants to, but instead she shrugs and shuffles back into the bedroom. Pam follows her and crawls onto her side of the bed. Karen rolls to face away from her, and Pam sighs, but just starts drawing random patterns on Karen’s back instead of arguing. “Karen, where are you?” she finally asks, in a whisper so insubstantial that it nearly gets lost on the way to Karen’s ear.
Karen has to wait for a moment, breathe a few times, before she can say through her tears, “Nowhere.”