A/N: **PLEASE READ**

Well, well, well. It has been quite a long time, my friends. A long three years indeed. Hahaha. Guys, I was reading through all of the reviews made in the past year, and I am so, so sorry for having abandoned this story despite my consistent promises that I would not. I unfortunately underestimated the importance of the events that have occurred in my life in the past three years. I hope all of you have been well, and if you are reading this right now as an old reader/follower, thank you so fucking much for sticking with this story and for your loyalty; you've no idea how good that feels as a writer and creator.

If you'd like an update on my life, I am currently enrolled in college, so obviously, I have not been able to devote the desired amount of time to my writing as I had previously endeavored. I would like to try, however, to update this story more frequently. (Please don't expect weekly updates from me, however. lol. I'm not too prepared for that quite yet.) As someone who enjoys writing, it is a persisting philosophy of mine that writing constantly in whatever context improves your writing emphatically, and this is one of the ways I will try to expand my efforts to do so.

Because of that terribly long hiatus, suffice it to say that I have likely forgotten many specific facts about iCarly that I may have previously known and taken to heart. As might have been obvious, I was an incredibly avid spectator of the show, and honestly, it still sits somewhere in the deeper recesses of my heart—and while I do not celebrate it so enthusiastically anymore, I do still follow the entire cast (well, Nathan, Jennette, Miranda, and Jerry, at least) because I adore them and feel as if they were a part of my childhood for a little while—even if they were just people on a TV screen.

ANYWAY, since all of you have been so gracious in waiting and watching and reviewing for another update, yes, I would like to present to you another chapter! Incredible, isn't it? You thought it was the end, didn't you? lol. Well, your fears have been alleviated, and the following is, in fact, an update, and is, in fact, a smutty update at that. Am I great or what? :)

This one is set in the married universe (early stages, so no kids just yet). Freddie was away on a three-week-long business trip while Sam stayed at home and went to work. Freddie, however, takes a cab home from the airport because he gets home a day early and surprises his wife, and Sam is excited to be reunited with her husband once again. ;) haha. I kept it relatively short as it will take me awhile to get acclimated to this universe once again, (I got caught up with Katniss and Peeta from THG, if you were wondering where exactly I went; they might even trump my love for Sam and Freddie at this point, which is shocking even to me) but I am hoping it's enjoyable nonetheless.

Thank you guys again for everything, and I hope to add at least four more chapters to this before finally retiring it to the archives (unless, of course, I find more motivation of some sort in the future)! As always, I'm open to suggestions, so please leave those and your general comments in a review. All the love! Enjoy!

"What do you mean your flight's gonna be delayed for another day?" Sam yells at Freddie through the phone. "It's perfectly sunny right now!"

"I know, Sam, but their systems are down right now! Something about technical difficulties at the tower? I don't know exactly, but all I do know is I won't be home until Friday."

She groans in frustration. "Baby, I don't wanna be home alone for longer. It's been so quiet and boring without your constant typing and blabbering about technology that I built a Fat Cake tower for Pete's sake!"

He smiles at her attempt at a compliment. "I know; I'm sorry but— wait." His eyebrows furrowed, confusion flitting across his features. "Did you say Fat Cake tower?"

"Yes!"

"Sam!"

"What?"

"You are twenty-seven-years old! Why are you building towers out of food? And how do you even have time for that!"

"Hey, Mama always has time for food."

He rolls his eyes, a smile pulling at his lips. "God, you're insane… Anyway, I'll see you soon, okay? Just don't build another tower, please? Keep them in the cabinet—or well, in your mouth at least?"

She huffs. "Fine. I'll see you Friday then. I love you."

"And I love you, Sam. See you then."

He hangs up the phone and hails a taxi as he drags his luggage with him. A slow grin spreads across his face as he imagines her expression when he'll show up at their front door in half an hour.

~SFSFSFSF~

The doorbell rings, startling Sam as she finishes gluing the last piece to her Fat Cake tower.

"Coming!" she says, running her glue-stained fingers under the sink quickly before wiping them off. "Who the hell could that be?" she says to herself quietly as she walks to the front door. She looks through the peephole, and her heart leaps to her throat. Is that…?

She practically throws the door open, her eyes landing on her husband, clad in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and charcoal gray dress pants.

"Freddie!" she practically shrieks, leaping into his arms and kissing him deeply. He carries her easily, pulling her against him. "What are you— I thought…?"

"I tricked you," he grins. "My flight wasn't delayed; I actually found one leaving a day early. You're not the only one who can think like a Puckett, you know."

She just smiles at him, running her fingers through his hair, still so surprised and happy that he's finally here. That he's finally home. A rush of affection warms her face, and she bites her lip, kissing him again softly.

"I hate you, you idiot."

He just laughs. "I love you, too, Princess Benson."

He finally sets her down, stepping over the threshold into the house and bringing his luggage inside.

"You realize that that nickname doesn't work anymore, right?"

"And why not?"

"Because it's supposed to be appealing because of the P's. You know, Princess Puckett?" she emphasizes the P's. "It's Benson now, so it doesn't work."

"Nonsense," he smiles, leaning down to kiss her. "You'll always be my princess."

"Ew," she whacks his shoulder before his lips can touch hers, and he winces, grabbing it instinctively. "Don't be gross."

"Well welcome home to me," he grumbles, rubbing the spot where her hand had landed.

"Oh, quit whining," she says, tugging his arm and bringing them to the nearby couch. "How was D.C.?"

"Good!" he says. "And uh, cold? The weather's brutal over there right now; I don't know how they do it. And everything's faster. It's like everyone needs to be someplace at a certain time. It's crazy. Everyone drives fast; the roads are pretty brutal. Not that I was driving, obviously, but—"

He's not even getting to the good part when her lips are on his, practically tearing off his mouth as she kisses him roughly, climbing on top of him.

"Sam…" he says in between kisses. "What are you… doing…?"

She pulls away, panting slightly against his lips. "It's been three weeks, Freddie. What do you think I'm doing?"

He doesn't get the chance to respond as she presses her lips back on his immediately, kissing him deeply, thoroughly. Kissing him like she won't get another chance to see him again.

"God, Sam," he laughs. "I went on a business trip; I didn't die."

"Well, you might as well have," she mumbles against his lips. "I've missed you."

"Mmm," he agrees, lifting her shirt up over her breasts and burrowing his face between them, scraping his teeth against her skin. "I've missed you, too."

She bites her lip at the feeling of his mouth on her sensitive skin, goosebumps flaring across her flesh. Her voice goes breathy. "Are you talking to me or my boobs?"

She just barely makes out his reply of "both" before he pulls away from her chest and rips the shirt off of her completely, unclasping her bra right after and throwing it off to the side. He wastes no time in wrapping his lips around one of her nipples, sucking it into his mouth just the way she likes it, and he revels in the soft moan she emits.

"God, Freddie," she sighs. "Please don't leave me here alone for three weeks ever again."

"Mm, well," he says as he switches to the other peak. "Isn't it… worth it… when this happens?"

She nods, her eyes drifting shut of their own accord. "Yeah… Yeah, it definitely is."

To her disappointment, he moves away from her breasts, tracing a path up to that spot on her neck, and he latches onto it, making her eyes roll back into her head, neck arching backwards in pleasure.

"Freddie," she sighs, and she can feel her arousal pooling between her legs. She clenches her thighs together to try and alleviate the ache she suddenly feels between them.

"God, I love it when you say my name like that."

She chuckles. "You always say that."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

He's preoccupied now, completely and totally focused on this vision in front of him. Both of them have been through so much. Between being enemies to frenemies to friends to best friends and then to… lovers? He hasn't quite figured out a name for them quite yet. Soulmates? No, too sappy. Best friends? No, too simple.

Whatever they should call themselves, Freddie has never felt so lucky to have her here. To be able to come home to someone he loves every day, to wake up to her—someone who knows him better than he knows himself. Years ago, Sam was the last person he'd ever expect to fall in love with, and yet, here she is beneath him, loving him, and he loves her so deeply right back. Sometimes, friends and family from home ask him if he thinks he made the right choice—if maybe Carly might have been the one he should have given his heart to. But every time he even so much as thinks about his daily life without Sam, he simply can't conjure up an image of anything. It's impossible. She's a part of his life—the best part.

He thinks about all of this as he kisses down her taut stomach, feeling her warm skin rise and fall beneath his lips with her heavy breaths. He stops right before he reaches the edge of her jeans, however, and she lets out a frustrated little growl. He smiles and rests his chin on her stomach, looking up at her. He's seen them so many times—has watched them shift and change color in the sunlight and with her mood—but her eyes have always been the one thing that only get more and more breathtaking every time he fixes his gaze on them.

"I ever tell you how lucky I am?"

"What?" she queries, but it comes out shaky because his hands are distracting her, running across her skin languidly.

"Did I ever tell you how lucky I am?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighs. "To have you. To have this house. This life in general."

She chuckles slightly, not quite understanding where this was all coming from. "What are you saying, Freddie?"

"I'm saying that I love you," he says with raw honesty pooling in his eyes, and it makes her heart melt. "I'm saying that, for all the times you might have told me you hated me, or the times that you beat me up, called me names, humiliated me… I wouldn't change a damn thing even if I had the chance to. You're it for me, Samantha Benson. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." He lips stretch into a small smile. "No matter how many times you tell me to go away."

Her heart is still pounding in her ribcage, but for an entirely different reason this time. These are the moments she wonders why and how he's in her life. She knows that she never treated him right—that she should have been more appreciative of him at the times when it mattered most. Looking back, she has so many regrets—nights where she should have been there to comfort him, weekends where she should have thanked him for his company; the list has no end. One day, she thinks, she can be good enough for him. But right now, in this moment, he is the better person a thousand times over.

She can't believe it, but there are tears pooling in her eyes, and she tries to discreetly look away to hide them, but as always, he catches them.

"Samantha Benson, are you crying?" he jokes, feigned incredulity in his tone.

"Actually, I am," she admits, and he freezes. She never admits to crying. She usually says that there's dust in her eye or that she's allergic to nubs.

She takes his face in her hands, fingers tracing his features tenderly, such a stark contrast from her usual punches and aggression that it steals the words from his throat. Her blue eyes are piercing into his, and it only serves to further render him speechless.

"Freddie, I know that I never say this enough, but… God, I am so happy that you are here. And I don't just mean here in this house; I mean here, in my life. I've treated you like the worst thing ever over the past twenty-one years, but all this time, you've been the best thing that's ever happened to me," she pauses to swallow past the lump suddenly rising in her throat. "Despite everything, you stayed. Not a lot of people do that for me, and I can't tell you how thankful I am that you found enough room in your heart to fit me. You love so deeply, so fiercely, and even though most days I can't believe it, I'm so glad that I'm one of the things you give that love to... It saved me, you know? And I'll never be able to find the words good enough to thank you for that."

He doesn't realize it, but there are tears staining his cheeks, and he leans up to kiss her softly, tenderly. He wants to say "I love you"—wants to shout it from the rooftops, even—but for once, words are too inadequate, so he chooses his actions to say what he wants to instead.

He kisses her again, deeply, trying to pour his soul into hers because it's the only thing he can think to give her that might come even slightly close to telling her how happy she makes him. How much love he feels in his heart right now.

He's desperate to feel her skin against his suddenly. Desperate to show her exactly how much love is pooling in his heart right now. He reaches down then, unbuttoning her jeans and undoing the zipper, tugging them off of her. He sits up a bit, fixing his gaze on her eyes as he pulls her panties off slowly, letting his knuckles graze her smooth legs until he reaches her ankles and tosses the underwear aside. He falls forward again, pressing his lips against hers insistently to distract her. Then he brings his fingers down, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves immediately and rubbing it in quick circles.

She cries out softly against him, tearing her lips from his. "Uh, Freddie."

"Mm, s'that good, baby?"

She just nods, her eyes already clenching shut against the sensation. He dips his fingers inside her, just slightly, and pulls them out to spread the wetness over her clit, and she moans louder, her thighs clenching at how good his fingers feel against her. So much better than her own.

"Oh God," she whimpers.

"God, baby, you're so wet," he sighs into her ear. "Did you miss me?"

"Y-Yes."

"Did you miss my fingers inside you? My mouth on your chest? My tongue between your legs?"

"Yes, yes, Freddie," she moans frantically, her orgasm rising in her, her desperation spiking.

He presses down harder suddenly, and she yelps, her walls pulsing erratically as she comes. It's good, so good, but she realizes he hasn't stopped. His fingers are still rubbing against her roughly, and she spasms in his arms, reaching down to wrap her fingers around his wrist.

"Ah, ah, Freddie," she whimpers. "Too… much, I… Ah, fuck… Freddieee…"

"You're gonna come again for me." It's not a question.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can," he insists, his fingers still moving. "And you will."

She can't find the strength to push him away, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time as his fingers continue to rub against her overly sensitive clit. But amazingly, she finds herself barreling towards the edge again, and her breath hitches in her throat right before she comes again, harder than the first time, and her moans are loud and long as he finally pulls his fingers away and presses his hand over her mound, cupping her tenderly as her orgasm overwhelms her.

"Oh, my fucking… God, Freddie…" she pants, her breath completely obliterated as she sinks into the couch cushions.

He gives her a much-needed break, and she keeps her eyes closed, unable to open them just yet. She thinks she can't feel her limbs. After she feels like she can finally operate her throat properly, she opens her eyes and finds his head between her thighs, legs over his shoulders. God, it's like he wants her to die.

"Jesus, Freddie, let me rewire my brain first."

He laughs. "Sorry. You deserve it."

"I deserve to have my brain fried?"

He laughs again. "Are you complaining?"

"Oh, not at all," she sighs. "Not at— ahhh."

He slides his fingers through her wetness, parting her folds and bringing his tongue against her, lightly sliding the tip from bottom to top slowly, teasingly.

"Freddie," she pants.

He plunges his tongue inside her then, licking her open, and she moans loudly, her hips bucking against him.

"Ohh, fuck, just like that," she moans. "Freddie!"

He licks her up and down, savoring her taste, but he's careful to avoid the sensitive bundle he was manipulating so carelessly before. He just fucks her with his tongue, plunging deeper inside her and tasting her, and it's good but she can't come like this. It frustrates her, and she tries to buck against him, attempting to force his tongue to come into contact with her clit, but his strength is no match to her for once. Her neck suddenly feels cramped from looking down at him, and she lets her head fall back, her eyes now facing the ceiling. She can hear the sounds of his lips and tongue working against her, though, and it only turns her on more, her walls getting slicker even as he laps at her eagerly.

Right as she's about to beg, his teeth scrape suddenly against her neglected clit, and she lurches off the couch, hands wrenching in his hair as she comes abruptly, her thighs falling closed against his head.

"Freddie!" she cries, her clit throbbing against his mouth, pleasure slithering through her veins as he continues to lick at her, cleaning up the wetness leaking out of her with his tongue. "Ahh, fuck!"

She almost feels like she can't go on any longer as she climbs back down from yet another orgasm, but he feels herself being lifted off of the couch and into strong, familiar arms. A moment later, she feels herself being laid down on a bed. She hears the rustling of some clothes, and she opens her eyes slightly. She sees her husband stripping off his shirt, and she admires his strong, muscular torso for just a moment before she has to let her head fall back down to the bed in exhaustion.

She feels the bed shift with his weight as he leans over her, his warm breath on her face as he chuckles. "You okay? You're quiet."

She nods slightly. "Perfectly… fine."

"Good, because I'm not done with you yet."

She had a feeling he would say that, but she realizes she's barely done anything for him yet, and that's enough to get her to sit up just as he stands at the end of the bed.

"What—?"

He doesn't get to finish his question as she pulls at his belt buckle, undoing it swiftly and wrapping her fingers around the waistband of his pants, bringing them down roughly along with his boxers, and his cock falls free of its confines, nice and long and thick. She doesn't hesitate; she wraps her hand around the base, tugging once, and he flinches.

"Christ, Sam, next time?" His eyes are pleading. "Please? I'll come too fast if you— ah, shit."

He's in her mouth right then, and his eyes roll back. He feels more sensitive since the last time, having gone without her touch for so long.

"Sam, please, I can't… I won't… ugh."

She sucks him earnestly, her lips tightening around him each time she reaches the tip, swirling her tongue around it every now and then. She pops him out of her mouth after a minute or two, licking her lips and stroking him gently.

"Relax, Fredward, I just wanted to feel you in my mouth. It's been too long."

"You're telling me," he mumbles as she finally gets up, pushing him down against the bed and crawling over him, pressing her lips forcibly against his.

He finds that he wants her beneath him after being without her for so long, and he rolls them over, pressing her down into the bed. He takes one of her breasts into his mouth, swirling his tongue against her momentarily before reaching between her legs, gathering her arousal on his fingers before rubbing her clit roughly, eliciting a pleased gasp from her. It turns into a moan as he slides two fingers into her suddenly.

"So hot and wet for me," he groans. He brings his fingers to his mouth, cleaning her arousal off of them. "You ready?" he asks as he reaches down, holding the base of his erection and pressing the tip against her.

"Yes," she says breathlessly.

"And you took your pill today?"

"Yes, Freddie, please, I— oh, fuck."

He pushes into her then, slowly, savoring the feel of her.

"God, baby," he groans, pushing all the way inside her and gyrating his hips, stretching her open on his cock.

"Fuck," Sam gasps, her hips jerking at the feel of his thickness filling her. "Ah, ah… Freddie, you're so big."

"Yeah?" he pants. He pulls out to the head slowly, before slamming back into her.

"Ah, God! Yes!"

He thrusts in and out of her, and he can't stop groaning. She feels too good, so tight and hot his spine is curling, along with his toes. His eyes are flitting between her face and her chest, unsure of which he wants to watch more. Her breasts keep bouncing with his rhythmic thrusts, and her face is pure ecstasy, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowing together, mouth hanging open just slightly.

"Jesus, Sam, I've missed this so much."

"Uh, uh, uh, fuck… Ah! God… Harder, Freddie, please!"

He obliges, pushes inside her harder, grinding against her. He's rubbing against her clit now, and he can feel the responding clenches of her pussy, tugging desperately at his cock. It's overwhelming. He doesn't think he can get harder.

He feels his release suddenly barreling towards him, and it takes some effort, but he slows down, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around the base of his erection, squeezing to keep the orgasm at bay.

"God," he groans, pulling out of her, but not before tracing the tip up and down through her folds. "You're incredible."

She suddenly wants him beneath her, wants to set the pace, drive him crazy. He says he likes being on top, but she knows that he secretly loves letting her ride him. Because she knows all the ways to drive him insane.

She leans up then, pushing him onto his back and reaching down to wrap her fingers around his thick girth. She strokes him once, twice, his hard flesh slick with her sticky arousal, before positioning him between her thighs.

She sinks down on him finally, a gasp catching in her throat as she bears down on him. She keeps her gaze locked on his, as if looking anywhere else would cause her to spiral out of control. He grabs her by the hips suddenly, surprising her, and he grinds her against him back and forth. The sudden pleasure in her clit is delicious. She whines high in her throat, her head lolling back, hands pressing down on his chest as her pussy flutters around him.

"Fuck," she hisses. "Fuck, that's so good, baby."

"Ungh, God, Sam," he moans, his cock pulsing against her own squeezing walls. "You're so tight. Mm."

He looks down between them, watching his thick length disappear inside her again and again, and he can't stand it, has to take his eyes away from it. He's going to come too soon if he watches for too long.

"God, how did I go three weeks without this," he growls.

She can't respond to him, incoherent from the amount of pleasure bursting through her senses, rendering her speechless—aside from the grunts and groans falling from her throat. His fingers tighten around her hips then, the slap of their flesh getting increasingly faster and harsher as they go along. Her moans are loud, filling the room. She feels so good sliding up and down his cock it's unreal, and his back arches slightly, his pelvis bucking up to meet hers. The head of his cock reaches a particularly pleasurable spot inside her, and she cries out.

"Oh! Oh my fucking… God, Freddie," she keens, her hips gyrating frantically against him, rubbing her clit frantically against his skin and sending sparks of pleasure skyrocketing throughout her body. "So fucking good, uhhnn."

He can feel her inner muscles quivering, pulsing around his cock as she climbs raucously to her climax. She's wet—so wet he's sliding in and out of her with ease—and he groans loudly as he feels his balls tightening up, pulling into him.

"Ah, fuck, baby," he rumbles. "You're gonna make me come."

His words arouse her even further, and she throws her head back, moaning as she feels her orgasm suddenly spiraling towards her. She cries out, and her pussy clamps down around him, a rush of wetness seeping out of her and coating his cock as she comes.

"Fuuuck," she whines, falling forward, hands landing on his shoulders as she grinds against him, reveling in the aftershocks of her orgasm. "Freddie, oh my God."

The sounds between her legs grow sloppier as Freddie chases his own imminent orgasm, pushing his cock up into her, through her wetness, and it's good so good she's incredible everything in this moment is too great too pleasurable for words, and it's only after six pummeling thrusts into her that he's sitting up partially, crying out as he spurts inside her, his cock surging. It feels like he won't ever stop coming.

"Shit, shit," he groans deep in his throat, sitting up slightly and grabbing her hip with one hand roughly, not sure if he needs to push her down against his cock or get her off of him. The line between not enough and too much blurs, and it's devouring. He closes his eyes against the pleasure surging through him, overwhelming in its intensity, and once the waves of his orgasm finally recede, he falls backwards, sated and without speech.

Sam follows him downwards, her arms finally giving out and falling against him, his softening member still inside her. The room is filled only with their pants for a prolonged moment, trying to find the oxygen they lost. Until finally:

"Jesus. Christ."

Sam laughs against his skin. "Probably our best reunion yet, huh?"

"No kidding," he mumbles.

She finally rolls off of him after pressing a small kiss to his chest, cuddling against him and resting her arm vertically across his torso, her hand resting over his still-galloping heart. She looks up at him, expecting to meet the deep brown of his eyes, but only his closed lids stare back at her, along with a very satisfied expression on his face and a smile tracing his lips.

She pushes at him slightly. "What are you thinking about, nub?"

His eyes fly open. "Nub?" he queries, amusement flitting in his eyes. "Damn, you haven't called me that in years, Puckett. Why the old nickname?"

"Well, after that?" she says. "I don't know… I'm feeling younger."

He smiles but groans at the suggestion lilting in her voice. "God, Sam, please."

She laughs at the embarrassment staining his cheeks. "What? You remember how often we did it in high school; don't act like you forgot."

He shakes his head at her then fixes his gaze on the ceiling, raising an arm and placing it beneath his head. "Yeah, we were pretty virile back then."

She glares at him. "What did I say about using your fancy words around me? I speak English, Fredweird."

He chuckles. "Okay, okay. We were… active back then, I guess. Better?"

She feigns confusion then, a false look of innocence striking her features. "Active in what? Sports?"

He laughs harder. "God, you're incorrigible."

She stares at him. "You know, Freddie, sometimes I think we need to keep dictionaries in every room in the house."

He laughs again but then stops abruptly, looking down at her. "Wait. We do have dictionaries... Remember? I bought them after—" At her growing look of guilt, he stops himself. "Sam… Where are those dictionaries?"

She mumbles something, but he barely catches it. "What?"

"I threw them out," she finally says audibly.

"Sam!" he chastises her. "Dammit, you know I like reading those all the time."

"Freddie, you are the only person in this world who actually enjoys reading the dictionary. And besides, what do we need five copies of them for?"

"For different definitions!" he argues, as if that was reasonable.

She just stares blankly at him, blinking dumbly. "Remind me again: why did I marry you?"

He can't help but laugh at that but whines again. "Saaam. C'mon, you could have at least told me you were going to throw them out."

"Relax, Freddie, I kept one of them. Don't get your nerdy panties in a twist."

He's at least satisfied with that, though he still grumbles a bit. "Okay, fine. At least we have one."

Silence. Then: "I'm kidding; I threw that one out, too."

"Sam!"

A/N: Wow, I actually really enjoyed writing that. lol. I hope that was alright! As I said, I've likely forgotten a lot about their respective characters, so please forgive me if anything I wrote was either OOC or inaccurate. It's so great to be back, and though I have no doubt that the iCarly fanfiction following is dwindling—or well, has likely disappeared for the most part—I hope that those of you who are still here enjoy this.

If there are enough of you still around, however, I will definitely try to keep writing. Just make your presence known in a quick review! The more I receive, I'll feel more of a purpose behind writing more updates and chapters, so if you'd like this story to stay alive for a little while longer, just type up something in a review!