Fic: 'Two Hundred Channels and Nothing On' (The Office, Jim/Karen, R, 1/1) Title: Two Hundred Channels and Nothing On Fandom: The Office Characters: Jim/Karen Word Count: 693 Rating: R Spoilers: N/A Challenge: Porn Battle VI: The Office (US), Jim/Karen, there's nothing good on TV Warnings: Sexual content. Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: Jim and Karen battle for control of the remote.
Two Hundred Channels and Nothing On
"Okay," says Jim, "that does it. We're not watching CSI. I refuse to watch CSI."
"Dead bodies creep you out?" Karen asks with a smile.
"Bad acting creeps me out," he says, but then something on the screen gushes blood and he winces. He tries to pass it off as anything else, but Karen's laughing at that point, and Jim sighs in defeat. "Anything else. Please?"
"No, I don't think so," says Karen. She likes learning new things about Jim, especially ones that are terribly embarrassing, like getting squicked out over fake TV blood.
"Okay," says Jim, trying to be serious now, but she can totally tell he's faking it, "hand over the remote."
"Nothing doing, Halpert." Karen tucks the remote down the front of her top, which sags a bit with the weight of the device and she knows she's showing off a little more skin now.
"What, you think that's no-man's-land or something?" says Jim, retrieving the remote with little resistance on Karen's part, and managing to swipe a hand almost-casually over her breast in the process. She pretends not to notice and grabs the remote.
She tucks it behind her back, but Jim's on her in a second, groping blindly and at one point with a finger down the back of her jeans. His weight becomes too much, especially with her leaning back to evade him, and they fall onto the cushions, twisting Karen's arm around Jim's, the both of them trapped under their combined weight. It feels like Jim is crushing her chest. Karen coughs out a laugh and asks, "Truce?"
"Maybe," Jim says. His breath is hot on her chin right before his mouth is on hers, open and wet and definitely skipping over the chaste kisses that usually come first in this stage of the relationship. Jim gets off her for just a second, so she can free her arm, and she rewards good behavior by cupping his ass and pulling him in. He's already hard. Jim squeezes one of her boobs and the remote falls forgotten to the floor.
The next few minutes are a tangle of clothes; Karen has problems with all of his shirt buttons and Jim fumbles with her bra like a high schooler. He blushes and swears it's the angle. Karen does it for him, does her panties, too, and then she all but throws him backwards on the couch and is in his lap.
"I don't think your couch is big enough," he says nervously, but Karen just takes this as a challenge. She lowers herself onto him, gasps a little bit on the first breach but then it feels excellent. Jim's right, not that she'll admit it; the couch isn't quite big enough and one of her legs is getting squished. It's that or lean to one side. She opts for rocking rather than riding. Jim's gung-ho about it for awhile, making the appropriate faces and noises, pinching her nipples just the way Karen likes it, but Karen quickly realizes she's just found out another new thing about Jim Halpert. He's not in love with the idea of her on top. Karen doesn't know if it's a Karen thing or a women in general thing, but she lets him go, trying to do the good girlfriend thing.
"Here," she offers. Now he's sitting and she's on his lap, pressing against his chest to keep from toppling backwards off the couch. Jim's got his fingers pressed into the flesh of her ass, with his mouth on her neck (it's going to leave a mark and Andy won't leave her alone about it tomorrow, she knows) and it's much better. Jim is moaning into her skin, his hands roaming everywhere, until they stop abruptly, until he stops abruptly, and then he's looking at her apologetically.
"Sorry, I..."
"You've got hands, Halpert," she reminds him. "Don't stop."
So he does the good boyfriend thing, apologizes one more time, then fingers her until the debt is suitably paid and she's lying in his lap in a sweaty heap. "So," she says, once she's caught her breath again. "Did you still want to watch TV?"