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“…because I want you to come back.” House said to her, but looking away from her at the same time.
Allison sighed. “Not good enough.”
House looked shocked. He stared at her for a moment, and then glanced down. “Want more money? Car allowance? Better parking space?”
Allison just couldn’t believe him. She’d spelled it out for him pretty clearly when she’d gone to see him at his place, and again when he had visited her apartment earlier. And here he was, still pretending that it was all just a professional issue that had made her quit.
At this point, she momentarily considered demanding that he take her out on a date. She played it out in her head. “Dinner…..and not just a meal between two colleagues….a date.”
But just as she was about to tell him this, she changed her mind. He was being such an ass about it, doing this whole stupid ‘dance’ with her, that she felt a strong urge to up the ante, just to see how far she could push it.
“Sex.” she said, looking him straight in those impossibly blue eyes.
In response, he just stared at her, his face blank, his mouth a little open, looking for all the world like a robot that had just had its power source unplugged.
She waited.
Finally, he closed his mouth and swallowed convulsively. “You’ll come back to work…if I have sex with you.” He looked as if the prospect terrified him, but Allison wasn’t going to back down. She’d had it with his avoidance and denial, now it was time to put up or shut up.
“Yes.” she said simply.
He was still doing the frozen android thing, and after waiting for another interminably long moment, Allison decided that she’d waited enough. What was the worst that could happen? She’d already quit, so her job wasn’t in jeopardy. She had already received an offer from Jefferson, so even if she scared House off for good, she had some options besides working at McDonald’s or begging for handouts on the street. And if he rejected her, so what? It was no different than what he’d been doing to her for the last month or so. She supposed he could always hit her with a sexual harassment suit, but then again, he’d be laughed out of court (she hoped)…he might be a cripple, but he was still stronger than her, and besides, he could surely whack her with his cane if he felt threatened….besides, he was the one pursuing her at the moment, visiting her home not once, but twice, after she had already quit….
Decision made, she reached up and grabbed him by the collar with her right hand, making sure she had a firm grip on tee shirt, button-down, and blazer, so that he really had no way to escape her. She then grabbed his left wrist in her other hand, and, trying not to pull him so off-balance that he’d fall, she slowly but firmly dragged him through the doorway and into her apartment….if she’d had her way, she would’ve almost preferred to have done this at his place, or even somehow at PPTH. The thought of him seeing all her knickknacks and books and décor, and dissecting her through them, was a little scary, but not enough to make her stop what she was doing.
She kicked the door closed, and then continued to drag him further in, not looking back at him in case she lost her nerve, and instead focusing on where she was going. He had resisted her a little at the start, but he really hadn’t the leverage to fight her, so now there was just the slow thump of his cane on the floor with the simultaneous shuffle of his bad leg, and then the soft squeak of his other shoe, rhythmically following the sound of her own slow footsteps.
“Stop.” he said suddenly, after they’d made it through the doorway of her bedroom and were almost halfway to her bed. She stopped dragging him, but still didn’t look at him, trying to squelch the sudden panic rising inside her. And she found herself trying to store into memory all the sensations she could that were coming from him, in case here was where he bolted and that was all she’d ever have of him. The warmth of his wrist under her hand, the softness of his skin, the strength underneath, the leathery feel of his watchband. The textures of the clothing bunched in her other hand. The sound of his breathing in the quiet.
“Why are you doing this?” he finally asked. And she turned to regard him, made herself look into his face. Still blank, but Allison read the confusion in his eyes. And he also wasn’t trying to escape.
“What are you asking me? Are you asking me why I am attracted to you? Why I like you? Didn’t we cover this already?” She could feel her resolve strengthening again. Could he really be that dumb, to not understand how she could want him? That full of self-loathing? That blind?
“I don’t understand how you could want a bitter old drug-addicted cripple like me.” he said quietly, dropping his eyes to the floor.
“What? Are you insane, House? Why wouldn’t I want you?” She released his collar – but kept up her grip on his wrist – so she could count off the points. “One – I like older men. Maturity is a turn-on. Two – I like tall men. Three – you may be a ‘cripple’, as you put it, yet you somehow still manage to move like a goddamned athlete….and that’s also a turn-on.” She could feel herself starting to flush, her voice turning huskier, but she kept on, dropping her own eyes down just as his came up to meet hers. She could feel his gaze burning on her face as she continued. “Four – smarts are sexy. And I don’t think anyone in Princeton…hell, in all of New Jersey, would dispute how intelligent you are. Five – you have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen on a man.” Boy, now she was really blushing, feeling those very same eyes on her…. “Not to mention how sexy I find your mouth, your hands….”. And here she paused, a little embarrassed, still feeling his disbelieving stare.
“Even that goddamned cane is hot!” she finished, looking up and meeting his eyes defiantly. Yep, he was still doing the open-mouthed-frozen-robot thing. God, that’s getting old. Let’s see if I can’t wipe that expression off his face…before I lose my nerve. “And now I’m going to prove to you just what a desirable ‘bitter drug-addicted old cripple’ you are. So move.” And she grabbed his collar again and resumed dragging him towards her bed.
Again, there was that initial resistance, and again, she had the advantage. When she got them both to the foot of her bed, she turned them until his legs were against it, and then she reached up and pressed down and back on his shoulders until he had no choice but to sit down. She considered taking his cane away, but then decided that would be cruel.
Instead, she toed off her pink shoes, quickly grabbed a pillow from a nearby rocking chair – her grandmother’s - and knelt down on the pillow after placing it on the floor between his feet.
She started running her hands along his jean-clad legs, the worn material soft under her palms, and warm from his skin. His left thigh was well-muscled and firm, while the right one felt…wrong….undoubtedly they’d had to remove the dead tissue, so it was no surprise that she could feel a large depression in the flesh as she carefully ran her hand over it. But it didn’t bother her.
It clearly bothered House, though. “Cam- Allison,” he said. Startled by his use of her first name, she glanced up at him, but continued to run her hands over his legs.
“Don’t-”
“Shut up, House.” And she bet she knew an effective way to silence him – except for groans and moans, that was. She slid her hands up and rested them on his fly a moment, feeling a thrill of victory as she felt the hard hot shape of him under the cloth, and then she made quick work of the snap and zipper, pulling his erection free of his clothes before she could change her mind – or he could stop her.
She leaned forward and took him whole into her mouth, hearing him gasp. God, he was bigger than she had expected, she was unable to take him all in. Didn’t matter. She wrapped her hand around the part of him she couldn’t cover with her mouth, closed her eyes, and sucked on him, running her tongue around him and letting her teeth gently graze his hot skin.
He tasted salty, and was soon slippery with her saliva. She breathed in, enjoying the musky male odour of him. Enjoying the feeling of him hardening even more with every passing moment, every movement of her mouth on him, every motion of her hands on the base of his cock, around his balls, swirling in the dark curls of his pubic hair. She tried to pour all her feelings for him – she wasn’t sure if it was love, but if it wasn’t, it was damned close – into her actions, wanting to please him, wanting to give him some respite from the constant pain, if she could.
He had been almost totally silent since his initial gasp, but he finally gave a strangled groan, and then there was a loud clatter next to her. She allowed herself to open her eyes and look at him, realizing he’d let his cane fall to the floor. His hands were clenched into fists beside him, gripping the quilt on her bed tightly, his eyes also shut tight, and yet his face looked strangely defenseless and open. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, on his throat.
Allison, still watching his reactions, pulled her mouth from around him, and instead began to tease him with long slow strokes of her tongue along his length. After some moments of this, she stopped to focus her attention on the swollen red crown, savouring the fluids leaking from the tip of him.
He licked his lips, and then opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers. Those beautiful cyan eyes looked softer than she’d ever seen them, and before she could even begin to process what that could mean, his hands had relinquished their grip on the quilt and he was touching her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other caressing her hair.
She enjoyed the feeling of his hands on her, but she wanted to feel him spilling his salty warmth down her throat, so she took all of him that she could into her mouth again, moving up and down along his shaft. Starting off slow, but then faster and faster.
Both his hands were tight in her hair, now, but he was neither restricting her movements nor hurting her, so she focused instead on getting him to climax. And very soon after (it really must have been quite a long time for him), he practically yelled and his thighs clenched tightly around her shoulders, his taste filling her mouth as he came.
Swallowing the last of him, Allison pulled back, suddenly feeling nervous again. What would he do now? She had to force herself to look up at him.
House was panting and flushed, the collars of his tee shirt and button-down darkened with sweat, as was the graying hair around his temples and forehead. For a moment, they just stared at each other as his breathing slowed, and then he untangled his hands from her hair.
He zipped himself up, and Allison felt her stomach do slow flip-flops, certain that he was just going to get up and walk out. And why not? she asked herself. I just ‘forced’ myself on him. She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see the expression of disgust she imagined was on his face, not wanting to watch him get up and walk out of her life.
So she was startled when he grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her up onto her feet in front of him. She had always suspected that there was a lot of strength hidden in those sinewy arms, but still he was stronger than she had expected. And suddenly those nimble pianist’s fingers of his were working at her fly, and he had her jeans down around her ankles almost before she knew it. Wordlessly, he coaxed her to step out of them, and then he was levering himself awkwardly up off of her bed. He limped around behind her, turning her to face him, and then it was his turn to press her back against the bed, to push her down until she was seated on the edge.
He leaned down and took hold of the ribbon tied around the bottom of her blouse, slowly breaking the knot, and then he grasped the blouse and pulled it up and over her head, tossing it towards the rocking chair – which he missed. Then he stripped off his dark grey blazer and the white striped long-sleeved shirt, again pitching them towards the chair – and again missing. He took no notice. Instead, he met Allison’s eyes, and then his gaze traveled down, taking in everything – her hair, her skin, the beige panties and bra she still had on….when he’d had his fill of looking at her, he pulled his tee shirt up and over his head, and then dropped it unceremoniously on top of his cane.
He put his hands out cautiously, burying them in her hair again, running his fingers carefully through the strands, and Allison shivered, suddenly covered in gooseflesh. Although this was what she had wanted, it felt surreal, and she suddenly hoped very fervently that she wasn’t dreaming all this.
House’s hands moved from her hair to her shoulders, and it was that skin contact that convinced her, finally, that this was really happening. His hands were warm and gentle, yet the calluses on his right hand from his cane use were rough on her skin, bringing a different kind of gooseflesh to her skin.
His hands moved lower, fingers caressing the bare flesh of her upper chest, tracing along the surface of her breasts left bare by her bra. She could feel his eyes on her face, and looked up at him as he slid his hands down to the clasp at the front of her bra. He was asking permission with his eyes, and she gave him a slight nod, restraining a gasp as he released the clasp and slid his hands over her nipples.
She could feel herself getting hot, and knew she was flushing, but that was ok – if he could see how powerfully she was reacting to him and to what he was doing to her, that just proved her point on how sexy he was, didn’t it?
Meanwhile, House was gently teasing her hardening nipples – tugging and squeezing, rolling and pinching - and then sliding those long fingers along the curves of the undersides of her breasts. Her breathing deepened, and she didn’t bother to suppress the moans that wanted to escape her.
He stopped, and then once again wordlessly told her what he wanted, pushing her shoulder back with one hand and motioning her further back on the bed with the other. She shifted back until she could go no further without whacking herself on the headboard, and then lay down. She let her eyes roam over his chest, the surprisingly firm pectoral muscles, the flat belly, the dark pink of his nipples…he was beautiful, if one could use such a term to describe a man…why didn’t he see it?
House carefully lowered himself down onto the bed and onto his left side, but they could both see it wasn’t going to work - his legs were dangling off the edge. One of the hazards of being tall. So when he motioned Allison to move even further up on the bed, she didn’t hesitate. She just grabbed a couple pillows and propped herself up against the headboard.
Nodding in approval, House pulled himself awkwardly further up onto the bed, lying next to her with his head near her waist. He laid his hands on her panties and asked permission with his eyes once more, before sliding the last of her clothing down and off of her body.
Tossing her underwear aside, House maneuvered himself between her legs, and she closed her eyes as she felt his fingers stroking the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. She didn’t resist him as he eased her legs even further apart, kept her eyes closed even as she felt him shift up higher on the bed...but she did start a little as his tongue began to trace wet little designs on her skin, his stubble prickly and rough, his breath warm and moist.
She moaned and raised her hips, not caring what kind of spectacle she made of herself - she wanted him, right or wrong.
He switched to her other leg, this time nipping and nibbling at her tender skin, and then using his tongue to soothe the areas he had just tried to devour. Moving slowly up her leg, towards the soaking wet center of her.
She moaned as she felt his fingers on her, spreading her folds wide, and then cried out as his tongue moved in one long velvety stroke from the entrance to her body right up to her swollen clit. Apparently that was just the appetizer, however, as he then pulled back and explored her slowly with his fingertips, tracing the outer ring of her vagina, drawing tiny circles on the slippery insides of her inner lips, moving in slow circles around her clit…
It felt really, really good, but the sensations were also so intense that she couldn’t keep still, squirming and writhing and sweating under him, and he soon brought both his hands up, pinning her hips down on the bed and holding her still so he could resume his tongue work on her. More long slow strokes the length of her sex. Slow wet circles around her entrance. The soft warmth of his lips as he paused to kiss her where her legs met the rest of her body. The prickle of his stubble against her wet flesh. Gentle suction as he took her clit into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue.
He removed one hand from her hips so he could ease two fingers inside her slippery sheath, and as the sensations washed over and through her, she felt herself tightening up on his fingers and knew she was close to surrendering, to climaxing around her boss’s fingers.
She was right on the edge when he pulled back, and then deliberately dragged his cheek over her clit. The harsh caress of his stubble against that tender spot did the job, pushing her headlong into her orgasm, gasping and shaking, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, unable to do anything but give in…
When she finally opened her eyes, it was to see Greg standing at the foot of her bed again, leaning on the edge while he stripped off his jeans and…boxers. Black silk boxers. Funny, she’d always pictured him as a briefs man.
She looked at his thigh, seeing for the first time the deformities where the dead tissue had been removed, the extensive scars…she looked up and saw he was watching her, gauging her reaction. So she deliberately licked her lips – his eyes followed the movement of her tongue – and said in a husky voice, “Condoms are in the top drawer of my nighttable.”
She thought she saw a ghost of a grin on his face, before he moved in his strangely athletic limping way to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and rummaged around a bit.
“That’s quite a selection, Dr. Cameron.” he held up a package, his voice also lower and huskier than usual. “’Rough Riders’ studded condoms?” he turned to her, one eyebrow raised.
She shrugged. “If we gotta wear them, may as well get some additional sensation from them.”
“Are you in the mood for a ‘rough ride’, Dr. Cameron?” Again, the very slight smile.
“I can take whatever you’ve got, Dr. House.” she replied.
“Got a favourite position?” he inquired casually, like they were discussing the weather.
“From behind…if that works for you.” she said.
“That one I can do.” he conceded. He limped over towards the bed and took hold of her, arranging her the way he wanted. So she was soon standing next to the bed, bent over, her torso propped up on the pile of pillows, and Greg standing behind her, condom on and ready to go.
She reached behind her, to find him already quite hard – must have been a really long time for him – and she gave him a few strokes with her hand before guiding him inside her…
She didn’t know how it felt for him, but for her it felt like heaven. His hands were tight on her hips, pulling her back hard against him on each deep stroke, his balls slapping against her clit and providing extra stimulation, even the extra sensations provided by the studded condom were turning this into one of the most sensuous experiences she’d ever had.
He was starting to gasp behind her, his hands hot and sweaty on her flesh, his thrusts becoming even rougher, if that was possible. He reached around her hip and began to massage her clit hard in time with his thrusts, and she cried out as she orgasmed again. The feel of her clenching around him must have been too much for him, as he soon gave a loud groan and, giving one final powerful thrust, joined her in his own climax….
Allison came down slowly from her high...mostly because she was afraid of what might happen when she had to rejoin the real world again. Sure, House could’ve fought her off more persistently if he really hadn’t wanted this, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to think badly of her or snark at her for what they’d done...or fire her for good.
Still, she couldn’t stay here, collapsed limply over the edge of her bed with her eyes shut, forever. And besides, House was still inside her. So she finally opened her eyes and looked back over her shoulder at him. He was breathing deeply, his chest and face flushed and sweaty, and he looked as open and defenseless as he had when she’d been going down on him earlier.
His eyes opened and met hers....but he was apparently back to being speechless. And Allison felt doubts start to assail her again...
And that was when House’s pager went off. He unhurriedly withdrew from her (although she felt the loss of him keenly), and then limped over to where his jeans lay in an untidy pile on the floor.
Allison climbed slowly onto the bed, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. So she missed how he managed to snag his pants from the floor without his cane to help him. But when she looked at him again, he had his pager in hand.
“I’ve got to go,” he said quietly, not looking at her. “It’s not an ‘unimportant plague’ this time.”
“It’s OK.” she said. Although it wasn’t OK, not by a long shot.
“Hand me my cane?” he asked. Silently, Allison got up and picked it up off the floor for him, gathered up her scattered clothes, and then turned her back on him and got dressed. She could hear the rustle of clothing behind her as House did the same.
Finished, she turned around and saw him shrugging into his blazer.
They stood there silently for some moments, both looking down at the floor. Damn, Allison thought. I pushed too hard, and now he’s going to leave and I’ll probably never see him again. I am such an idiot.
Finally, House cleared his throat, and repeated “I have to go.” He limped slowly out of her bedroom and to her front door, Allison trailing even more slowly along behind him. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. Trying to tell herself that yes, he hadn’t whispered any sweet nothings in her ear – hell, he’d said hardly anything at all during their whole encounter (except for the condom banter), which was unusual in itself – and he hadn’t even kissed her….but he’d been (mostly) tender and gentle with her in her bed. Perhaps one could even call his actions affectionate, but maybe that was a stretch. Maybe she was projecting onto him what she wanted him to feel, and in fact what he really thought was that she was a whore and he’d be better off reconsidering his rehiring of her….
She was so busy alternating between berating herself, and trying to reassure herself, that she hadn’t noticed that House had stopped and turned, until she walked nearly face-first into his chest. Which would’ve been fun under normal circumstances, but was hardly the case here.
But as she started to back up to give him room, his arms wrapped tightly around her and he pulled her close against him. And then he was kissing her, forcing his tongue deep into her and hungrily plundering her mouth, the sensations so intense it was like he’d lit a fire inside her once again.
W....wow. She thought. I guess he’s OK with what we just did...
When he finally released her, he smiled gently, and then turned and opened the door. Once he’d walked through, he turned back to face her.
“See you tomorrow morning.” she said, attempting to sound casual.
“Don’t be late.” He was trying to act stern and detached, but she could see the mischievous light in his eyes, and wasn’t fooled. Not for a second.
“I won’t.” she said cheekily back to him. And closed the door.
She turned and pressed her back against the door, putting her hands to her face. She could hardly believe what she had just done – and that it had worked! She was tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming….but she could smell his scent on her, could still taste him on her lips…and that was proof enough.
Well, things are going to get interesting at work, that’s for sure. And I can handle it if he can.
She had an early morning tomorrow, so she headed back to the bedroom to rest up for a day of baffling medical cases. And of navigating her new relationship with her boss.