[HOUSE] Beneath the Surface
Beneath the Surface
House/Cameron, NC-17, 1549 words, "pilot, love hurts"
“Why did you hire me?” She was not entirely sure she wanted the answer to this question.
"Breath"
I see nothing in your eyes, and the more I see the less I like.
Is it over yet, in my head?
I know nothing of your kind, and I won't reveal your evil mind.
Is it over yet? I can't win.
So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.
I'm going all the way, get away, please.
You take the breath right out of me.
You left a hole where my heart should be.
You got to fight just to make it through,
'cause I will be the death of you.
This will be all over soon.
Pour salt into the open wound.
Is it over yet? Let me in.
So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.
I'm going all the way, get away, please.
I'm waiting, I'm praying, realize, start hating.
::
Because she’s been there and back, she knows the path that road takes.
But she can’t help herself.
As she arches beneath him, she urges him on silently. He plunges into her again and again; she struggles to keep the tears from falling. She clings to him, he was hers, and for the moment there was no one else.
When she came, as she convulsed around him, she gave an earth shattering cry, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was enough to hide the pain.
::
“Allison Cameron.” She holds her hand out, staring at this strange man, the man she could potentially be working for. He doesn’t acknowledge her, nor her extended hand.
“I know who you are.”
She looks lowers her hand and waits for him to ask her to sit. He doesn’t.
“Can I get you anything?” This from the other man, lurking quietly in the shadows. She had known he was there, waited for him to introduce himself.
“No thank you.”
He steps forward, ignoring House and extends his own hand. She slips hers into his and acknowledges the fit to herself. “James Wilson, Chief Oncologist.”
She nods and James extends a chair and she sits gracefully.
She waits.
“Where should we begin?”
::
“Will you do anything I ask of you for the next twenty-four hours?”
She turned and looked at him, surprised etched all over her face at his words. How like him to be so vague. “Can you be more specific?”
“Will you do anything I ask?”
A swell of confusion engulfed her. “Why?”
He wanted her to give him a blind promise so he could crash through her inhibitions with him. She forced a breath of air into her starved lungs, barely realizing that she had stopped breathing.
“Think it over carefully. Once you give me your word, I’ll expect total cooperation.”
“You mean obedience,” she snapped.
He inclined his head slightly but didn’t deign to give a reply.
To allow him to order her about, to give him the power over her, terrified her. The thought of losing her freedom to anyone, even a man she trusted might be asking more than she could give.
Yet as she looked at him across the table and discerned his excitement, his exhilaration sparked her sense of adventure.
Taking another deep breath, she nodded. “I’ll do anything you ask for twenty-four hours.”
Somehow she knew after today their relationship would never again be the same.
::
“Why did you hire me?” She was not entirely sure she wanted the answer to this question.
“Does it matter?”
She looked down and back up, “Kinda hard to work for a guy who doesn’t respect you.”
”Why?”
“Is that rhetorical?” He still confused her, challenged her.
“No, it just seems that way because you can’t think of an answer. Does it make a difference why I think I’m a jerk? The only thing that matters is what you think. Can you do the job?” He stared at her, blue eyes pacing green.
“You hired a black guy because he had a juvenile record.”
“No, it wasn’t a racial thing; I didn’t see a black guy. I just saw a doctor…with a juvenile record. I hired Chase ‘cause his dad made a phone call. I hired you because you are extremely pretty.”
She was shocked, “You hired me to get into my pants?!”
“I can’t believe that that would shock you. It’s also not what I said. No, I hired you because you look good; it’s like having a nice piece of art in the lobby. Gorgeous women do not go to medical school. Unless they’re as damaged as they are beautiful. Were you abused by a family member?”
“No!”
“Sexually assaulted?”
“No.”
“But you are damaged, aren’t you?”
She hesitates, “I have to go.”
Now she understands how it will unfold.
::
Standing before him clad only in her bra made her stomach clench. But when she realized how much he enjoyed looking at her, she forced herself not to squirm.
“Your skin is beautiful.” He traced his hand along her ribcage, sending shivers along her spine. “Please remove your bra.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs with the force of a freight train. Despite her promise she didn’t know if she could continue.
If he noticed her hesitation, he gave no indication of it. He returned to his seat and poured them another glass of champagne. However, the moment her hands went to undo the clasp his gaze pierced her with a fierce brilliance, and she had to remind herself she’d agreed to this. She had the urge to raise her hand and cover herself to stop his bold gaze from raking her. But she refrained. Barely.
His hands spun her, and before she caught her breath, his lips claimed hers; at the same time he slowly moved her across the room. As he hungrily kissed her, her head spun. She clung to him, careful not to put any of her weight near his leg. Closing her eyes she floated on the heady sensation.
He tasted of mint, and champagne, and pure maleness. And he was hers. For now.
“Lie back and bring your knees to your chest,” he ordered.
She shimmied onto her back, and brought her knees to her chest, keenly aware of his scrutiny. He was aware of her unease but would accept nothing but her total obedience.
He made her feel both decadent and like a lowly beggar. She was comfortable but miserable, alternately flushing hot with embarrassment and anger, then alternately eager for him to do something, anything to end this prolonged waiting. Within a few minutes she’d cease thinking of anything except the burning ache between her thighs.
He removed his clothes slowly, walking around the room, yet always returning to stare at her. Each time he neared, she tensed. Finally, finally the mattress at the foot of the bed sagged, and he kneeled between her widespread feet.
He was beautiful. His chest tapered to a lean stomach, dusted with hair. But it was his erection that held her attention. He was thick, large, and more than ready. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to urge him to take her.
He kissed her tenderly, belying everything hard and rough between them. She clutched him fiercely, pressing her breasts against his bare chest. While his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, she clung to him, wriggling, trying to get him to fill the overpowering void inside her.
Her fingers wound her way into his hair, and she arched up to him. Inside the tension that strung her taut for hours was building, higher, harder, hotter. When he pulled away she screamed in frustration.
“I want…I need…Greg!”
Finally he thrust into her cunt, and she met him half way. Her ass slammed against the mattress and her fingers clawed at him. She couldn’t draw enough air. She tightened her legs around his waist, missing the small wince that came from him as he readjusted the pressure away from his bad leg.
He moved inside her fast, claiming what he wanted in a movement as old as time. She bucked wildly, feeling her entire body shudder, climaxing in several electric jolts of passion.
She lost track of time and when she could not stand one more second, his fingers slipped between the slick folds of sensitive flesh and sent her higher. The spasms wracked her again, acute, powerful.
“Greg.” It came out in a hiss and he swallowed it with a kiss. He pumped into her and she relished the heat of his body over hers as he shuddered over her.
As he rolled off of her and lay flat against his back, she wished that he had not changed the tone of their lovemaking. Wished he had not been gentle with her.
It was easier to hide between lies.
::
“You don’t love, you need. And now that your husband is dead, you’re looking for your new charity case. That’s why you’re going out with me. I’m twice your age, I’m not great looking, I’m not charming, I’m not even nice. What I am is what you need. I’m damaged.”
::
original post
House/Cameron, NC-17, 1549 words, "pilot, love hurts"
“Why did you hire me?” She was not entirely sure she wanted the answer to this question.
"Breath"
I see nothing in your eyes, and the more I see the less I like.
Is it over yet, in my head?
I know nothing of your kind, and I won't reveal your evil mind.
Is it over yet? I can't win.
So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.
I'm going all the way, get away, please.
You take the breath right out of me.
You left a hole where my heart should be.
You got to fight just to make it through,
'cause I will be the death of you.
This will be all over soon.
Pour salt into the open wound.
Is it over yet? Let me in.
So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.
I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.
I'm going all the way, get away, please.
I'm waiting, I'm praying, realize, start hating.
::
Because she’s been there and back, she knows the path that road takes.
But she can’t help herself.
As she arches beneath him, she urges him on silently. He plunges into her again and again; she struggles to keep the tears from falling. She clings to him, he was hers, and for the moment there was no one else.
When she came, as she convulsed around him, she gave an earth shattering cry, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was enough to hide the pain.
::
“Allison Cameron.” She holds her hand out, staring at this strange man, the man she could potentially be working for. He doesn’t acknowledge her, nor her extended hand.
“I know who you are.”
She looks lowers her hand and waits for him to ask her to sit. He doesn’t.
“Can I get you anything?” This from the other man, lurking quietly in the shadows. She had known he was there, waited for him to introduce himself.
“No thank you.”
He steps forward, ignoring House and extends his own hand. She slips hers into his and acknowledges the fit to herself. “James Wilson, Chief Oncologist.”
She nods and James extends a chair and she sits gracefully.
She waits.
“Where should we begin?”
::
“Will you do anything I ask of you for the next twenty-four hours?”
She turned and looked at him, surprised etched all over her face at his words. How like him to be so vague. “Can you be more specific?”
“Will you do anything I ask?”
A swell of confusion engulfed her. “Why?”
He wanted her to give him a blind promise so he could crash through her inhibitions with him. She forced a breath of air into her starved lungs, barely realizing that she had stopped breathing.
“Think it over carefully. Once you give me your word, I’ll expect total cooperation.”
“You mean obedience,” she snapped.
He inclined his head slightly but didn’t deign to give a reply.
To allow him to order her about, to give him the power over her, terrified her. The thought of losing her freedom to anyone, even a man she trusted might be asking more than she could give.
Yet as she looked at him across the table and discerned his excitement, his exhilaration sparked her sense of adventure.
Taking another deep breath, she nodded. “I’ll do anything you ask for twenty-four hours.”
Somehow she knew after today their relationship would never again be the same.
::
“Why did you hire me?” She was not entirely sure she wanted the answer to this question.
“Does it matter?”
She looked down and back up, “Kinda hard to work for a guy who doesn’t respect you.”
”Why?”
“Is that rhetorical?” He still confused her, challenged her.
“No, it just seems that way because you can’t think of an answer. Does it make a difference why I think I’m a jerk? The only thing that matters is what you think. Can you do the job?” He stared at her, blue eyes pacing green.
“You hired a black guy because he had a juvenile record.”
“No, it wasn’t a racial thing; I didn’t see a black guy. I just saw a doctor…with a juvenile record. I hired Chase ‘cause his dad made a phone call. I hired you because you are extremely pretty.”
She was shocked, “You hired me to get into my pants?!”
“I can’t believe that that would shock you. It’s also not what I said. No, I hired you because you look good; it’s like having a nice piece of art in the lobby. Gorgeous women do not go to medical school. Unless they’re as damaged as they are beautiful. Were you abused by a family member?”
“No!”
“Sexually assaulted?”
“No.”
“But you are damaged, aren’t you?”
She hesitates, “I have to go.”
Now she understands how it will unfold.
::
Standing before him clad only in her bra made her stomach clench. But when she realized how much he enjoyed looking at her, she forced herself not to squirm.
“Your skin is beautiful.” He traced his hand along her ribcage, sending shivers along her spine. “Please remove your bra.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs with the force of a freight train. Despite her promise she didn’t know if she could continue.
If he noticed her hesitation, he gave no indication of it. He returned to his seat and poured them another glass of champagne. However, the moment her hands went to undo the clasp his gaze pierced her with a fierce brilliance, and she had to remind herself she’d agreed to this. She had the urge to raise her hand and cover herself to stop his bold gaze from raking her. But she refrained. Barely.
His hands spun her, and before she caught her breath, his lips claimed hers; at the same time he slowly moved her across the room. As he hungrily kissed her, her head spun. She clung to him, careful not to put any of her weight near his leg. Closing her eyes she floated on the heady sensation.
He tasted of mint, and champagne, and pure maleness. And he was hers. For now.
“Lie back and bring your knees to your chest,” he ordered.
She shimmied onto her back, and brought her knees to her chest, keenly aware of his scrutiny. He was aware of her unease but would accept nothing but her total obedience.
He made her feel both decadent and like a lowly beggar. She was comfortable but miserable, alternately flushing hot with embarrassment and anger, then alternately eager for him to do something, anything to end this prolonged waiting. Within a few minutes she’d cease thinking of anything except the burning ache between her thighs.
He removed his clothes slowly, walking around the room, yet always returning to stare at her. Each time he neared, she tensed. Finally, finally the mattress at the foot of the bed sagged, and he kneeled between her widespread feet.
He was beautiful. His chest tapered to a lean stomach, dusted with hair. But it was his erection that held her attention. He was thick, large, and more than ready. She wanted to touch him, to taste him, to urge him to take her.
He kissed her tenderly, belying everything hard and rough between them. She clutched him fiercely, pressing her breasts against his bare chest. While his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, she clung to him, wriggling, trying to get him to fill the overpowering void inside her.
Her fingers wound her way into his hair, and she arched up to him. Inside the tension that strung her taut for hours was building, higher, harder, hotter. When he pulled away she screamed in frustration.
“I want…I need…Greg!”
Finally he thrust into her cunt, and she met him half way. Her ass slammed against the mattress and her fingers clawed at him. She couldn’t draw enough air. She tightened her legs around his waist, missing the small wince that came from him as he readjusted the pressure away from his bad leg.
He moved inside her fast, claiming what he wanted in a movement as old as time. She bucked wildly, feeling her entire body shudder, climaxing in several electric jolts of passion.
She lost track of time and when she could not stand one more second, his fingers slipped between the slick folds of sensitive flesh and sent her higher. The spasms wracked her again, acute, powerful.
“Greg.” It came out in a hiss and he swallowed it with a kiss. He pumped into her and she relished the heat of his body over hers as he shuddered over her.
As he rolled off of her and lay flat against his back, she wished that he had not changed the tone of their lovemaking. Wished he had not been gentle with her.
It was easier to hide between lies.
::
“You don’t love, you need. And now that your husband is dead, you’re looking for your new charity case. That’s why you’re going out with me. I’m twice your age, I’m not great looking, I’m not charming, I’m not even nice. What I am is what you need. I’m damaged.”
::
original post