[HOUSE] From The Beginning
From The Beginning
House/Cameron, 1417 words, NC-17, "love hurts"
She’s really not sure what she wants to do at this point, too invested to leave; too hopeful to stay.
She spends most of her time avoiding and it’s exhausting.
The past three nights, she has lain quietly in her bed and simply watched the ceiling fan complete rotation after rotation. Every time she remembers her hopes for the date, she wants to bury her face in the pillows out of sheer mortification.
She still can’t believe how excited and hopeful she was at the beginning of the evening, and how utterly painful the night turned. The sting of his rejection still lingers along with her growing doubts that he has hidden feelings for her.
She’s really not sure what she wants to do at this point, too invested to leave; too hopeful to stay. This is a limbo and the professional side of her is determined to stay at all costs.
Letting herself into her apartment, she tosses her keys onto the hall table and makes her way into the kitchen. Before she even has a chance to do anything, there’s a tap at her door.
Sighing, she stares at the door debating whether she’s going to start this or not. His cane makes a more insistent knock and she moves across the hall to answer it. Opening it slightly, she holds her hand to the door and blocks his entrance.
“I should never have told you where I live.”
“Too late, I already know. Are you going to let me in?” He uses his cane to push gently against the door.
“Why?”
“What does a guy have to do to get a glass a wine to mix with his narcotics?”
Head shaking in defeat, she steps aside and allows him entrance. He pushes past her and heads straight for the couch. She doesn’t move, simply watches him. And waits.
“The wine?” His voice takes on an edge of sarcasm, as he tosses his cane on the couch and props himself against the edge of the arm.
She makes her way to the kitchen and silently pours both of them a glass of wine. Carefully she makes her way over to where he is sitting, hands him the glass without a word.
She stares at him; slowly lowering her hand back to her side and waits. She watches as he sets the glass down and stares back at her.
The world shrinks to this moment and slows to a long pause as she waits for him. House shows no outward sign of emotion; his face remains passive, his eyes unreadable.
“Why are you here?” Allison brings her glass to her lips, wishing she could drown the contents in one swallow.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She takes a step backwards and his fingers clasp around her wrist, staying the motion. “Chase is worried that you seem tired, are you sleeping?”
She sighs, pulling on her wrist to loosen his grip. “Yes, I sleep just fine. Your concern is overwhelming.”
He trails his other hand down her arm to her waist and slides his palm under her T-shirt and tugs gently.
“Why are you doing this? I thought it was pretty clear that you were not interested.” She tries to push his hand away.
“I’m sure that I never said that I wasn’t interested. I think it was more along the lines of ‘I was what you needed’. There’s a difference. I also think you’ve been avoiding me.”
She stares at him wordlessly, wanting to believe him. He notices her hesitation and uses it against her as the hand that is holding her wrist reaches up to grab the glass away from her.
She’s not sure if she trusts him but she wants him and decides to make it as simple as that.
He continues to tug on her shirt and she allows him to pull it off of her. He tosses it to the floor. Her breasts, confined to her bra ache to be released, touched, kissed…
He unzips her pants, slides them over her hips. He starts to kiss her neck, letting her pants slide the rest of the way down. She lifts one foot at a time out of the material, her hands bracing on his shoulders.
His mouth charters a dangerous course across her shoulders, his tongue moving in lush circles evoking a series of damning tickles and absolutely delicious cravings. “House,” she whispers, her nails digging half moons into his shoulders. “I want this.”
He slides off her panties and slowly turns her. She holds up her hair as he unfastens her bra and slides the straps down her arms, his fingers trailing lightly over her skin. Every tiny hair on her arm stands up in response. “You’re so beautiful.” The admission is pulled quietly from him.
Wrapping his arms around her; he cups her breasts in his palms, lifts as he strokes her nipples with the rough pad of his thumbs. He continues the motions of his hands as he leans down to nibble her shoulder.
She tips her head back, offering her throat for his hungry mouth to taste. “S’good.”
House stops and pulls back slightly, eyes focusing on her. He leans forward, emptying the space between them and replacing the air with feral want, intent. She backs up, matching his stride until the corner of the wall nips her back and she splays her hands on either side of the wall. He touches her mouth with his finger, running it over her lip, obscuring the shape. “My pants.”
Allison gives a small smile and unfastens the belt with nimble fingers, slips the button through the slit and slowly slides the zipper down. She allows the back of her hand to brush the length of him through the soft cotton.
On a swift intake of air, he yanks the belt free of the loops, his eyes portraying an oceanic turbulence. Again a smile tugs the corner of her mouth at his obvious arousal.
Parting the V of his jeans by sliding her hands on either side of his erection, she slides her palms over his hips, under the band of his underwear, over the arch of his ass. Her body presses against him, enticing, warm.
A small moan catches in her throat as she slides his pants down, and he pulls her against him, his mouth slants over hers in a fierce, hungry kiss. He steps out of his pants, never breaking his hold on her. She digs her fingers wildly through his hair, fisting and releasing strands. She teeters, breathless, when the kiss ends.
He blindly fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, and swears in annoyance as he yanks his t-shirt over his head before turning her so she faces the length of the wall, takes her arms and places each hand solidly against the wall while nudging her legs apart until she stands spread eagle against it. Allison can barely breathe as his hands works up the inside of her thighs to the juncture of her heat and palms her. Gasping, she tilts her pelvis back, wriggling against his hand. He slides his finger inside her, then another. Allison cries out, bucks against him.
“House…” Her voice trails off. She wants to reach around to his hips and pull him deep inside. House presses his fingers deeper and strokes as her nails clawed against the wall and her breasts bounced with the rocking of her body. His fingers continued the exquisite torture and she has to keep from calling. It is there, right there. She could take it, take it, and it would feel so good.
He slides his fingers away and she whimpers. So close, so close. He moves against her again, the hair on his chest rubbing her back. He thrusts his length into her, entering completely and holds taut. “Want more?”
Cameron moves against him, her frustration showing. “Yes-“
He eases out until the tip of him nestles between her legs and then drives back into her. She gasps, clenching her muscles to draw him even deeper.
“Tell me what you want, anything you want.” He withdraws again, this time completely. He slides his length back and forth, driving her mad.
“You, this, now.”
He turns her quickly, claiming her mouth in another heated kiss. He walks her backwards, limping slightly, towards the couch; letting the whispers of possessive words fall from him.
*
She doesn’t avoid him the next morning; she thinks she’s done with that.
But she sees him watching her.
And knows that nothing ever changes.
original post
House/Cameron, 1417 words, NC-17, "love hurts"
She’s really not sure what she wants to do at this point, too invested to leave; too hopeful to stay.
She spends most of her time avoiding and it’s exhausting.
The past three nights, she has lain quietly in her bed and simply watched the ceiling fan complete rotation after rotation. Every time she remembers her hopes for the date, she wants to bury her face in the pillows out of sheer mortification.
She still can’t believe how excited and hopeful she was at the beginning of the evening, and how utterly painful the night turned. The sting of his rejection still lingers along with her growing doubts that he has hidden feelings for her.
She’s really not sure what she wants to do at this point, too invested to leave; too hopeful to stay. This is a limbo and the professional side of her is determined to stay at all costs.
Letting herself into her apartment, she tosses her keys onto the hall table and makes her way into the kitchen. Before she even has a chance to do anything, there’s a tap at her door.
Sighing, she stares at the door debating whether she’s going to start this or not. His cane makes a more insistent knock and she moves across the hall to answer it. Opening it slightly, she holds her hand to the door and blocks his entrance.
“I should never have told you where I live.”
“Too late, I already know. Are you going to let me in?” He uses his cane to push gently against the door.
“Why?”
“What does a guy have to do to get a glass a wine to mix with his narcotics?”
Head shaking in defeat, she steps aside and allows him entrance. He pushes past her and heads straight for the couch. She doesn’t move, simply watches him. And waits.
“The wine?” His voice takes on an edge of sarcasm, as he tosses his cane on the couch and props himself against the edge of the arm.
She makes her way to the kitchen and silently pours both of them a glass of wine. Carefully she makes her way over to where he is sitting, hands him the glass without a word.
She stares at him; slowly lowering her hand back to her side and waits. She watches as he sets the glass down and stares back at her.
The world shrinks to this moment and slows to a long pause as she waits for him. House shows no outward sign of emotion; his face remains passive, his eyes unreadable.
“Why are you here?” Allison brings her glass to her lips, wishing she could drown the contents in one swallow.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She takes a step backwards and his fingers clasp around her wrist, staying the motion. “Chase is worried that you seem tired, are you sleeping?”
She sighs, pulling on her wrist to loosen his grip. “Yes, I sleep just fine. Your concern is overwhelming.”
He trails his other hand down her arm to her waist and slides his palm under her T-shirt and tugs gently.
“Why are you doing this? I thought it was pretty clear that you were not interested.” She tries to push his hand away.
“I’m sure that I never said that I wasn’t interested. I think it was more along the lines of ‘I was what you needed’. There’s a difference. I also think you’ve been avoiding me.”
She stares at him wordlessly, wanting to believe him. He notices her hesitation and uses it against her as the hand that is holding her wrist reaches up to grab the glass away from her.
She’s not sure if she trusts him but she wants him and decides to make it as simple as that.
He continues to tug on her shirt and she allows him to pull it off of her. He tosses it to the floor. Her breasts, confined to her bra ache to be released, touched, kissed…
He unzips her pants, slides them over her hips. He starts to kiss her neck, letting her pants slide the rest of the way down. She lifts one foot at a time out of the material, her hands bracing on his shoulders.
His mouth charters a dangerous course across her shoulders, his tongue moving in lush circles evoking a series of damning tickles and absolutely delicious cravings. “House,” she whispers, her nails digging half moons into his shoulders. “I want this.”
He slides off her panties and slowly turns her. She holds up her hair as he unfastens her bra and slides the straps down her arms, his fingers trailing lightly over her skin. Every tiny hair on her arm stands up in response. “You’re so beautiful.” The admission is pulled quietly from him.
Wrapping his arms around her; he cups her breasts in his palms, lifts as he strokes her nipples with the rough pad of his thumbs. He continues the motions of his hands as he leans down to nibble her shoulder.
She tips her head back, offering her throat for his hungry mouth to taste. “S’good.”
House stops and pulls back slightly, eyes focusing on her. He leans forward, emptying the space between them and replacing the air with feral want, intent. She backs up, matching his stride until the corner of the wall nips her back and she splays her hands on either side of the wall. He touches her mouth with his finger, running it over her lip, obscuring the shape. “My pants.”
Allison gives a small smile and unfastens the belt with nimble fingers, slips the button through the slit and slowly slides the zipper down. She allows the back of her hand to brush the length of him through the soft cotton.
On a swift intake of air, he yanks the belt free of the loops, his eyes portraying an oceanic turbulence. Again a smile tugs the corner of her mouth at his obvious arousal.
Parting the V of his jeans by sliding her hands on either side of his erection, she slides her palms over his hips, under the band of his underwear, over the arch of his ass. Her body presses against him, enticing, warm.
A small moan catches in her throat as she slides his pants down, and he pulls her against him, his mouth slants over hers in a fierce, hungry kiss. He steps out of his pants, never breaking his hold on her. She digs her fingers wildly through his hair, fisting and releasing strands. She teeters, breathless, when the kiss ends.
He blindly fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, and swears in annoyance as he yanks his t-shirt over his head before turning her so she faces the length of the wall, takes her arms and places each hand solidly against the wall while nudging her legs apart until she stands spread eagle against it. Allison can barely breathe as his hands works up the inside of her thighs to the juncture of her heat and palms her. Gasping, she tilts her pelvis back, wriggling against his hand. He slides his finger inside her, then another. Allison cries out, bucks against him.
“House…” Her voice trails off. She wants to reach around to his hips and pull him deep inside. House presses his fingers deeper and strokes as her nails clawed against the wall and her breasts bounced with the rocking of her body. His fingers continued the exquisite torture and she has to keep from calling. It is there, right there. She could take it, take it, and it would feel so good.
He slides his fingers away and she whimpers. So close, so close. He moves against her again, the hair on his chest rubbing her back. He thrusts his length into her, entering completely and holds taut. “Want more?”
Cameron moves against him, her frustration showing. “Yes-“
He eases out until the tip of him nestles between her legs and then drives back into her. She gasps, clenching her muscles to draw him even deeper.
“Tell me what you want, anything you want.” He withdraws again, this time completely. He slides his length back and forth, driving her mad.
“You, this, now.”
He turns her quickly, claiming her mouth in another heated kiss. He walks her backwards, limping slightly, towards the couch; letting the whispers of possessive words fall from him.
*
She doesn’t avoid him the next morning; she thinks she’s done with that.
But she sees him watching her.
And knows that nothing ever changes.
original post