(no subject)
Title: Rule Number Three
Author: cerieblue819
Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to House MD
Fandom: House MD
Medium: Television
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Eric Foreman/Robert Chase
Characters: Eric Foreman, Robert Chase
Theme: Q is for Quandary
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: BDSM
Author's Notes: Betaed by the lovely hawkeyecat
He was on his stomach, limbs stretched in some erotic mockery of Leonardo Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man and pondering just how exactly he'd wound up this way. It wasn't that he didn't trust his partner; he trusted him implicitly. It was the utter loss of control, the sheer ecstasy of being stretched and filled, the sobbing, aching, almost-palpable need that did him in.
He lay there for a few long minutes, not hearing even the breathing of his partner. However, he knew he couldn't call out; that was a clear violation of the rules. His partner was adamant about maintaining and enforcing a list of rules and regulations that pertained to these particular interludes, and he had been asked to sign his consent.
Rules of Engagement
1. You do not speak at any point, unless it is to utter the previously-assigned safeword.
2. You do not attempt to escape, even if ten or fifteen minutes pass without stimulation.
3. You do not attempt to self-stimulate under any circumstances.
4. You do not initiate sexual contact in any way, shape or fashion.
5. You come when I tell you to.
6. You do not speak of these interludes to anyone.
7. You do not mention these interludes to me in private unless I initiate.
8. After intercourse, you may not leave the bedroom until I give permission.
His partner liked to refer to them as the Eight Golden Rules. He was okay with most of them; it was number three that was giving him the most trouble at the moment. His partner had come back into the room, breathing deep and even. Judging by the volume, he was a good ten feet from the bed, and it was sheer torture to lie on the bed and not move. He longed to rub his cock against the soft sheets in order to obtain some sort of release, but that was a clear violation of rule number three.
Violation of the rules never had pleasant results. The last time it happened, his partner had deprived him of sex for a solid month until he felt that he'd atoned for his transgression. It had been agony, wanting even a simple kiss and being denied, but, as his partner said, rules were there to be enforced. And so he waited, hoping that he would endure the trial without showing weakness.
He perked up at the sound of footsteps, trying to keep from shuddering in his bonds when he felt his partner drag one long finger down his spine and along the cleft of his buttocks. He was painfully hard, but managed to keep from moving against the sheets.
"Good boy," his partner said softly, but the soft tone did nothing to hide the steel beneath. He moved again, going to the bedside table and removing the lube they usually kept there. His partner didn't do anything to ease the passage of his fingers as he perfunctorily slicked two up and slid them inside him, crooking them to find his prostate. His partner had to be proud: he hadn't made a single noise despite the fact that the other man's fingers were pressing into his prostate and making him impossibly hard.
He squirmed against the sheets when his partner added another finger and instantly all three fingers were removed: that was a direct violation of rule number three. At first, he thought that his only punishment would be the removal of stimulation, but soon his partner was leaning down over him, breath hot against his ear as his teeth scraped the delicate lobe.
His voice was low and harsh. "I told you not to move. You disobeyed me." There was anger, of course, but it was laced with a slight tinge of disappointment that made him embarrassed for himself: he had failed his partner again. The guilting routine worked and soon he was close to opening his mouth and begging for forgiveness. His only saving grace was remembering the rules, knowing that breaking more rules would result in deprivation again.
"Recite the rules," his partner said, flicking his tongue against his ear. "One by one, then repeat. Do not stop until I tell you to." He swallowed thickly. Clearly that couldn't be his only punishment, but he supposed the nature of punishment was that the punishee didn't know all the cards that the punisher held.
He began with number one, voice slow and even. As he reached the word "point," he felt the dull pain of his partner entering him, cock hitting all the right spots as he started a gentle rhythm. He struggled to keep reciting the rules, tongue tripping over the words clumsily as his partner sped up and dug his fingers into the skin of his hips.
By the time he reached rule number five, his partner was leaning forward and sinking his teeth into the juncture of neck and shoulder, adding an upward tilt to his thrusts that had him nearly sobbing for want of release. He didn't dare ask him if he could come; it was a violation. He didn't dare move again: another violation. He was in trouble. What could he do? Anything to make it come faster, especially with his partner stopping and starting every few minutes and alternating the rhythms enough to drive him mad.
Finally, he had a solution. The safeword. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before and half-shouted and half-sobbed it, trembling in his attempts not to move.
"Wombat," he said. His partner paused for a moment and the only sound in the room was the pounding of his heart and his partner's laboured breathing.
"Wombat," he begged, "Wombat!" After the third time, his partner thrust into him deeply, cock sliding along inside him and causing every single nerve to fire at once. His voice was low as he leaned forward, sweat dripping off his nose to spatter across his own sweat-slicked skin.
"Come." And, like the good boy that he was, he did, biting down into the pillow to keep from making noise. His partner slid out of him and worked on releasing him from his bonds. Once done, he rolled him over and kissed him softly.
"I love you, Eric."
Well. His partner had never said that to him before. He decided that breaking the rules wasn't all that bad.
Author: cerieblue819
Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to House MD
Fandom: House MD
Medium: Television
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Eric Foreman/Robert Chase
Characters: Eric Foreman, Robert Chase
Theme: Q is for Quandary
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: BDSM
Author's Notes: Betaed by the lovely hawkeyecat
He was on his stomach, limbs stretched in some erotic mockery of Leonardo Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man and pondering just how exactly he'd wound up this way. It wasn't that he didn't trust his partner; he trusted him implicitly. It was the utter loss of control, the sheer ecstasy of being stretched and filled, the sobbing, aching, almost-palpable need that did him in.
He lay there for a few long minutes, not hearing even the breathing of his partner. However, he knew he couldn't call out; that was a clear violation of the rules. His partner was adamant about maintaining and enforcing a list of rules and regulations that pertained to these particular interludes, and he had been asked to sign his consent.
Rules of Engagement
1. You do not speak at any point, unless it is to utter the previously-assigned safeword.
2. You do not attempt to escape, even if ten or fifteen minutes pass without stimulation.
3. You do not attempt to self-stimulate under any circumstances.
4. You do not initiate sexual contact in any way, shape or fashion.
5. You come when I tell you to.
6. You do not speak of these interludes to anyone.
7. You do not mention these interludes to me in private unless I initiate.
8. After intercourse, you may not leave the bedroom until I give permission.
His partner liked to refer to them as the Eight Golden Rules. He was okay with most of them; it was number three that was giving him the most trouble at the moment. His partner had come back into the room, breathing deep and even. Judging by the volume, he was a good ten feet from the bed, and it was sheer torture to lie on the bed and not move. He longed to rub his cock against the soft sheets in order to obtain some sort of release, but that was a clear violation of rule number three.
Violation of the rules never had pleasant results. The last time it happened, his partner had deprived him of sex for a solid month until he felt that he'd atoned for his transgression. It had been agony, wanting even a simple kiss and being denied, but, as his partner said, rules were there to be enforced. And so he waited, hoping that he would endure the trial without showing weakness.
He perked up at the sound of footsteps, trying to keep from shuddering in his bonds when he felt his partner drag one long finger down his spine and along the cleft of his buttocks. He was painfully hard, but managed to keep from moving against the sheets.
"Good boy," his partner said softly, but the soft tone did nothing to hide the steel beneath. He moved again, going to the bedside table and removing the lube they usually kept there. His partner didn't do anything to ease the passage of his fingers as he perfunctorily slicked two up and slid them inside him, crooking them to find his prostate. His partner had to be proud: he hadn't made a single noise despite the fact that the other man's fingers were pressing into his prostate and making him impossibly hard.
He squirmed against the sheets when his partner added another finger and instantly all three fingers were removed: that was a direct violation of rule number three. At first, he thought that his only punishment would be the removal of stimulation, but soon his partner was leaning down over him, breath hot against his ear as his teeth scraped the delicate lobe.
His voice was low and harsh. "I told you not to move. You disobeyed me." There was anger, of course, but it was laced with a slight tinge of disappointment that made him embarrassed for himself: he had failed his partner again. The guilting routine worked and soon he was close to opening his mouth and begging for forgiveness. His only saving grace was remembering the rules, knowing that breaking more rules would result in deprivation again.
"Recite the rules," his partner said, flicking his tongue against his ear. "One by one, then repeat. Do not stop until I tell you to." He swallowed thickly. Clearly that couldn't be his only punishment, but he supposed the nature of punishment was that the punishee didn't know all the cards that the punisher held.
He began with number one, voice slow and even. As he reached the word "point," he felt the dull pain of his partner entering him, cock hitting all the right spots as he started a gentle rhythm. He struggled to keep reciting the rules, tongue tripping over the words clumsily as his partner sped up and dug his fingers into the skin of his hips.
By the time he reached rule number five, his partner was leaning forward and sinking his teeth into the juncture of neck and shoulder, adding an upward tilt to his thrusts that had him nearly sobbing for want of release. He didn't dare ask him if he could come; it was a violation. He didn't dare move again: another violation. He was in trouble. What could he do? Anything to make it come faster, especially with his partner stopping and starting every few minutes and alternating the rhythms enough to drive him mad.
Finally, he had a solution. The safeword. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before and half-shouted and half-sobbed it, trembling in his attempts not to move.
"Wombat," he said. His partner paused for a moment and the only sound in the room was the pounding of his heart and his partner's laboured breathing.
"Wombat," he begged, "Wombat!" After the third time, his partner thrust into him deeply, cock sliding along inside him and causing every single nerve to fire at once. His voice was low as he leaned forward, sweat dripping off his nose to spatter across his own sweat-slicked skin.
"Come." And, like the good boy that he was, he did, biting down into the pillow to keep from making noise. His partner slid out of him and worked on releasing him from his bonds. Once done, he rolled him over and kissed him softly.
"I love you, Eric."
Well. His partner had never said that to him before. He decided that breaking the rules wasn't all that bad.