House, M.D. -- Greg House/Brittany House -- Detailing
Title: Detailing
Fandom: House, M.D.
Pairing:Greg House/Brittany House (OC)
Word Count: 471
Prompt/Set: 5 Stages of Sexual Response -- Orgasm
Rating: R
Author's Note: Yay! Not late this week!
House laughs.
They're doing this again. She's sitting on his lap, his length buried in her, her breasts against his chest, her lips against his neck. He can feel the sheen of sweat on her skin.
"I'm going to have to get her detailed after this," He says, ducking the swat that gets him upside the head.
"You would think, Greg," She says, squirming happily before she braces her knees on plush leather and begins to move on him, smirking when he shudders and shuts the hell up. "That the fact that you're getting sex in the 'Vette would outweigh the need to get the seats cleaned."
"You would think." He snarks back, leaning up to kiss at her skin, wherever he can touch. He's always liked her on top -- less stress on his leg that way -- and when he's pressed against soft leather and he can see the stars above his head, it's even more erotic.
He's always had a thing for leather.
She leans down and bites at his neck. "That's for being an ass."
He reaches up and grabs hers. "And that's for having such a nice one."
She groans and he's laughing again.
This is what sex is supposed to be. Fun and wild and a little bit daring, and he's getting in on in the backseat of his vintage Corvette, listening to her breathing hard in his ear, loud enough to drown out whatever is on the radio.
"I can't believe we're doing this," She whispers, an almost devious hint in her tone.
He braces his feet on the floor and presses his hips up towards hers. "That help?"
She moans and lurches forward, clinging to him. "Help what?"
"Your disbelief."
"Ass."
"You know you love it."
"Well, duh." She replies, reaching down and slipping her hands past leather to grab his this time. "With it being so sexy and all."
Now it's his turn to groan and he does, feeling heat rush to his groin with each beat of his heart. She smirks and leans in to kiss him, lips pressing hard against his own.
He's in the middle of kissing her back when she tears her mouth from his and gasps in a breath, and it all goes downhill from there, a few rapid thrusts down onto him and then she grabs him and holds on tight.
His name leaves her lips in a practical cry, and he's only a second behind her, holding her tight, groaning as his eyes want to roll back in his head with the force of it all.
She speaks first.
"Holy, fuck."
"I'm not God," He says, breath coming hard. "But that was a fuck."
She looks at him and smirks, and then she's laughing, her face burrowed in his chest. He laughs too, and keeps her close, keeps her warm.
"I'm definitely going to need to detail the seats."
"Shut up, Greg."
"Make me."
Two seconds later, she's kissing him again.
Fandom: House, M.D.
Pairing:Greg House/Brittany House (OC)
Word Count: 471
Prompt/Set: 5 Stages of Sexual Response -- Orgasm
Rating: R
Author's Note: Yay! Not late this week!
House laughs.
They're doing this again. She's sitting on his lap, his length buried in her, her breasts against his chest, her lips against his neck. He can feel the sheen of sweat on her skin.
"I'm going to have to get her detailed after this," He says, ducking the swat that gets him upside the head.
"You would think, Greg," She says, squirming happily before she braces her knees on plush leather and begins to move on him, smirking when he shudders and shuts the hell up. "That the fact that you're getting sex in the 'Vette would outweigh the need to get the seats cleaned."
"You would think." He snarks back, leaning up to kiss at her skin, wherever he can touch. He's always liked her on top -- less stress on his leg that way -- and when he's pressed against soft leather and he can see the stars above his head, it's even more erotic.
He's always had a thing for leather.
She leans down and bites at his neck. "That's for being an ass."
He reaches up and grabs hers. "And that's for having such a nice one."
She groans and he's laughing again.
This is what sex is supposed to be. Fun and wild and a little bit daring, and he's getting in on in the backseat of his vintage Corvette, listening to her breathing hard in his ear, loud enough to drown out whatever is on the radio.
"I can't believe we're doing this," She whispers, an almost devious hint in her tone.
He braces his feet on the floor and presses his hips up towards hers. "That help?"
She moans and lurches forward, clinging to him. "Help what?"
"Your disbelief."
"Ass."
"You know you love it."
"Well, duh." She replies, reaching down and slipping her hands past leather to grab his this time. "With it being so sexy and all."
Now it's his turn to groan and he does, feeling heat rush to his groin with each beat of his heart. She smirks and leans in to kiss him, lips pressing hard against his own.
He's in the middle of kissing her back when she tears her mouth from his and gasps in a breath, and it all goes downhill from there, a few rapid thrusts down onto him and then she grabs him and holds on tight.
His name leaves her lips in a practical cry, and he's only a second behind her, holding her tight, groaning as his eyes want to roll back in his head with the force of it all.
She speaks first.
"Holy, fuck."
"I'm not God," He says, breath coming hard. "But that was a fuck."
She looks at him and smirks, and then she's laughing, her face burrowed in his chest. He laughs too, and keeps her close, keeps her warm.
"I'm definitely going to need to detail the seats."
"Shut up, Greg."
"Make me."
Two seconds later, she's kissing him again.