I'm so horny. But that's ok. My will is good.
Who: Derek Morgan, Martha Jones, Jim Kirk, House, Debra Morgan, open
What: The calvary coming in after Poltergeist meets The Shining with a side of viagara
Where: Room 1D (Derek's room in the boarding house)
When: Day 39
Derek groaned. His libido was only temporarily subdued by the concussion he suffered getting pulled back into the room. It felt as if someone had lassoed him around the hips with a bungee cord. He returned through the window in the reverse order that he had gone out, as if someone had rewound the moment.
The back of his head met the plaster of the wall with a loud thump. He was covered in lacerations and needed to thank his lucky stars that boxers were made of heavy duty cotton during the fifties. Blood trickled from a deep laceration over his right brow. Shards of glass were embedded in scattered areas of his brow, shoulders and arms.
Yet the only thought in his mind was the scent of Martha in the room. His throbbing head and stinging skin didn't lessen his want in the slightest. He continued to hear his journal among the ringing in his ears. It was fucking with his mind something terrible. Derek wasn't sure if Deb answered him. God, the last thing he needed was a whiff of her scent. PLEASE GOD! Martha needed to get the hell out of his room.
West could do whatever he wanted to him. Morgan would be damned if he raped a woman. Figuratively and literally. He roughly brushed his palms off over the tops of his knees, wiping off some of the glass and pushing some if it in further. The pain was only a minor distraction. His pulse was racing and the primal urge started rising synchronously once more.
"Get out," he moaned gruffly in a breathless voice. "Christ, Woman. Get the hell out." His eyes were dark with want even as blood nearly ran into his right eye. Logic screamed that he remain on the ground but his body slowly pulled upright. His breaths were pronounced but not at the fast pace his heart pounded within his chest.
What: The calvary coming in after Poltergeist meets The Shining with a side of viagara
Where: Room 1D (Derek's room in the boarding house)
When: Day 39
Derek groaned. His libido was only temporarily subdued by the concussion he suffered getting pulled back into the room. It felt as if someone had lassoed him around the hips with a bungee cord. He returned through the window in the reverse order that he had gone out, as if someone had rewound the moment.
The back of his head met the plaster of the wall with a loud thump. He was covered in lacerations and needed to thank his lucky stars that boxers were made of heavy duty cotton during the fifties. Blood trickled from a deep laceration over his right brow. Shards of glass were embedded in scattered areas of his brow, shoulders and arms.
Yet the only thought in his mind was the scent of Martha in the room. His throbbing head and stinging skin didn't lessen his want in the slightest. He continued to hear his journal among the ringing in his ears. It was fucking with his mind something terrible. Derek wasn't sure if Deb answered him. God, the last thing he needed was a whiff of her scent. PLEASE GOD! Martha needed to get the hell out of his room.
West could do whatever he wanted to him. Morgan would be damned if he raped a woman. Figuratively and literally. He roughly brushed his palms off over the tops of his knees, wiping off some of the glass and pushing some if it in further. The pain was only a minor distraction. His pulse was racing and the primal urge started rising synchronously once more.
"Get out," he moaned gruffly in a breathless voice. "Christ, Woman. Get the hell out." His eyes were dark with want even as blood nearly ran into his right eye. Logic screamed that he remain on the ground but his body slowly pulled upright. His breaths were pronounced but not at the fast pace his heart pounded within his chest.