misanthrope_md | for Pamela

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pamela

for Pamela

It was a short walk to House's hut (previously Cameron's hut) as he certainly hadn't been about to park his bike somewhere far away. He'd been right, he wasn't having trouble walking - in fact, being high made it a bit easier since his leg wasn't throbbing like usual. He and Pamela kept up their usual banter on the way, but mostly it was him making blind jokes and innuendos - she didn't seem to mind.

When they got there, he said, "Home sweet home. Here's the tour: bed is five paces straight in front of you."

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She starts slow, but that doesn't last long. She's had too many lovers over too many years, and Pamela holds nothing back. She's doing it for herself, eager to try to come again. The fact that he's going to lose his mind is just an added bonus.

"C'mon, baby," she gasps. "Not gonna break me. Fuck me. Make me come." It sounds like a challenge...but it might be the easiest challenge of his life.

"Jesus Christ, woman, I already did that once," House ground out, but there was obvious humor in his voice. He thrust up hard into her and dug his fingers hard into her waist before bringing one hand up to cup her breast.

Pamela chuckles between gasping breaths, and leans forward into his hand.

"Do it again," she growls, already so close that the slight change of angle makes her buck and shake. "Shit...ohshit...God, yes, that..."

"Fuck," House gasps, "fuck..." He's getting close himself, starting to get into that eyes rolling into the back of his head stage.

He's impressed that he has the presence of mind at this point to think of it, but he removes his hand from her breast and shoves it between her legs where they're connected, managing to slide his fingers against her clit even as his cock thrusts in and out of her.

She practically screams as she shudders with the force of it. Her rhythm slows but she doesn't stop, riding him in time with the waves. Her whole body rocks with it and she's panting and gasping. Her hair is all over the place, she can tell, and she's broken a sweat. Just how it should be, she thinks.

"Come on," she manages to say. "Come in me. Fuck me, baby. Come on."

She doesn't have to ask twice. Hell, she didn't have to ask at all. House is on his way as soon as she comes, and he gasps and groans and grasps her waist to ground himself as he comes.

When it's over he goes limp back on the bed and has the amusing thought that it's probably a good thing she couldn't see his orgasm face.

She drops down to lay on top of him, her breath hitching as he begins to slip free. Her hand shoots down instantly to hold on so the condom doesn't slip off. She's way too old to get the clap now.

"Holy shit, Grumpy," she says, smiling against his shoulder. "That was just what I needed."

House at least has the good manners to extract the condom and dispose of it (since who knows where it would end up if she tried to), but then wraps and arm around her and sighs.

"Yeah, me too," he says. "And you can call me Greg. I've got this rule that anyone who sees me naked - well, hmm. Maybe you should just stick with Grumpy then." He smirked.

"Love that you can't lay off the blind jokes, even now," she laughs, too spent to move, much less punch him just a little. She sighs, content to simply lay still for a while.

"Greg, huh? I suppose I could call you Greg since I've done a hell of a lot more than see you naked."

"Sure, you're allowed," he said, and yawned. "Most people here call me House. Or 'hey asshole.' Or 'that guy that Jack used to fuck.'"

"Hey asshole," she tries out, then shakes her head. "Nah. I'll stick with Grumpy. It's got a lot more class." She keeps it straight for a second, then laughs a little more before she starts to get up.

"Hand me my glasses, will ya? And my clothes, I guess." They're done. She's sure she's got no reason to wear out her welcome.

He reached over and plucked her glasses of the nightstand and handed them to her. "Not that I don't appreciate a girl who'll fuck and run," he said, "but don't think you have to." He sat up so that he could scoop up her panties and hand them to her.

"I really do have a guitar."

"You really do, huh?" she replies, turning the panties until she finds the tag and can put them on properly. "How about I get dressed and you can play me something. I don't feel like hanging out in my birthday suit."

"I really do. My musical prowess is one of my few endearing qualities. In fact, I'm impressed that I got you into bed before breaking it out."

He got up so that he could hand her the rest of her clothes, and pulled on his boxers as well before limping over to where his guitar case was leaning against the wall.

Pamela is a sight to see, she's sure, dressing herself. It's a process of touching, turning, and feeling her way around her own clothes to make sure she's putting them on right. She skips her bra...it's not like she really needs it. She pulls on her jeans and does them up, then makes herself comfy on the bed.

"Okay. Impress me," she says, expecting some kind of John Denver bullshit...but she's always willing to listen.

House sat back on the bed with the guitar, informing her, "You'll just have to trust me that it's a bitchin' looking guitar."

He thought for a second about what to play, and then finally settled on the opening lick from "Crazy on You." After all, it was a chick song from a chick band. Total panty peeler. Okay, and it was a bad-ass song too.

She tilts her head, chin lifted a little. He's not bad. Actually...he's really fucking good. And bonus points for not playing some folk song. She smiles and gives him a round of soft applause when he finishes.

"Color me impressed, Doc. You're a man of many talents."

"I'm good with my hands," House said, a hint of lewdness to his tone.

"I play the piano, too. Oh, and you know, perform surgery and shit."

"Nice," she says, suitably impressed. "Nice to know you're all humble and shit. Music, medicine, sex...anything you don't do?"

"Yup," House said seriously. "Run."

She tilts her head and shrugs. "Neither do I. Here... gimme that guitar. I think I can still figure out a couple chords."

House carefully handed her the guitar, being sure to turn it the right way. "Careful with it," he said. "I've got few pleasures left these days."

"Oh, relax," she tells him as she settles it in her lap and takes a few practice chords and strums it lightly. Once she has her bearings, she busts out a simple tune, just three chords that could be anything...until she starts to sing along.

"Twenty twenty twenty-four hours to go-oh
I wanna be sedated..."

House couldn't help but grin when she started singing. "Nice," he said, sounding amused. "I see you're good with your hands too."

"I don't know about that," she laughs. "I just know the Ramones."

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