If I can’t have you, no one else can
Chat I’m cooking up a male version, just give me a few days
“Are you…” Your voice trailed off in pure disbelief. “Are you hard right now?”
“God forbid a white boy catch a vibe,” he shot right back, unable to help making that cheeky jab. He looked mightily proud of himself, still oozing smug confidence from every pore on his body.
“House, this is serious!” You shoved him back in his office chair, your anger flaring up anew. “You nearly killed Chase, and for what reason?”
“Just to see you,” he stated so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that it took you very much aback. “What, I can’t have a favourite in a team?”
“You? You like people?” You laughed incredulously, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure I did fent in my sleep and am now hallucinating this entire thing.”
“I don’t like you.” House was quick to deny this statement, picking his ball up from the table and beginning his usual rhythm of tossing it at the ball, back and forth. It was slow, calculated, predicted. “I find you… mm, interesting. Like a new strain of bacteria in a petri dish.”
“You say with a hard on.” You casted a pointed glance at the bulge in his pants, which he ignored without so much as a reaction. “I didn’t think you could get your old man dick up.”
“You’re an idiot.” He leaned his head over the backrest of his swivel chair, spreading his legs shamelessly. He didn’t even bother to try and get his raging boner down.
You scoffed, hopping off of his desk and advancing towards him. “You’re a sick bastard, House.”
“Yeah, yeah, and no one can cure me and whatnot.” His baby blue eyes seemed to stare right past you as his hand pulled back to chuck the ball. You caught it in the middle of its trajectory, proceeding to drop it on the carpeted floor.
“You’re right. No one can cure you.” You threw his words back at his face with pronounced emphasis. With a deliberate, leisurely pace, you neared his seat and planted your hands on the hard plastic handles. “But… I can fuck you. Maybe that’ll calm you down.”
His eyes widened in surprise, just for a fraction of a second, before they squeezed shut in slight mirth. “Let’s see if you do a better job than my Vicodin.”
You needed no further prompting.
Like a cat, you pounced on him. You climbed on and straddled his lap, mindful of his scarred leg, tilting his head back to press kisses on the sensitive skin of his neck. In response to this attack, his large hands grasped at your waist, mapping out every curve he could reach.
Low moans spilled from his lips, gravelly with unfiltered lust. You could feel your white coat being forcibly stripped off your body, even as you peppered kiss after kiss on his jumping pulse. Quickly, your coat and blouse were discarded, tossed carelessly over his shoulder, leaving you only in your bra.
You’d felt particularly adventurous today, sporting a matching set consisting of a black lace-trimmed bra with a tiny bow perched in the middle. You made a mental note to thank your lucky stars.
“Come on, old man. Are you just gonna sit there and gawk?” You attempted to goad him into quickening his pace, hands steadying themselves on his broad shoulders. He laughed breathily, reaching behind your back to fumble with and unhook the clasps of your bra.
“Let me savour this, you impatient slut. I’ve been waiting months,” he rasped out. His focus snapped to your bare breasts as soon as the fabric fell away, forgotten on the ground. With unhurried movements, he trailed his hands up your body, softly rubbing the stiffening peaks. High-pitched mewls dripped from your mouth, feeding his already inflated ego and his stirring cock.
“House,” you whimpered in a small voice, tugging at his short brunette hair eagerly, nails scratching at his scalp. “I’ve been waiting too. Fuck me—”
“Shut up,” he snarled, breath shaking ever so slightly. He stumbled to his feet with his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, bending over and sandwiching you between his body and the desk. In doing so, medical textbooks and ornaments were sent flying haphazardly. You would deal with the mess later, you registered faintly through the haze of desire.
He zeroed in on your neck, leaning down to suck large, tacky hickeys on your skin— knowing that you would have no way to conceal the dark purple bruises, eventually trailing his lips down to your collarbones. All the while, you let out hungry little moans, urging him to go faster, hands tangled in his hair.
“Jesus,” he muttered, finally giving in to your nonverbal pleas. Your panties were swiftly shimmied off and tucked safely in his trouser pocket, then his belt was unbuckled…
You watched in tense anticipation, practically salivating as he shifted his jeans down juuust enough for his cock to spring out, an angry shade of rose with pre beading at the tip. Fully erect, a proud— what was that, six inches? you guessed, your gaze tracing a pulsing vein running down the side. Lord, it’s big. How’s it gonna fit?
A smirk graced House’s lip as he noticed your staring. “You like what you see?” he drawled, enveloping his dick in one hand and giving it a few slow, deliberate pumps, spreading pre down his length. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, mind already flashing with mental images of how many times that thing could wreck you.
“You wish, old man,” you managed to choke out, forcing yourself to avert your eyes, heat blooming on your cheeks at being caught staring. “I’ve seen better.”
“That so?” He maintained his leisurely self-assured tone while he stroked himself. His sharp baby blues didn’t miss the way your hips squirmed ever so slightly, the way your thighs tensed, or the way your pupils dilated just a bit.
He laughed to himself, letting go of his cock and bringing his stained hand to your partially agape mouth. “Open up, and suck.”
Heat crawled up your neck, white-hot flames of shame licking at your flesh. “House, I’m not a dog—”
“You were moaning for my cock like a bitch in heat,” he reminded you in a low growl. His fingers nudged insistently at your bottom lip. “Open up, and. Suck.”
Left with no choice, you were forced to swallow your pride and gingerly take his middle and ring fingers in your mouth, whimpering at the mildly salty and sweet taste of his pre flooding your senses. A low groan clawed its way from the back of his throat as he watched you like a hawk with half-lidded eyes.
“Doing well there,” he commented in a raspy voice, observing the way you covered his fingers in a thin sheen of spit, just as he had intended. Good girl.
He withdrew his hand. A thin string of saliva connected the tip of your tongue with his fingers. You were panting, chest heaving up and down in intense anticipation. He adored the way you looked so nervous, somewhat unsure of his next movements. It caused this giddy feeling to course through his veins, making him feel lighter than he had in weeks.
Hmm, she really did do a better job than my Vicodin already.
“Relax. It’s gonna hurt just a little, but try to relax,” House spoke hoarsely. Taking great care, and holding one of your trembling thighs down with his free hand, he slipped his middle finger inside your pussy. Gauging your reaction by your high-pitched whines, he pushed in further, wishing desperately he had more hands.
“That’s right.” Waiting for your shaking to calm down a bit, he began to pump his finger in and out, groaning at the warm, soaking wet feeling. “Holy shit, clenching so fucking tight,” he whispered, watching in slight awe as you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut with pleasure, breathless moans falling freely from your lips.
He pushed his lubricated second finger in your sopping wet cunt, having to push down your spasming thigh harder to prevent your legs from closing. “Calm down,” he reprimanded you lightly, making you whine out a soft apology. His fingers curled deliciously inside you, sending sharp jolts of electricity shooting up your spine. White-hot pleasure bloomed, the knot in your lower abdomen coiling and tightening, threatening to snap.
“House!” you cried out, your nails scratching at his shoulders in a desperate endeavour to ground yourself. You were so, so close to cumming, just a little more, oh God, yes, right there—!
A loud wail of frustration tore itself from the very bottom of your soul, your release cruelly denied by House swiftly pulling his fingers away at the last second. The ecstasy of your impending orgasm was quickly fading away, much to your despair.
“What the hell was that?” you demanded, glaring at him with irritation written all over your face.
“If you’re gonna cum at all, it’s gonna be around my cock.” His voice rumbled deep in his chest, practically purring like a happy cat. His hands trailed up your body to settle on your plush hips, squeezing them borderline reverently.
“Alright, I’m gonna put it in, okay?” he murmured, carefully lining up his throbbing cock up with your slick, puffy entrance, nudging at it. “Biiig stretch, just like that, mhmm.”
“Hou— House! Unngh, ah, oh, fuck…!” Your cries rose in pitch. His dick filled you up gloriously, inch by girthy inch. Accompanied by the thick fog of pure pleasure was a tinge of pain at such a big strain.
“Just put it in, doll. You never got dick this big before?” he snarked, leaning down to give your neck a harsh nip. Despite his feigned nonchalance, he was running through all of the diseases he possibly knew in alphabetic order, trying desperately not to cum right then and there. “Either your game was ass or you’re faking it. Which one is it, hmm?”
“S-shut up, House,” you gasped out, your arms around his neck quivering lightly. Pride lit a bright fire in his chest, deeply pleased with himself for having reduced you to a shaky mess, even though he’d barely done anything at all.
“S-s-shut up, House,” he mocked you, slowly withdrawing his hips, causing you to whine at the empty feeling. His cock slammed back inside to the hilt, right up against your g-spot.
Rough grunts and soft moans filled the air, along with the lewd skin slapping against skin. Even though it was late and there was likely no one around to catch you, you still tried your best to keep your voice down to a minimum.
House tutted in disapproval, his cock driving deeper in your cunt like he was trying to impale you on it. “Nuh-uh, let me hear that voice. Didn’t wait all this time for nothing.”
Your moans got progressively louder when he quickened his pace, grazing your g-spot perfectly with every calculated stroke. “Ahn, oh, God, House!”
“That’s right. Scream my name,” he muttered in absolute satisfaction, one hand trailing downwards to rub circles on your swollen clit. It had been practically begging for his attention for a while now. “Scream my fucking name. Who does this pussy belong to, huh? Who? Louder, I can’t hear you.”
Your eyes squeezed shut in mortification as you just about wailed his name, your obscene cries reverberating off the gleaming white walls. “You, you! My— my pussy belongs to you! House!”
“That’s right.” A dark sense of gratification curled in his chest, settling there and blooming alongside his pride. He watched you squirm with every brutal thrust, your attempts at escaping the relentless stimulation pretty cute. “Never got dick this good, huh? Those little frat boys can’t fucking please you like I can.”
“You’re such a— a cocky bastard,” you panted out through eager moans. Ecstasy surged through your veins in a tidal wave, senses completely overwhelmed.
“A cocky bastard who— who’s making you cum on his cock,” he panted, smugness rolling off of him in waves. His thumb applied just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, his aim to try and coax you over the edge. “Cum for me, cum on my fucking cock.”
Your back arched off the table with a loud squeal of “House!” He groaned, collapsing with his face hidden in your neck and biting down hard on your marked up skin. You’re soaking wet cunt was clenching and spasming around his pulsing dick, milking him for every drop he could give you.
I should have pulled out. The thought crossed his mind faintly, muffled through the mist of delirium. I’ll deal with it later.
“You good?” he asked gruffly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. He genuinely cared about your wellbeing, even if his spiky exterior and infamous reputation wouldn’t let him admit it.
“Yeah… I’m fine,” you confirmed in a winded sigh, your hands creeping from his shoulders to drape around his neck. You could feel his cock softening inside, and you let out a groan of dismay.
“You should’ve pulled out,” you scolded him, which earned you a scoff.
“You’re warm, and I didn’t want to. It’s basically your fault,” he argued, even now making zero efforts to actually move at all.
You rolled your eyes, deciding to drop the matter. You were on birth control anyway.
He dipped his head down to the column on your neck, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to every bruise he’d left behind. You both basked in the quiet glow of post-orgasmic bliss, your hands absentmindedly combing through his hair.
… until he spoke up again.
LAWD this was hard to write</3 lowk my first time writing actual smut, so let me know how I did :]
