Chapter 3: Greed (some NC-17 stuff)
(a/n: A lot of disabled people have shelves in their tub that they sit on when they take a shower. I don't remember actually seeing one on the show but it seems to me to be IC that House would have one.)
Late Friday afternoon. House would probably have gotten home from work by now. I knocked on the heavy wooden door to his place.
"Who is it?" I heard him yell from what sounded like one of the back rooms. He sounded very nervous.
"Oh, come in." He seemed relieved. I had reason to believe Wilson was still being abusive with him. I thought I was going to need to have another "little talk" with Wilson. And why was House's door unlocked? I opened it and walked in, locking all the locks behind me.
"House, where are you?"
"In the bathroom."
"Oh, OK, I can wait for you out here."
"No, come in and talk to me."
He was in the bathroom and he left his door unlocked?
I walked back into his bathroom and repressed a gasp. He had a black eye and a very strange-looking mark on his neck. He was lying in a hot bath and looked a little burned out.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"I got in a fight. Stupid." It didn't sound like he was calling me stupid, he said it more as if he were calling himself stupid, or saying the situation was stupid. He muttered something else under his breath that I didn't catch at all and looked ashamed.
"With who?" I knew Wilson pulled this shit but I wanted to see if House would tell me. "And what was it about?"
"WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS?!" he snarled, very loudly. I instinctively stepped backwards and slipped a little on soapy water on the floor.
"I shouldn't have asked you that. I'll let myself out," I said quietly, forcing myself to sound neutral.
He looked appalled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm such a bastard."
"Do you want me to leave?"
I barely heard him whisper, "No." Long pause. "But I don't want to talk about it, all right?"
"OK, and you're not a bastard." I kissed his forehead and he squeezed my hand, hard. "There any spot on your back you're having a hard time reaching?" I dropped to my knees next to the tub and grabbed a loofa.
"Yeah, right under my left shoulder blade." He shifted his weight, giving me access. "Little lower. Perfect."
After finishing this, I rolled up the sleeve of my sweater and plunged my arm into the water. "Wanna play spot the submarine?"
He chortled lecherously. "Mmmmmm, up periscope," as I stroked his dick and could feel him beginning to get an erection. Hell, if sex could help him forget his problems at least for a while... "Come on in here."
I undressed quickly, leaving on my jewelry, and climbed into the tub with him, careful not to bump into his bad leg. He thoroughly lathered his hands and began fondling me all over and I did the same, caressing him. He had the cuddliest, softest skin.
He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "If you sit on my shower shelf, I'll go down on you."
A thrill shot up my spine. He knows I love that.
I scooted my butt to the edge of the shower shelf a little cautiously. He grinned. "Don't worry, it's very sturdy, I've seen 400 pounds of cripple sit on those and not break them." I pushed my lips open with my fingers and he began to lick and kiss me, wriggling his big tongue against my clit and making me come over and over.
After I'd climaxed several times, he looked up at my face and said, "Let's go to my bedroom, I can't fuck in the tub, it'll make my leg hurt too much." He opened the drain to let the water out.
"And take off that damn ring, you're gonna snag my hair, you Aspergian klutz. I already have enough of a bald spot."
"I like your bald spot." I leaned forward and kissed it. "And I am not a klutz. Anyway, Patrick Stewart is bald and he's attractive."
"He's attractive because he's a charming talented British actor. And you are a klutz. I've seen you trip over nothing. You're more uncoordinated than a guy with a bum leg. Yoink!" And with that he made a lightning move with his arm, grabbed my ring--and promptly dropped it down the bathtub drain. "Oh, shit!"
He actually cowered, as if he thought I were going to hit him or something, and it broke my heart.
"House, I'm not mad! It was obviously an accident. Come on, let's go into your bedroom and make love, I still want to." I kissed him and he calmed down.
We not only wound up making love, we spent the weekend together, which I know is unusual for him, he likes his space.
I didn't see him again until the middle of Monday afternoon. I walked down the hall of the hospital after having done my volunteer work with some of the AIDS patients and I saw him talking with Wilson, and judging from their body language, it wasn't a friendly conversation.
I was not sure what to say, but House spoke first.
"You're not mad about that ring." He said it more like a statement than a question.
"It wasn't worth getting mad about, House." Wilson gave me a really dirty look. I ignored it.
That night I found a large sapphire and diamond ring in my purse.