Disclaimer: As usual, they're not mine. I'm just having a bit of fun.
Author's Note: Since some people seem to think I'm just good at smut…here's a bit of smut. Hope everyone enjoys it. In addition, this is probably going to be a one-shot unless a butt load of people think I should make it longer.
"Oh, you're such a wuss!" comes the sweet, but loud voice of Allison Cameron. She, Foreman and Chase were all at her apartment drinking. They'd just solved a hard case and House was being his usual asinine self, so they decided drinking at one of their places would be the best and safest way to blow off steam.
Putting down a 60 cc syringe that had previously been with pineapple jell-o and Malibu rum, Foreman glares at his only female fellow, well, fellow.
"I am not a wuss! You made it stronger than yours!" Foreman calls to Cameron over the loud music.
"Oh please!" Chase chimes in, taking a swig from a can of Foster's beer. "It can't be any worse than the one she gave me!" he exclaims.
"Okay, okay, you both suck! I'll do two straight shots. One shot will be Malibu rum the other José Gold. Any complaints?" she asks, a slender brow perked at the two men.
"Fifty bucks says she barfs," Foreman says, looking at Chase.
"I'll be glad to take your money," he replies, making Cameron laugh.
"I bet you both a thousand bucks I can drink you under the table," she says, downing one shot then the other, letting out a loud "WHOO!" as she slams the shot glasses down on the island that separates her kitchen and dining room.
"So, you two think you can take my money? Or are you too chicken?" she asks, a mischievous smile on her lips.
Three hours later and Chase is passed out on the couch. Cameron and Foreman are busy giving him a make over, still drinking. Foreman seemed determined to win, but he was struggling with every swallow of liquid.
They had barely finished Chase's new look when Foreman made a mad dash to the bathroom to wretch up everything in his stomach.
When he emerges, Cameron has an Aspirin waiting for him with just a small bit of water to wash it down with.
"Sign this," she says softly, having turned the music down to where it could be barely heard.
"What is it?" he asks, blinking his blurry eyes to try to focus on the paper.
"It's saying that I drank you and Chase under the table and that you both owe me a thousand bucks," she says, smiling and giggling at the groan that comes from Foreman. He signs it as best he can, then goes to the recliner in her living room and stretches out, quickly falling asleep.
An hour later and Cameron is in her bedroom, pacing back and forth, her phone clutched in her left hand while her right one curls up in the excess purple fabric of the Motley Crü e shirt she's wearing. She sighs and goes to her door, careful not to let the hinges creak as she exits the bedrooms to sneak down her own hallway.
Yes, it was stupid, but she didn't want Foreman or Chase to wake up and catch her. She'd been so careful for the last four months not to let anyone know what was going on. She needed him right now though and she was in no condition to drive.
As she enters the living room, she nearly screams as her phone vibrates in her hand. Looking at the caller ID, she flips the phone open, a small scowl on her face.
"Where the hell are you?" she asks, her voice hushed but still forceful.
"Where the hell do you think I'm at? I'm at your front door. You used the deadbolt," comes a deep, gruff voice.
"Oops," she says, giggling a little and tiptoeing to the door of her apartment to twist the deadbolt and open the door, revealing herself to the man covered in shadows.
"Christ, Cam," he groans, slipping into the light of her apartment. He's dressed in a tight fitting, heather grey tee and black jeans that show off his ass perfectly. "What'd you three do in here?" he asks, picking up the strong scent of alcohol and fruit.
"Jell-O shots," she says, grinning and flipping her phone closed before pulling him with her to the kitchen. There were some syringes with various flavors of Jell-O and various liquors in them.
"Want one?" she asks, offering him a syringe with blue Jell-O and God knows what kind of liquor.
"No thanks. Jell-O shots aren't for people my mmmph!" he cries, his lips closing around the syringe that's suddenly shoved into his mouth.
Cameron pushes down the plunger, injecting the mixture into her secret lover's mouth. He groans and rolls his eyes, but swallows nonetheless.
"You're evil," he says, smirking at her. "And that was actually pretty good. Berries and bananas," he says, picking up a red one and looking at it. "Say 'Ah'," he says, then pushes it into her mouth and repeats the process she'd just preformed for him.
After a few shots and Chase falling off the couch but not waking up, House decided it was time they went to the bedroom. First, he got a picture of Chase with gaudy blue and pink eye shadow, black mascara on his eyelashes and bright red lipstick.
"That's good blackmail stuff there," he says, grinning and e-mailing the pictures to himself from his phone. Gotta love today's technology.
Once inside the bedroom, Cameron wastes no time in closing and locking the door behind them. House wastes no time in pressing her against said door and nearly kissing the breath out of her.
"Mmm," she moans softly, her eyes lids half open as she looks at him, normally green eyes more grey now that they're laced with passion, lust and even love. "I love it when you do that," she pants softly, her nails clawing at his chest through his shirt.
This gets a growl from the diagnostician, not to mention a sly smile. "And I love it when you do that," he says, then picks her up just enough for her to wrap her legs around his hips. He was so glad he'd popped two Vicodin when he'd dialed her number. They were working wonderfully, and the alcohol sure as hell wasn't hurting him.
"Not that I don't love seeing you in my shirt, but it's gotta go," he says, pulling it off her and then pulling his own off. It's only when he lets his shirt drop to the floor that he realizes that the woman in his arms isn't been wearing any panties.
"What? A woman can't go commando?" she asks, and he just smiles, a thick finger pushing into her folds before she can wipe the smug smile from her own lips.
"GREG!" she cries out, her body arching and flushing as his index finger makes a 'come here' motion inside her, his long pianist fingers quickly and easily finding her G-spot. He eases off, letting his thumb rub small, soft circles into her clit as she whimpers and pivots her hips against his hand.
"Greg…please," she whines, her eyes still only open half way.
"Oh, I don't know. Have you been a good girl?" he asks, adding a bit of pressure to her clit, making her gasp.
"Aaah! Ooh, yes. I won a bet with the boys in the living room and got a grand from each of them," she says, rocking down into him, trying to get more pressure.
"A grand each, huh? My, but you are a fast learner," he says, giving her the pressure she's obviously craving. He knows she can feel the bulge in his jeans against her ass, so he grinds into her a bit. This makes them both moan.
"Stop being such a damned tease, Greg. I need you in me so bad," she whispers, levering herself forward and kissing him deeply. Her arms crisscrossed over his shoulders blades, gripping the tops of his shoulders while her tongue plunges into his mouth, tasting him and exploring ever nook and cranny she can find, even though she knows them all by heart.
When they pull away from the kiss, House can't help himself. He presses her into the door with his chest and quickly undoes his jeans, lowering the zipper and letting out a low, vibrating groan as his cock springs free of its denim prison. After a moment, he pushes his jeans and boxers down and with a single hard thrust, he's in her tight, velvety sheath.
"Holy hell, Allison," he grunts as he rocks into her.
"I know," she gasps, her body gripping his as she rocks back against him, her body already starting to lightly spasm. "H-How do you d-do that to m-meeeee?! Aah! Greg!" she moans loudly.
"I…nnnngggh!" he groans, leaning his head into her shoulder, his mouth wrapping around the skin for a few moments. "I don't know…but you do the same goddamned thing to me," he grunts, then kisses her deeply. He could feel her inner muscles rippling and from the stinging on his shoulder, her nails had broken through the skin and sweat was slowly seeping into the crescent moon shaped marks.
"Look at me," he says sternly, his left hand moving to jerk her chin down so they're eye to eye. "I want to see you when you fall apart. I want you to know you're mine and I'm yours," he pants, his thrusts starting to become more and more erratic.
"G-Greg…" she moans, her eyes barely open, but focused on his. Then she can't help herself, she screams out his name as she hit's a mind-blowing orgasm, her inner muscles gripping and milking his cock.
House grits his teeth, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he keeps thrusting; the look of total surrender on his lover's face along with the feel of her orgasm pushes him over the edge and into a bright, white light of ecstasy.
Ten minutes later they're laying in her bed. Both are still nude, not wanting to miss a second of skin to skin contact. His right arm moves a bit, letting his hand stroke up from the sexy curve of her hip up to the swell of her breast, then back down. He knew she was so close to sleep she could probably taste it, but that was okay. He was too. Pulling the sheet and blanket up over them, Greg House smiles and curls up to his lover, kissing the back of her neck, both of them basking in the glow of their orgasms and their emotions,. Even though neither had told the other the three words that confirmed it, they both knew they loved each other. Neither was bother by the fact that they hadn't said the words, though, so they just lived life one day at a time and enjoyed each others company.