Trust and Control

by starhawk2005

Cameron lets House have full control over her. Note this is an unfinished WIP.

2. Chapter 2: Switch

Trust and Control, Chapter 2: Switch

Author: starhawk2005

Summary: Cameron decides 'gentlemen prefer dommes'….even if they don't want to admit it at first.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. I do own rope, but that's neither here nor there.
Special thanks to: My S.O. for his usual support, and to katakombs for many fruitful discussions on Cam and House and their possible motivations, which has undeniably affected how I write them.
Author note: Since I'm conveniently ignoring the Arrival of Stacy in this fic, and the events in this series don't quite fit with Cam's 'You couldn't love me' speech in the 'Honeymoon' ep, I think I'm going to go back on my original claim that this could fit into canon, and just say to consider this AU.

The morning after House had tied her up and given her the sex of her life, she woke up to find him making breakfast.

She put on her clothes from the day before, and sauntered into the kitchen to join him. They sat across from each other at the table, eating and reading snippets of the paper to each other. Well, this is all very domestic…and weird. But in a good way, Allison thought. Not how she might have expected a 'morning-after' with Greg House to go…

It was more in keeping with what she might have expected when House closed the paper in a business-like manner, and then fixed those gorgeous cerulean eyes of his on her.

"It probably goes without saying that I want to see you again…but then again, I'm not exactly a traditional guy, and we didn't exactly start this relationship in a traditional fashion, so some clarification seems in order."

"Certainly can't hurt." Allison replied, smiling at him.

He put on his thoughtful face for a moment. "Come to think of it, you're not exactly a traditional girl – there aren't too many women out there who would demand that their boss date them, in order for them to come back to work." A small, teasing grin on his face.

"Don't remind me," she said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Not wanting the reminder of the unpleasantness she'd had to go through, to get to this point.

House surprised her by reaching across the table and touching her hand. "Sorry," he said, his voice a little softer, reminding her of how he had spoken to her when he'd had her helpless last night. "That night, our 'date', when I said those things to you….I was projecting." And then he got that teasing look on his face again. "They do teach the concept of projection in first-year psych these days, don't they?"

Allison shook her head, smiling. She was sure her first-year psych prof would have a lot to say about a man who could only be consistently soft and caring – and snark-free – while he had his girlfriends tied up and defenseless – but she didn't say that to Greg. Just an amused "Yes," in response to his question.

They sat there for a moment, both looking at their hands on the table, his larger one covering hers.

"This time, however," Greg began, and although his voice was light again, she could hear a note of tension in it. "I'd suggest no bragging to Foreman or Chase."

It was amazing how quickly her emotions could change in his presence, from happy and relaxed to ashamed. She remembered how she had smugly told Chase and Foreman that she'd gotten House to take her on a date as a condition of her return. She still didn't know, even now, why she had done that. Overconfidence?

Well, she wasn't going to do that again, that's for sure. They had almost keeled over in shock at the thought that she might actually date House….they'd probably have a heart-attack and die right on the spot if they found out what she and Greg had done last night. "I'm sorry," she said to Greg. "I shouldn't have said anything to them before our date, I don't even know why-"

He held his hand up, stopping her. "Don't apologize, just learn from it. That's all I ask."

He picked up the paper again. And she thought their discussion was over.

But then he asked, in that quiet soft voice again (his gaze locked on his paper, however, as if the question was of no consequence), "Are you OK with what we did last night?"

Allison wasn't fooled, though. He might not be making eye contact, but the tone of his voice, just like before, gave away the depth of what he was feeling. "More than OK," she said. "I hope we get to do it again sometime."

He glanced over his paper at her, that predatory look briefly crossing his face again. "Count on it, Dr. Cameron."

Sunday night, two nights after their little tie-up session. Alli was feeling very glad that it had taken place on a Friday night, because she had been unable to concentrate on anything else for the entire weekend. Even though they hadn't seen each other since Saturday morning.

She kept remembering how it had felt to be bound and blind and helpless. Remembered how he had teased her mercilessly one minute, and been gentle the next. Remembered how soft his voice had gotten when he'd been checking if she was OK. Thank God she'd had the weekend to process this stuff and get it out of her system. If we'd done that on a weeknight, she thought, with an internal grin, I would've been completely useless to the team for the rest of the week.

She was having enough trouble now, though, trying to focus on the problem of work. Obviously, she wanted to act in front of the PPTH community as if nothing at all had happened between her and House. But she also didn't feel much need to be dressing in formless clothes and forgoing her make-up any longer. So she decided to phase that stuff back in, starting with dropping the schoolmarm-ish hairstyles and wearing tighter tops, first, and then slowly work the makeup and more stylish clothes back in again. Hopefully everyone (except Cuddy and Foreman, of course) would remain as clueless as they had when she'd started letting herself go. And if Eric or Dr. Cuddy asked, she'd just say that she'd decided to 'move on'. Neither of them needed to know about her and House, at least until her fellowship was up (assuming she and Greg were even still involved by then).

She was rummaging through her closet, trying to select a top that was a bit on the form-fitting side, but not too sexy, when she suddenly remembered something that had almost completely slipped her mind.

"And if you ever dare to suggest otherwise again, you're gonna be the one tied to the bed and tormented, Gregory."

"Promises, promises, Alli."

That's right, I threatened to tie him up. Hmmm. No wonder she had almost completely forgotten that, she'd been nearly asleep during that exchange.

And now she found herself wondering if he would submit to her. He hadn't exactly freaked out when she'd said that, but he also hadn't said anything at breakfast the morning after, to show that he was interested.

He's always working so hard to control everything. That's got to be a major drain on his energies, Alli thought. How…relaxing…would it be for him to be helpless, for him to have to lie back and allow her to do the work? She had certainly enjoyed giving up control to him, would he enjoy giving it up to her?

The thought intrigued her. She spent the rest of Sunday evening thinking about it, this new idea supplanting even the memories of Friday night that had previously occupied her.

Monday. Work at PPTH was pretty much the same as always. House noticed Allison's loose hair, and the tighter-fitting clothes, and was pleased. He'd never let on to her just how much it had bothered him, watching her decline like that. Not because his 'art piece' was losing its appeal – that had been a lie – but because if he'd been the one to extinguish her light…he couldn't have lived with himself if he'd done that. And he was already barely able to live with himself.

He also noticed that she was keeping their activities to herself, this time, which was good. He didn't need Wilson finding out about this particular side of his personality. James knew a lot about him, but some things ought to only be between oneself and one's lovers.

But it did add a little spice, when their eyes met across the room and he saw the sly little look in her eyes. He sometimes wished now that he did wear a lab coat, to ensure no one would notice the erections that 'arose' (pun intended) when he started to replay in his mind what they'd done that first night, or to idly plan what he might do to her next. They hadn't set a second date, yet (if one could even count their first tie-up foray as a date…and he was not counting that misguided dinner at Café Spilletto as a 'date'), but he'd be asking her soon. He wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by.

What worried him - as much as he could get worried, anyway - was the thought that he had gotten their relationship (if one could call it that) off on the wrong foot. It wasn't that he was only into kinky sex and didn't enjoy 'vanilla' acts. Far from it.

In fact, it had been Stacy who had really gotten his kinky side into full swing. He'd always been the aggressor in the bedroom, that was true. But she had a high-powered, stressful job as a lawyer for PPTH at that time, and once she had discovered how much she enjoyed giving complete control over to House, they had started to engage in those sorts of activities more and more. She'd told him that it was a very great relief, being able to lie back and hand over responsibility to another person, to just enjoy and not have to worry about the progress of events, to relax and be completely vulnerable. He could appreciate that, even if he couldn't see himself enjoying such a situation personally. But the fact that she had allowed him to control her, given that he already preferred to control every aspect of his life as much as humanly possible, this had only fed into his own needs, and so he had enjoyed dominating her as much as she had enjoyed being dominated by him. They had been two sides of the same coin in that way.

But then, there had been the infarction. He'd been furious at Stacy for her role (betrayal) in the whole thing. And even though they had stayed together for about 6 months after his surgery, their sex life had completely stalled. For one thing, he wasn't foolish enough to think that 'playing' in anger was a good idea. The anger he held smouldering under the surface might cause him to be rougher with her than he should be, and he didn't want to hurt her...or at least, not hurt her in that way. And Stacy was smart enough to know better than to put herself at the mercy of someone who resented her.

Add to that, the fact that the whole business with the surgery he hadn't wanted had felt very much as though she had dominated him, taken control of him…and he'd been hurt by the experience. So all dominating/submitting play between them had effectively died with his surgery.

In addition, particularly in those early days, the pain and the lack of mobility had been significant. He couldn't even get it up for 3 months after the surgery, the pain proving to be too much of a distraction. Not to mention the exhaustion associated

with trying to learn to walk using parts of his body that had never been designed to work in that manner. Like his right shoulder, and his back. He couldn't even walk around the bed properly, in the early days, so how could he even begin to tie someone up and dom them effectively?

Taken together, all those things had made him feel like something less than a man. Much less of a man. So when he'd finally pushed Stacy hard enough that

she'd given up and left, there'd been a kind of relief in that. He didn't, in a sense, have to be male. Didn't have to be sexual. He could just be Gregory House, doctor and cripple and misanthrope. He didn't have to be Greg, lover and boyfriend. Or even a friend, really. He'd gradually lost all their mutual friends, until only James was left.

But things were different now. There was Allison. It was all still very strange to him - he'd been only Gregory House, doctor and cripple and misanthrope, and yet she'd still fallen for him, instead of being driven away like everyone else. Even when he'd done his damndest to try and drive her away ("You don't love, you need."). She still loved him, wanted him to be himself (doctor and cripple and misanthrope), and was willing to give up control to him, even in his crippled state. She trusted him.

The fact still remained, he didn't want her to think he was only interested in her for the kinky sex. What might she think of him, of their relationship, given they'd skipped all the usual niceties of real first date (and even first, second, and third base), and gone straight to the decadent 'dessert'?…He wanted to do right by her, as much as he was capable of such...as she had herself noted, he did things because they were right. Although most people would probably think his definition of 'right' was pretty skewed.

But he had started making plans, to show her that it wasn't only going to be ropes and blindfolds and power exchanges. Not that he had any intention of going back to dates in stuffy formal restaurants, even for her sake – that just wasn't him. But another monster truck rally, or a lacrosse game, or a jazz club, or piano bar, or arthouse movie, or Shakespearean play...and then the ropes and silk scarves and feathers and ice cubes and chocolate sauce could make their appearance. Not all at the same time, though, Greg, he reminded himself. Don't want to blow out her cortex all in one go….

Anyway, enough of this. He could see the Ducklings, including his Secret Sex-Slave Duckling Extraordinaire, coming towards his office. It was time to get cracking on their latest case.

Allison walked into House's office. It was now the end of the day, and Chase and Eric had already left, so she was reasonably sure that she could discuss her idea with Greg without being disturbed.

House watched Cameron come into his office. She sat down in his comfortable chair, but she seemed a little nervous to him. Something's going on, he thought.

"What's up, Doc?" he deadpanned in a perfect Bugs Bunny imitation.

"Well, Greg, I really enjoyed what we did the other night. And don't get me wrong, I'd love to do it again." OK, here's the hard part. She didn't want to scare him off of the idea. "But I don't want to be the only one who gets to sit back and be taken care of." Good, that sounded non-threatening. "It sounded to me before we fell asleep the other night, like you might have some interest in getting tied up and teased, yourself." And she gave him her most disarming smile.

House just stared at her blankly for a second, like she'd sprouted an extra arm, or started speaking in tongues.

He tried to gather his thoughts. His heart rate had sped up, but he wasn't sure why. Was he actually excited at the prospect of letting the tables be turned on him? Or scared as hell? Stacy had never had the slightest interest in dominating him, so this was something he'd never experienced before….unless you counted the way she'd forced that surgery on him…

Better to be safe than sorry, he decided. He wasn't exactly made out of fine china, but there was no need to put himself in a position where his leg could get jarred, or his

already overstrained shoulders and back could get more aggravated. He tried to deflect her as nicely as possible. "I thought you had only a little experience with this kind of thing."

Oh crap - she hadn't thought of that, she realized. It was true, her limited experience so far had all been as the 'sub' But then again, she knew, in the submissive role, what she liked, so shouldn't it be easy to transfer that into what she could do to him?

"Well, that's true, but...I figure it should be easy enough to switch roles."

"It is highly irresponsible to think that just because you've been on the receiving end a few times, that you now know everything you need to know to be a good dominant." He heard the coldness in his own voice, surprising even himself. This is Allison, she loves you, why are you being such an asshole? Are you really that much of a chickenshit?

Allison could hear the fear underneath his words, which immediately dissolved any anger she felt at his dismissal of her efforts. "You're always so in control," she finally said. Quietly, calmly, even a little sadly - sad, for him, that he couldn't let go, could never ever relax. "Wanting to control your pain, your employees, your colleagues, the cases you're presented with. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to let it all go, to give up control and be taken care of, for a change." She got up to leave, disappointed that all the plans and ideas she'd had were now going to come to naught. She'd get over it, of course, but she was allowed to be a little disappointed, for the moment.

House saw that she was upset, and decided that he couldn't let her leave, not like this. "Wait." Maybe there was a way to make her understand the complexity of what she wanted to get into. He'd been a relative neophyte when he and Stacy had started to 'play' in this manner. He'd had to educate himself, too, and pretty quickly. He decided for the moment to put a tool or two into her hands, and see what transpired. It would buy him some time, at the very least. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll get totally squicked out and I won't have to deal with it at all…Or maybe it could be fun. He'd reserve judgment for now, he decided. "Here."

Allison watched bemused as Greg scribbled something down on his prescription pad. "You're writing me a prescription? I don't think there's a pill to treat this." she said, smiling again.

He shook his head and tore the sheet off, holding it out to her. "'Screw the Roses, Give Me the Thorns', by Philip Miller and Molly Devon." She read it out loud, and then looked up at him questioningly.

He leaned back in his chair, trying not to let any of his tension show. He hoped that this wouldn't turn out to be a really bad idea. "Think of it as a Bible of BDSM. It's got all the ins and outs-" here, he smirked faintly at his own choice of words - "of how to

dominate someone. Now go get it and read it, and we'll discuss this again after you've had a chance to digest it all." He turned back to his computer, dismissing her.

She wasn't fooled, though. He is scared. But, she thought, looking down at the prescription slip, he's trying. It'll do. Just like the other night, when she'd realized the latent message beneath his gentleness was love - or as close to love as he could allow himself to feel at this point in his life – she realized that the message under this seemingly

dismissive act was that he was not totally against the idea. Again, it would do for now. Like he'd said, he was a non-traditional guy, and she'd gotten into this knowing that.

Smiling again, this time to herself, she turned and left his office.

Two days later, she left work a little early – they'd solved their newest case, and so there was no need to for her to wait around – and went in search of Greg's 'BDSM Bible'. She hit up several sex shops (feeling a little self-conscious, but she supposed it was worth a little discomfort if it led to her having Greg totally at her mercy) finally finding it at the fourth place she visited.

There, one hurdle down, she thought. And was about to leave the shop, when her gaze passed over a rack of lingerie, and she got the idea that a little dress-up might help things along….if he agreed to submit, he deserved a little reward for his efforts, didn't he?

She selected an armful of likely items, then headed off to the changing rooms in the back to see what she liked best. Twenty minutes later, she had settled on a nice black set, feeling very pleased with herself. There were just enough elements to the set that it would work well as a dominatrix costume, but if House balked in the end, it would also work fine as something to spice up regular sex – or if she let him dominate her again. She just needed some stockings and she'd be all set. She already had some black shoes at home with stiletto-type heels, so she figured she was prepared to do battle.

It had been a week since he'd given Allison that book recommendation. They'd gone out once since then, last Saturday: dinner at his favourite Thai place, and then a visit to his favourite jazz club. And he'd been spared the question of what to do in the bedroom – Top her? Let her top him? Engage merely in vanilla sex? – by the fact she'd been 'having her thing at the end of a sentence', as she'd so coyly put it. And that had left him feeling both relieved and unsatisfied, all things considered.

So when Allison again walked into his office late in the day, alone, a book under her arm, alarm bells started to ring in his head. She'd put brown paper over the cover, but when she passed it to him and he opened it, he saw it was indeed the book he had recommended to her. Shit. Now what? He hadn't really given any constructive thought to her proposal. Well, that wasn't true, he'd spent the first couple days thinking about it, and then finally decided it was a bad idea, and since then all he'd done was hope that she'd get squicked by the book, or somehow forget the whole thing. But the look on her face as she sat there, in the same chair she'd been in a week ago, made him pretty sure he wasn't going to get off (no pun intended) that easy.

Allison studied his face, but it was carefully blank. Uh-oh…I don't get it. Did someone hurt him, in the past? Is that why he's so hesitant? She waited, but he just sat there, giving nothing away, and finally she said, "You're not going to do it, are you? Despite what you said at the end of our first night together, you won't give up control."

He sighed. And didn't answer. He didn't want to tell her about Stacy. Didn't want to admit to her that the last time someone had taken control of him, she had effectively emasculated him. Betrayed him…

If he was really that scared to give up control, that was fine, she could understand. But she did want an explanation. She decided to take the obvious guess. "You did let someone have control over you, once, and the end result wasn't pleasant."

House could feel himself starting to get angry, but struggled to hide it. He didn't want his shame out there for Allison – or anyone, for that matter – to see, if he could possibly help it.

But Alli knew him pretty well by now. "I can tell by the blank expression on your face that I'm onto something," she said to him. Damn it to Hell, he thought.

Looked like she had indeed hit a nerve. And he didn't want to talk to her about. Which was not necessary, really, as his silence alone was giving her all the information she needed. The sadness she had felt last week rose up again within her. Well, if he could only get his release from tension by controlling her, by orchestrating her pleasure, it was better than nothing.

She stood up. "OK, then, I'm sorry I brought it up. You can be the boss in the bedroom, too, it doesn't bother me. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to experience something different, but it's not worth it if it makes you feel this uncomfortable." And it was true, she didn't want to force him into anything he didn't want to do. He hadn't forced her to do anything she hadn't wanted (although he had certainly been in a position to) that first time together, and she wasn't forgetting that. She was a little disappointed, but no big deal. She'd get over it. She had Greg House as her lover, and a superlative lover, at that, so she didn't feel too cheated.

So she smiled at him to show him she was OK, and that she meant what she had just said, and took the book from him before walking towards the door.

Damn. Damn, damn, DAMN. He hated being indecisive. Yes, he was afraid, that was true. But at the same time, the raging hedonist in him, that he had kept well-buried over these last few days, now struggled up to the surface. Do you really want to let this pass you by? When has a woman ever wanted to do that for you – to 'take care of you', as Alli put it? Never. Stacy hadn't been interested in anything except bottoming. It was intoxicating, yes, and made him feel powerful, to be the one running the show….but Alli (and Stacy) obviously enjoyed being in the submissive role. It might well feel really good to let someone else do all the work, to just lie back and drink all the sensations in, bathe in them, drown in them…

Coming to a decision, he took the plunge. "Wait." He used the desk and his cane to get himself up onto his feet, as Alli turned back towards him, her hand poised on the handle of the office door.

"I'll do it. So long as you make the appropriate allowances for my crippled state." He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

Caught by surprise, Allison felt her answering smile widen into one of pure pleasure. He did trust her. He was willing to give it a try. "I already planned on that. And besides, there's always the use of safewords. That's not a privilege reserved just for me, you know, Greg."

He nodded. Good. Hopefully I won't need to use it too often….if at all.

Allison had decided they would have their little 'switch' session Saturday night. That way, neither of them would be tired after a long day at PPTH, and she'd also have the whole day to decide what she was going to do. She'd already told him that she would take care of dinner – part of the package deal to 'take care of him', and now she went about the business of packing a duffle bag with her 'costume' and anything else she thought she might need.

She'd decided early on that it would be best to do this at his place. It was his turf, so he was bound to feel more comfortable and relaxed, and this was ultimately what she wanted.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in a state of nervous apprehension and excitement. Similar to what she had felt that first time, when she'd been kneeling on his bedroom floor, waiting for him to make an appearance. And yet, it was different. That time, her nervousness and apprehension had been due to not knowing what she had gotten herself into, nor what he might do to her. This time, she knew that his safety and pleasure rested entirely on her. Could she pull this off? What if he didn't like what she did to him? What if, despite her precautions, he wound up being in just too much pain to relax and give in? And if she screwed it up, would this be the only chance he gave her? Or would he even go so far as to dump her entirely?

She tried to calm herself, to quiet her fears. Focus, Alli, she thought to herself. Focus instead on how excited you are about doing this – because she was. Finish getting ready to go, and then walk through it in your mind, what you want to do to him….don't give in to the nervousness, or he'll feel it, and get nervous himself….and nervous and Greg House and enjoyment probably don't mix….

When his doorbell rang, the feelings of apprehension that Greg had been trying to keep in the back of his mind suddenly came stampeding to the fore. What have I gotten myself into? he asked himself. But even as he limped slowly to the front door, another part of him was jeering at what a wimp he was being. This was Allison, who loved him, not some 100$-an-hour domme with no feelings for him, nor an understanding of the kind of pain he lived with every moment of every day. And there's always my safeword. So buck up, laddie, he thought to himself.

He swung the door open, to see Allison in street clothes, carrying what appeared to be a duffle bag…and also a large paper bag, which appeared to be dinner.

"Hi," he said, finding himself uncharacteristically unable to meet her eyes, as he stood aside to let her in. He focused instead on the paper bag in her hands. "That's either the world's biggest strap-on dildo, or you've brought dinner." Trying to keep things light. Trying not to let his uneasiness show.

She laughed and walked in, heading past him towards the kitchen. "It's the latter," she called back over her shoulder, hearing him follow after her.

Once in the kitchen, she dropped her duffle in the corner and the bag on the table, and then started to pull cutlery from the drawers.

"And in the bag?" he asked her. When she turned to look at him, he indicated the duffle with his cane. That's a pretty big bag…. full of whips and chains and anal probes? he snarked to himself.

"You'll see later." She smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. He still seemed unable to meet her eyes, though, and that told her as much as anything else just how uncomfortable he was. Let's get some food into him, first, and then we'll see about the rest...

They'd had dinner, her trying the whole time to get him to relax, and Greg sometimes going along with it, joking and snarking back….but then he'd fall silent for a few moments and be unable to look at her, and she knew he was scaring himself again.

After dinner, he got up even more slowly than usual from the table, shoulders a little hunched, and sighed, clearly expecting Allison to start ordering him around any minute. Well, she wasn't going to 'play' on a full stomach, and she wanted him more relaxed anyway, so she grabbed his hand and led him to his couch in the living room.

She turned the TV on, changing it to his favourite show, and then sat down next to him and snuggled into his side, putting her arms around him and gently stroking his side with her fingertips.

"Thought you wanted to be the boss, tonight." he said to her, feeling confused. Had he managed to scare her off the idea after all? He didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

"I do. And right now I'm ordering you to sit back and watch your show. I know I'll never hear the end of it, if you miss it." She stretched up and kissed him, first on the cheek, and then on the mouth, smiling gently at him. Relax, Greg, she thought at him. You didn't hurt me when you had me completely in your power….why would I hurt you?

An hour later, they were still sitting there, and Allison felt ready to put her plan into action. Greg had indeed relaxed throughout his show, occasionally lowering his head to kiss her, putting his arm around her and toying with the ends of her hair, and Allison figured this was about as calm as he was going to get. She disengaged herself from him and stood up from the couch. His eyes followed her movements, and then when he saw her watching him, tension seemed to return to his body, his eyes dropping from hers again. He sat forward, clasping his hands in front of him.

God, stop acting like a nervous teenage virgin, he berated himself. What's the big deal? She's not going to pull a scalpel out of the duffle! Just keep repeating to yourself, Alli is not Stacy, Alli is NOT Stacy….and yet, his body's reaction was at odds with his fears. Truth be told, he'd been half-hard from the moment he'd opened the door for her hours ago, despite his unease, and this very moment was no exception.

Allison was about to say something to the effect of, "It's time," but then decided even that was over-dramatic. So she only said to him, calmly, "Let's go in the bedroom." She'd already moved her duffle in there after dinner, his eyes following her a little apprehensively as she'd done so, so she'd be all set once they got in there.

Greg reached for his cane and pushed himself up off the couch and onto his feet, moving towards her. Here goes nothing, he thought. Alli is NOT Stacy.

At that moment, Allison got an idea. Why not start his submission to her, show him she was going to take care of him, even now? "Stop." she said. He did, still unable to meet her eyes for more than a few seconds. "Leave the cane." When his gaze snapped up sharply to meet hers, a surprised look on his face, she added "Use me."

He stood there a moment, wondering why this should make his heart race faster. He leaned the cane up against the couch, and then put his arm around her shoulders, leaning his weight on her. She moved slowly, guiding him to the bedroom, and he had to admit that this was more fun than using the cane. Canes didn't have soft hair and skin, didn't smell like pear shampoo and floral perfume…

Allison carefully matched her pace to his, ignoring her own mix of excitement and anxiety, not wanting to hurt him, even carrying out this simple act. She breathed an inner sigh of relief when they made it into the bedroom without incident. She got him seated on the edge of the bed, and then asked him to be patient while she changed.

She grabbed her duffle from the corner of the room, and then went into the master bathroom to change.

After the door closed behind her, Greg sat there for what seemed like forever, trying not to tense up too much, which would only cause his thigh to ache more. After awhile, he got up from the bed and limped carefully over to his night-stand, grabbing the bottle of Vicodin off the top and dry-swallowing two pills. He had no idea what Alli had planned for him, but he figured if he wanted to perform adequately, less pain was more.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, fidgeting. He scratched at his hair, then at his stubble, toyed with the crease in his pants, readjusted his rapidly growing erection…he wished he had his Gameboy, or his oversized tennis ball, his yo-yo, or even his cane. Something that he could play with, something to shift his tension into, so that he didn't have to sit here with it. What the fuck is she doing in there?

A moment later, she opened the door. She was wearing black shoes with stiletto heels (the heels wobbling dangerously on the hardwood flooring, he noticed – was she even going to be able to walk in those?), black stockings, and had a black robe tied around her, made of some shiny satiny material. Her hair, which had been in a loose ponytail up til now, was hanging in loose waves around her shoulders, neck, and face, and he thought she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her before…though she'd looked pretty damn good, naked and helpless and soaking wet for him, on this very same mattress not too long ago. An insistent throbbing between his legs told him that 'Little Greg' agreed with his appraisal.

She saw how his eyes were riveted to her body, and she smiled inwardly, knowing he had absolutely no idea that the real 'goods' were under her robe….that would be his reward for submitting to her. But she was still glad to see the heat in his gaze as she sashayed towards him, deliberately exaggerating the movement of her hips (and trying not to clomp too loudly on the floor), stopping in front of him.

He looked up at her. "Wow." Yeah, smooth, Greg. But he didn't know what else to say. Telling her she was beautiful didn't seem to cut it, somehow.

She smiled, and reached out, touching his face. Letting her fingertips trail down his forehead, pausing to trace over the wrinkles. Sliding down the bridge of his nose. Brushing over his lips. Such soft skin, she thought. And then let her hands explore the rougher, stubbly parts of his face: cheeks, chin, the underside of his jaw.

Stepping forward between his spread legs, she bent and kissed him, aggressively pushing her tongue into his mouth. His mouth yielding eagerly enough under hers, his tongue slipping around as she caressed it with her own.

He felt himself getting harder, felt some of the apprehension vanish. This isn't so bad. Without thinking, he raised his hands, grasping her upper arms.

She felt him grab her, and broke off the kiss. Bad boy, she thought. I'm supposed to be doing the grabbing, here. "No, Gregory." She had already decided that while they were playing and he was in the submissive role, that's what she would call him. She liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off the tongue. "Put your hands back down."

Although he obeyed her immediately, the sudden flash of anger he felt was startling in its intensity. He tried to battle it down, telling himself that it was OK, that it was important for him to learn to trust someone else, for him to trust Alli, but it was not so easily squelched.

Allison saw the battle he was waging with himself, and cupped his cheeks in both hands, pressing kisses all over his face. Speaking to him in a low, calm voice. "It's OK, Gregory. This is a safe place. You made it safe for me, before. I want to do the same for you. Will you let me?"

House closed his eyes, concentrating on her touch, on her scent surrounding him, on his own arousal. Alli is NOT Stacy. Letting the anger go. Working to calm himself. "Yes."

She felt him relaxing (a little) under her hands. Now was as good a time to get him out of his clothes as any, she decided. No blazer, but a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up – Such muscular forearms, she thought, feeling herself get even more aroused just at the sight of them – and jeans and presumably underwear. No big deal. She leaned closer, starting to kiss and lick at his neck, feeling him shudder under her hands as she laid them on his shoulders. His skin was hot, salty, and she paused to savour it, to commit his flavour to memory.

Greg let his eyes close, drinking in the sensations. Her mouth was warm, her tongue soft and slippery, his skin cool from where her saliva left it wet…he felt her hands slip to the buttons of his shirt, and she slowly undid them, letting her mouth move to his throat at the same time.

His stubble was very rough, and she had to go carefully, so that her lips weren't abraded by it. Kissing his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bobbing against her lips, hearing his breath hitch. Letting her tongue swab the hollow of his throat. She gave him a gentle nip on his collarbone, listening to the low moan he gave in response, and then stood back up, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, tossing it on the chair next to the bed.

She realized suddenly that this was the first time she was actually going to get a good look at Greg naked. Their first night together, she'd been blindfolded most of the time, and too heavy-lidded with sleep the rest. Or there'd been sheets over his body. Their second date, there'd been no action at all. So she had only the vaguest memory of what he looked like under his clothes.

Time to rectify that, she thought. She pulled on the bottom of his tee shirt, working it loose from his jeans, and wasted no time pulling it over his head and tossing it over to join his button-down.

House watched her, the part of his mind that was still clinician – unable to shut down entirely, even in the heat of passion – noting how she ran her eyes over his bare chest, how her breathing deepened. He could smell her arousal quite plainly, and suddenly it took everything he had in him not to shove himself up off of the bed, grab her, spin her around, force her down, find out what – if anything – was underneath that sexy black robe, and make her his. Next time, he promised himself.

Allison stood there, admiring the upper body of her lover. Skin slightly darker than her own, firm muscles in his arms and chest, flat stomach. A light, sexy dusting of hair on his pecs, and a thin trail of hair going down the centre of his chest and belly, pointing the way to other delights…she shook her head, still not understanding how he could've described himself to her as "not great-looking". What bullshit.

He saw her headshake, not understanding it. "What?" he asked, wondering what was wrong. Had she realized he was rebelling against her control, even if only in his thoughts, and she disapproved?

She met his gaze, wondering how she could make him understand how beautiful he really was. Both physically and mentally. Best to show him, she decided, as he did with me. Words can only get you so far with Gregory House. "Nothing," she told him. "Get up." And held out her hand.

He took it, still wondering what the meaning of her non-verbal communication had been. It clearly meant something, despite her words to the contrary…but he didn't think it would be a good idea to challenge her. Not when she was supposed to be the boss.

Once he was on his feet, Allison instructed him to use her again, to balance himself, while she divested him of his jeans and socks. It was a little difficult to get the zipper of his jeans down over the incredible bulge in his pants, and of course she also had to worry about stripping the jeans off without knocking him over by accident. But she managed the whole thing with a sufficient amount of grace, even in her stilettos. At one point, glancing up at him from the floor, she realized he was trying to see down the front of her robe, and she gave him one of her trademark eyebrow-raises as she caught him at it. "Such a naughty boy, Gregory," she teased him, shaking her head and making tsking noises.

He jerked his eyes back up and cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious. And somehow even more aroused. But he didn't want to break any of her rules – assuming she'd decided on any – and he didn't want her to decide that she had to punish him. Giving up control was hard enough. Having to take the humiliation of being punished…no, thanks. "I'm sorry….Mistress Allison." Stupid, yeah, but he wanted to prove that he would obey, that he would be a 'good boy'.

Surprised, she got up, tossing his jeans and socks with his other clothes, before meeting his gaze again. That was a better reply than she might have expected. Maybe he was more willing to play along than she'd thought. "Very nice, Gregory…but let's make it Mistress Alli. I like that better."

"'Kay." he said, unable to meet her gaze again. But it did strike him as interesting that the only other person in his life to consistently call him 'Gregory' was his mother…and usually when she was pissed off with him. Hearing it from Alli, like this, is certainly more fun, he thought to himself. He let her assist him to sit on the bed again.

Once he was seated, Allison ran her eyes over him again, taking in the muscular left leg. Seeing the less developed right leg, the bottom of the scar peeking out from the hem of his boxers.

House saw she was examining his right leg, and resisted the urge to cover the damaged thigh, feeling the anger rising in him again. He did not need this reminder of Stacy and what her decision had done to him and his life, especially now, when he was trying his damndest to move on, to start to get beyond that…

Allison looked up at his face, noting his tension had increased. Once again, she tried to distract him with physical sensations, moving close to him and letting the smooth fabric of her robe graze his bare chest, running her fingers through his hair, stroking his face again. And felt the tension draining out of him once more.

Time to get things moving, she thought. "Since you haven't suggested otherwise, I'm going to assume the safeword we used last time can serve the same purpose, tonight."

"Sure." Greg said. Feeling his anticipation – and other things, like 'Little Greg' – rising. Wondering what she would do. If he was already enjoying the feeling of her against him so much, now, how much better could this get? Would it really feel that much better if he was powerless to influence the course of events? Looked like he was about to find out.

"D'you remember what it was?" she asked. Just checking.

"Yeah. Pineapple. Not much of a tongue-twister, but it does the job." Trying to get some of his snark back – it made him feel more centred – but not enough to challenge her or piss her off.

"I can think of a few uses for that tongue of yours, and that wasn't one of them." She told him, enjoying the smirk that she got from him in return. And now comes the hard part. "I want you to move to the centre of the bed, and then lie back."

His heartbeat sped up again at those words, the unease inevitably increasing again, but he obeyed her, slowly and carefully moving back until he could lie down comfortably, all his limbs spread out on the mattress. Alli was walking away from him, and he watched her, trying to distract himself with the sight of her ass, the shiny fabric of the robe pulled nicely taut against it as she bent over, rummaging in the duffle bag for something.

She came back to the bed holding the soft cotton rope that she intended to bind him with. Watched his eyes track her progress towards the bed, watched them flick to the rope in her hands. "Are you ready, Gregory?" she asked him, calm and low.

God, she looks so beautiful. And the look in her eyes – loving? Yes, he thought so – how could he deny her this, deny her anything?

"Yes….Mistress Alli." He found himself swallowing around a throat gone suddenly dry…but with need, not fear.

Allison started with his left wrist, wrapping the rope carefully around it several times, then securing it to the post on that side of the headboard. She walked unhurriedly around the bed, securing his right wrist in the same fashion.

She then walked back to the foot of the bed, to survey her work. And to admire her lover again. Now came another crucial junction, as those boxers had to go, which would expose the entirety of his scar to her. Had to be done, though. There was no way to take him through the cloth. But maybe she could get him to a point where he'd beg her to remove them. Yes, that'll do.

Climbing carefully up onto the bed, so as not to jar his leg, she settled herself close to his right hip. She began to run her hands over his chest, caressing and fondling his dark pink nipples (he was very sensitive there, she could tell by the way his eyes glazed and his breath caught when she gently pinched them), running gentle fingertips through the curls on his chest, lightly massaging his muscles. Reaching up his bound arms as high as she could, to stroke the taut muscle there. "Comfortable, Gregory?" she asked. He had checked in with her when he'd had her helpless and vulnerable, it was only fair to follow suit.

"Yes, Mistress." his voice huskier, deeper than usual. And then a gasping groan, as Allison let her hands brush quickly down over his belly, then closing warmly around his erection.

Oh. My. God. Greg thought, the feel of her hands through the thin cloth of his boxers, the way she was stroking and squeezing him…his hips bucked, pressing himself into her hands, his own hands tightening into fists around the ropes that bound him. He had to bite off a cry as one of her hands stole down, to slide under the fabric of his boxers and tease his sac, scraping lightly with her fingernails.

"Oh God, Alli," he said, forgetting himself, forgetting the ache in his thigh and the helplessness he had feared so much, as she leaned down and exhaled warm moist breath onto his cock, always through the material of his boxers.

"Do you want me to take your boxers off, Gregory? Would you like that?" Looks like my evil plan is working. He's not thinking about the scar, the damage….

"Yes, please…". Even lifting his hips to help her, no longer caring that his ugliness would be totally exposed…just wanting to feel her skin directly on his….

She peeled them down and off his legs, tossing them away. And then got off the bed again.

Greg had expected her to continue touching him, and couldn't understand for a moment why she had gotten up. When she reached down and then came up with more rope, this time wrapping it around his left ankle, he then understood that she intended to leave him as completely helpless as he had made her last time…and he was starting to think he might actually really enjoy such an experience….

He couldn't help stiffening a little, though, as she approached his weak leg with the rope. He didn't think the limb could take the pressure of being tied to the bed, not the pressure that was currently pinning his arms and one leg to the bed, anyway.

Allison looked up at him, seeing the apprehension in his face. "Trust me, Gregory." She wrapped the rope carefully around his right ankle…but then tied it only very loosely to the bed-post. It was mostly for show, as she didn't think he'd be able to lift the leg much without his hands to help him, anyway. But this way there was no real pressure or strain on the limb, and yet there was still the illusion that he was bound totally hand and foot and couldn't escape.

"OK?" she asked him, deliberately laying a hand – a very gentle hand – on his scar.

He had to swallow a few times before he could answer. "Yes."

"Good. We'll proceed, then." Exactly what he had said to her, that first time he had tied her up.

It was time to show him the extent of her little costume. Moving back from the bed to give him a good look, she stripped off the robe and stood there, hands on her hips, gauging his reaction.

Wow. Just….wow. She was wearing a little black lingerie number, so erotic that he didn't know where to look first. At the see-through lace cups covering her lovely nipples. At the way it clung to her body, much like a corset (except that no actual body-modification was taking place). At the garter straps coming from the bottom, holding up the black stockings he'd noticed before. And the little black panties, also with a see-through panel of lace right at the key spot, her pubic hair clearly visible. And he nearly swallowed his tongue when she turned around to show him the back, the panties cut so that they nearly disappeared between the sweet cheeks of her ass.

"Wow," he said. How did I ever wind up with such a sexpot? "The view alone is making this worthwhile."

"I'm glad you like it, Gregory." she said, turning back to face him and stalking slowly towards the bed, hips wiggling enticingly. "I bought it just for us, for tonight."

She crawled halfway up the bed, pausing to reward him by wrapping her mouth around the swollen head of his cock. He was so big, she had a little trouble taking him in. But God, he tasted so good, it felt so wonderful to have him in her mouth, that she didn't mind having to open so wide to accommodate him.

Greg moaned, pulling on his bonds, trying to thrust his hips up…and unable to. It was frustrating. It was erotic. It was agonizing. It was delicious. How could he have been scared of this?

Allison found herself understanding what the draw of being dominant was. The way Greg was moving under her, the sounds he was making, the heady feeling of having complete power over him…especially given how long he'd held the position of power in their relationship, even before she'd developed her crush on him…God, she was getting wet. Time for Greg to show his appreciation.

She climbed up further on the bed, pausing to taste each of his nipples (he groaned loudly and tugged hard at his bindings), and then positioned herself so that she was kneeling above his head, facing the headboard. She slid her feet carefully under his upper arms, and then moved back a bit so that he wouldn't have to strain too much to follow her commands.

"Kiss me, Gregory." she ordered him, moving her stocking-clad thigh so that he could reach it easily if he turned his head. God, that feeling of power….

Greg didn't hesitate, turning his head and straining to kiss the bare flesh of her thigh, right above the top of her stocking. Unable to resist licking, as well (he hoped she wouldn't punish him for his audacity), enjoying the flavour of her skin, hoping he'd get to taste the sweetness between her thighs before too long. He told himself he wouldn't beg….but then again, hadn't he told himself that he'd never let anyone get him into this position?

"Very nice, Gregory," Allison purred. "Don't forget my other leg." Watching through half-lidded eyes as he moved to obey her. Feeling her panties getting wetter by the second. The feel of his lips and tongue on her skin, so delicious, the sensual scrape of his stubble…it caught a little in the delicate fabric of her stockings, but she didn't care.

The way she was purring was having an undeniable affect on him. He felt himself getting even harder in response to that note in her voice, as if she was somehow milking his cock with her voice alone. Oh God….

She wanted to feel his tongue on her clit. Wanted him to worship her with his mouth. But she wanted to hear him ask for it.

"You want to taste me, don't you, Gregory? You want to put your tongue inside me?"

Oh God, she's going to give me a heart attack. I'm too old for this. Although 'Little Greg' was disagreeing heartily. And at the very least, he was too aroused to feel his bad thigh at all. "Yes."

"Then ask me, Gregory. Convince me. Tell me what you want to do to me." So intoxicating, to have him at her mercy, to make him talk dirty to her, to make him beg.

She must have put some kind of spell on me, he thought. Because without hesitation, he told her what she wanted to hear. "I want to shove my tongue inside you as hard as I can. I want to run it up and down your folds. I want to taste your clit, to feel it pulsing between my lips as I suck on it. I want to taste your sweet juices, breathe you in." God, he was so fucking hard. "I want to feel you come on my face. Please, Al- Mistress Alli." And it was true, he wanted all of that. Wanted to be at her mercy, drowned in her as she lost control above him.

It wasn't that big a deal, saying those things to her. He'd said similar dirty things – Hell, even much worse – to Stacy when he'd had her tied up. But the feel of doing it this way was much different. It was one thing to be talking dirty when you were teasing helpless prey, it was quite another when you were begging your partner to let you taste her….

"Well, I can hardly refuse such a silver-tongued devil." Allison said, smiling at her own words. And she carefully lowered herself – panties still on – onto his lips. Listened to him groan, felt him licking at the fabric. And she let herself moan in response.

He had no words for what he was feeling. He had thought that topping someone was intoxicating, but now he was realizing that bottoming had its own brand of intoxication, as he became nearly drunk on the sensations. Her scent was all around him, the lace of her panties a little rough under his tongue, soaked with the combination of her juices and his saliva, and he struggled against his bonds, wanting the fabric out of the way, wanting to force her naked pussy down on his mouth, wanting to use his teeth on her (not to hurt her, though, never that), wanting to devour…but he could do nothing unless she allowed it.

He was frantic beneath her, nipping at the fabric, growling a little in his throat, and Allison couldn't resist teasing him even further, pulling herself away from his hungry mouth a couple of times, making him raise his head to try to stay with her.

She finally relented, pulling herself up above him for a moment, to pull the lace to the side so he could have full access. But then a devilish streak intervened, and she allowed him only one swipe of his tongue across her folds, before she raised herself out of reach again.

She is going to kill me. But he knew what he had to do. His voice cracked and he had to clear his throat, before saying: "Please, Mistress Alli…let me-"

Allison wasted no time, pressing herself back down on her lover's mouth. He immediately shoved his tongue hard into her, and she had to grab the headboard as her legs threatened to give way.

She tasted so good. And he wanted to consume every drop of her. Pulling out of her, to suck her juices from his tongue, before shoving it back into her again. Pulling out again so he could carefully suckle the tender inner lips, could swipe his tongue from one end of her to the other. Feeling her flesh tremble and throb against him. Finally moving his mouth to her clit, sucking on it, gnawing carefully at it, finally flicking it sharply and rhythmically with his tongue, as she got louder and louder, as she started to move up and down on his face…

Oh God, this feels so good, Allison thought. His stubbled chin burning against the entrance to her vagina, the heat and softness of his mouth against her, the sharp sensations of him working her clit with lips and teeth and tongue...She rode his mouth, getting closer and closer to orgasm, until she could take it no longer, removing one hand from the headboard to tangle it in his hair as she pressed herself down hard on his greedy lips and gave in to her climax…

He moved his mouth back to the entrance to her pussy, savouring the slightly different flavour of her, now that she'd been satisfied. Feeling the insistent throbbing between his legs, hoping that she intended to satisfy him…and soon, before the top of his head blew off.

Allison came back to herself, getting up and off of him before she suffocated him. "That was amazing, Gregory. Thank you for working so hard to please me." She kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, tasting herself on him.

"My pleasure," he said, after she'd released his mouth, unable to keep the smirk off his face.

"Well, I think we should indeed see to your pleasure, now." Allison said, eager to even the score. She didn't want to keep him tied up too long. She'd been stiff after their first session, and she didn't have a bad thigh and strained shoulders and an aching back.

So she slid down his body, wrapping her mouth around him. He was rock-hard, burning hot inside her mouth, and he almost immediately began moaning and struggling against his bonds as she teased him with slow strokes of her tongue along his length. Shifting position so she could tease him and see the look on his face at the same time. Her mouth closing around him, moving up and down. Then pulling back to stroke her tongue around the tip, licking up the droplets that kept forming at the head of his cock. Caressing his balls, gently squeezing them, and then moving her fingers underneath them to massage him there...

He felt like he was drowning, like he couldn't get a coherent thought to form in his head, felt himself going slack-jawed as his brain short-circuited. She was tormenting him, and he could do nothing about it, could only lie here struggling and burning with his need….and loving every second.

He was getting so close to climaxing, but Alli wasn't ready to let him come, yet. He'd teased her pretty mercilessly last time, and now she intended to make him feel the same sweet frustration she had.

When he felt himself get to the edge, and then Alli stopped touching him, he couldn't help himself. "FUCK!" he yelled. Logic had completely gone out the window. Rational thought was impossible. He pulled hard at the ropes, desperate to free himself, desperate to shove himself into her heat…

Alli watched him carefully, resisting the urge to give him what he was obviously in such need of, knowing that if she held off, he'd thank her later. When he finally calmed down, looking at her with his face flushed, his body soaked in sweat, his erection insistently throbbing against his belly, she knew it was time for their final act.

She kicked off the heels so she could stand up on the bed, his eyes hungrily following every move as she slowly stripped off the panties. She then got off the bed and dug in one of his night-table drawers for his condom supply. Finally returning to the bed to sheath his aching erection in cool latex.

One last tease, though. She straddled him, and then leaned forward, pushing the lace off her nipples and offering them to him.

Groaning, he captured first one, then the other nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, nibbling, wanting to please her so that she'd let him inside her, so that she'd finally give him what he needed.

Allison finally decided to take pity on her lover, disengaging herself from his mouth and moving backwards, taking him into her hand and guiding him to the entrance of her body.

Greg had to bite his lip, hard, to keep from shouting "YES!" at the top of his lungs, and just concentrated on not shooting his load before she could even get him inside her…

She lowered herself down slowly onto him. Partially to make sure she didn't jar his thigh, but also because he was swollen huge with his desire. She was incredibly wet, both from her earlier orgasm and from the deliciousness of having him at her mercy like this, but he was still huge, and thus some caution was in order…and of course it was also yet another way to torment him.

He thought he might have lost years off his life, just from the sweet agony of feeling her slowly lower herself down on him, and he couldn't even thrust up into her, could do nothing but lie there and feel….but she finally took him all the way inside her, bracing her arms on his shoulders as she started moving herself slowly up and down on him.

God. There was no way to describe what he was feeling. The way her inner muscles massaged him, the caress of her body moving against his, slow at first, and then faster and faster. The silky drip of her juices, coming out of her and running down his balls. The sounds she was making as she rode him, the noises coming out of his own throat as he begged her to let him finish…

He felt so good inside her, hard and hot and throbbing. She could practically feel every distended vein on the surface of his cock rubbing against her inner walls as she slid herself up and down his shaft. She wanted to come with him, so she reached down, caressing her own clit in quick little circles, hearing him groan as he took in the sight of her pleasuring both herself and him at the same time…

He was almost over the edge again, and although it crossed her mind to stop once more, to tease him one final time, she took pity on him and instead moved even harder and faster against him….and besides, she was getting close to orgasm, herself.

He was all sensation. He couldn't think. Colors exploding behind his eyes as he finally achieved his long-delayed climax, crying out Alli's name as he experienced a full-body explosion, as he emptied all his passion into her body, feeling her start to convulse around him in response…

Greg felt as if he had died and gone to heaven, as if he was floating. Warm and sated, he slowly came to himself, to realize Alli had somehow already untied him. He moved his limbs carefully, feeling a little achy, but not as bad as he might have expected. That incredible orgasm had left his muscles feeling like jelly, and had all but erased the pain in his thigh….he opened his eyes as Alli cuddled up against his side, still in her lingerie.

Allison purred with pleasure as Greg's arms closed tightly around her, as he kissed her hard on the mouth, his tongue pressing eagerly between her lips. Her own muscles were rapidly turning to mush…but she needed to reestablish this connection with him, before she did anything else.

He pulled back, then fixed her with those gorgeous eyes. "God, Alli, that was amazing. You're amazing."

How did I get so lucky? he asked himself.

She was glad that he seemed happy – more than happy – with the whole experience, but there was one thing that was bothering her. "I'm sorry, Greg…I…I know last time I had a lot of orgasms, and this time I only let you have one…but I didn't want to keep you tied up too long-"

"What? This isn't a competition, Alli." He drew her back into his arms again, pressing kisses all over her face. Figures she'd worry about something like that…but then again, that was one of the reasons he felt about her the way her did, that she got concerned about things like this…that she cared. "Besides, when I think back to how I was tormenting you all those months, when you wanted me and I wouldn't allow myself to get close to you…well, I figure I owe you quite a few 'freebies'."

She laughed, but was secretly relieved to hear him say that. Not only because she'd been worried about not keeping things 'equal' between them in terms of climaxes, but because it felt good to hear that he realized he'd been unfair to her, earlier on in their working relationship, and that he was willing to make reparations for that.

But she was rapidly getting sleepy again, and she still had some clean-up to do, so she reluctantly left the comfort of Greg's arms, padding to the bathroom. She came back with a warm washcloth, removing the condom and cleaning him off. Then she went back to the bathroom and removed the lingerie, carefully setting it aside, and cleaned herself off.

When she got out of the bathroom, Greg was already under the sheets, so Alli went around the apartment, turning off all the lights, and then slid into bed and back into his arms.

"I hope we get to do that again. Soon." Greg murmured in her ear. And he meant it.

"Only if you promise to still let me be the submissive one, sometimes. It's fun to dominate you, but also a lot of fun to let you dominate me." Letting him take care of her, letting him do all sorts of naughty things to her helpless body….she hoped he never lost his taste for doing that.

"Wouldn't dream of depriving you, Alli." He kissed her deeply, and then they resumed the position they'd taken on that first night, lying side-by-side and holding hands.

He was already thinking about what he might do to her next, in fact, as he let sleep claim him….