"As for my possession of you," I whispered, "well, that's up to you." And then I kissed him fiercely, placed my hands on his body, and let him know in no uncertain terms that he was emphatically mine.

I backed down the hall to the bedroom, grabbing fistfuls of House's t-shirt and dragging him along with me as I explored his mouth with my tongue. He tasted like cherries and whiskey and I wanted more. When we reached the doorway, he tossed his cane to the floor and limped the rest of the way into the room.

I needed to feel his skin against mine. I scrambled out of my clothes then pulled his shirt over his head before making quick work of the zipper on his jeans. Slipping my hand into his boxers and stroking his already hard length, I relished the rapid intake of breath and darting of his tongue across his bottom lip. I don't think he was aware of the effect that unconscious movement always had on me. He did it when he was deep in thought or perhaps nervous, but now I knew he also did it when he was turned on. It instantly brought to mind visions of his tongue darting out against my skin, tasting me, teasing me, taking me to the brink of oblivion.

House placed his hand over mine to still my movements. "Not yet," he said gruffly. "You still haven't answered my question." Holding my wrists tightly, he backed me towards the bed until I fell onto the mattress.

"Yes I did." I was in no mood to talk things out right now. My hand was already reaching for him again, dodging his attempts to swat me away. I managed to pull his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and he stepped out of them, kicking them across the room.

"No, Cameron, you didn't." House knelt on the bed between my legs and massaged up and down my inner thighs with greedy fingers. "You admitted that I'm a jerk, but you said it's up to me whether or not I belong to you."

I was confused, my thoughts hindered by lust. What else was there to explain? My brain was completely focused on his hands moving on my skin and his groin achingly close to mine. Not close enough. I shook my head to try to clear my mind.

House laughed, a short, sharp exhalation followed by a Cheshire cat grin. "Don't be passive aggressive." He gripped my legs underneath my knees and pulled them wide apart, exposing me to his hungry gaze. "That's the old you. The new Cameron knows what she wants. She makes sure she gets what she wants." His finger gathered the wetness gleaming on my inner thigh then slipped inside me. I gasped at the sudden invasion.

"So tell me. What. You. Want." It was a demand rather than an inquiry. Each word was punctuated by a thrust of his finger. My head was spinning and I fought for control.

He was right. I was no longer the meek young girl who walked into his office that first day, grateful to have gotten the position but doubtful that I truly deserved it. I had since grown a pair. He had just told me at dinner our first night here, "This is the first time you were willing to go after what you desired… and that is why I agreed to come here with you." Fine, if he wanted to know what I desired, well then I'd show him. Over and over again.

I returned his naughty grin and then clenched down hard on his finger with my inner muscles. His eyebrow arched in amusement, but he quickly gave in to lust. House's eyes closed and his lips parted on a moan.

He thrusted in me a few more times, and with each stroke I squeezed his finger. Each time a little harder, each time eliciting a moan that only served to make me wetter and more desperate. When I couldn't take any more, I grabbed his hand and pulled it away from me, brought his finger to my lips, and licked my juices from his skin with excruciating thoroughness. He watched me in rapt silence, his body suddenly still, every muscle tensed.

I seized my opportunity to gain the upper hand. I rolled him onto his back and straddled him. His eyes grew wide and he instantly started grinding his hips against mine. With both palms planted firmly on his chest, I pinned him to the bed and leaned forward, allowing my hair to brush against his stomach.

"I said it before and I'll say it again," I said firmly. "You're a jerk, House." I placed rough, sloppy kisses on his chest between each sentence.

"A bastard." I moved lower, circling my tongue around his navel.

"An asshole." I nipped at his lower belly, so close now to my target.

"A prick." My hand wrapped around the base of his impossibly hard cock and I made sure he felt the warm breath escape my lips as I spoke. He propped himself up on his elbows as his eyes bore into mine, daring me to continue.

"And you're mine." I took his entire length into my throat, cradling the underside of his cock with my tongue. A deep, throaty groan escaped his lips. I smiled with pride, still awed that I could make him make those noises. I wanted to hear it again and again.

I worked my lips and tongue on him feverishly, not letting up when he squirmed underneath me. I wanted to bring him to the threshold, to feel him fighting to maintain control. His fingers threaded through my hair, tugging on my locks to guide me to just the right angle.

I felt his body begin to tense. He was close. But I wasn't ready for this to be over yet and I knew he wasn't either. One second he was holding my head in place and the next he was pulling me away in desperation. House hated not being in control. He was struggling now to regain his composition, his body covered in a sheen of sweat and his breathing rapid and shallow. He looked at me with such hunger, such abandon. I eagerly anticipated his next move.

He rolled our bodies again so that I was underneath his long, lean frame now. He quickly made his way down my torso with his mouth, stopping only to tease and suck on my nipples, working me into a frenzy.

"This possession works both ways, Cameron," he said in a gravely voice. His hands once again spread my legs and he lay down between them. I don't remember ever being so wet, and he obviously noticed my intense arousal. He palmed my sex while I shamelessly ground my hips against his hand. I cried out in frustration; I needed more.

My eyes were squeezed tightly shut, so I jumped at the sudden sensation of his tongue working circles around my clit. God, I was so close already, I knew it wouldn't take much for him to send me over the edge. He easily slid two fingers deep inside me as he flicked at my clit with his tongue, and after just a few thrusts I arched off the bed in ecstasy. Reaching my arms up over my head, I grabbed the headboard just to anchor myself. I felt like I was exploding into a million tiny pieces. I could faintly hear a high, keening moan, and was shocked to realize it was coming from me. His mouth and fingers were relentless, and just when I thought I would surely die from overstimulation, I placed a hand on his wrist and silently begged him to stop.

House let up on me, but wasted no time in pursuing his own gratification. I was still gasping for breath when he grabbed my hips and pushed into me forcefully. My inner muscles were still pulsing from my orgasm, and the expression on his face told me he felt every contraction.

"Fuck, Cameron…" His voice was harsh, strained.

House let go then, suddenly lost in his own world. His hips slammed into me harder and harder and I could feel his cock deep in my belly. He buried his face in my neck, and when I dragged my nails down his back hard enough, I hoped, to leave lingering marks, I felt him bite down on my shoulder. The line between pleasure and pain became blurred.

I sucked his earlobe into my mouth and bit down, tasting his salty sweat and delighting in his deep grunts. "House, come for me. You're mine now, and I want you to come for me."

I felt him grow bigger, thicker inside me, and I knew he was close. Just when I expected him to spill into me, he quickly pulled out and sat back on his heels. I briefly winced at the pain this position must be causing his leg, but watched in complete rapture as he stroked his wet, glistening cock with his own adept hand. His head was tilted back, sweat dripped down his exposed throat, and his eyes were tightly shut in concentration. I was unable to move or say anything, so in awe was I of the gorgeous sight in front of me. After a dozen or so strokes, his mouth opened and he let loose a deep, guttural groan and suddenly he was coming hard, shooting onto my stomach. His hand continued to pump while he uttered obscenities, until he had completely emptied himself on my belly. He collapsed next to me and stretched his legs out, entwining them with mine.

We were both still for several moments, focusing solely on controlling our breathing. Eventually, House rolled over and grabbed his Vicodin vial from the night stand and dry-swallowed two of them. He handed me the box of tissues sitting next to the vial so that I could clean up the evidence of his climax. I mused that if any of my previous lovers had attempted such a move, I would have been disgusted. But with House, it was a huge turn-on. I had never seen him so raw, so uninhibited, so self-indulgent. I wondered how long he would need to recover before he was ready for the next round.

House wrapped his arm around me and I settled into his embrace. His body felt familiar to me now. He placed a lingering kiss on my forehead.

"You know, I think I'm going to like being your jerk."

"House, you've been my jerk for years. You just didn't know it until now."