Title: The Touch - Chapter Six – Coffee, Tea or House?
Author: Linda/Brynna/Brynnamorgan
Rating: M for Graphic Language, Sexual Situations
Categories: Romance/Supernatural/AU
Characters: H/OC
Spoilers: None

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback, especially given that this involves what is tactfully known as an Other Character or less tactfully known as a "Mary Sue." There's a total of fifteen chapters to this, so I hope that readers are motivated to read to the end. House isn't easy to characterize and I hope I've done all right. All I could do was speculate on how he'd react to falling head-over-heels, in love, at first sight. As abrupt and to the point as Greg House is I'm guessing that once he's made up his mind there's no stopping him. Going on that premise and knowing that in canon he just barrels through things until he gets what he wants, you get what I wound up with. :-)

Oh, to have the skill of the House scriptwriters!

Summary: "Any man who sees this will know you've been claimed, lady. And for the record, I don't share."

Lyrics Credit:

"The Back of Your Hand" as sung by Dwight Yoakum, 2003

"Take a guess at where I stand
Pick a number one to two
Take a look at the back of your hand
Just like you know it
You know me too."
Chapter Six – Coffee, Tea or House?

Greg House had expected Sabrina's home to ooze wealth, fame and fortune. Granted, the residence was spacious (hell, his entire apartment could damned near fit in her great room) but, instead of flashy, the great room especially was all about hardwood floors, throw rugs, comfortable furniture with cushions, afghans tossed casually over furniture backs, and books. Lots of books, he noted, lined in antique bookcases. The sofa and chairs faced a fireplace; a wet bar was at the other end. And… his eyes widened… hanging over the fireplace was a plasma high-definition television; shelved alongside it was a TiVo box, DVD player, and VCR. Visions of "General Hospital" danced before his eyes; he realized she was giving him a puzzled look and shook himself.

"So, does the Merry Maid brigade maintain this place for you or are you like the Fairy Godmother – one wave of the wand and it's clean?"

He saw the shake of her head as she sat on the long sofa and stretched her legs out with a sigh of relief. "I have a housekeeper," she finally admitted, her cheeks flushing under his scrutiny. "What good is having all that money if…"

"You can't enjoy it," he finished for her, his eyes starting to twinkle when she stuck her tongue out at him. "Got room for me on that couch?"

"Only if you make coffee first." She indicated the wet bar. "For being a smart-ass."

Once settled next to her, his long legs propped on the coffee table (and she didn't object, he marveled) in front of them, he lazily draped an arm around her shoulders; took a swig of the coffee (good shit, too) and let out a sigh. "Okay, I've decided on something," he finally said.

"What?"

"I'm going to move in with you, then take shameless advantage of your wealth."

She snorted a laugh and the coffee almost went flying out of her nose. "Jesus, Greg," she gasped out between giggles.

"Only one thing would make this perfect. What do you have stashed on that TiVo?"

"Uhmm…" She was blushing. "It's a girl thing, uh…"

"Try me."

"Soap operas."

"'General Hospital'?" He tried not to sound too hopeful.

"Yeah, uh…"

Greg lunged for the remote control sitting on the coffee table. "Thank God. I was starting to go through withdrawals. Your little concert interrupted my show."

"Sorry to have inconvenienced you," she replied dryly, grinning when he searched until he found the soap opera, then settled back and pulled her head against his shoulder again. The last thing she'd expected was that the man everyone had warned her as being insensitive and sarcastic was sweet and funny. Insensitive, definitely not. If anything, too sensitive; the sarcasm was a mask for the pain inside of him. Sabrina let out a sigh and snuggled closer to him, shivering when he idly ran his thumb along her ear, then down the side of her neck.

A sideways look revealed that he was intently watching the screen, emotions playing all over his features in reaction to the story. Greg wasn't classically handsome; his features were almost too sharp, hawk-like in nature, cheekbones too angular. No, pretty boy good looks weren't what made him handsome. It was the impish smile, the dimples, the vivid blue eyes, the ever-present shadow and tousled curls that at present she was dying to run her fingers through.

Another thought occurred to her. If his injury effected his walking, what else could be hampered? What about those painkillers he was taking? One thing at a time, she told herself firmly. He didn't seem to be overly worried about it, if his attitude was anything to judge from.

Suddenly the screen went dark and she realized the show was over. A light thump told her that the remote had landed on the coffee table; the shift in his body told her that his interest was changing direction. The arm that had been around her shoulders slid down to her waist; his free hand reached up to cup her cheek and turn her to him. Nervously she reached up to trace his lips, then down, around his neck, finally his hair. She sighed when his breath skittered across her cheek.

"Kissing and groping, huh?" she said softly as he brushed his mouth lightly across hers.

"Yeah."

With that, he lowered his head to claim her mouth with his. His tongue flicked across her lips and they parted for him. A soft moan came from her when he began exploring her mouth, the arm around her waist tugging her firmly up against him. Been so long since she'd felt the hard warmth of a man's body against hers, she thought as she went pliant, sliding her arms under his blazer, seeking the lean muscles beneath his shirt. A low rumble coming from him told her he liked what she was doing. Emboldened, she unbuttoned his oxford shirt and slid her hands under that, loving the feel of tee shirt knit covering his skin.

Not breaking the kiss he disentangled from her arms and slid off the blazer and oxford, then tossed them aside. Once again he tugged her against him, more firmly than before, his head rotating above hers, his tongue more insistent. She responded in kind and one hand slid up to tangle in her hair, then tip her head back. When his mouth left hers, she let out a whimper of frustration, only to replace it with a moan when his tongue came in contact with the underside of her jaw.

"Greg," she sighed, feeling his lips curve in a smile as he began a slow, lazy nibble down the side of her neck. His teeth caught lightly at the sensitive flesh beneath her ear and she shuddered, arching against him, her hands clinging desperately to his shoulders. He lifted his head, his gaze burning into hers.

"Take notice," he muttered, bending his head again. A cry escaped her when he nipped more firmly beneath her ear, drew her tender skin into his mouth and sucked. Good God, she thought wildly, holding him firmly against her, a whimper coming from her when he raked his stubble across the love bite. The act shot straight to her core and her hips twisted involuntarily, eliciting a low breathy chuckle from him.

"Marking… your territory?" she gasped out when he licked his way down to her collarbone, nuzzled aside her blouse, then nipped again on the rise of her breast, soothing the bite with his tongue, then dragging his whiskers over it.

"Damned right," was his growled reply. "Any man who sees this will know you've been claimed, lady. And for the record, I don't share." A blush crawled across her features and he gave her a predatory grin. "What?"

"I've never had anyone, uh, do that to me..."

"I almost hate to ask..." No, he thought. Surely a woman her age had more experience than that.

"Yes, I've had sex," she said with a wry grin. "I have a son to prove it. Just that my ex wasn't very inventive. And since then," her blush heightened, "well, I got tanked once and there was this male groupie... and since he was about three sheets to the wind it wasn't the best experience in the world."

"You don't want to hear where I've been," he said gruffly, his eyes not making contact with hers. Damn, he thought. Compared to him she was practically an innocent. And she'd lived the better part of twenty-five years on the road, too. "How...did you not... fuck, this isn't coming out right," he muttered. "I mean, you were on the road…"

"How did I not gain more experience than what my marriage had to offer?" When he nodded, still not looking directly at her she sighed and reached to cradle his cheeks in her hands. "Greg, please look at me. Please." How could he resist? he wondered, lifting his eyes to look into hers. "You know something?"

"What?" He just wanted to drown in those hazel eyes forever.

"Who says… who says we have to uncover every single detail of each other's life at once? I-I… prefer unfolding the mystery, layer-by-layer." The flush was back in her cheeks, although he sensed not from embarrassment. No, he decided as a faint musky scent reached his nostrils, causing his heartbeat to pick up as he drew closer to her again. "We have," she added as he brought his forehead against hers, "all the time in the world. Someday," her fingertips traced the depression on his right thigh where once had been living tissue, "you'll tell me how this happened and we'll probably both shed some tears," he snorted and she laughed softly. "In turn you'll get to hear my whole silly sad story, then we can go out and get drunk…"

"Or make out like crazy," he deadpanned, letting his lips brush against hers.

"Yeah."

"Or fuck like monkeys."

At that she lost it in a burst of giggles, getting his breathy laugh in return as he dropped a kiss on her ear, then began nibbling playfully down her neck again. She tipped her head back to give him ready access, still laughing, then squirming when his tongue snaked out to lap where her collarbone met her neck.

"Dammit, Greg, what ever am I going to do with you?" she said on a moan as he drew another love bite there. "I'll have to wear a scarf tomorrow."

"Good. Nobody will see your skin but me," he replied huskily. "Only you and I will know why you're wearing it. If that isn't hot, I don't know what is."

"Okay." She gently pushed him back. "Turnabout is fair play, Gregory House."

Sabrina lifted her mouth to his, taking delight in the groan that came from him when she took a tug on his bottom lip with her teeth. Encouraged, she took soft nibbles along his jaw line, careful not to give herself whisker burn. The sounds he was making told her she was on the right track, she decided when she nipped lightly at his earlobe.

"So, Dr. House," she purred in his ear, "should I hide the evidence or cause you undue embarrassment tomorrow at work?"

"Hide the…"

Too late. She sucked on the skin under his earlobe and he growled, his fingers tunneling into her hair and holding her hard against him. That growl shot straight to her inner thighs, causing her to get even more wet than she'd already been. Oh damn, she thought as his hands abruptly slid to her shoulders and guided her down to her back on the sofa. Within a heartbeat he followed, his hard, wiry frame coming down against her, draping his bad leg over the side of the sofa and wedging his good one between her thighs. His denim-covered erection pressed against the crest of her thighs and she moaned, winding herself around him. So much for painkillers hampering that, anyway.

"And here I was wondering…" Shit! You and your big mouth, she thought.

"What?"

"If your leg would keep you from, I mean, that is, oh crap."

His breathy chuckle in her ear made her shiver. "Oh, trust me, my leg doesn't keep me from pleasurable activities." He undulated his hips and she clung to him. "Just have to be a little… inventive at times."

"Invention sounds like fun to me," she gasped out, feeling that predatory smile against the side of her neck.

"Of course." He nibbled his way over to her mouth, then nipped at her lower lip, enjoying the way she was coming undone beneath him. Suddenly another thought occurred to him and he let out a groan of frustration. Dammit, he hadn't thought to at least stop by the clinic and grab a condom on the way out. Way to go, lover boy.

"Christ," he muttered against her lips, feeling her shudder beneath him as he thrust lazily against her. His thigh was aching, but nothing like what other parts were doing. "Getting carried away," he continued with a grumble, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes closed briefly and she took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

"It's not as though I'm 'not up to it' anymore," she finally replied, reluctant to have him move off her. "I mean, we could…"

"Got any protection around?" he asked bluntly, tracing her cheek with his fingers. She blushed and shook her head. "Well, I'm not in the habit of carrying condoms in my wallet, either. And you're too young to risk it."

"I-I can't… I can't get pregnant, Greg." When he stared at her she continued, "I had a complete hysterectomy a year ago. I… had benign tumors, bleeding." Her throat tightened, remembering how she sobbed to Lisa over the phone when she got the news. "I didn't want to; I was too young, so much left to do."

"That's why… why healing is harder for you now." Greg was smoothing her hair, brushing tears from her cheeks. His lips caressed her face, his tongue tasting the salt of her tears. "I'm sorry." He moved to sit up, pulled her with him, then lay back on the sofa and coaxed her down with him. The tears turned into quiet weeping, her fingers grasping his shoulders.

"I feel so old," she whispered. "Women in my family… sometimes fifty years old before menopause even starts. I didn't get that long. Cheated."

"Lady, you're not old," he murmured into her hair. "Far from it." And if things were different, he'd show her, he thought. He couldn't get that raging hard-on to go away, but she didn't seem to mind. Oh well, there was always a good cold shower when he got home, or jerking off. Instead he began kneading her shoulders and spine, whispering soft, soothing words to her as her teariness ceased and her breathing began evening out. Just a short snooze, he told himself firmly, making sure his bad leg was comfortable before he drifted off to sleep.