(Many thanks to everyone for the reviews, they're much appreciated as always. And to Cookie, my guest reviewer who apparently doesn't like this story because she feels House is being mean to Wilson: House and Wilson share several traits. Both men are manipulative, secretive, needy and unscrupulous, in their own ways. Wilson's been mean to House on a number of occasions. Casual cruelty happens a lot in this friendship. I try to write both men as I perceived them from watching the show. If you don't like what you read here, please feel free to go read something else. -Brig)
Dana stared at the computer screen. The scene before her was magnificent: a table set for twelve, with china placements and crystal glassware. Casseroles, vegetables, rolls, and an enormous roasted turkey filled the center, along with several bottles of wine and aperitifs set within easy reach of the diners. It was elegant and assured—everything she knew her dinner would not be.
Greg won't care about anything but the food, she thought. Perfection is my way of trying to control something that's making me anxious. She hesitated, then deleted the photo and went back to her order list. She had another fifteen minutes before her next client arrived-a new patient, someone referred to her for potential sex therapy. She'd kept her word to Greg about using that mode of healing for special cases only, but now and then someone did need other measures.
Her assistant buzzed her just before the top of the hour. "Patient's here, Doctor Gardener," he said. He sounded odd. Dana paused.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes, everything's fine."
"All right, send them in." She made sure her desk was neat and tidy, then got to her feet when the door opened. "Good morning—"
"Yeah, yeah," Greg said, and limped into the office. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, then offered her a wide smile. "Hey Doc. Nice to meet you. Let's get busy."
Dana regarded him for a few moments. Surprise was swamped by exasperation, and then amusement. So, someone else felt insecure too . . . good to know. "Gregory House, I presume? An unusual surname."
"That's Doctor to the likes of you." He folded his arms. "I hear you're into men with big problems. Or they're into you, if you know what I mean." He gave her an exaggerated wink.
"Apparently you over-qualify in that department. If you know what I mean." Dana kept her tone impersonal. "Follow me, please."
She led him into the main room and gestured at the platform. "Go to the middle of the stage and remove your clothes."
Greg did as she instructed without comment. Dana remembered his first visit, when he'd peeled down with great reluctance. His lack of hesitation now was evidence of progress in healing, though she knew it was a provocative action as well. When he stood naked on the stage, she said "And what exactly is the point of all this?"
"In this case deduction is your job, not mine." Greg shifted his weight a bit.
"Are you in pain?"
"Nothing a little slap and tickle wouldn't cure." He offered a smile but his gaze remained keen, watchful. Dana felt again that tug of war between irritation and humor. Very well, she thought. He's worried about the holiday situation and whatever secret he and Wilson have between them, but doesn't want to come out and say so. He thinks he's clever because he's being obvious about his motives, which should derail my apparently limited capacity for critical thought. We'll see about that.
"When we work together, you will address me as 'my lady'." She waited for the usual grumbling, but Greg just nodded.
"Yes, m'lady." He made it a caress, silky-smooth and soft. Dana narrowed her eyes.
"Go to the cross and wait," she said, and got up to join him.
It didn't take long to put the cuffs in place. Dana had him face out, a position that exposed him in more ways than one. He watched her as she picked up the standing tray, set it beside him. She looked it over, and selected a length of dark blue silk. "Open your mouth," she said, and made it a command. Greg went still. His gaze darted to hers, and she saw a flash of startled alarm before he hid it behind a mocking glance. "Beautiful man," she used a gentler tone, "if you want to stop, show me two fingers on your right hand. We'll use that as your safe word. Show it to me now, so I'll recognize it."
He stared at her. She returned his gaze. After a long silence he made a fist, then straightened his thumb and index finger. Dana nodded. "Very good. Let's begin. Open your mouth please."
"We . . . we need to talk," Greg said. He sounded hesitant, reluctant.
"Indeed we do, but I believe a conventional discussion wouldn't give either one of us the answers we're looking for at the moment." Dana came closer. "You will address me as 'my lady'. I won't tell you again. Now open up." She tapped his bottom lip. Greg kissed her finger, suckled it and stroked her with his tongue as he kept his gaze on hers. Dana moved her finger away and kissed him. She took her time and enjoyed the moment; Greg was a fantastic kisser. And she had to admit she thoroughly enjoyed the sight of an alpha male tied up as he awaited her pleasure.
"I'd be happy to demonstrate more advanced techniques in our bedroom, m'lady," he said softly, when the kiss ended. For answer she held up the length of silk. Greg looked at it, then at her. The usual warm mockery was gone from his gaze, replaced by wariness. "You've got issues too. And you're not above using your authority here to get what you want."
"I have never denied having issues. However, in this case you came to my office as a patient in need of sexual therapy. In this space, I choose the methods I believe will be most effective for my patient. And it is my considered opinion that words will just get in the way right now." Dana kept her tone impersonal. "Either you do as I ask, or we end the session." She tilted her head just a bit. "Your choice."
After another long hesitation, he obeyed. She eased the gag in place and made sure it went securely between his teeth, but wasn't tight or liable to cause obstruction. As she tied the knot, she let her fingers trail over the back of his neck, a caress meant to reassure. He lowered his head a bit and nuzzled her, eyes closed. She put a hand to his cheek. "Thank you," she said, and meant it; she understood how difficult this was for him. But she couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him just a bit. "You look very handsome, you know."
His brows lowered in a thunderous frown, blue eyes on full glare. He growled and tugged at his wrist cuffs. Dana chuckled, unimpressed by this display. She moved away, picked up a flogger and began the session.
She knew what aroused Greg now, what made him moan and twist in his bonds, but didn't destroy the link of trust between them. It was clear the gag disturbed him though; she'd never used one before. She could almost see his brilliant mind pick through her motives letter by letter. In this case, he worked too hard. Her objective was simple, just as she'd said—talk was counterproductive. She would use other means to try to get to the truth, for both of them.
Dana took her time with Greg. She observed how the inability to speak changed his usual method of reciprocation. He used words as a way to charm or trip up others, a lock pick for secrets hidden deep within. Without them he was at her mercy to some extent, and he knew it. He tensed when she drew closer; his gaze never left her, his eyes wide and apprehensive. It wasn't all an act, that much was clear. She kept her touch gentle and didn't tease or force him; she used the flogger to stimulate his senses, and enjoyed the way his body responded and relaxed bit by bit, his head tipped back as she worked him. But she was sure he'd try to take control of the situation soon.
"Mmmmmm . . ." He pushed into his restraints, jerked and went rigid.
"Is it your thigh? Are you in pain?" Dana hesitated. Greg raised his brows and looked at her from under his lashes. "I'm not taking the gag out unless you truly need to be released." He gave a loud sigh and pulled his gaze away—not quite a pout, but close enough to be both cute and sexy. She hid a smile; he would not appreciate another comment from her on how delightful he looked. "All right, let's set things up: nod for yes, shake for no." Greg twitched his hips. "I meant your head. And if you want out, give me the safe sign." He flipped his middle finger at her. Dana chuckled. "That isn't it, so let's begin. I have some questions." Greg rolled his eyes. "You know perfectly well I'll ask so that you can answer, if you wish." He grumbled at her, but he relaxed a bit. Dana put her hand over his heart for a moment, ran a finger down the divide between his pectorals.
"You had at least two main motives for showing up today, didn't you?" Greg shot her a wary glance. "I'm not interested in emotional showdowns, just the truth." He didn't respond. "Okay, I'll presume my hypothesis is correct. The lesser point was the practical joke, so that leaves the main reason." She trailed a gentle fingertip around his left nipple, felt his breath hitch a bit. "You wanted to find out more about my meeting with Wilson. He probably hasn't been forthcoming or you need further details, so you decided to interrogate me on professional territory. It's better than digging for facts at my place or yours, where you'll have a harder time escaping if an argument comes up."
He didn't answer right away. Then he gave one slow nod, his gaze averted from hers. Dana knew he'd allowed her a freebie because she'd guessed correctly, to some extent at least; but even more important, agreement might get him some of the answers he wanted. Now, everything else would cost her. She let go a held breath.
"I'm guessing Wilson denied any sort of angle in meeting with me. He probably said he wasn't envious of our relationship." That earned her a blank stare, but she glimpsed reluctant acknowledgment behind the impassive facade. "I'd say he's not being completely truthful. He's both curious about us, and . . ." She searched for the right words. "He's also fascinated, in a disapproving sort of way. My work as a sex therapist scares but intrigues him. I think he believes I have some sort of sexual hold over you, and that's why you're with me."
Greg quirked an eyebrow and managed a leer despite the gag. Dana chuckled. "Yes, well it's completely mutual." She slid her hand over the spring of his ribs and admired the lean length of him. He'd gained a bit of muscle tone since his pain management regimen now included regular mild exercise at the treatment center's pool. He still had an athlete's build, lean and rangy, with narrow hips and strong shoulders; just right, for her anyway. "Beautiful man." That earned her a grunt and a glower. She chuckled. "No doubt you have a fairly good idea of Wilson's state of mind, since you know him well. But you're not so sure about mine. If I just tell you, you won't believe me because everybody lies. Right so far?" He continued to scowl at her. "Yes or no." She waited. He nodded once. His hands twisted in the cuffs. "And that's partly what has you worried. You're nervous about being stuck between opposing forces. No matter how much I protest and tell you I have no intention of battling with your best friend, you won't believe me because you think it's inevitable."
Greg glared at her. She saw the flare of interest, intrigue, calculation. After a few moments he nodded.
"I'll admit to being anxious about this whole thing. Stupid, but there it is." Greg shook his head. "I know, it's pointless when you've already said this doesn't bother you, but . . . but it bothers me." Dana hesitated; this would be difficult to say for several reasons. "Part of how I show love for people is to care for them. I'd like us to have a good day, and a pleasant dinner. If that means James is part of the proceedings, that's all right with me." She paused again. "But there's more going on here than just problems with jealousy. There's something between you and James, some past event or argument that you're both hiding from me. I don't know why you haven't said anything about it, but it would be immensely helpful if you could do so."
He studied her for a long time. At last he made the sign to end the session. Dana came forward to release the cuffs. Once his hands were free he undid the knot on the gag and pulled it off, hurled it to the floor. Dana knelt to open his ankle cuffs, then moved away to get his cane, only to have his voice stop her.
"Silencing your main squeeze to make excuses for prying into things that are none of your business. You're supposed to be past that kind of cheap tactic." His anger was clear but there was another emotion under it, a dark thread woven through the cold words. Dana didn't move.
"That's one way to look at it."
"It's a pretty damn good way, since it's the truth." Greg moved past her, his limp more pronounced than usual.
"Are you in pain?" Dana started forward.
"Do not coddle me!" He swung around in an awkward fashion, hand on thigh, his expression inimical. "I managed to survive just fine before you came along—" He stopped. Dana's heart sank. She knew this reaction was normal; she'd probed an unhealed wound, and the resultant pain caused both fear and anger. She chose her next words with care.
"You told me just a short time ago that I'd kept a secret from you, about my father's death at Halloween," she said into the silence between them. She drew in a breath. "Now you're doing the same thing, I think."
Greg went still. His fury faded, replaced by a grief so profound it took her breath. Then it was gone, hidden away. He turned back to the chair, gathered his clothing and his cane, and went to the small back room where her clients could dress in private if they wished. Dana watched him go as her concern deepened.
He emerged a short time later, gave her a quick look, and headed for the exit. Dana met him there. Greg paused with his hand on the door. "You'd better stay at your place tonight," he said, and wouldn't look at her.
"I will, if you wish me to. But sooner or later we'll have to talk about this." She hesitated. "If . . . if you can't or won't do so, I'll talk to Wilson, if he's willing. But only if you say it's all right."
Greg didn't answer right away. After a few moments he nodded once, pushed the door open and went into the hallway. Dana watched him retreat. Once he'd gone out into the waiting room, she moved to her office. She had a call to make.
