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brokentoybrokentoy85Rating: R (one naughty word) Character pairing: House/Cameron, mention of Cameron/Chase Summary: she's his, and his alone to take. Spoilers: none. Disclaimer: absolutely not mine :( Author's note: i just love possessive!House. I'd kill for him to be like that for me *_* a special and heartfelt thank you toalterangirl, the fastest beta alive :D“What are you doing here?” she asks. She's looking at you, standing in her doorway, in the middle of the night. You ended up at her place not knowing how; the last thing you remember is sitting at your piano, unable to play a single note. You don't answer her right away. You don't really know what to say. You saw her with Chase earlier that evening, in the hospital parking lot, kissing. And it just wasn't right. Their kiss haunted you all the way back home, and you couldn't think about anything other than her smile after they parted. “House, what are you doing here?” she speaks again. You raise your gaze from the spot on your shoes it landed on and look at her. “Let me in?” You say, taking a step forward. She steps a couple of inches back, but does not let you in. You can see she's confused by your appearance, and you're pretty sure she can smell both the scotch and cigars you had a little party with at your apartment a couple of hours ago. You take another tentative step forward, and she moves to the side, opening the door a little more. It's not because she wants you inside. It's because she can't stand to be so near you. She has to move away, and in order to do so, she reluctantly lets you inside her world. You step inside and she closes the door. You take a good look around, searching for anything that could let you know if Chase had been here recently. You see a blue tie draped on the right arm of the couch. You recognize it as the one he was wearing when they were kissing in the parking lot. So he came here. And it appears he left soon after, 'cause now she's alone, with only a t-shirt and sweatpants on, eyes still sleepy. “House...” You don't turn around to acknowledge her. You know she's clenching a couple of feet away from your back, leaning on the closed door. “Where is he?” You ask. Your gaze still on the blue tie. She notices what you're looking at, and you feel her shift uncomfortably. “House, what are you talking about....” “Where. Is. He?” You turn around and lock eyes with her. She lets out a defeated sigh. She knows she can't keep anything from you. She takes a couple of steps forward. Stops. “I don't know. He left a couple of hours ago”. You're silent. Turn yourself around and limp towards the couch, bending so you can reach and take the tie. She's looking at you, even more confused than before. “House, what are you doing here?” she asks. You know it won't take long before she'll demand a clear explanation of your actions. “I was bored,” you say, still holding the tie, looking at it with disgust. “So you thought to come here at two in the morning asking about my personal life just because you were bored?!” her voice is rising a little. She's starting to get annoyed. “Exactly,” you say, looping the tie around your hand. “You have no right to...” “Yes I do. I have all the right in the world to know what's going on here”. You turn around, and she's looking at you, eyes bigger with disbielef. “You what-?! House, get the fuck out of here. Now.” “Nope,” you say, taking a step forward. You still have his tie looped around your cane-free hand. She takes a step back. “This...this thing is none of your business.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. You take another step in her direction, and she takes another step back. Now she's backed up against her door. You're a couple of feet away from her, but still, you're close enough to make her feel less confident than before. Another step, and you're towering above her. “So, tell me, Allison....'cause I bet that's what he calls you....what is it like?”. You hear your voice and you're sure that it never sounded so cold. She lowers her gaze for a moment, then raises her head again. “House. Stop it.” “I won't,” you say. And as you say it, your hands raise and go to the sides of her head, resting on the wooden door. She's uncomfortable, and you're excited at the reaction you're getting from her. She's trapped between your body and the door, and she's helpless. She knows you won't let her go until you have your answers. “Is it good?” you ask, looking her straight in the eye. She's tense, and warm, and you can almost feel her breath on your face as she speaks. “Yes,” she whispers, and you know she doesn't really believe it. You bend your head, and your lips brush against her ear as the words escape your mouth. “Is it really?”. You feel her sharp intake of breath as your tongue grazes her skin. “Is it really, Cameron?” you repeat as you feel her clench even more, blushing hard and radiating hot vibes in the space between your bodies. She can't talk anymore, and you lower your arms, taking her hands in yours, and raising them above her head. The blue tie that was wrapped around your hand losing its grip and falling to the floor. “Does he make you feel like this?” A little moan escapes her lips as your tongue runs from her ear to her neck, leaving a wet trail with every little kiss. You pin her hands on her head with your right one, while the other travels down and snakes at her waist, barely touching her skin. “Does he make you shudder like this?” You're even closer to her. Your bodies almost touching, and you can feel her shuddering and losing control as you once again kiss her ear lobe, taking it in your mouth. “Stop it...” she says in between touches, but her hands hold yours a little tighter. The fingers of your left hand start to draw lazy circles on her skin, warm and hot. “I can't,” you say, biting her ear lobe, making her squirm and moan a little louder. “House, please...” She's on the verge of tears. You can tell—even though her eyes are shut—that she's fighting to keep herself from crying. “Answer me. Does he own you?” And your mouth is not on her skin anymore. Your face is less than an inch away from hers, and you wait for her to open her eyes. “Cameron, tell me. Does he own you?” You almost thought there was an urging emotion in your voice, but you dismiss it as arousal. She opens her eyes and looks at you for a brief moment. “No,” she says, and as she shuts her eyes again, a tear escapes its cage and rolls down her cheek. You lick it away, tasting her sadness. You think that that must be how a broken heart tastes. “My girl,” you tell her, and you almost miss her whispered “yes” as you break the distance and kiss her, giving her her own salty taste with your lips, circling her waist with your left arm and releasing her hands, letting her hold you as you take her inside yourself.
