Categories > TV > House
Dedicated to carisbethel for giving me the plotbunny, and minttown1 and litioxfiore for betaing it.
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Stacy came back from Baltimore talking about moving back to Short Hills. It's probably the best thing to do, but something about her makes you wonder why she changed her opinion. You tell her so.
"We don't need to be here anymore," she explains. "You're getting better, and your job..."
"We never needed to stay in the first place. Yet you wanted to," you interrupt her. "What happened, Stacy?"
"Nothing, Mark," she answers.
You don't believe her.
Maybe you should have, because it's not until the next night that she comes home actually smelling like House.
"Was he good?" you ask her as she lies next to you in the bed.
Stacy freezes. "I thought you were asleep," she says.
"I figured as much. Was he, then?" She's silent for a moment. You can almost hear her thinking, trying to decide whether she should tell the truth
"Yes. Yes, he was," Stacy finally answers. "What about you? Did you enjoy it?," she asks before you have had the time to react.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you lie.
"Yes, you do. Did you?"
You remember House.
His hands, scorching your skin just like hell's flames ought to. His lips on your own in a biting kiss, rough and demanding. His breath against your ear as he told you how pathetic you were and how very easy you were making it for him to steal Stacy away from you. His crooked smile as you came in your pants, shuddering and moaning like a teenage boy despite the humiliation. Probably because of it. The careless way he walked away afterward, unmoved by the experience.
It was sickening. It left you hating yourself for giving in.
Did you enjoy it?
"Yes," you whisper your answer. "Yes, I did."
The End
____________________
Stacy came back from Baltimore talking about moving back to Short Hills. It's probably the best thing to do, but something about her makes you wonder why she changed her opinion. You tell her so.
"We don't need to be here anymore," she explains. "You're getting better, and your job..."
"We never needed to stay in the first place. Yet you wanted to," you interrupt her. "What happened, Stacy?"
"Nothing, Mark," she answers.
You don't believe her.
Maybe you should have, because it's not until the next night that she comes home actually smelling like House.
"Was he good?" you ask her as she lies next to you in the bed.
Stacy freezes. "I thought you were asleep," she says.
"I figured as much. Was he, then?" She's silent for a moment. You can almost hear her thinking, trying to decide whether she should tell the truth
"Yes. Yes, he was," Stacy finally answers. "What about you? Did you enjoy it?," she asks before you have had the time to react.
"I don't know what you're talking about," you lie.
"Yes, you do. Did you?"
You remember House.
His hands, scorching your skin just like hell's flames ought to. His lips on your own in a biting kiss, rough and demanding. His breath against your ear as he told you how pathetic you were and how very easy you were making it for him to steal Stacy away from you. His crooked smile as you came in your pants, shuddering and moaning like a teenage boy despite the humiliation. Probably because of it. The careless way he walked away afterward, unmoved by the experience.
It was sickening. It left you hating yourself for giving in.
Did you enjoy it?
"Yes," you whisper your answer. "Yes, I did."
The End
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