Winner Takes All (House, MD)

Summary:  House’s office is a beacon for late night sex, with scotch drinking, and poker playing. Definitely SMUT HouseCameron
Pairing:  Greg House/Allison Cameron

“Okay” he says, “I win.” And he fans out the five cards, face up, on his desk for her to see. She sees the row of tiny red hearts. Her own heart starts thumping. She’s thinking about how this all came about. They had a difficult patient with a tough diagnosis and House had called her into his office late in the evening when most of the hospital staff had left for the day.

She had entered and saw that his blinds were closed and his medicinal bottle of scotch was sitting on his desk with two coffee cups and a deck of cards. Challenging her to a shot of scotch and a game of poker to celebrate their correct diagnosis was just a means to end the day for him. At least until the scotch kicked in and then he upped the stakes to play for an item of clothing. Essentially she’d agreed to play strip poker with him, but what he didn’t know was that she really, really, wanted to lose. If she could entice him with hints of what her body looked like under her work clothes, maybe she would get her chance with him.

She looks at him. Her eyes have a dreamy, warm look. He gives her one of his rare smiles. She lays her own cards out on the desk.

“I lose,” she says.

She is suddenly nervous. But she can feel herself growing wet.

“Right,” he says. “Now you have to do whatever I want.”

“Okay,” she says, trying for nonchalance. Knowing he would try to embarrass her right out of the gate.

“Stand up,” he orders.

She stands. He leans back in his office chair. His eyes are challenging her now. Her heart turns over, for the first time she can see his desire for her written plainly on his face. He’s reacting just as she hoped. His voice lowers into almost a growl. “Take off your shirt.”

She undoes the top button.

“Slowly.” His voice still rough.

She breathes raggedly, as each button slides open and then her blouse slides off of her creamy shoulders. Beneath it she wears a pale blue lace bra that allows a hint of her rosy nipples to show through. She lays the blouse on the chair beside her and bravely stands there, eyeing him. Daring him.

“Undo your pants, slowly.”

She bends over to kick off her heels, her hair falling in a silk curtain across her face. She hears his chair creak and sees him out of the corner of her eye adjust himself in his jeans. She relaxes suddenly. More confident, feeling her power, she unbuttons her slacks and lowers the zipper so they fall open in the front revealing matching pale blue lace panties. She hears him draw in a sharp breath and raises her eyes. She watches his face as she holds her hands at her waist to keep her slacks from falling to the floor. She feigns boredom. “What now?”

He lifts his handsome, flushed face to meet hers. His sapphire eyes are alight with lust. She smiles. She feels drunk with not only scotch, but love and power also.

“Come here,” he says thickly.

She moves slowly towards him, her pants gaping at her waist and the bottom hems bunching around her feet without her heels.

“Turn around.” She turns and hears him stand behind her. Waiting for him to touch her, she feels his hands at her waistband. He knocks her hands aside and her pants slither to the floor soundlessly. His fingers linger on the soft skin at her waist almost as if he’s measuring to see if his hands will reach all the way around. Gooseflesh pricks her entire body. She resists the urge to push back against him, not wanting to make him lose his balance without his cane.

“Stay where you are,” he commands.

His breath is warm on her bare shoulder. She can smell his aftershave and the manly smell that is distinctly House. His fingers glide up her back and unfasten her bra, then slowly push the straps down her silky arms, letting it fall to the floor in front of her. She looks back over her shoulder at him, smiling saucily and raising her eyebrow.

“Tease.” He is smiling. “Turn around.”

She turns, her arms crossed over her breasts as if she’s afraid of his reaction. He grasps her wrists and pulls her arms to her sides. He gazes at her small, but perfect breasts.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “I always knew they would be.”

She feels her nipples harden from just the passion radiating from his eyes. He bends his head and takes her right nipple in his mouth, drawing it into the warm interior. She closes her eyes against the hot rush of desire. All sensation centers first in her nipples, and then with increasing urgency at the apex between her thighs. She desperately wants to feel his lean hard body against her, but she remains still. She is in his hands now and lets him call the shots.

All at once he moves back to regain his chair, and pulls her by the hips to stand between his jean covered legs. His hands are on her lace panties, slowly slipping them over the rounded curves of her buttocks and then down until his palms come to rest on the front of her thighs. He gently pushes her back to sit on the edge of his desk. She wiggles her legs to let the panties slip to the floor.

“No,” he says, stopping her. “Leave them where they are.” His eyes glint up at her.

“Is this another facet of your fantasy?” she asks, trying to control the trembling in her limbs, trying for lightness.

“Why? Is it part of yours?” He asks, raising his right eyebrow in that sexy way of his. He knows she wants him, and the knowledge in his eyes excites her even more. She doesn’t think she can hold on much longer.

Reaching down he pushes the panties to the floor, but then stuffs them into his jacket pocket. She grins at him, he grins back and shrugs, “Gotta go All In”. Gently lifts first one foot and then the other to rest on the armrests of his chair, opening her to his view for the first time. She watches his eyes take her in and then, in a move that is probably the hottest thing she has ever seen, he licks his lips with just the tip of his tongue. She can only watch as he leans forward until his tongue is between her legs, parting her labia, searching for her clit among the folds. As he finds it his eyes fall closed and she moans, parting her legs a little more. She can feel her wetness. She wants him inside her now, urgently.

The sensation of his scruff between her legs makes her open just a little further to bring his whole face into her wet juncture. She feels herself coming quickly to orgasm as exquisite pleasure radiates from her clit, sending waves of ecstasy through her body.

“I’m coming,” she gasps.

“No,” he whispers, his mouth moving up over the mound of her sex. “Not yet.”

“I can’t stop,” she moans.

“Yes you can.”

He lays her gently back on the pile of playing cards across his desk. He stands up, drops his jacket and pulls his shirt off in fluid movements. Then she watches as he tears his jeans open to let them fall to the floor. He looks down at her lying across his desk naked, her face flushed, her long auburn hair fanning out, reminding him of his hallucination during his coma. His erection is rock hard and straining against his boxer briefs. Her eyes grow large when he lowers them and she marvels at the sheer size of him.

Noticing, he smirks and reaches out to grasp her thighs, pulling himself up against her heat. His hands slide under her buttocks, moving her slightly up and down to spread her juices over his length. Looking down into her eyes he enters her directly, in one swift smooth stroke. She cries out in pleasure, wrapping her long legs around his hips, being careful not to squeeze too hard and further strain his thigh. He slowly thrusts, and thrusts again, all the while they share a gaze that is lustful but filled with love. Each of them can see that the other wants this, needs this, loves this. The pleasure becomes intense and reaches a new high where her orgasm is electric, fizzing through her body, as she moans again and again with each stroke, finally gasping out “Oh God Greg!” Hearing his first name uttered from her lips and feeling her muscles clamping around him and it triggers his release, and his whole body shudders with the intensity of it. Breathing heavily, but not wanting it to end, he growls out a low “Allison,” and rests on top of her for a moment. Finally, he has to move in order to stave off the growing pain in his thigh. He pulls out and sits back down in his chair trying to catch his breath, but still keeping his arms around all that he can reach of her and laying his head on her tummy.

Their skin is slick with sweat and body juices, she leans up on her elbows and they smile into each other’s eyes.

“So what are you going to make me do when you win a game?” he asks.



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