Disclaimer: I do not own them. If I did... Well probably not best to dwell on that!. Sorry about my other stories not have proper things at the front. I'm... an idiot... Hell my first uploading and I was excited... Anyway just a mindless little drivel that's mostly for fun. You can flame if you want but the only opinions I take really seriously is my friend Sarah's so... It'll be wasted... Oh and a little gold star to whoever can tell me where I stole the settings from for the last two stories... BigKiss
Your All Awfully Odd
Part One Highly Unlikely
All right you're going the right way about a smacked bottom…
Eric pushed through the doors to Wilson's office after knocking and receiving a rather grumpy 'what?'. He steeled himself and faced the other doctor.
"What is it?" Wilson questioned without so much as even a 'hello'. Foreman doesn't really want one, doesn't suppose he really deserves one after how he's behaved towards the other. But he' stalling and he knows it. At least he wants to stall because what's coming next has him swallowing all his pride.
"Look I just wanted to say;" Eric pauses, breaths in, tells himself it shouldn't be this hard… Because if it is that makes him as bad as House.
"I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier today. It-I was out of line." Eric spits out and is rather proud of himself. The condescending edge and lack of apology in his voice lost on him.
Wilson scoffs and shakes his head. Getting up slowly from his seat, moving around his desk to stand before and glare down at Eric. The other doctor just realising that James does in fact have a few inches on him.
"You can't even say it can you?" He smirks and Eric has the impression that he maybe drunk. Though theirs no scent of alcohol on his breath and Eric should know, their that close.
"Can't say what?" Eric frowned. James shakes his head, smirk pulling higher. He grabbed Eric's shoulders and the other's so shocked by this, because its so out of character that he jerks back on reflex but nothing else.
Eric blinks in shock as James twists him around and forces him down onto his stomach on the desk.
"What the hell are you doing?" The other demands when, after a moment of struggling he realises he really can't move. James has a hold of his wrists, which are pinned to the table above his head and his legs are bent to such an odd angle by how low the table is that he can't move them either.
Eric gasps in surprise as the first blow falls, a slap, hard and stinging right across his arse.
"James!" He cries indignant as the next slap falls, almost echoing in the quiet room. James doesn't give any indication that he's heard, doesn't say anything at all. Just continues with the punishment, as though this is the most natural thing in the world.
Foreman struggles trying the reef his hands from the other grip. But James is leaning his entire weight against the hand holding him and the only thing Eric accomplishes is in making his shoulders ache.
Eric falls still against the table, panting, tears of frustration pooling in his eyes. Its far from painless, each smack seeming a little more achy than the one before, but Eric's had worse. It's the humiliation that gets him, that make's colour rise and stain his cheeks in violent washes. The pains nothing compared to the shame. Eric could die from the thought of someone walking in on this. To him sprawled out on Wilson's desk, with the other doctor spanking him like a naughty child.
Foreman bites back a whimper at a particularly nasty blow on already tender flesh. He bits his lip as another rough hit falls and more tears collect in the corners of his eyes. His legs and back are aching too, at having been forced into an awkward position for so long. Every smack seems to tingle up his back and not in a particularly pleasant way either.
"James, please, I'm sorry…" He gasps hoarsely as the tears threaten to come in torrents. Talk about swallowing your dignity, he winces waiting for the next slap…
James's hand leaves his wrists after a moment and Foreman straightens up gingerly, his legs giving a protest. He looks at James with slumped shoulders, barely able to meet his gaze… As though he's the one who's just done something wrong!
Eric finds that now the pains stopped he can tell that the tears still threatening to fall are fro misery more than anything else… He feels guilty, really guilty about what he's done to the other, wants comfort from the same person who did this to him. He wants James to wrap arms around him, hold him, tell its alright, that he's forgiven, when he says sorry. Eric licks his lips, realises that maybe he is just a sulking child… Though he very much doubts that any child would have the slight hardness between their thighs that he does now… That he wants the other to push him back down on the table for other things… Hell maybe he really does just want to be spanked again and he'd say that he wants it a little gentler this time except for he's pretty sure it was the roughness that excited him…
"Good…" James says looking Eric's tousledness over coolly. Looking at the wide teary eyes, the flushed dark skin, the bitten lips… and 'good' is all he can think to say because all he can think is that the other looks pretty when he's been taken down a not or two.
Never Gonna Happen
Marge: Homer living under the sea is your solution to everything and I keep telling you its not gonna happen.
Homer: Not with an attitude like that!
Chase wakes up groggily, lying flat on his back, which is odd considering he never wakes up so pristinely. Blankets are always tossed about the place and the pillow fallen off. He's usually on his side too, arms twisted around him, rather than sedately at his sides. Chase looks up at the ceiling fan above him, another oddity considering he doesn't have one. Chase rolls out of bed, quite literally onto his knees because his head is filled with although a somewhat pleasant but also inhibiting fuzz. Chase pulls himself up, only to be mystified again. He has shoes on, Italian leather, with black dress pants and a black silk button up. Undone at the throat to show the top most part of his collarbone, the skin looked almost ridiculously pale next to the dark fabric.
Chase got shakily to his feet. The world shifting into two and then back again before his eyes, he swallowed sluggishly and stumbled from the room.
"A friend and I made a bet when I was younger…" It was slurred from somewhere down the hall.
"He bet me he could hold a cracker longer than I could…" Chase carefully picked his way down a flight of stairs.
"Let me guess," Another slightly more lucid voice answered as Chase pushed himself off the flight.
"You lost the bet… But he lost a finger…" It's smirked and not entirely unfamiliar. Chase shivers slightly, the cool fabric of his shirt creasing against his stomach. His hand blurs before his face as he reaches up and scoops a snow-globe off of a side table, he pauses slightly before laying hands on the cuffs beside them as well.
He fights not to stumble as he steps into the other room.
"Chase… what are you doing up? Get back to bed you naughty boy." House draws thickly and it would be the weirdest thing Chase has ever seen… House in an expensive suite… House cooking in an expensive suite if Voglar wasn't tied up in a chair to his left.
"But I'm hungry." Chase sighs, lingering in the doorway, leaning on the doorway, thankfully though his head is kind of starting to clear.
"Alright then…" House relents and Chase steps into the room carefully.
"What have you got there Chase… something to bash me on the head with… How mean… Put it on the table." House smirks as though the others a private show just for him. Chase drops it heavily onto the table… Doesn't even know why he has it in the first place, then drops into the chair.
"Hey, that's mine." Voglar slurs and House frowns down at him as though he's just realised he's there.
"Don't be rude Voglar." House says with an air of distaste.
"Greet our guest." He advises with hands on his chair.
"Hi." The dark man blinks and Chase has the impression that Voglar's more drugged then he is.
"Pretty." He breathes as well, an unrelated thought that probably wouldn't even be mentioned if he was more lucid.
"Finally something we agree on." House smooths.
"Your lovely Chase… Beautiful…" House offers eye glancing gently across the other and Chase is reminded of how people study the brush strokes of a painting.
"Who would have thought there was a decent body underneath all of that bad cloth." House said gaze now just a little invasive. Or maybe it just seemed so to Chase because he'd just realised that other had at some point, to some extended undressed him. Had stripped off his clothing and put on new ones. Ones that he liked… Chase sunk just a little lower in his chair. The room lapsed into silence as House served out soup, a clock ticking annoyingly loud in the background.
Voglar sucked his through a straw with noises that otherwise would have been humorous if it weren't for the situation they were in.
"It's not very good." Voglar frowned, spitting out the straw.
"I did add something to yours, perhaps its clashing with the cumin." House offered.
"Though I promise the main course is to die for." House smiled lightly, pouring himself a cup of wine.
"May I have glass?" Chase asked, his words sounding thick to him.
"I don't think so." House frowned looking him over.
"I don't think it would be a good idea with how much morphine there is in your system." House explained.
"Morphine, ha. The more-phine the better." Voglar giggled madly. House smiled as though remembering him once more.
"House stop!" Chase protested violently as the doctor slipped a scalpel into the directors already partially cut skull. He sliced through the last bit and lifted the top off of the dark man's head. He didn't and Chase didn't trust his leg to hold him up.
"What?" The other doctor asked puzzled, then he seemed to realise.
"Oh really Chase." He scolded.
"Our dear director won't miss certain parts…" House smirked wickedly.
"For instants… The prefrontal lobe… Almost a person entirely personality is carried here…" House informed.
"He wouldn't even use that!" House breezed and proceeded to remove it.
"House…?" Chase gasped his eyes as wide as saucers.
"Don't worry Chase, like most people he's numb from the brain up…" House said tersely, dropping the piece of pink muscle into the hot pan on the table. It sizzled like anything else would have and Chase found himself thinking that he may never eat again.
"House? Why are you doing this?" Chase questions as it's scooped out with medical tongs.
"Someone has found it pertinent to play spy for our dear director…" House roughed.
"Me, it was me." Chase gasped, thinking that somehow the confession will stop this…
"That smells good." Voglar says dreamily.
"Well do try some." House said and tips it into his mouth. Chase eyes go wider, his mind scratches to a stop and his stomach lurches… He heaves, dry reaches and thankfully has nothing to actually throw up.
"I know." House answers his earlier confession.
"Can I have some more?" Voglar mumbles.
"Perhaps in a moment." House answers stepping around the table to Chase, who takes a hold of one of the knives that is laid out in his place.
"Then what are you doing?" Chase gasps tears collecting. House grabs his wrist and wrestles the knife from him, keeping ahold of his arm when he's done.
"Removing temptation…" House almost growls an undercurrent of anger lining his words.
"Please stop!" Chase begs, and the knife is brought up to his face… Chase flinches horribly, House holding him reasonably still. It's only a butterknife but that doesn't really make much difference in the scheme of things. House presses it to a flushed cheek.
"What were you hoping for?" house asks, almost with disgust and Chase flinches.
"Were you hoping to be told how brilliant you are, how beautiful, how smart." The knife slips down to under his chin… and House lifts his face so that Chase has to look at him.
"All you would need for that Chase…" He hisses, tone softening.
"Is a mirror…" Chase's expression is conflicted to say the least. House runs the knife lightly over his lips and then releases him entirely. Chase feels numb from the neck down. He breathes out shakily.
"You are so stupid, I can't believe you didn't know that!" Voglar spewed out and chase is pretty sure he'd make big dramatic gestures if his arms weren't tied.
"Remember what we talked about." House scolds.
"If you can't behave you will sit at the kiddies table." House threatens.
"Don't worry…" House breathes, brightening slightly.
"We'll clear the table and make the coffee." He offers neutrally as he steps back around to Voglar and wheels the man out of the room. Chase waits until they disappeared into the next room and follows, can't not.
House grabs his arms and shoves him into the cupboards as Chase creeps into the kitchen candelabra in hand. The weighty piece of brass drops to the floor with a thud.
"You know for someone who is so intelligent you do have incredible moments of stupidity." He growled into Chase's face as he fishes the handcuffs out of the back of Chase's pants. Hand dipping low into the waist, backing sure he gropes Chase arse considerable, before pulling the metal cuffs out and clicking them on. Tethering Chase to one of the cupboards.
"What am I going to do with you?" He questions, cupping the others face… The kiss is slow, searing and Chase doesn't object…
Forever may not be long enough for you to know…
Cameron drifts somewhere between sleep and wake, fluttering gently in the warm void. Its such a gentle heat, it shifts to fit her body perfectly, though there's an under laying sense of solidness. Something that pushes gently back on her spine, her shoulder… her butt. She floats down a little, closer to the real world and realises that her face is cool, her neck too. Not freezing… just not warm either.
Allison opens her eyes to dim light, candles filling a marble bathroom. There's water surrounding her, more like warmed cream in its white silkiness. It caresses her skin, sends tingles along her body when she shifts gently against the side of the marble bath, stone warmed by the water.
Rose petals bob and titter across the surface, pushed by the ripples from another body… Allison's eyes widen as she takes in Cuddy's bare shoulder's, damp strands of hair clinging to wet skin.
Allison doesn't think she's ever been so at a lost for words in her life. Maybe that's a good thing though since Lisa doesn't seem interested in talking.
"Li-" She tries to start as the other braces hands against the marble beside her shoulders and kisses her. A soft brushing of lips. Sugary and light. Alison breathes in through her nose, trying to ground herself slightly. She manages to piece together some sense, only to have it shattered as she feels a hand layed out on her stomach, over her navel, beneath the water's surface. It traces up, and Cameron sighs into the others mouth as the hand glides over the hollow between her breasts. Fingers slipping slowly from the milky water. Allison feels a hot sticky tingle that shouldn't be where it is. Shouldn't be anywhere since she's with another woman. But it is, a hot wetness that's growing slowly, spreading a blush up her stomach. She pulls away from the side of the tub, wrapping arms about the others angled shoulders. Allison swallows thickly as she feels Lisa's body warm against her own, their legs wrapping into a tangled mass. She pulls away from Lisa, panting trying to force air into constricted lungs because she can't even start to believe this. Can't even start to believe the soft hands against her body, the soft skin against the hard tight flesh budded flesh of her nipples. Wonders what Cuddy's own body looks like under all that thick fluid. Wonders what interest this sensuous, beautiful woman could possibly have in her. The girl that house was willing to send packing.
Her stomach's clenching, fluttering violently, swirling like someone stirred it with a spoon. She bored with the staring disbelief Allison realises when Lisa nibbles her neck, scraps dull teeth along her the crook of her shoulder and tingles blossom inexplicably along the bone. Allison shudders and mans, pulling Lisa mouth from her skin, panting thickly.
"Lisa…" She breath desperately…, sighing mournfully as the other bits the thumb she's callously left by her full lips…
"House is a fool." She whispers as Allison pulls her hand away sharply, pulling the other into another kiss…
Allison, Chase and Foreman all sat up nearly at once. Various clocks glowing in the darkness. All were flush, all were panting and all were thinking 'What the fuck…?'