Going Bare
Authors: NaiveEve and Houseketeer

A moment of confusion.

What just happened?

Followed by a moment of disappointment.

He's gone?

Followed by a moment of reproach.

Well you did sign into an internet chat room and talk to a complete stranger.

Followed by a moment of anger.

No, wait a minute – we had something going, we had a connection…

Followed by a knock at the door.

A familiar knock; a loud, insistent, urgent knock – wood on wood.

House.

She puts on the cream satin robe matching the slip that now lies stained and discarded on the sofa, ready for the wash basket. She tightens the belt around her waist, and stands, unsteady on her legs. Her cheeks, already flushed from the orgasmic trifecta – redden further. She feels simultaneously shy and sexy at the prospect of answering the door to him in her current state. It is an odd prospect – she feels as if he has been here in this room, all along – as if he is the cause of her afterglow – and of course, in a way, he is.

He always is.

o O o O o O o

He leans heavily on the door – almost exhausted with arousal.
His cane hooked over his left arm, he has one hand on the door handle – as if this will somehow speed the process, and one hand cupping his throbbing cock through denim – as if this will somehow tide him over.

It was an uncomfortable trip; his erection (harder than he even knew was possible), painfully compressed against the leather seat; his mind racing to match the speed of his motorcycle – recalling every miniscule detail of their conversation, every pixel of her images on the screen and intermixing this information with their real, heated conversations and real images of her fantastic figure and delicate features.

At this moment, his body is readying itself for one thing, and one thing only – Allison Cameron.
He knows it is simply a chemical reaction – sexual arousal, and that knowledge had spoiled his fun on some occasions. But it is an exhilarating chemical reaction – unlike any drug he had ever consumed – and she is the only one who can set it off with the slightest gesture or expression – every time like clockwork.

He knocks again – this time with his bare knuckles.

o O o O o O o

She opens the door to him, standing back, questioning him with her expression.

He lunges at her, grips her small arms and kisses her with such force that she jolts in surprise. Her hesitation quickly dissolves and though her surprise remains, she wouldn't dream of protesting – one arm drapes around his shoulder one hand cradles his jaw – welcoming him, encouraging him, and embellishing the kiss.

This moment causes sensory overload. The taste of him - his saliva and whiskey; the feel of him – his tongue on hers, slippery and soft, his stubble on her chin and on her lips and tongue as they kiss messily; the sound of him – his ragged breathing, his low groans of desire; the smell of him – sex.
His lips break from hers for a moment and she takes this moment to question him verbally.

'House, wha…?'

He tugs roughly at the tie, tearing the robe open to reveal her – naked.

His eyes widen.

'What's gotten into you?' she demands, simultaneously aroused and confused.
'webcam2356 has to be turned on…' he starts.

'Oh my god!' she exclaims.

He grins.

'How's this for starters?' he asks, his longest finger parting her folds to find her clit.

'Oh my god!' she repeats, her head slumping forward to rest on his shoulder.

'What happened to the slip?' he breathes, sliding an arm around her waist, and stepping forward, backing her against the wall.

'It's ready for a cold wash,' she says, before her hands explore the stained denim of his jeans, 'maybe we could do a load together?'

He smiles widely and opens his jeans for her.

She is obviously pleased, smiling also – firstly at the realization that he isn't wearing underwear, but her smile quickly changes to an O of delight.

'You're weren't lying. You are 25 centimeters!'

He smiles smugly.

'You have no idea how long I have been waiting to get on me knees and take you into my mouth,' she says.

'Sounds like a plan,' he responds, 'but…'

He swipes his hand over the desk beside the computer, and without much difficulty he lifts her, and positions her on the newly cleared surface.

'Ladies first…'

He sits at the very same chair that had staged her earlier performance, urges her to lean back and with a large warm hand on each pale thigh, he gently parts her legs and lifts them to rest on his shoulders, giving him complete access. She applies pressure against his back with her calves..
She regards the view – it is debauched, erotic, carnal. She lays, back – her shoulders shrouded and decadent cream silk beneath her, but otherwise she is completely naked, her body flushed and buzzing with arousal. She looks down, over the valley of her breasts – nipples erect, her chest – rising and falling steadily, the dip of her belly, and the neat strip of dark pubic hair, where she meets his wicked gaze.

He is kissing her inner thigh so gently – whiskers grazing, producing the most erotic sensation. She takes a moment to try and convince herself that she really does see House's face between her thighs – his glittering blue eyes, each line and crevice that she has memorized.

He has barely touched her yet, but the notion is so overwhelming, she thinks she may come – the moment he makes the slightest contact.

And when he does – his fingers exploring gently, tentatively parting her folds and making a single, confident stroke over her clit, her body convulses – arches and writhes and she gasps for air.

He smiles – satisfied.

Without fair warning, he quickly swoops and licks her. She clenches her jaw as she watches him work. After a moment of lapping steadily at her clit, he raises his head.

'How do you like it?' he asks, licking his lips – tasting her.

'That was perfect,' she pants, 'just keep doing what you're doing. Everything you do is perfect.'

He lowers his head again – and this time he fucks her with his tongue – forcing it in and out of her. She can hear the damp sounds of his tongue lapping.

'House,' she breathes, spreading her legs wider for him, splaying her fingers in his hair and pulling him in closer.

He varies his technique – flicking and swirling his hot tongue.

The sensation is gorgeous – wet and slippery, she is almost, almost there when… he raises his head again.

'Wait a minute,' he says, and she is disappointed – she wants him to make her come already, because as she sees it – there is no need to hold off, they can continue into the night – gorging on one another.

'Is this thing still on?' he asks, pointing to the camera.

He doesn't wait for a reply, he simply shakes the mouse to end the screensaver, and double clicks on the camera icon. He sets the camera to record, and with some adjustment of the lens, as well as Cameron's position on the desk, he says: 'watch me go down on you,' in his deepest, most depraved voice.

He lowers his head again, and when her eyes fix on the screen, she realises she has forgotten to breathe.

She now as two views – her original view: partially obstructed by her breasts and his view.

On the screen, she sees everything – large and in full colour, and detail. She sees the pink surface of his tongue caressing the pink surface of her clit. She sees every tiny whisker on his now damp chin.

She is able to watch – in close, graphic detail, as he eats her out.

He backs off for a moment to insert two fingers – they slide easily into her – she is so wet she is dripping on the cream satin of her robe.

She reaches down to grasp his wrist and guides him to force his fingers in harder and deeper. He bends and folds them inside of her, exploring her impossibly soft, damp walls. Eventually, he settles on a rhythm of firm steady circles – finding the right spot.

'Ugh, ' she cries – satisfied with his technique.

She releases his wrist, and his tongue returns to her clit – resuming the same irresistible pattern of flicking and swirling, whilst simultaneously thrusting his fingers in and out, until she is bucking her hips to him.

'House!' she cries, 'oh fuck! Fucking fuck!'

She comes, flooding his mouth and calling his name again.

'Oh, House!'

She smiles – satisfied that House has finally brought her to orgasm with his own fingers and tongue, rather than though the usual medium - her imagination.

She sits up, and he leans back in the chair – smiling complacently.

She touches herself to try and stem the throbbing pleasure and his eyes fix on her action immediately. This gives her an idea.

'Show me how you did it while we were chatting,' she says.

'What?'

'I want you to touch yourself,' she says, 'stroke your cock for me.'

He raises a brow before opening his already unzipped fly and rearranging himself in the chair enough to expose his tumescent erection. She gasps when he grips his cock in his large hand and begins stroking steadily, pausing at the head to make circles with his thumb, smearing his pre-cum over the pulsing bulb.

He watches her – unyielding eye contact, as he does this.

She kneels on the desk now, and he continues to watch as she touches herself again – firstly: a single finger massaging her clit. Then her finger dips to collect the cream of her arousal – so that she is able to smear it over the sensitive nub for lubrication. She bows her head – her hair falling forward, and emits a heavy sigh, as she inserts two fingers inside herself and begins thrusting steadily.

'This is what I do when I think of you,' she pants, gazing at him with his brand of conviction, 'I fuck myself with my fingers and pretend it's your cock.'

He moans loudly at this and his head drops back to rest on the seat. She watches as he masturbates faster now, alternating hands stroke after stroke.

'Stop,' she says, because she wants his cock in her mouth – she is desperate to taste it, to feel it at the back of her throat just once, briefly before he comes.

He complies.

She slides off the desk as easily as she can, still throbbing, and with trembling knees. She kneels in front of him.

'I'm going to take you into my mouth,' she says, 'because I want to taste you – but promise me you won't come – we're not done yet.'

'I'll try,' he says, looking down at her.

She bites her bottom lip, before gripping his beautiful, swollen cock.

'Mmm,' he moans, shutting his eyes tightly.

It pulses and throbs in her hand.

She opens her mouth slightly, and brings her face close. She breathes on the head and he shudders. Her tongue flicks out and gently laps at the head. She tastes his salty pre-cum.

'Later tonight,' she says, 'I'm going to suck you off, and I want you to come in my mouth.'

In one fell swoop, she takes him into her mouth – all 25 centimetres.

She feels him at the back of her throat and she dares to move him in and out twice, stimulating the head against the soft walls of her mouth.

'Gah!' he exclaims, 'god Cameron…. will you hold it against me if… if I can't keep my promise?'

At this, she removes him from her mouth.

She stands, shrugs the robe from her shoulders and walks confidently to stand behind the sofa.
She bites her lip as she bends for him – waiting, bare.

'Fuck me' she requests.

She hears him standing and awkwardly making his way to join her.

She trembles as she imagines how it will feel. The magic number: twenty-five.

He stands behind her and she can feel the fabric of his shirt and jeans.

'Lose the clothing,' she says, 'I want you completely naked.'

He complies, pulling his shirt over his head, kicking his shoes to the side of the room and dropping his jeans.

She wants to turn to see him, but she is contented by the feel of his warm skin on hers, and she knows she will have ample opportunity.

'Are we going bare?' he whispers in her ear.

'Yes,' she responds so eagerly, it is more of an exclamation of joy than an affirmative response.

'Brown hair down your bare back,' he comments quietly, gently twisting his fingers into her hair..'

'Ugh,' she cries out – a deep guttural moan, as he enters her.

'Too hard?' he asks.

'No,' she replies, 'Don't hold back, and don't be afraid to push harder..'

He drives his hips into her harder – meeting her request. The fingers of his right hand reach around to splay on her inner thigh before travelling higher to stroke her clit.

'Oh god…harder!' she cries again.

He complies – the force of his thrusts slamming her against the sofa.

'Fuck me House!'

She feels an immense satisfaction – calling this at the top of her voice. She had uttered these words many times, but only ever quietly, and only ever in private.

She calls out again: 'Fuck me House!' …simply because she can – and because it is an instruction – he complies, thrusting harder and faster, pronouncing his movements with grunts of pleasure.

But it is not enough – no matter how hard he fucks her – she wants more of him, so she pushes her hips back to him, meeting each of his thrusts and increasing the friction tenfold.

'Tell me when you're close,' he pants into her hair.

'I'm already close, I'm gonna come!' she cries.

'Me too,' he responds.

He withdraws at this, and is met with an expression of sheer disappointment.

'I want you to sit in my lap,' he says, nodding to the couch, 'I want to kiss you when you come.'

He makes his way around the couch, leaning on it, and sits on the edge of the seat. She positions herself carefully and sinks onto him. She feels incredibly filled by him. She consciously constricts around him on each upstroke, and is rewarded by the sight of his eyes rolling back in his head. He takes a deep breath, and exhales heavily, "Caaameron."

Their bodies are damp with exertion. His hands slide up from her waist to cup her breasts, tangle in her hair. He is looking down, where a few wet inches of his erection repetitively reveal themselves from inside her. "Fuck me, you're spectacular."

Her eyes go wide, and she gasps. He crushes her face to his in a greedy kiss, her loud moans vibrating against his tongue. He feels the fluttering of her silken muscles and stops breathing as his orgasm hits and the jerks of his hips become involuntary.

House's thigh twinges and he scoops her off his lap to lie between him and the back of the couch, her legs twining around his left, her head rising and falling with his respiration. He feels her hand brush his hip as she reaches between her legs to collect a sample of their mingled fluids. Watches mesmerized as she licks her fingers clean and drops her hand onto his chest.

'I knew it was you – all along,' he says.

'No you didn't,' she contends.

'No,' he admits, 'I didn't. But I'm damn glad it was.'

She smiles.

'It's early yet,' he says, 'I think we should go again.'

FIN

Authors' Notes:

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and leaving (fabulous, witty, funny, ego-bolstering, deliciously naughty) comments! It is also lovely to have requests for quick updates (begging will get you everywhere I say). And I just have to say: everyone has such sexy icons!

--NaiveEve

NaiveEve and I are each other's biggest fans. So my concern was that without comments from each other we would really not get many. What a faulty assumption! I am BLOWN AWAY by you. Thank you so much for your over the top encouragement and praise.

--Houseketeer