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Suitable Punishment
by catnap69
SUITABLE PUNISHMENT
When he comes into the conference room to find that there was no coffee made and ready, he sends her down to the lab running tests for the rest of day, refusing to let her leave for lunch, coming down to taunt her about her obvious entrapment, which worked well for his attempt at playing with her claustrophobia, he watches her squirm.
When he finds out that she's spoken to the patients family behind his back and gone against his diagnosis, he keeps her in the clinic for the rest of the week - not letting her leave until she's completed all of his hours and hers, fucking with the fact that he knew that she hated the clinic just as much as he did, she just never said it. Standing on the sidelines, watching as the frustration and the need to scream built up inside her.
When their patients blood-work has to be re-run, he blames her and keeps her in the office next to his, watching the whole time as she finishes his pile of paperwork, purposely letting her know that he was watching her. Making her want to watch him also. Letting his eyes burn into the back of her skull and knowing that there isn't a damn thing she can do about it.
When he finds her relaxing in the conference room, shoes off, feet up, reading a book at her desk during her lunch break, he humiliates her in front of anyone and everyone that he could, embarrasses her until he was sure that she'd want to crawl under a rock and never come out again, and then begins all over again but this time on fresh ground. He smiles at this.
When he finds out that she's replaced the board markers with a different kind - an entirely different make all together - he threatens to fire her, questions her ability to do her job and throws the pens at her from across the room and yells at her to get out. She knows that he won't fire her but it's just another way for him to fuck with her head.
When he finds out about her little 'deal' with Chase, he fucks her. Really fucks her.
He gets her over to his apartment and kisses her roughly, biting her lower lip until he could practically taste blood, grips her hair so tightly in his fist it makes her hiss out her breath from between clenched teeth, pushes her backwards until the back of her legs hit an unknown force.
He fucks her over the back of his couch, her T-shirt up around her neck, her breasts presses into the slowly warming leather, her hair splaying forward, hiding her face from view. His jeans are down around his knees, hers in a pool on the floor by her feet. His hand placed at the back of her neck, keeping her in place for whenever she feels the need to manoeuvre herself, either for comfort or to try to look at him.
It was hard, hip-grinding sex with her soft whimpering in the background, trying desperately to push back against him, to get him to fuck her harder, faster.
She was wet when he pushed himself into her but he took no notice, he didn't even bother to check to see if she was, he just thrust into her and was fully prepared to demand she shut up even if she wasn't.
He got her to say him name, to moan it, to scream it, to say that he was better than Chase, that she still wanted him, to let her know that it was him fucking her. To let her know that she was still his. He'd never fucked anyone with so much resentment, even during that one night with Stacy there was never so much anger, so much hate.
Her hips slammed against the hardened back of the couch, in the same rhythm as his balls slapping against the back of her thighs, her hips bruising from the force but never has bruising felt so good because she knew it was because of him. Her fingers gripped onto the edges of the couch, her fingertips squeaking slightly against the shiny leather as her palms moistened, she watched her knuckles slowly pale and eventually turn white under the strain. She closed her eyes, kept them closed the entire time, partly because of how bright the lights were in there, partly because she wanted to imagine something else. Different circumstances, that he wasn't holding her head down so that he wouldn't have to see her face.
Her climax neared her, making her toes curl and tingle, feeling his cock expand and grow inside her. He came before she had a chance to, grunting animalistic sounds as his hips jerked and he spilled his hot seed into her. He pulled out of her and zipped up his trousers, covering himself, before she'd even known what'd happened.
He left her there, bent over the couch, exposed and still aching for his touch, for release, and limped down the hall to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
She collected her things, straightened her clothes, only pausing just before the front door to look at her reflection in the mirror, taking in the way that her hair was tousled and stuck to her forehead from perspiration, her lips swollen and red, the angry burn marks on the side of her neck that glared at her through her own reflection. She finally left, letting the door swing quietly closed behind her, feeling used and dirty, still feeling him dripping from between her thighs.
He'd always thought his punishments were justified.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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