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Pop!




The balloons were delivered in the middle of the diagnosis; the messenger kid dragging
them in through the doorway awkwardly, looking around at the four people staring at him.


“Uh, Allison Cameron?” he asked apologetically. The pretty woman behind the table, who
was already a little pink in the face, held up a hand and the kid moved to hand off the
ribbons to her. “Here you go.”


“Balloons? Is it your birthday?” Chase asked, looking up at the bright Mylar disks
intermingled with other latex ones. The colors were vivid and rich; eggplant purples with
neon orange, velvety reds and licorice black ones all striving for the ceiling. Cameron
clutched the ribbons more tightly.


“Yes,” she murmured softly. She glanced at the card while House lifted his cane and gave
an experimental poke at the nearest balloon, a raspberry colored one.


“Good lord, are you sure you weigh enough to anchor all those? I’d hate to see you go
drifting off across the lawn of the hospital.”


“House—“ she snapped, but he stepped closer and reached up, flicking his fingers
against one of the balloons, making a hollow drumming sound as he did so. Foreman
smirked.


“Full of gas—just like our patient, who isn’t going to go drifting skyward either. If we’re
done here, you three have tests to do. Cameron, get rid of these things.”


She frowned. “What?”


“Get rid of them,” he repeated, a bit more impatiently. “They’re a general pain in the ass.”


“They’re MY balloons,” she protested, feeling a mutinous surge of anger. House waited
until Foreman and Chase had fled, not eager to witness the bullying, then he stepped
closer to her and scowled.


“I have a hypodermic and I love the sound of popping.”


“Pop my balloons and I’ll . . . “ she paused, not sure what she could threaten him with.
House’s scowl shifted, and without her being sure how it happened, he leaned closer, into
her personal space.


“Fine, you can keep your precious bags of gas, but in that case, I call dibs on another
birthday tradition. Deal or no deal?”


She thought rapidly, and had it in a few seconds. Cameron paled a little, but lifted her
chin and stared House in the eyes, her heart rate accelerating a tiny bit. “You’re talking
about spanking, aren’t you?”


“And everyone thinks Chase is the smart one,” House murmured, keeping his gaze on
her. “Yes, the traditional birthday spanking seems especially attractive. I repeat, deal or
no deal? Because I can get to popping right away . . . “


“You’re not going to spank me here,” Cameron spoke with a waver, but her gaze was
firm, “and it’s NOT going to be a group event, got that?”


“Ohhhh, rules now. When did YOU get to be the boss?” House murmured, but there was
a twinkle in his blue eyes and his tone was low. Cameron carefully tucked the card in her
pocket.


“I’m the birthday girl; that’s when.”


She moved towards the door. Overhead the balloons rustled and bobbled, a herded
collection of pretty colors. “Who sent you the damned things?” House asked.


Cameron looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Not you.”


* * *


By the time the day was over, House found himself feeling a tingle of anticipation—
something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Restlessly he tossed his plush ball and caught it repeatedly with one hand, all while keeping an eye on his office door. A few people
passed by: Foreman, keeping stride with his new girlfriend; Cuddy and Wilson, deep in
some sort of discussion—but none of them were towing balloons. He checked the time
on the corner of the computer screen, and his irritation grew. After six . . . where could
she—


The sound of footsteps caught his ear, and House looked up to see Allison Cameron
towing a single blush pink balloon. She looked slightly smug, and that piqued his curiosity.
House watched her walk in. “Where’s your entourage of latex?”


“I gave most of them away to Pediatrics. Maternity already had an overflow,” she told him. House smirked.


“All the better. You’ll be able to see out your rearview mirror while driving now. Speaking
of rearview—“


“Yes, yes, I know. The spanking. Look, I’m going to go grab some dinner first if you don’t
mind.”


“Pffft, the birthday girl alone? Perish the thought. Go home. I’ll bring something over in
about an hour.”


Cameron looked at him keenly, her slender fingers tightening on the balloon ribbon.
“You’re coming over?”


“I know the way. Take some time to loosen up; you’re at the big two eight now . . . all
downhill from here,” he assured her in a moment of mock-sincerity.


“Great. You really know how to make a moment special, House.” Cameron grumbled. He
let his gaze drift over her, and in those few seconds said nothing—at least not verbally.
Cameron shifted a little, feeling a flush in the heat of his gaze. House’s smirk widened.


“Go take your pretty pink balloon home, little girl. I’ll be by soon,” he assured her.
Cameron drew in a quick breath and turned, heading out again.


House watched her go, letting his gaze lasciviously slide over the sweet swell of her ass,
and feeling his own pulse accelerate. He leaned back in his chair, humming a little to
himself, feeling sweet anticipation build once more.


Such a lucky moment; such a serendipitous turn of events. He’d lusted after Cameron’s
caboose for ages—ever since she’d stepped through the glass door of the Diagnostic
office and presented herself as a candidate for the Fellowships. Half of House’s mind
then had been on her qualifications, while the other half had racked up her sexual
potential in quick order, and her tushie had certainly sealed the deal.


She’d been a bit more than he’d anticipated though, and that had made it harder to keep
things strictly on the attraction level; at least on his side. Cameron had a brain, and more
guts now than before. It made her all the more enticing, as far as House was concerned—
a sweeter prize; an intriguing woman.


And tonight . . . a chance to actually touch her . . . an action that couldn’t be
misconstrued in any other way . . . .


He drew in a deep breath and rose up from his chair.


Life was good.


* * *


House showed up at her door early, but he couldn’t help it; the thought of Cameron in a
tub was enough to keep him moving. He’d picked up some of his favorite Chinese
takeout, and now stood in the hallway, the bag hanging from his free hand as he knocked.


She opened the door a few minutes later, flushed and frustrated, her slender body
wrapped in a thick blue terrycloth robe, the ends of her hair wet. “An hour is sixty minutes, House—not forty-seven.”


“I thought promptness was a virtue,” he retorted. She sighed and waved him in;
triumphantly House lurched in and moved to the small table just off the kitchen, setting
the food down.


“Chinese?”


“Szechwan to be precise. Hungry?”


“A little,” she admitted. “Go ahead—I’ll get dressed.”


He gloated for a moment, then turned back to dinner, unpacking it carefully and listening
to the sounds coming from the bedroom.  House laid out everything and set the
chopsticks down, wondering why he was going to the trouble. Technically, he was only
here for the spanking . . . and yet a part of him understood the need for more. A build-up
to the moment.


Cameron came out again, this time in a spaghetti strap black cotton shirt and low-slung
sweat pants; House eyed her cautiously. “That’s not going to offer you any padding, you
know.”


She managed a tiny smile. “I know.”


He turned back to the table, feeling his pulse accelerate a tiny bit.


They ate. Cameron was as agile as he was with chopsticks, deftly maneuvering through
the Tea-Smoked duck to pick out the water chestnuts while he inhaled the Kung Pao
beef. They talked about food, and House looked around while she cleared the table. A
few birthday cards stood on her bookcase and the pink balloon was anchored to the arm
of her reading chair. No presents, no wrapping paper anywhere.


He sighed, comfortably full now, and sufficiently drugged to be almost relaxed. The sight
of Cameron padding about in the kitchen, her movements slow and domestically erotic
kept him watching her, and he felt a flush of tension low along his stomach. She rinsed
her hands and dried them, then came into the living room and looked at House carefully.


“Cookie?” Cameron held out the little tan folded confections. House took one and cracked
it open, tugging out the paper as Cameron did the same with hers. He smirked at her.


“You do know the rule about fortunes, don’t you?”


She blushed a little. “That you’re supposed to read them and add ‘in bed’ to whatever
aphorism is there? Please, I wasn’t born yesterday.”


“Nope, twenty-eight years ago, to be precise, but we won’t quibble. You go first.”


Cameron tugged out the paper and glanced at it. Softly she read aloud, “You will have a
close encounter of a mysterious kind . . . in bed.”


House preened.


She glared. “Right. Now yours.”


He held out the slip and read, “You draw many admiring glances . . . in bed. God it’s
amazing how true these things can be.”


“House—“ Cameron tried not to laugh and failed. He let his smirk soften a little and
looked to the living room again. She followed his glance. “What?”


He rose up from the table. “I’m thinking comfort, for our next step. Keep in mind that I’m a traditionalist, who firmly believes in the old ways.”


“Spanking me?” came her amused comment. “Well by all means let’s get started. The
sofa would probably be best, so I don’t put too much pressure on your thigh. I have a few
pillows too, if you need them for your back . . . “


House shot her a sharp look, searching her face with surprise. “You’re not a virgin.”


And that was when Allison Cameron smiled that low, dangerous smile of hers; the one
that he’d seen only a few times before and hungered for. She didn’t blink. “Neither are
you, House.”


For a fraction of a second they stood looking at each other, and in the blink of one
moment to the next, the subtle shift moved through both of them, coloring the moment
with a hint of dangerous hunger. House stepped closer to her, looking down into her face, savoring the heated glitter in her eyes. “Of course.”


“Of course,” she agreed softly. “I take it from you, House—the condescending remarks,
the teasing, the not-so-subtle hints—all because I was pretty sure there was a reason
behind them. Not just the male/female relationship, although that’s there too, but because
I’ve watched you watch me. I’ve watched you LET me take care of you and enjoy it. You
LOVE being waited on; and why not? You’re a man, and more than that, you’re a
Dominant.”


House tilted his head, as if he was trying hard to understand even though he smiled.
“How long have you known?”


“Ever since you first started picking on Chase. You knew more than he did about S and M
and didn’t want him realizing it. But I did.”


“Because you’re a sub,” he nodded with more confidence. “A girl who can’t say no. A girl
who knows a little bit more than she lets on about things.”


“Yes,” she agreed, quietly. House stared at her a moment longer, noting the flush along
her chest, and her lowered glance. He drew in a shaky breath and felt a rush of power
run through him.


Carefully he lifted his hand and let it slide along her cheekbone. “Oh Cameron, this does
change things, doesn’t it?” House murmured roughly.


She nodded.


Carefully he made his way over to the sofa and dropped onto it, motioning to the coffee
table; she moved it out of the way and came back, kneeling down gracefully. House drew
in a breath and laid his cane across his lap, loving the image of her there between his
spread feet.


“So. This is interesting. Let’s go for broke here, little Allison—are you willing to take my correction?” he asked in a husky voice.


She didn’t raise her eyes, but nodded slowly. “Yes.”


“Wrong answer—while you figure out what you’re missing, stand up,” House barked
sternly. Cameron blinked, and rose up in a swift jump, her hands behind her back.


“Yes SIR.”


“Better. Now . . . “ House took his cane and slid it up along her right hip. “Tell me why I
should spank such a good, sweet, obedient girl such as you.”


“Because, Sir, I’m not. I’ve cheated and lied and shirked my duties and gotten away with
it because nobody thinks I do any of those things,” Cameron murmured softly. “And it’s
my birthday.”


That made House grin, briefly. He shifted the cane to come up along the inside of one leg, caressing the side of her knee. Allison closed her eyes for a moment, and he thrilled at
seeing the pulse at her throat accelerate. So ripe; so ready.


“Very good,” he praised. “I think I can accommodate you. It’s been a long time coming.
Take one step closer.”


She did, coming to stand between his knees now; House’s face was level with her flat
stomach. He set his cane down and reached out, rubbing his fingers along her hips, under
the edge of the sweat pants. “You need to take these down. Now.”


Trembling a little, Cameron reached to the front of her pants and undid the drawstring,
then slid her fingers to where his were. House moved his hands, letting her push the
fabric off her hips. The sweatpants slid down her legs and pooled around her bare feet
with a soft whisper of sound.


House bit back a sigh at the gorgeous image right in front of his nose; Allison Cameron in
a tiny black spaghetti strap tee shirt and an even tinier rose colored lace thong. Her
slender, shapely legs seem to go on for miles, and he could smell her arousal, warm and
musky.


“Pretty, pretty thing . . . You DO want this, don’t you?” he asked, a little more hoarsely
now, the question loaded with all sorts of insinuation.


“Yes . . . Sir,” she quavered. House shook his head.


“Not Sir. Doctor. Say it.”


“Yes Doctor.”


“Good. Come here.”


Cameron draped herself across House’s lap, settling her hips over his thighs, being
careful. House leaned back and let her adjust herself, his breathing a little ragged. She
was so warm and soft; the perfect degree of weight to rub against his aching erection.


She lay pliantly, her hands folded under her cheek, her hair unbound over her shoulders.
House reached over and brushed it clear of her face, his fingers lingering. His other hand
rested on the middle of her lower back, in the sweet hollow there.


“Twenty-nine swats, little Allison, and I’m not gentle.”


“Yes Doctor.”


“And this is coming down—“ he tugged at the little cord of the thong trailing up between
her pert cheeks.  Cameron shifted, but House growled. “Don’t move your hands, just your
hips.”


Carefully he hooked his fingers under the satin cord and tugged it; Cameron lifted her
hips and House worked the thong down until it rested just above her knees; like a ribbon
on a pretty package, he thought. Then he deliberately slid his palm up the curve of one
cheek, savoring the silky skin and taut muscle of Allison Cameron’s ass.


Glorious. He wanted to spank it, pinch it, nibble it, eat breakfast off of it, and a possessive
growl rose out of his throat. “I LIKE you like this.”


The only answer was a tiny frantic whimper and that sound from Cameron make House
throb fiercely under her. She pressed her hips down; he bit back a groan.


“Naughty little Allison—“ Swiftly, House brought his hand up from the caress to swat her
ass. The soft smack echoed in the living room, followed up by her quick gasp. House
watched as a perfect handprint flushed up on her skin.


“One,” he counted in a tight, happy voice.


The swats rained down with excruciating slowness as House took his time and pleasure
with her. His palm began to sting around the tenth blow, and the rosy glow of Cameron’s
ass bloomed as she squirmed against him.


House noted her breathing, her closed eyes wet with tears, the rhythmic rocking of her
hips against his. So ripe. He ached for release now, and the unsubtle pressure of
Cameron against his cock was insanely delicious, but he wasn’t going to let himself come
just yet. He hadn’t come this far to get clumsy now.


When the last hard swat landed, House pulled his palm back and stared in pleasure at his handiwork. The perfection of her satiny ass, now stained pink and radiating heat made
him a little lightheaded. Half-naked Allison Cameron lying over his lap, her body shaking
slightly from her tears, muscles tense . . .


Glorious. He bent forward and blew a cooling breath over her buns, delighted to see her
stiffen further. “Poor girl, so very, very red. Does it hurt, little Allison, does it sting much?”
came his growly taunt.


Her gasping sob was answer enough, but she managed a “Yes, Doctor,” between
clenched teeth. House laughed. He pressed his left hand along her lower back and gently
worked his right hand between her legs, lightly cupping her; lifting her hips. Startled,
Cameron gave another gasp.


House pressed her lower back, even as the fingers of his other hand slid easily through
the juicy wetness between her legs. “Oh you naughty girl, you’re wet. If you’d been
wearing your thong it would be completely soaked. Good thing I took it down, isn’t it?
You’re very soft here too, little Allison, and probably very tight. That’s what happens when
you don’t have someone using you properly on a regular basis,” House rasped.


Cameron said nothing, but she pressed back against his teasing hand, frantically trying to
rub herself on his fingers. House let her for a moment, then slid his hand out and rubbed
her heated ass hard, making her whimper with pain.


“I think you NEED someone to use you, little Allison. Someone to keep you from being
such a naughty, hungry, tight girl. Would you like that?”


“Y-yes!” came her sobbing whisper. House slid his hand down to pull at her thong around
her knees, caressing her legs.


“Say it again. Ask me nicely, little Allison.”


“Yes, p-please, Doctor—“


“Mmmmmm, ohh I like the sound of that. So you’re lying on me with your stunning pink
ass naked to me, so turned on you’re getting my lap wet, and you want me to take care of
you. This is quite a birthday present. I think you need to come all over my big warm hand
now, don’t you?”


His only answer was another hot little sob from deep in her throat. House drew in a deep shuddering breath, high on the pleasure, the powerful thrill of this moment. He slid his
hand between her legs again, rubbing his big palm over her soft fur and stiff little
throbbing button there.


It didn’t take long; Allison Cameron arched up, a little musical cry of wild pleasure rising
out of her throat as her entire body trembled in tight spasms. House gritted his teeth,
fighting every urge not to come himself as she finally slumped in his lap, spent and
breathing heavily.


He blew on her sizzling ass again, delighted to see her quiver in response. Such a good
little bad Allison.


Finally, she planted her hand on the sofa and pushed herself up, looking at him with
dazed, bright eyes. House reached over and stroked her cheek. “Happy birthday. Feeling better?”


“Doctor . . “ she breathed with a little hitch in her voice, “You’re . . . you NEED me.”


House said nothing as he stroked her ass once more, lightly this time. He had faith she’d
figure things out herself; she was proving to be very good at this.


Cameron slid herself off his lap and knelt again on the carpet, a little awkwardly since her
thong was still around her knees. House smiled down at her, looking into her tear-stained
face and feeling a sense of rightness to the moment. He nodded.


She undid his tented fly, opening the damp fabric to free him, her fingers cool against his
heated shaft. House gave a grunt of pleasure and leaned back, arms stretched out along
the back of the sofa. Cameron bent forward and opened her mouth; the beautiful wet heat
of her lips around his throbbing cock made him grip the cushions.


House groaned. “Good girl. Do it.”


She did. Sucking slowly at first, then with more tender and erotic concentration, Cameron
rocked forward on her knees, applying herself to his arrogant erection. House knew he
wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted to this time; not after that spanking. He watched
her suckle his turgid cock hungrily, and long moments later, through a haze of impending white-hot pleasure, House managed to growl, “Going to come hard . . . .unghhhh . . . “


His hips rose, thrusting, and Cameron pulled up enough to keep the wet maroon head of
his prick in her mouth, swallowing the thick sprays with an equal measure of skill and luck.
When House sagged back on the sofa, she lapped him clean, her moves almost kitten-
like in delicacy. Carefully she redressed him and did up his fly, then moved to kneel
between his feet again, waiting patiently.


House sighed. He reached down and lifted her chin, leading her by it until his lips met
hers, his tongue sweeping across her own deep in her mouth, tasting the bitter traces of
himself there. Cameron moaned at the probe of his tongue and when he broke the kiss
she shuddered happily. House patted the cushion next to him, and she climbed up; he
pulled the little damp thong from her legs and tucked it into his coat pocket, then wrapped
an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.


“You’ll need some Advil, and probably won’t be able to sit comfortably tomorrow.”


“I’ll stand,” she sighed softly. House smiled into her hair.


“Let’s get you to bed then, birthday girl.”


Gently he led her to the bedroom and tucked her in, feeding her the analgesic and
watching her settle down on her side in the queen bed with the flowered sheets. Cameron
looked at him longingly, but House shook his head.


“Not tonight. If you’re a good girl, we’ll have a sleepover on the weekend. If you’re a bad
girl, I can promise you’ll be sleeping on your stomach. And possibly mine as well.”


“House—“ Cameron paused. He limped over and bent down, meeting her gaze with his
own. Seeing something comforting in his intense blue eyes, she smiled; whatever doubt
she’d had was gone. He stroked her velvety cheek again.


“It may have been your birthday, but I was the one to get the gift. And believe me, Allison,
I intend to enjoy all of you, box included.”


She smirked, and he kissed it off of her face, then turned out the light.


As House left the apartment, the pink balloon fluttered over his head. Outside the building, House let it go, and it soared up into the dark night sky. He watched it until it was out of
sight, his free hand clutching the little thong in his pocket.


He smiled.



End.

 

                 


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