girlsolo | [Oct. 13-20] full stops and exclamation marks

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[Oct. 13-20] full stops and exclamation marks

Kate's back to drinking tequila again. That's never a good sign. Tonight it's a sign she's bouncing between sexy check-in notes with Declan that make this island seem all right and people like Coraline screaming and crying over how much it fucking sucks.

The smart thing to do would be find Will or Magnus, talk some of this out. Even finding someone to spar with, that would work. Thing is, Kate's not that kind of smart. When it comes to helping Coraline? Sure. Yeah. She's been listening to Will do his shrink thing for years now. But when it comes to herself?

Fuck that noise. She'd still rather fuck and forget.

Kate leans her back against a post to watch the room, drinks another shot (hot wheels only, no training), and flirts at whatever makes eye contact. Whether she's Go or just Show, she hasn't decided yet. Mostly, she's trying not to look for anyone in particular. She's trying not to wish he'd come in and just...

Take her home.

[OOC: Find her at the Hub or the Winchester (let me know) any evening between now and the 20th. Available for all of your Freelander needs. If you need a specific date, email me, otherwise I'll work them out. For the record, Kate's very bi but a lot less available than she thinks she is.]

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"Almost six years," said House. Really almost. Within the month, he suspected. He managed a wry smile, just this side of bitter. "Bad news for me, at least. Have I given up? I've seen too many people disappear to think I'll be here forever."

Her shoulders round at that, tensing. She doesn't want to talk about people disappearing or think about it. Then stop asking the question, Freelander.

"Long fucking time to be marooned on the Island of Misfit Toys," is what she says instead, bitter. "Does it ever get better?" Weird how sometimes it's easier to talk to strangers. People you don't even like that much.

"It does for some people," said House. "For me, it just gets worse." He realized that being a downer probably wasn't the best strategy for getting into a woman's pants, but he couldn't bring himself to put on a happy face for this particular subject. Or any subject, really.

He nodded ahead in the path, toward his hut. "Home sweet home."

"Well that's fucking depressing," Kate says, and hears Magnus-voice saying 'terribly' instead and her echoing it. It's a lot more depressing than her not stealing any money when they robbed a bank together.

If anything, it just steels her spine. She slides him a sly little grin from under her hair. "How about we skip the 'depressing' and get to the 'fucking'?"

House arched an eyebrow, and tried his best to ignore the way those words sent a flush of warmth straight to his cock. Way, way too long.

"I have a great appreciation for directness," he said, and led her up the short set of stairs to his front porch. As soon as he opened the door, the big black lab came bounding out. House patted him on the head. "Go chase some birds for a while, Fucker," he said.

"Fucker? Is that really his name?" Kate asks, bursting out laughing. She held out her hand to the dog, grinning warm and sincere. So sue her, she loves animals.

It's kind of a distraction, but she doesn't mind. She tells herself the lie she's not stalling and believes it.

"Yeah," said House, "and believe it or not, I didn't even name him." The dog answered to Padfoot too, just because House saw the value in not constantly yelling profanities, but they both knew what his name really was.

The dog nosed at Kate's hand, licked her fingers, and then took off like a shot down the steps. He'd be laying on the front porch on the pillow there in the morning.

House walked inside, gesturing her in. His hut was, if anything, a bachelor pad, as far as huts went. Not messy, but not particularly clean. Books strewn here and there, a strange mixture of detective novels, medical texts, and lesbian erotica. There was a guitar open in the case in the corner. The bed was a real bed, large and comfortable. It wasn't made, but the sheets were clean.

"I suppose this is where I offer you a drink," he said, "but I'm afraid all I can manage is water or marijuana."

"Water and marijuana works," Kate answers almost absently.

She's already scanning the hut, checking out everything there. Her fingertips dancing across everything, stopping at the lesbian erotica. She picks it up and flips through a few pages. "Guess you weren't kidding about Magnus and I warming your fantasies."

It's tempting, really tempting, to read a few pages out loud. Somehow with the alcohol, the marijuana and the prospect of no strings sex, she doubts Greg needs the encouragement. She does bend down to unlace her boots, though, and toes those off while she's waiting for him.

"Hey, a guy needs a hobby," House said dryly. He hadn't really expected her to take him up on the pot, but hey, whatever was going to help his chances. Because if they dropped off now it would be pretty depressing.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a rolled joint and a box of matches. "Nice boots," he said, as he lit it and walked over to her. He was standing close when he gave it to her, looking her over in obvious appreciation.

"But you like them better off?" There's an edge to that, a push that's looking for a response. It doesn't matter what the response is, but she needs more than words here.

She's a club kid from way back, though, and the joint in her hand and the first hit are familiar even without the clouds of smoke and the pounding bass. When she holds the smoke long enough, the edges blur and she doesn't hate the island quite so much.

She gestures to the bed behind her. "Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all." House waited for her, and then leaned his cane against the dresser and crossed the room, steps a bit halting. He stopped in front of her.

"I'm sure you know how beautiful you are," he said. They always did. "Fuck, if we were back home I'd assume you were a hooker." He sat down beside her. "But you've kind of made my night. Week. Month. Whatever."

With a laugh and an amused cock of her head, Kate offers back the joint. "Probably should be huffy about that, but I've been called worse."

She's done worse. Hell, she's done that, but not often. It might be just sex, but getting paid for it feels like crap. Not dirty, just insulting.

"Curious why you'd think that. You're a good-looking guy. Any chick worth fucking couldn't give a--" Her lips curl up like a well-played joke as her hand gestures out toward the cane and lands on his good thigh, almost affectionate. "Fuck about that. Yeah, you're a dick but you're also a doc and that comes with the territory in the best ones."

House took a hit off of the joint and held it back out to her. He liked that she thought he was good looking. It wasn't that he didn't agree - it was more that the leg and the age he assumed canceled it out most of the time.

Also, the last statement made him like her even more.

He leaned in closer to her, making sure that the lit joint was out of the way, and brushed his lips softly against the pulse point on her neck. "Also it all means that I have the unique combination of both overconfidence and overcompensation. And I haven't gone down on a woman in way too long."

Her nose wrinkles at the armchair self-analysis. It makes him sound like Will. Now that she thinks about that, though, she just bets Will likes that too. Giving head, probably as much as getting it.

Declan-- is something she's not going to think about right now.

"Yeah? And how long since a woman's gone down on you?" Her hands skim across his thigh, over his dick and up to his waistband. She's not opposed to him getting between her thighs. But he strikes her as a guy in desperate need of a good blow job.

Not since Helen. Which he didn't say out loud for obvious reasons, not the least of which being that she might think he meant Magnus. He also didn't tell her how long it had been since anyone had gone down on him.

House took the joint, took one more hit, and then tossed it into a cup of water on the beside table. No fire near pants unfastening action.

"Did I mention you're hot?" he asked breathlessly. "And you're touching me. I already kind of liked you since you're a smartass, but this just pushed you over the edge."

"Question is whether I'm hot because I'm touching you." Kate smirks and keeps right on smirking while she gets his pants open, and slips off the bed to her knees while she tugs them down. Truth is, she doesn't blame him for the hooker comment, because if she stops to think about it, she's kind of acting like one.

"For what it's worth, I kinda like you for not pulling your punches." Sometimes the island makes her sick with everyone being all nice and trusting. Life isn't like that and anyone who tells you it is is stealing from you.

She's taking something from him now, but he's taking the same thing back from her. A little feel good in the face of fuck it all.

As Kate pulled down House's pants, he almost unconsciously slid a hand onto his left thigh, though that still wasn't enough to completely hide the ruin of scars that was visible underneath the hem of his boxers, and then when they came down too there wasn't really any point in trying to hide it.

"No, I'm pretty sure you're both hot and a smartass all the time," he murmured, "which is a good thing."

Kate leans in and nips the fingers trying to cover his scars. When he pulls them away, she nips at the scars and runs her fingers over them.

"Bad scene," she says about them, but she doesn't look repulsed at all because she couldn't care less. Instead, she shrugs off her jacket and pulls down her tank and cami to show off the bullet scar in her left upper chest. "Jackass took the bullet out with alcohol and a Swiss Army knife."

Probably almost gave her lead poisoning too. He should've left it, but he might've saved her life. Doc says they'll never know for sure.

House flinched when she touched the scars, not because it hurt, but because he really didn't like attention drawn to them. He was more a fan of pretend-it-doesn't-exist. Worked for hookers, if he warned them first.

But he tried to hide it with a quirked smile. "Take that off and I promise I won't be looking at bullet scars."

"Few minutes, I'm kinda thinking you won't be looking at anything at all," Kate purrs at him.

Her fingers slide up the inside of his other thigh, back of her hand soft against his skin. She got the message. Don't touch, don't fuss. She's not Will, but that came through loud and clear.

"Except maybe the inside of your eyelids."

He really would like to see her top off, she clearly had a great rack under there. But he could wait. All in good time.

He swallowed visibly when she touched him, his cock twitching, now mostly hard. "I'll take that challenge."

Most chicks seem to have a thing about it when a guy's not poking their eye out with his dick before they get started. Kate's always kind of liked it. Extra challenge, or proof it's not just off they want, whatever. It's not something she feels she needs to analyze (not much is). It's just nice to cup her palm around a dick that's not fully hard and feel it get that way when she strokes her thumb against it.

She's done talking. It's time. Her vision's narrowing down to what's in front of her, fuzzy edges from the pot making it all even more appealing. "Yeah," she murmurs at him, because she forgot whatever he'd said and it doesn't matter anyway. Not now.

Another time she might work an angle, draw it out, but she's got no agenda here but 'off'. She drags the flat of her tongue along his length, then sucks him in, just at the tip.

"Oh." House let out a soft breath, and he relaxed, his face suddenly looking almost younger. It had been a long time... what, nine months? Ten?

He looked down at her, and at least for the moment, stopped thinking about why she was doing this, and just allowed himself to enjoy it.

That little oh is a game-changer. He really wants this, maybe even really wants her. Kate's a good con but sex isn't something she likes to lie about. So, there's a smile in her eyes when she glances back up at him. Her thumb strokes the point of his hip when she curls her hand around it.

And there's a little extra play in the curl of her tongue behind his cock. She wants it for her now. Not just for him.

One advantage (one of very few) of House not sleeping with a lot of people was that not very many saw him as vulnerable as he could become. Particularly now, when it had been months and months since someone had touched him like this, the pleasure was evident on his face and the stance of his body. Fingers curling into the sheets at his sides. A soft, strangled groan escaping his lips.

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