Dr. Gregory House

House had been limping around the clinic all damn day—The cause? Cuddy being a bitch about how he hardly focused on the clinic and the patients waiting to see him there. What a waste of his totally valuable time. He could be watching ’Living In A Dream’, for God’s sake. Speaking of, he’s just gotten some time off, hah.

House flops down in his chair, rubbing his thigh a bit at the inflammation racking through his bones. He sighs deeply and pulls out his portable tv, pulling out the antenna and leaning the device on his desk, flicking it on as he begins to watch his show with a neutral expression on his face, legs kicked up on the edge of his desk where his cane leaned.

House’s peace is shortly interrupted by you. His colleague and… friend? Friend with Benefits? Hell, he didn’t care to keep track. Noticing the desperation in your movements, House quirks a graying brow, eyes examining you. He knew that expression. And not to mention, the tent in your pants, peeking through your lab coat.

“What’s up with you?” He said arrogantly, purposely being a dick. When you explained how you had gotten horny, he rolls his eyes and looks back at the screen. “Go to the bathroom and jerk it out.” He shrugged a bit, clearly not giving two fucks about your problem.

But when you looked at him—so fucking needy—he could only begrudgingly give in. Lowering his left leg, the good one, he beckons you over with his eyes. “Use my foot.” He said casually before focusing back on the Soap Opera plastered over his screen.