karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,

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Put Out The Fire-Chapter 5-House MD/CSI-NY Crossover

Title: Put Out The Fire
Author: Karaokegal
Chapter: 5/?
Fandoms: House MD/CSI-NY Crossover
Pairing: Chase/Lindsay (finally)
Rating: NC17
Summary: SMUT, with a bit of kink.
A/N-Continued appreciation for the original plot bunny and Happy Birthday to Kohl-Rimmed-Eye
Thanks to Rivers_Bend for Beta and "a scary bloke named Bernard"
and special thanks to
sfbuffalo for helping with the hand choreography.

If you're just joining the party, the first chapter is here:
Put Out The Fire

Lindsay gaped at her watch. 1:25AM. She could barely make it out, barely keep her eyes open. Come on, Detective Monroe. You can do this. She tried to pep talk herself using Mac’s stern voice. That worked for all of five minutes before her eyelids started fluttering again.

The next time she opened them, Dr Chase was checking Harvey’s monitors and writing something on a chart. Then he yawned.

“Please don’t do that. If you yawn, then I’m going to yawn, and if I yawn, I’ll close my eyes and…”

“Lindsay, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen here tonight.”

“Where’s House?”

“He went home hours ago. He’s ordered extra niacin, potassium and iron, plus electrolytes.”

Lindsay tried to make sense of that.

“He thinks Harvey’s problem is malnutrition?”

“I dunno. House has that look like he knows something, but we’re all too stupid to bother telling.”

Lindsay nodded until she felt a yawn wracking her entire body.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Robert asked.

“Apple. Couple of hours ago. I just need some caffeine.”

“No,” he said firmly, “You need food and sleep. Doctor’s orders.” His voice was firm, but the smile cut through her protests. “Tell you what, there’s an all-night Mexican place out on the interstate.”

“Mexican food in New Jersey?” Lindsay was dubious.

“I didn’t say it was good. I just said it was cheap, fast and open all night.”

“If Danny were here he’d make a dirty joke.”

“So would House, but he’s not here, so let’s go.”

After a taco salad and large diet Coke, Lindsay felt immeasurably better. Since she was pre-occupied with Dr. Robert Chase sitting on the other side of a dangerously rickety table, she decided to ignore the hookers and tweakers occupying the other tables.

She gave herself permission to focus on Robert’s accent, his sweet smile, and the way he was not quite looking at her as he chewed on the straw from his own beverage. Then the diet Coke kicked in and she remembered Mac saying, “Stay with him.”

“I should really get back,” she murmured.

“I’d like to see you try,” he challenged.

“My boss said…”

“Is your boss a jerk?”

“No. That would be your boss,” she pointed out. “Mac expects a lot from his people, but he lets us do our jobs without demeaning us or treating us like crap. Why do you put up with that?”

Robert looked down as if he’d find the answer in a half-eaten quesadilla.

“He’s a brilliant doctor.”

“That gives him the right to be abusive?”

“He’s in pain.”

“Mac Taylor’s wife was in Tower 1 on 9/11. She didn’t get out. He lives with that every day and still manages to treat his employees with dignity.”

He looked into her eyes, even though he had no answer but a shrug. His right hand was inches away from hers on the table. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and grasped firmly.

“Maybe you’re just a masochist.” She said, drawing out the last word teasingly.

She heard Robert take a deep breath.

“Maybe you are too?” he asked with a curious rising inflection.

“Tell me about Annette,” she continued in her playful tone, sliding her left hand against his, until her fingers were lying on his arm, just under the cuff of his shirt.

“Is this an interrogation, Detective Monroe?”

“It’s a conversation, Dr. Chase.”

“I think it’s a seduction, Lindsay.”

She turned his right hand over and placed hers on top of it.

“But who’s seducing whom, Robert?” He took control of her hands, squeezing gently, until it was Lindsay’s turn to need an extra breath. “Everybody we talked to liked Annette. Grown men cried when we told them she was dead. You’d think someone who made a living out of pain would have an enemy and we couldn’t find any. I need to know why not.”

“For your boss?”

“For me. No notebook, no tapes and I’m probably too tired to remember anything you tell me anyway.”

“That must be how you get your murder confessions.” He held her hands tightly. “Annette could read people, make them accept things about themselves.”

“What did you have to accept?”

Robert bit down on his lower lip, but held her gaze.

“I had to get it through my thick skull that only a masochist would be in a relationship with Louise, because she was completely controlling me even when I was the one inflicting pain. Annette called me a bottom in top’s boots. A bit of S&M humor, that was.” Robert’s smile was rueful.

She tried to show him that she wasn’t scared or offended. Under the table, her legs were pressed together tightly. “I had some sessions with her. She hurt me just enough to teach me what I could and couldn’t stand and that I needed to get away from Louise before we destroyed each other.”

“Wow!” Lindsay was lost in arousal and admiration. She could almost feel herself falling for the dead woman.

“But there was something else.”

“What?” Lindsay’s palms were sweating. Robert didn’t seem to notice.

“There was this scary bloke named Bernard. I used to see him at the parties sometimes. Boots. Leathers. He looked like he could break you in two and throw the bits away with one hand. I went to Annette’s for a session and Bernard was there. So I thought, this is it. This bastard's gonna have his way with me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I was shaking like a leaf.”

Lindsay felt a tremor go through her body, especially her hands. Robert must have felt it and understood what she’d been trying to tell him, why she wanted to hear this.

“What did he do to you?”

“Better to ask what I did to him,” Robert said with a dangerous grin. “Annette said Bernard needed punishment and she wanted me to help.”

“Oh my god,” Lindsay closed her eyes tightly.

“I made him scream,” Robert practically crooned, drawing out the word “scream” until Lindsay thought she’d pass out then and there.

“Your place,” she managed to whisper. Her mouth was dry, but her panties felt wet enough to mop the New Jersey Turnpike.
It was all she could do to keep her hands off Robert or herself during the drive to his apartment. She kept thinking of his voice when he said the word “scream” and how much she’d wanted to reach up and brush the hair out of his face, but didn’t because she couldn’t bear to break the contact with his hands. Now she sat on her own hands, eyes tightly shut, living her own “tied to a chair fantasy” envisioning what Robert was going to do to her.

Her usual sane, reasonable self tried to ask what the hell she thought she was doing, opening herself up this way to a man she barely knew, and found itself shouted down by a chorus of lust surging through her bloodstream.

Lindsay had no idea where she was when they got out of the car. There was a door and stairs and another door and finally Robert’s arms around her, pulling them together, and soft lips and a tongue invading her mouth.

She let him half-lead, half-carry her to the bedroom, both of them shedding clothes along the way. A fleeting thought Danny, if you could see “Montana” now. and then she was in Robert’s bed, naked, hotter than she could remember being in her whole life. She threw her arms over her head, wrists together to make sure he understood.

“How much do you need?” he asked gently.

“Restraints. Words. No marks.”

“Safe word?”

She thought a second. “Fire.”

He used his tie to bind her wrists in the same position she’d been holding them.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

She complied, every inch of her body vibrating. She sensed the weight of Robert getting into the bed and then he was on top of her, kissing her as though he could feast on her mouth forever. She’d said “no marks”, but the taste of him, the feeling of those soft lips nibbling hers over and over, would mark her more deeply than any bruises. When he left her mouth to start tracing a row of kisses down her neck, she groaned with frustration.

“Shall I put something else in there?” She could hear the smile in his voice, but groaned even more at the idea.

When his lips clamped over her nipple and his tongue started swirling against the most sensitive spot, she let out a squeal of delight, waves of pleasure coursing through her body, as she arched up wanting more.

Robert immediately withdrew.

“You need to show some self-control. Can’t have you hitting the jackpot till I say so.” His voice was matter-of-fact, with the hint of a threat. “Can you behave or not?”

She nodded, straining against the tie, squirming in the bed, desperate to feel him near her again.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be good.”

“All right. Let’s try it again.”

This time it was her left nipple, his lips, tongue and teeth working together until her legs started thrashing and she couldn’t hold back a scream.

Again, he backed off, leaving her body yearning.

“What am I going to do with you Lindsay?” He lay beside her,, grasping her by the shoulders until her breathing had slowed down and her body had stopped shaking. “Badbadbadbad girl,” he muttered, kissing his way down her body, moving between her legs, spreading her open.

When his mouth touched her there, she couldn’t hold back. No pretense of control. Just her body exploding and Chase staying at it, his tongue pushing her harder, faster and over the edge into a screaming orgasm that left her throat raw and her body humming as if an electric current were going through it.

She was vaguely aware of Robert pulling himself up and entering her, triggering a second rush of sensation before the first one had even subsided. She wrapped her legs around his back, thrusting up against him, hoping he was getting as much pleasure as she had, but doubting it was possible.

She heard him calling her name, groaning into her, around her, on top of her, until she screamed out “Robert,” and some other things she couldn’t remember. He collapsed on top of her, asking if she was OK, which struck her as odd until she realized she was laughing and crying at the same time. It seemed to take forever before she could stop doing either one. Eventually, she was just smiling and wondered if she’d ever be able to get that particular smile off her face.

She opened her eyes to find Robert untying her hands and massaging the insides of her wrists. She made a grab for the tie. He jerked it just out of reach. She grabbed for it again. He pulled it back, dangling it over her body, running it against her skin, soothing instead of teasing. Finally he let her catch the tie, but then pretended to try and take it back. She held on tightly and he finally let her have it for keeps. Lindsay chuckled, as she scrunched the tie in one hand.

She instinctively pressed herself around Robert’s warm skin. Now she could reach out and touch his hair, which seemed to fall in his eyes, no matter what position he was in. Now she could get some sleep. But she couldn’t.
Gotta get up. Gotta go. Mac said to stay with him. Her body had other ideas. It wanted to stay near Robert and get the rest it had been deprived of for over thirty-six hours. Maybe a little nap would be OK.

She wanted to say something to Robert, before she drifted into blissful sleep, but couldn’t remember what it was. Oh yeah, something about playing with fire. She’d have to tell him later.

This way to the finale
Tags: csi-ny, housefic, put out the fire

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