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cosmic_tuesdaysTitle: Deserved Acceptance
Author: Hannah R. Orlove
Fandom: House, MD
Rating: R
Pairings: None
Notes: Written forakire_yta as a late birthday present. This is congruent to these two pieces, and takes place in 1987. Thanks to purplewobbly and tyrionvondrak for beta-work and help.
The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for. - Maureen Dowd
The sheets clung to him as he shifted onto his side. James clenched his eyes shut with the hopes that it would help his headache. It didn’t. His mouth had the sour-bitter flavor of vomit, his bladder was full, his throat was dry, and his stomach was empty. Even his fur ached.
He was vaguely aware that the sheets were sticking to him because of his sweat, but couldn’t bring himself to care about it. Caring required thinking, which made his head hurt. He just wanted to curl up, stay still, and let the world move on without him for a few years. He’d probably feel better by then.
“Mmmmppphhh.” The sound was accompanied by a sudden amount of pressure on his tail. James let out an ‘ow’ as the pain forced him up and out of the bed – rather quickly, too. His new vantage point led him to reach a number of sudden realizations: he really needed to piss, he was naked, he had no idea where his clothes were, and he was grateful it was a Saturday so he wouldn’t be late for any classes.
According to the bedside clock, it was ten-fifty-seven in the morning.
There was a towel on the floor, large and pink and stained with something that smelled like punch. He wrapped it around his waist, hoping he’d be able to find his pants somewhere.
Another part of his brain kicked in, and he looked back at the other person who’d been in bed with him. He ran his hand over his face, trying to remember last night.
Ah, yes. It was a woman. She’d…she’d insisted he be on top and hadn’t wanted anything in terms of foreplay. She had a lot of blonde curls and big green eyes and very white teeth. She was a senior and he’d seen her around at the last two parties of Brett’s he’d attended. But she’d never approached him until last night.
He couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten him up here. Just that he’d really been enjoying the beer – Brett was quite devoted to a number of microbreweries in the area and hadn’t minded James drinking from his stock – and then he’d been making out with her. That wasn’t very unusual at these for him. His first time at one of these, he’d kissed more women in an evening than he had in the eighteen years of the rest of his life. That hadn’t been all that hard to achieve, but he was pretty sure that seven different women in one night was something of an experience for anybody.
He grabbed his pants, flung over a chair by the window. He checked the pocket; yes, the room key was still there. He could worry about his boxers later; it was enough trouble getting them on with this headache. Once again, he wondered how everyone else dressed themselves in the morning. He knew the basic mechanics of it but had always had to worry about his tail, and wondered how much easier it was for people who didn’t have them.
Should he leave a note for…for…
James suddenly realized he’d forgotten her name.
It was different to not know someone’s name if they sucked you off in a closet – that had been the highlight of the last party – than if they were your first time. Your real first time. He was sure she’d told it to him before they’d gotten in bed, that he’d said it when he’d been thrusting in and out of her. He did remember her saying it was all right that he’d come long before she had. He’d apologized but she had smiled and said it was fine. Then she’d masturbated while he watched, and that had gotten him horny enough that he’d asked if he could try going at it again. She’d grinned and had spread her legs for him. It had taken him a bit longer to get off, but not much.
His boxers were in the bathroom, for some reason, inside the shower stall. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, wondering why someone had chosen to vomit in the sink and not the toilet. He could wash his face later, even though it would probably help with the dull ache behind his eyeballs.
She was smiling at him when he got out of the bathroom. He looked away.
“I really enjoyed myself last night.”
He looked back at her. Susannah. “I’m glad.”
“I’ve waited a long time to do that.”
James blushed harder. “Was it as good as you’d hoped?”
She smiled. “In a way. It was…” A stretch and an ‘mmmmm’ broke up her sentence. “…very satisfying.”
He couldn’t stop grinning or twitching. Whenever he got this excited he couldn’t keep himself still. But someone watching his tail move always killed his buzz.
“I’m sorry, but I – I really have to get going, and I’m glad that –”
“Can I touch it?”
“What?”
“Your tail. Can I touch it?”
“I’d…I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
Susannah looked at him for a while. Was she angry? Unhappy? When she finally said something, he realized she was disappointed. “All right.” She shrugged. “You get going, then. And if you ever want to do it again, I’ll probably be free.”
James nodded, mumbling, as he began to leave.
“It does look soft.”
He stopped in the doorway. She’d spoken just loudly enough for him to hear her. James glanced back at her; she was more hopeful than anything. He nodded. “It is.”
His shirt was right outside the door. He didn’t know where his shoes were, but he didn’t want to go back and look for them. At least it wasn’t all that far to walk from Brett’s house to his dorm.
James hadn’t pictured walking barefoot on warm sidewalks with the remains of a hangover when he’d thought about college, but then again, he hadn’t pictured the sort of parties like the ones he’d attended last night, either. He hadn’t thought anyone would want to invite him, or that he’d be so readily accepted into them.
Though…he tried to push the idea out of his mind, but it was staying, worming its way in.
Why had all the girls he’d made out with had tried to play with his tail? Repeatedly, even. They hadn’t even asked, just reached around and groped at him. When he’d gotten the blowjob and she’d started to rub around the base of his tail he’d thought she was trying to find someplace to put her hands before he’d stopped caring. But before she’d actually started the sucking, he’d wanted desperately for her to stop doing that. The guys had been curious, too – asking him to pick up stuff or just move around, or they’d ask to see his license.
He’d been brought to a number of large groups, but they’d all been interested in him. Not welcoming, not exactly, but it had been nice to have more than two or three people smile when you came into a room.
Even if they didn’t really care about what he had to say. Or what he was studying. Or what his name was. One guy had asked him four times the first night. James had used the heavy drinking to explain that one away.
“Hey.” The guy at the front desk didn’t look up. James was glad he wouldn’t have to make eye contact.
There wasn’t anyone else out on his floor. Again, a time to be happy he wouldn’t need to look anyone in the face. Not that there would be much opportunity for it. His room – one of two singles on the floor – was two doors away from the stairwell.
He was hungry but could wait until dinner to eat something. He felt weird but he could wait to shower. He didn’t want to leave his room right now.
His parents had insisted he get a single. It would be better for him, they’d said to the administration. He needs privacy. It would be easier for him to adjust to college if he doesn’t have a roommate at the beginning.
There’d been more, but James knew that it boiled down to: It’d be safer for him.
He had escaped childhood without anything really horrible happening to him. Sure, some people had called him names, but words were just words. They couldn’t hurt you. Sure, some people had thrown things at him, but they’d all been duly punished. Sure, just about everybody had seen him as an animal, not a human being, but he wasn’t in fourth grade anymore. He was in his first year of college. He was practically an adult. He was a mature member of society. He was free of it all now.
People looking down at him for being a power wasn’t what he wanted in life, but complete and utter adoration for the same reason was just as bad.
James sat cross-legged on his bed, idly stroking his tail.
He knew powers were at higher risk for depression, suicide, rape, hate crimes, random acts of violence, addiction, and physical, sexual, and self-abuse than the rest of the population, proportionally.
It would be easy to be depressed. It wouldn’t be hard at all. He could just stay here and wallow in his own misery and do nothing to change how he felt or his life at all.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let himself. He didn’t have the luxury.
Author: Hannah R. Orlove
Fandom: House, MD
Rating: R
Pairings: None
Notes: Written for
akire_yta as a late birthday present. This is congruent to these two pieces, and takes place in 1987. Thanks to purplewobbly and tyrionvondrak for beta-work and help.The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for. - Maureen Dowd
The sheets clung to him as he shifted onto his side. James clenched his eyes shut with the hopes that it would help his headache. It didn’t. His mouth had the sour-bitter flavor of vomit, his bladder was full, his throat was dry, and his stomach was empty. Even his fur ached.
He was vaguely aware that the sheets were sticking to him because of his sweat, but couldn’t bring himself to care about it. Caring required thinking, which made his head hurt. He just wanted to curl up, stay still, and let the world move on without him for a few years. He’d probably feel better by then.
“Mmmmppphhh.” The sound was accompanied by a sudden amount of pressure on his tail. James let out an ‘ow’ as the pain forced him up and out of the bed – rather quickly, too. His new vantage point led him to reach a number of sudden realizations: he really needed to piss, he was naked, he had no idea where his clothes were, and he was grateful it was a Saturday so he wouldn’t be late for any classes.
According to the bedside clock, it was ten-fifty-seven in the morning.
There was a towel on the floor, large and pink and stained with something that smelled like punch. He wrapped it around his waist, hoping he’d be able to find his pants somewhere.
Another part of his brain kicked in, and he looked back at the other person who’d been in bed with him. He ran his hand over his face, trying to remember last night.
Ah, yes. It was a woman. She’d…she’d insisted he be on top and hadn’t wanted anything in terms of foreplay. She had a lot of blonde curls and big green eyes and very white teeth. She was a senior and he’d seen her around at the last two parties of Brett’s he’d attended. But she’d never approached him until last night.
He couldn’t really remember how she’d gotten him up here. Just that he’d really been enjoying the beer – Brett was quite devoted to a number of microbreweries in the area and hadn’t minded James drinking from his stock – and then he’d been making out with her. That wasn’t very unusual at these for him. His first time at one of these, he’d kissed more women in an evening than he had in the eighteen years of the rest of his life. That hadn’t been all that hard to achieve, but he was pretty sure that seven different women in one night was something of an experience for anybody.
He grabbed his pants, flung over a chair by the window. He checked the pocket; yes, the room key was still there. He could worry about his boxers later; it was enough trouble getting them on with this headache. Once again, he wondered how everyone else dressed themselves in the morning. He knew the basic mechanics of it but had always had to worry about his tail, and wondered how much easier it was for people who didn’t have them.
Should he leave a note for…for…
James suddenly realized he’d forgotten her name.
It was different to not know someone’s name if they sucked you off in a closet – that had been the highlight of the last party – than if they were your first time. Your real first time. He was sure she’d told it to him before they’d gotten in bed, that he’d said it when he’d been thrusting in and out of her. He did remember her saying it was all right that he’d come long before she had. He’d apologized but she had smiled and said it was fine. Then she’d masturbated while he watched, and that had gotten him horny enough that he’d asked if he could try going at it again. She’d grinned and had spread her legs for him. It had taken him a bit longer to get off, but not much.
His boxers were in the bathroom, for some reason, inside the shower stall. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, wondering why someone had chosen to vomit in the sink and not the toilet. He could wash his face later, even though it would probably help with the dull ache behind his eyeballs.
She was smiling at him when he got out of the bathroom. He looked away.
“I really enjoyed myself last night.”
He looked back at her. Susannah. “I’m glad.”
“I’ve waited a long time to do that.”
James blushed harder. “Was it as good as you’d hoped?”
She smiled. “In a way. It was…” A stretch and an ‘mmmmm’ broke up her sentence. “…very satisfying.”
He couldn’t stop grinning or twitching. Whenever he got this excited he couldn’t keep himself still. But someone watching his tail move always killed his buzz.
“I’m sorry, but I – I really have to get going, and I’m glad that –”
“Can I touch it?”
“What?”
“Your tail. Can I touch it?”
“I’d…I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
Susannah looked at him for a while. Was she angry? Unhappy? When she finally said something, he realized she was disappointed. “All right.” She shrugged. “You get going, then. And if you ever want to do it again, I’ll probably be free.”
James nodded, mumbling, as he began to leave.
“It does look soft.”
He stopped in the doorway. She’d spoken just loudly enough for him to hear her. James glanced back at her; she was more hopeful than anything. He nodded. “It is.”
His shirt was right outside the door. He didn’t know where his shoes were, but he didn’t want to go back and look for them. At least it wasn’t all that far to walk from Brett’s house to his dorm.
James hadn’t pictured walking barefoot on warm sidewalks with the remains of a hangover when he’d thought about college, but then again, he hadn’t pictured the sort of parties like the ones he’d attended last night, either. He hadn’t thought anyone would want to invite him, or that he’d be so readily accepted into them.
Though…he tried to push the idea out of his mind, but it was staying, worming its way in.
Why had all the girls he’d made out with had tried to play with his tail? Repeatedly, even. They hadn’t even asked, just reached around and groped at him. When he’d gotten the blowjob and she’d started to rub around the base of his tail he’d thought she was trying to find someplace to put her hands before he’d stopped caring. But before she’d actually started the sucking, he’d wanted desperately for her to stop doing that. The guys had been curious, too – asking him to pick up stuff or just move around, or they’d ask to see his license.
He’d been brought to a number of large groups, but they’d all been interested in him. Not welcoming, not exactly, but it had been nice to have more than two or three people smile when you came into a room.
Even if they didn’t really care about what he had to say. Or what he was studying. Or what his name was. One guy had asked him four times the first night. James had used the heavy drinking to explain that one away.
“Hey.” The guy at the front desk didn’t look up. James was glad he wouldn’t have to make eye contact.
There wasn’t anyone else out on his floor. Again, a time to be happy he wouldn’t need to look anyone in the face. Not that there would be much opportunity for it. His room – one of two singles on the floor – was two doors away from the stairwell.
He was hungry but could wait until dinner to eat something. He felt weird but he could wait to shower. He didn’t want to leave his room right now.
His parents had insisted he get a single. It would be better for him, they’d said to the administration. He needs privacy. It would be easier for him to adjust to college if he doesn’t have a roommate at the beginning.
There’d been more, but James knew that it boiled down to: It’d be safer for him.
He had escaped childhood without anything really horrible happening to him. Sure, some people had called him names, but words were just words. They couldn’t hurt you. Sure, some people had thrown things at him, but they’d all been duly punished. Sure, just about everybody had seen him as an animal, not a human being, but he wasn’t in fourth grade anymore. He was in his first year of college. He was practically an adult. He was a mature member of society. He was free of it all now.
People looking down at him for being a power wasn’t what he wanted in life, but complete and utter adoration for the same reason was just as bad.
James sat cross-legged on his bed, idly stroking his tail.
He knew powers were at higher risk for depression, suicide, rape, hate crimes, random acts of violence, addiction, and physical, sexual, and self-abuse than the rest of the population, proportionally.
It would be easy to be depressed. It wouldn’t be hard at all. He could just stay here and wallow in his own misery and do nothing to change how he felt or his life at all.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let himself. He didn’t have the luxury.
