This story takes place during the Airborne episode in S3. It is after House has solved the case, but before they've landed. The missing scene...
Disclaimer: Do I really need one? Of course I'm not connected with Shore.
Handicap Accessible
"Where do you think you're going?"
House spun around, startled by her voice.
"You can't go in there," Cuddy said.
"Of course I can," House responded. "I just open the door, and limp in."
She frowned. "Those are the crew quarters."
"They're going to be busy for the next few hours cleaning up vomit and pacifying the panic freaks. You should go back to your seat and get pampered." He turned to open the door. "Take the first class seat. I won't need it."
"You're not going in there, House," she firmly instructed.
"You're not the Boeing Police," he said. "And since I just saved the day - which you could not do since you were suffering from temporary insanity - I'm sure they'll bend the rules so the hero can get some shut-eye."
"House!" She warned.
"Cuddy!" He mocked.
It was a battle of the wills. They were in yet another stare down, intended to cause a wavering response, but usually resulted in the simmering heat between them transforming to a sizzle of intense awareness.
House stepped closer to her, invading her space in his customary manner.
"We've got a long flight ahead of us," he said. She could feel his breath, could smell his musky, spiced scent that awakened her hormones and called forth the titan of desire she kept locked within. "Much longer now that we have to fly so low."
His eyes searched hers then traveled along the line of her nose and down to her lips. When he lightly licked his bottom lip, her eyes followed the movement. Her tongue unconsciously mirrored his movement as it ran along her bottom lip. It suddenly became more difficult for both of them to breathe.
"What are you up to?" Cuddy somehow managed to ask.
His gaze didn't move from her mouth. "Always so suspicious," he softly said.
"Always right," she spoke with more bravado than she felt.
"Except when you're wrong," he pointed out.
"Am I wrong now?"
He shrugged. "What's your theory?"
And there it was! The standard deflection. He was always so big on teasing her, but never big on the follow-through.
"If you think I'm initiating you into the mile-high club, you have a bit of the bends too," she said.
"I'd rather you bend," he grinned suggestively.
Cuddy squinted slightly, calculating her next move as she easily slipped into the game. Her eyes followed the path of her finger as she moved it along the seam of his shirt from belly to chest. When she lightly bit her lip, there was an instant change in the rhythm of his breathing. She could feel his response as surely as she saw the increase in his pulse at the base of his neck.
"You know what I want, House," she said, opening her palm on his chest. "A man who has the balls to say what he really wants…and go for it." With a saucy grin, she pushed him a step backwards and turned to walk away.
There was something empowering about having the last word, about having the upper hand with House. Knowing he was watching her, enjoying her. It was at times like these she felt like a teenager again, giddy at the lustful attentions of the bad boy.
She'd barely taken a step when his hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Cuddy was startled. His touch was a surprise, his response exhilarating.
House pushed her up against the wall and pressed his body into her. Her mind processed a fight or flight response as he blocked her way. He was too close and too imposing. She wanted to take control and command the situation, but she couldn't resist the inexplicable energy that drew her to him. It pulsed through her veins with increasing intensity, overriding her thoughts and kindling a fire between her legs.
He leaned in close to her, running his jaw along hers in a primal motion. She could feel the coarse texture of his beard against her sensitive skin and it sent a shiver down her spine. He breathed in the fragrance of her, that unique scent drove the hunt.
"I want you naked," he whispered. Cuddy gasped.
"I have a taste for coconut and citrus," he breathed against her lips.
It was how he'd described her smell as he'd moved his face along her torso earlier. She was breathless, and curious, and hungry for him.
And then he kissed her.
His lips were soft and hot, his tongue teasing and intrusive. Cuddy could hardly hold back the moan as he nipped and nibbled. Her hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. His hips bucked into her, grinding his erection into her.
Cuddy was in a daze as he pulled her into the crew quarters; House was in heaven. He couldn't believe his good fortune. One minute they'd been in the midst of their standard tug of war, and the next she was in his arms. And man, did she feel good. As her body pressed against him, he felt all-powerful, yet strangely grounded. Her mouth was warm and welcoming, her heat was a temptation he was loathe to resist.
How many times had he fantasized about this? About her? But this was Cuddy, his boss, his friend. She was everything he wanted and even more that he feared. Could he really take this one moment of passion? Would she ever want more, see him as more? As much as he wanted her, was this something he could risk? Could he take this moment for himself without knowing if it wouldn't last?
He drew back and looked at her, searching for answers, hoping for a response to his unspoken request. This was a measured move, and he didn't know what to expect of himself, much less her. What was she thinking? Feeling?
Cuddy removed her shirt. House groaned and kissed her again. His hands ran along the bare skin of her back and unsnapped her bra; she pulled up his t-shirt until he tugged it the rest of the way off. He reached to pull her back to him, but she turned, pulling the bra from her arms as she rubbed her bottom against him.
Good God she was sexy.
He grabbed her hips and pulled her against him. She reached an arm back and positioned her head so she could kiss him over her shoulder.
House slipped his arms around her and brought them up to cup her breasts. She caught them in her hands, squeezing lightly as she whispered "gently."
He loosened his grip, moving his hand so his palms barely grazed the tips of her nipples. The quickening of her breath told him she approved.
His lips moved along her neck as his eyes followed the movement of his hands as they scooped under the globes and lifted. He cupped the weight in his hands and carefully kneaded, mesmerized by the quick puckering of her nipple beneath his care. She began to sway in his arms.
House snaked a hand down her abdomen and beneath the waistband of her pants. He paused long enough to pulse his fingers against her soft flesh. She began to ache for his touch, rotating her hips to draw the movement of his hand. His slipped his hand into her panties where it came to rest at the thin line of hair between her thighs.
A strangled sound escaped from the back of her throat just before she caught his hand. She budged it lower between her legs and pushed his fingers toward the moist center.
He dipped his finger into her heat and slid it back out toward her clit. She grasped his wrist firmly, steadying herself without preventing his movement as he began to stroke her.
She was hot, and wet. She was magnificent.
He moved his fingers beneath the folds and around the hardened nub, avoiding the tip while slowly building tension, tightening the invisible chord around her womanhood. When she started to pant, he changed direction, tapping the tip of her clit and the stroking back and forth, over and over again.
Her body felt tense and coiled tightly, and yet she went limp in his arms. He moved her toward the cot and she braced herself against the mattress as he quickly pulled her clothes down her legs. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her pants, pushing the panties out of the way with her feet. His hands were on her again, increasing the frequency of his thrusts between her legs. She was bending slightly forward; he was wrapped around her.
He pushed his erection against her bared ass as he teased her nipple with one hand and teased her clit with the other.
"Please," she rasped, desperately seeking a release that felt just out of reach.
He moved his hand up to cup her chin, turning her head so he could capture her lips. He kissed her deeply and as his tongue dove deep, so did the fingers between her legs. He felt her slick muscles contract around him as he continued to stroke, drawing out her climax with a steady, rhythmic build. Just as she came to the peak, ready to catapult over the edge, House pulled away.
Cuddy cried out in frustration and need. House turned her around and pushed her back on to the cot.
"House," she said but could only moan as he dropped to his knees and pulled her legs over his shoulders.
His beard scraped along the inside her thighs; the coarse texture of his moustache at her moist lips had her gripping the sides of the mattress. He was barely touching her and yet the heat of his breath, the scrape of his stubble, the wetness of his tongue was driving her mad. She bucked up toward him, pushing into his face. He lapped at her clit, dipped his tongue in her core, and nibbled along the edges of her heat. He left no nerve unexplored.
The muscles in her legs tightened and she scissored his head. He sucked hard on her nub and slipped his finger deep within her, curving it to place pressure along the soft, tender wall. She pulsed and tightened around his finger as she shivered against him.
He looked up at her, at the way her back arched, her breasts moved in rhythm with the thrashing of her body, her eyes glazing over as she came closer to euphoria, and he felt a sense of wonder. She was amazing.
She was undone. Cuddy dove into the abyss, exploding with colors and light. She was sucked into a vortex of passion, where biology became sensation and she existed only as energy.
House continued to lightly stroke her as she rode out the high, only stopping when she began to jerk against the onslaught of sensation.
She felt his hands run up her legs and along her waist, up her sides and over her breasts to return down her cleavage to her belly button and back down her legs. His touch was a whisper along her sensitive skin. And then it was gone.
She lay still and depleted, her eyes shut. She suddenly understood what the poets meant by "molten flesh and liquid bone." This was what it meant to be fully satiated.
"God, you're beautiful," she heard him say.
A grin spread over her face. She was warmed by the awe she heard in his voice; she was drawn to the lust lingering in his tone. This was such a rare moment of open vulnerability as she lay naked before him and he stood wanting above her. The thought reignited the desire that was still smoldering, awaiting a final fulfillment only the feel of him thrusting inside her could achieve.
She stretched before him, knowing he was devouring her with his eyes, and opened her lids when she heard his breath catch in his throat.
"You know what I want, Cuddy," he said, his voice husky, heavy with want and need.
She watched his nostrils flare and his jaw tighten as their eyes met.
"Show me," she teased.
He shook his head. His eyes slowly memorized her body.
"As tempting as that would be," he said. "I want a woman who doesn't hide."
She frowned, puzzled by his words and startled by his serious tone.
"I want to be free with her because she's let me in," he said.
He pulled his shirt over his head and picked up his cane.
"I have the balls to go for what I want, Cuddy. Do you?" He asked. "Are you willing to provide handicap access?"
His gaze was troubled and hungry, dangerous and uncertain as his eyes ran over her body one last time.
Cuddy was shocked and speechless as she watched him slip out the door. Feeling confused and bereft, she slowly dressed and then left the crew quarters to return to her seat.
He had returned to the main cabin, leaving her to sit in first class and consider his words and their meaning for the remainder of the flight. She felt weak. The comfort and stability of their unorthodox relationship had been removed and she felt wary and afraid. Cuddy didn't do well with fear. She did even worse when she felt her hard won control slipping through her fingers.
House seemed to take it all in stride, acting as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed. When the plane landed and they gathered their carry-on luggage, he even returned to his teasing, telling her she owed him for saving her life. She felt unsteady, trying to return his verbal volley with logical arguments and returns, but they weren't hitting the mark.
When he childishly said she was mean, Cuddy felt a jab to her heart. After what they'd shared, what she'd felt, how could he act as if nothing had happened? Nothing had changed?
"That's how I compensate for being weak…soft," she'd said to him. And that's how she felt: weak and soft. Tired of fighting their attraction; weary with their ongoing performance.
She watched him walk away. The pretense was familiar, but the raw vulnerability now pulsing between them was real. Something had shifted. He seemed to be returning to their regularly scheduled dysfunction, but she couldn't turn it on and off so quickly. She couldn't pretend. She didn't want to pretend. Which begged the question, what did she want? What reality was she willing to accept and embrace? She puzzled over her emotions as she began to fear he was walking away from her.
At the aerobridge, Cuddy heard Keo – one of the flight attendants - flirt with House as he sat in the wheelchair the airport provided. She felt a pang of jealousy.
House responded to Keo, though he looked directly at Cuddy.
"Are you handicap accessible?"
She froze.
The pieces all came together as she came to understand. Cuddy had given him access to her body, but he'd held out for access to her heart. He expected her to build a bridge, to make a way for them. He had granted her request; he had said what he wanted and made the move. Now it was up to her. Was she willing to redesign her hopes and dreams, to remodel her life for a chance with him?
Cuddy followed behind as Keo guided his wheelchair through the terminal. It was her move. It was time to prove she was House ready.
It was time to make a plan.