Author's Note: I will finish "The Fittest" soon, if anyone's still waiting on the ending for that. I wrote this while I was home for Thanksgiving. Probably would have been better if I posted it on Thanksgiving, but here it is anyway.
The Threat of Happiness
(Set during "Ignorance is Bliss")
Cuddy felt guilty. Lucas laughed continuously the whole way to Thanksgiving dinner. "It'll take more than that jackass to come between us, baby," he bragged.
The more Lucas tried to use their unity against House to forge a bond with Cuddy, the guiltier she felt. She tried to remember all of the hurtful things House had ever done to her. She repeated some of the most horrible things that he had said, and she still felt guilty.
She went to the kitchen while they were beginning to serve the meal to open another bottle of wine. When his hand touched her waist, she leaned back so her shoulder blade was against his chest. Lucas felt taller than usual for some strange reason, so she peered over her shoulder and found herself face to face with the man she had thought she'd fooled.
"I brought you a fucking pie," he sneered, extending an arm around her and presenting a beautiful pumpkin pie with peaked spirals of whipped cream decorating the top.
He quickly pulled his hand back, letting the pie flop down on the counter. Cuddy jumped at the sudden movement, already unsteady because House had taken her by surprise. The peaks spattered and flattened while the smooth surface of the pie cracked.
"House—"
"Happy fucking Thanksgiving."
"I'm glad you showed up," she said, her hand touching his forearm.
"You are? You have a really funny way of showing it."
"I am. I was just thinking about calling you."
"A hell of a lot of good that would do, had I been dumb enough to trust you. I'd be—two hours away at least? Maybe three? I'd never make it back in time. But then I guess that was the point."
"I made a mistake. I didn't want a lot of drama or chaos. This is my family, and you and Lucas—"
"Well, don't worry. Your turkey day will be drama free. At least it will be once I leave," he leaned on his cane, turning suddenly and walking to the back door. "Enjoy the safety and tedium of your choices."
"Wait," Cuddy said while she grabbed his arm.
"Why? I wasn't invited. I was actually not even uninvited. I was played, duped, fooled—by a person who I thought might actually like me. I assume that almost everyone else doesn't want me around. I've always thought you were a little different. I thought you were one of about two people who wanted me around. I'm clean, I'm getting my head shrinked regularly. And look at what it's gotten me." House was talking in a lilted, happy voice that he put on for effect. His lip snarled, he looked really angry and hurt and he leaned to her level, his nose almost touching hers and said, "It's gotten me nothing but pain. Everything—Mayfield, Nolan, trying to be a better man—completely fucking pointless. I confided in you and you told Lucas—fucking Lucas—my most embarrassing secrets. You deserve better than him. Even if you're a cold, heartless—," he stopped before he said any more of that sentence. He shook his head while he stood up, "I handed you myself at my weakest moment, and you ran a stake through my heart and fucked that loser before it stopped beating."
"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" Lucas asked while he came to Cuddy's side, putting an arm around her. She pulled away immediately. "How did you find us?" Lucas asked while he looked at Cuddy with puzzlement.
"I knew better than to trust my old pal Cuddy. Don't worry, I'm not going to ruin this happy family event. I just wanted to drop off dessert." House went right for the back door and looked at Cuddy, his eyes a little red with anger and sadness, "I had a thing for you for twenty years. Thanks for finally beating that out of me."
Cuddy was stunned, staring out the kitchen window and watching him leave.
"Hopefully now he'll accept the way things are," Lucas said, wrapping his arms around her.
"I have to go," Cuddy pushed by him and went to the dining room to ask her sister to watch Rachel.
Lucas looked almost as angry as House. He snapped at her, "If you go after him, I'm done here. I've watched you. I've been waiting for you to change your mind and go running to him."
"This is not the time for an ultimatum. He's hurt, I can't let him drink himself into a coma or relapse while I eat cranberry sauce."
"If he's going to relapse, let him relapse. He's manipulating you. And you're letting him. Hell, I think you want him to."
She stared, shaking her head, "I thought I could do this. I can't."
"You said this wasn't fun anymore, you were tired of playing his game."
"I did say that," she slipped her heavy winter coat on, "but I just realized—this isn't a game. It never was."
"If you walk out that door, you are choosing him over me. It's just that simple." Cuddy opened the door, and right before it closed, Lucas blocked it. "You can't leave. I'll report my car stolen."
"I'm not taking your car."
She shook during the entire ride. She'd borrowed her sister's car, making Julia promise to keep Rachel and not to allow the child to leave with Lucas. She wasn't sure where she was going or what she would do, but she wanted to try to find him. She checked his apartment and Wilson's and called the hospital to find out if he'd been seen. She checked the bars that were closest to home. She found one open near the hospital, but he wasn't inside. There were many open restaurants, but she knew House probably didn't want to eat, and the crowds of families didn't seem like something he'd want to be bothered with. She was starting to wonder if she should give up until a sign caught her eye. One other bar was opened. She didn't think there was any way that he would go there, but his car was stopped out front.
Sharrie's.
The bar where he'd gone the night Amber died in the bus crash. This seemed like the worst place he could possibly be. This place was so full ghosts and painful memories that she didn't know what he was putting himself through on top of everything else that had happened.
When she went inside, he was sitting at the end of the bar. There were a couple of empty and overturned shot glasses and one rocks glass filled with something golden-colored.
His lip snarled when she sat down next to him. He pointed to the bartender, then to the shot glasses and signaled for two more.
"Oh no thanks," she said while she took a seat.
"You treat me like that and you think I'm buying you a drink?"
"I thought—"
"They aren't for you."
"How much have you had?"
"What are you doing here? Conscience get the better of you?"
"I was worried. I've been driving around for two hours looking for you."
"Wow, you're a really great person, Cuddy," he said, sarcastically.
"Let me take you home."
"Not interested. I'm not going to go along with this just to ease your feelings of guilt."
"That's not why I'm here. Well, maybe a little bit. But I'm here because I care about you. I don't want you to feel hurt."
"How about this? I want you to go away. You want to clear your conscience? It's cleared," he waved his hand.
"That's not why I'm here."
"I'll even give you proof." House reached for a pen left where another customer had signed a receipt. He took the receipt, too, flipped it over and wrote, "Cleared," and signed a large "H."
She pushed it back to him, "I don't want that."
"What more do you want?"
"Let's talk."
"I don't want to talk."
"I don't either. But we need to."
"Anything that I have to say, you don't want to hear."
"That's not true."'
"You sure about that?"
"I'm positive."
"Okay," House said loudly, eager to make her uncomfortable enough to leave him alone. "Does Lucas know that I fucked you?"
There were only four other patrons sitting at the bar and one bartender, but they all turned to look at Cuddy. House checked his watch, implying that he was timing how long it was going to take for him to get rid of her.
Cuddy tapped a finger on the bar and proudly lifted her chin to confront him head on, "No, he doesn't."
"And he's still that worried about me?"
"Yes."
"He'd probably really be worried if he knew. I guess you could lie and say the sex wasn't good, but we know the truth. Let me ask you something, you remember having sex with me, right?"
"Yes," she answered stoically, her cheeks flushing a little.
"You even let me talk you into a little bareback action that last time."
She shook her head, she was already angry and frustrated, and was trying to figure out how to handle him when he was this belligerent.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Maybe you don't want all of these people knowing about your sex life. I can only imagine how that must feel. Now, you said back then that you didn't usually do that sort of thing with guys. Was that the truth? You want to talk? I'm ready to talk."
Cuddy refused to back down, "I never made that mistake before I met you, and I didn't make it often since. I was young and it was very stupid. For some reason, I trusted you. I also had been drinking and I liked you. I thought there was something there. I didn't realize I wouldn't see you again for years. We were very lucky that we didn't have to pay for that stupid decision. I took that as learning experience."
"Which position was your favorite that night? Was it when I-"
"Have you embarrassed me enough? Let's get a booth and something to eat. Let's talk privately where we can have a real conversation instead of you trying to make a point."
"This is the only conversation I feel like having. If you're looking for a different conversation, find a different person to talk to. That guy looks bored."
Cuddy smiled at the guy House pointed to, but said to House, "Fine. At least eat something." She looked at the small printed menu, "You want a turkey sandwich or a burger? You like bacon cheeseburgers, don't you?"
"I'm not hungry," he said and slung back another shot.
She grabbed the other one and drank it before he could.
House signaled for more drinks and she pushed his hand onto the bar, "Stop. Come get something to eat."
The derision dropped completely from his voice, and he answered with this raw sadness that hurt her more than any anger could, "I don't want to do this anymore."
She swallowed loudly, before she responded, "I don't want to either."
"So go! I'm fine. This is where I belong. You belong at big holiday dinners with loved ones in nice homes with crackling fires."
"You're not fine. At least let me give you a ride back to your place."
"I can't go to Wilson's."
"What about your apartment?"
"Can't go there."
"Why not?"
"I can't."
"Come back to my place."
"I'm not dealing with your boy-friend again."
"I don't think he'll be going there any time soon," Cuddy said while she ran her finger over the words of the menu.
"I'm sure he's not going to leave you alone for long if he knows you're with me."
"He knows. He issued an ultimatum. I disregarded it. He won't be coming by."
"What kind of ultimatum?"
"Let's go to that diner across the street. Get some breakfast if you don't want a burger. You still like breakfast, right?"
"Depends on your answer."
"Whether or not you like to eat pancakes depends on my answer?"
"Yes."
"He said if I followed you, it was over between us."
"So why follow me? I don't want you here either."
Cuddy looked stabbed by his answer, but kept going anyway, "This is where I want to be. No—it's where I need to be."
"You think I'm going to be nice to you because you showed up here? You think you're saving me?"
"Let's go."
"I'm not hungry."
"Let's go back to your place. I'll make you something."
"Wow, thanks, Mom."
"I don't want to be your mother."
"It's for the best. That would probably make the fact that my dick's been in your mouth a lot weirder."
Cuddy closed her eyes, trying to ignore the brash behavior that he was using to try to get to her. "Come on."
"You leading me into the pit of temptation?"
"I'm not gonna let you put your penis in my mouth, if that's what you mean."
"I meant taking me back to my place."
"Why is your place the pit of temptation?"
House stood, dropping a lot of money on the bar and limping so unsteadily that Cuddy was worried he'd fall. He didn't tell her that his stash of Vicodin was there and it was calling to him.
The air was cold outside, but it didn't sober him much at all. "Are we going to the diner?" Cuddy asked.
"I'm not hungry."
"So we're going to your place?"
House didn't answer, he got in her car and she drove to his apartment. He brushed against her, inadvertently, a few times while she unlocked his door until she felt his hand remain on her butt.
"That's my ass, House," she explained.
"I know," he squeezed it.
She directed him to the wall next to the door and he mumbled, "Not really into hookers anymore."
"I'm not a hooker," she said with a clenched jaw as she went into the apartment.
"I know. I mean I haven't had a lot of asses to feel lately. I guess if I want to fuck hookers, I'll need drugs. Right now that sounds like the world's best buy-one-get-one deal."
"You don't need hookers."
"I do. Women don't like me unless I pay them to. They're also done liking me the second time's up."
"That's not true."
"Maybe it's just easier. It's simple and, shockingly enough, they're safer, too."
"Safer?"
"They know what I want, I know what they want, no one gets hurt. No one's disappointed, there's no complication."
"Doesn't it tell you something if you're not interested in this simple arrangement now that you're not on drugs?"
"I guess. Still simpler though. You, Lydia, Stacy. In the end, the safe option wins and I'm left getting out my cash."
"What are you talking about?"
"Stacy stayed with her husband."
"Was that her choice—or yours? Because I'm pretty sure it was yours. You know she loved you."
House closed his eyes, misery written all over him. "Not you. Not Lydia."
"Who's Lydia?" Cuddy asked with a shaky voice.
"A woman I met while I was gone. A woman I thought maybe—"
"You love her?"
"I thought it was possible. Doesn't matter anymore. That's over, too."
"House," Cuddy said softly, touching his arm, but the second she touched him, he reeled back.
"And you chose Lucas. That rejection hurt more than all of the other ones combined. So don't comfort me about the fact that some other woman doesn't think I'm worth it when you don't either. Some people will always be alone."
"Maybe some people will be, but you aren't one of those people. You deserve-"
"Don't tell me what I deserve," he yelled in her face.
He was angry, his face red, his features more chiseled from the tension in his muscles.
"I don't need to have you patronizing me. Hearing supportive words doesn't change the fucking facts," he continued.
"What did you want me to do? After your hospital-wide announcement that you slept with me, human resources and the board launched an investigation on me. I was worried about you, scared about my future and I was so alone."
"Better to settle than be alone? I thought you were better than that."
"Everyone makes mistakes. I've made plenty of them. But so have you."
"I can't believe you'd let him fuck you. You chose him."
"You didn't really want me. Your idea of dating was hiring a male stripper, tormenting me and embarrassing me in front of everyone. Not to mention your comments about me and my daughter. You couldn't just show up at my door and ask me to go on a date? You could have stayed the night I lost Joy."
"And you would have accused me of using you."
"Only if you really would have been using me. When you kissed me that night, it wasn't because you wanted to exploit a weakness. It was because you wanted to ease my pain. We connected before you ran like a scared little coward."
She reached him for a second, but he ignored the direction of the conversation because it was too close. "I can't believe you let him fuck you. It makes me sick to even say it."
"Relationships aren't only about sex."
"Well I'm too much of an unfeeling jackass for you to love. Fucking is the most I can have."
"I didn't call you an unfeeling jackass."
"He's not more mature than I am."
"No, he's not."
"He's not smarter or more interesting."
"No."
"You don't have more in common with him than you have with me."
"No."
"Is the sex better with him?"
Cuddy was stunned. "I don't—it's been a long time, and I don't—"
"You remember. Answer the fucking question. Is he better than me?"
She shook her head, it barely moved but he saw.
"I still remember everything about you. I remember exactly what you looked like next to me. I remember exactly what you liked. I know exactly what you'd want me to do right now. I remember exactly how you felt and tasted."
"We aren't talking about this."
"It's the truth. I loved having sex with you. You got so wet, too. You wanted me. You came for me again and again. You were so fucking tight. Like you'd barely been touched before. I can tell you everything that happened from the second my fingers slipped under your panties until-"
"House, stop."
"Why? If I act more polite and listen will you promise to be my friend? Maybe then I can hope that some day we'll both be a little too drunk and you'll give me a mercy fuck? Now that's something to look forward to!"
"I don't give mercy fucks. I had sex with you because I was attracted to you, and intrigued and—"
"Do you let him cum inside you?" House blurted.
"That's enough," Cuddy said while she tried to leave, but House trapped her against his bookshelf.
"I was the first, right, the first guy you had sex with without a condom. Answer the question, it's important."
"I already told you. And how is that important?"
"It would suggest that there was a time when I was good enough. A time when you saw me as a good selection."
"You have always been good enough."
"Recent evidence contradicts your statement."
Cuddy tried to ignore him, but he didn't want to let it go.
"Answer me," he said firmly, his hand gripping the shelf tightly when he thought she would try to walk away again.
"I answered that question a couple of decades ago and earlier tonight."
"But were you telling the truth?"
"Yes, House. You were the first man I had unprotected sex with. It was risky and stupid."
"Did it feel different to you, too?"
"Different than what?" she asked defensively.
"It felt different for me. I thought maybe it felt different for other reasons, too."
"I barely remember."
"Not worth remembering?"
"I didn't say that."
"So I was worth it before, worth the risk worth the vulnerability, and later I was not worth it. Later Lucas was worth it. Why? If he's not better in bed, you don't really like him more, and he's not more interesting. Why?"
"I thought maybe I could have a family. I thought maybe it would make me happy."
"But you're not."
"Of course I'm not. You think I like seeing you like this?"
"But does your little family make you happy?"
"Lucas—I guess he wasn't what I wanted. I tried. But when I had to choose it became clear—"
"Do you let him cum inside you?"
"You're way beyond crossing the line now."
"Why?"
"I'm not answering that question. You want me to ask about you and hookers?"
"Go ahead and ask. I wear a condom. For everything, no exceptions. Since I got clean, it's not the same so I don't want a hooker and two-minute tickle. I want something else, I want to feel a woman who—"
He broke some of Cuddy's defenses with his comment and her entire demeanor softened a little.
"You really aren't having sex with hookers anymore?"
"Once since I got clean. Right after Mayfield, I thought it would help me deal with things. With losing Lydia, and—it was hard to see you again. I made a fucking fool of myself. I knew I wasn't good enough. I was delusional and crazy."
"You weren't delusional. Not about me. I'm glad you got help. I'm sorry she hurt you. I'm—I hurt you, too. I know that."
He ignored her and asked, "I answered the question about the hookers, but you still didn't answer mine. I'm not afraid of the truth. I know you, and things that seem like little decisions sometimes mean a lot more. Do you let Lucas cum inside you?"
"No," she answered after a painful hesitation.
"Never?"
"I told him that I wanted him to get a full STD panel done. He agreed to do it, but hasn't followed through."
"So you'd take my word over his."
"Seems that way. I didn't think it was too much to ask of him. I have to protect myself. I'm not young and stupid anymore."
"You weren't trying to get pregnant?"
"Of course not."
"You said—'family' so I assumed—"
"I have a daughter. You think I'm some mindless baby-dreamer who's going to risk her health and future for the chance to be pregnant no matter the cost? I have always put a lot of thought into that. I wasn't sure if Lucas was going to work, but I was willing to try. How can you fault me for that when you were willing to try with—Lydia?"
House didn't answer. He held completely still. With his eyes closed, he said, "I could have given you a family. I would have."
"I wanted more than just kids. I wanted a man who wanted that, too."
"Why didn't you ever ask? All women end up with these…safe guys."
"You're acting like you've been so accessible all these years. You weren't! You kept me at a distance, hurt me when I tried to get closer to you. Don't forget that, House. I made some moves. You rejected me, acted like I was a fool for even considering it. You acted like I was the most disgusting option you'd ever heard."
"I needed help. And I got it. And here I am, and I'm alone. And you'll soon be married and Stacy and Lydia are married to guys their mothers probably love."
"Why would I soon be married? I told you, Lucas and I are done."
"When you leave here, you'll go back, and he'll forgive you. It'll probably bring you closer together. Every time you've opened your mouth for the last month, I've been waiting for you to tell me that you're engaged or you're pregnant. I'm tired of waiting for that disappointment. I don't want to watch this happen."
"I'm not going back to him. What do you want? Do you want me? I'm not just talking about sex. You said you want something more than sex with a hooker. I want something more than a one night stand. No matter how good it is, the price is too high if it involves you and me. Do you want me?"
"Why would I?"
"See, automatically you push me away. Why does it matter? I'm not good enough for you either. I'm not worth it to you."
House said, barely above a whisper, "Why would I because—it'll just be another pointless desire. Something else that I want but can't have. I'm tired of stepping in blind and coming out bloody."
His words sounded a lot like an admission of what he truly wanted. She put a hand on his shoulder and he shook his head, "Don't do this to me."
"Don't do what?" she asked.
"Don't pretend like you care."
"I'd never reject you as harshly as you've rejected me."
"Finding out Lucas was with you was rejection enough," he snarled. "You guys had a great laugh about me. I was stupid enough to think I could possibly have a chance with you. I didn't tell him about you and me. I didn't tell him that I was the one who got there first."
"I was NOT laughing at you."
"I'm sure he was. You just thought it was ridiculous."
"I didn't think it was ridiculous, I thought it was impossible. I've always liked you, but you only like me when I'm inaccessible. As soon as I lean your way, you run or push. You hurt me."
"You're wrong," he answered.
His hands touched her hips, roughly moving her so she was centered in front of him. She didn't expect his kiss. He even kissed better than Lucas. He was forceful, refused to be ignored, just like he was at work. The combination of the way his tongue moved in her mouth and his lips moved against her lips felt so far beyond good that even though she knew it was probably not for the best, she was kissing him back. Her hands moved over his shoulders, along his face and jaw while she tried to bring herself up to him. She wanted more. He stopped when he heard her gasp with agreement. He knew how much she wanted him from the sound she made. He knew that if he wanted to, he could strip her down and take her body without any resistance.
While he relaxed his grip, she slid down his body, pushing against him in the right places until he grunted his own sigh of want. His lips were wet, his pupils dilated and he was breathing so hard that she could see it. She waited for him to make a dirty comment. She waited for him to say something about how he was going to fuck her or the way he would make her cum, but he only said, "Are you scared of me?"
"Not at all."
"You look nervous."
"I'm not scared or nervous, I don't know what the hell to do. You pull me in and push me away. I don't want you to hurt, but you won't let me help you. So what am I supposed to do?"
"You can leave. Go find Lucas or whoever. I don't care what you do," he said turning away.
She pulled his arm and swung him back toward the bookshelf. He was unprepared, so he didn't have the steadiness to react to her. She had him pinned to the bookshelf.
"You can't even admit that you fucking care? I think you are the one who is scared. Why can't you admit how you feel without hinting, deflecting or negating?"
House stared, caught between angry and sad. Cuddy shook her head and turned to the door. She stopped moving when he said, "I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of trying and getting nothing. But I'm not going to force you to feel something."
"You can't force me to feel something that I already feel, House. No matter what you say or what you do or what changes, I still have these feelings for you. But I'm never really sure how you actually feel about me."
She stood there, unmoving, and the thought that she might leave snapped him out of his daze. He reached around her belly with his long arms and quickly jerked her back to his chest. She didn't expect him to do that, but she didn't fight it either. Her hands grabbed his wrists and she looked over her shoulder for answers. He moved his face to her ear and said, "I feel like I don't want you to leave."
"Okay."
"I don't want you to go to Lucas. I don't want you to find someone else. I want you to find me."
Her chest moved because she breathed more deeply, "Why?"
He rubbed his chin along her shoulder and up the back of her neck. She could feel his stubble scratching on her silken skin. His lips touched the spot under her ear before she felt him nipping her neck with his teeth. His fingers were spread, touching as much of her tummy as he could while he kept her against him tightly enough that she couldn't slip away.
She took his actions as his answer, and she translated into words, "So you want to have sex with me?"
"I need you for more than that."
Mercifully, she accepted that answer. Her body pushed back to his chest and she tilted her head to allow him better access. He took it without any hesitation, kissing and tasting the skin along her neck and shoulder. He pulled her sweater down far enough from her shoulder to expose more skin. He pulled until he ripped the sweater along the seam, so he slowed, waiting for her to complain or force him to stop. She slid her hand to the back of his head and pulled him closer. The other hand went behind her and around his back so she could hold him against her, too. She had felt that he was getting hard before, but she didn't realize how hard he was until they were both pulled completely together.
Her response to his reaction was welcomed by him. He seemed bolder and more powerful again, not like the sullen and weakened man who was tired of being wounded, but like one who felt like his wounds were getting better. He pulled and ripped her sweater the rest of the way off while her hands were all over his body. As he finally freed her from the sweater, he was already working on her bra, breaking the clasp that held the strap to the lacy cup. Her one breast was exposed, and that was enough to meet his most immediate desire. His hand covered her breast, lifting and massaging it while his fingers fondled her nipple.
His other hand was already trying to get into her pants. As soon as he could reach, his fingers were wiggling under her panties and reaching into her molten center. She could hear and feel him breathing against her neck. He was bent down so he could reach her, completely unaware of how uncomfortable the position was for him. His lip dragged against her neck when he said, "Take those off," because he couldn't let go of her breast or remove his hand from her body. He couldn't seem to find the strength or will to stop.
She complied, pushing her clothes down while he lifted her out of them. He didn't have to ask her for more help. She reached behind her back to his jeans, opening his belt, button and zipper before she grabbed ahold of his cock. He grunted roughly in her ear, both wanting as much as the other.
He took a few steps to the back of the sofa. He had almost forgotten about his leg until he took those steps, but they were so filled with lustful desire that the way he stumbled forward seemed to fit the context of everything else. His hand pressed against the top of her chest, standing her upright while he kept touching her. He pulled her back, his fingers finally slipping away from her core so he could grab onto her hips. She leaned forward because of the way he pulled her back by the hips, her hands reaching for the back of the sofa for balance while he slid his cock into her. The first few thrusts we about reacquainting and remembering the angles of her body. With each push into her body, the fear that she'd suddenly deny his advances was fading.
He reached around her body to the spot between her legs, rolling her clit around with the tip of his finger. She was vocal, gasping, moaning and panting her pleasure. He wanted her so much, so badly, and the few shallow learning thrusts were replaced by the fucking they both yearned for. He held her hip with one hand to set the pace as his fingers strummed her clit. For a few moments, he was able to have her for his own. He was passionate, God, she had missed that. With House came risk and sometimes insanity, but it felt so much better than the boredom of playing it safe. She craved passion and desire like that. She hadn't felt anything like it in so long that she wondered if it even existed outside of her fantasies.
He was filling her body, hitting the right spots and knowing, intrinsically, what she needed. She came too quickly for her own liking, but he had been fingering and fondling her long before he was inside her. Her body was limp for a few minutes, her legs weak and her arms barely holding her up, but his arms held her closely to him. He lifted her, bringing her back to his chest again while he held her tightly upright. He was kissing her neck and ear, touching her in a way that seemed thankful. It really felt like he was thanking her, even though he was still rock hard and wanting behind her.
She turned around, he was avoiding her eyes. "You're incredible," she said, quietly.
He still didn't look at her, and it made her worry. "House? Look at me," she insisted. "That was great, so very, very great. But I think—I think you wanted something different. You wanted something—more."
His eyes darted to hers, he was wincing as he thought and he seemed really uncomfortable. She lifted up and slipped her tongue against his mouth. She was so tender it made him ache for more. She kissed him so deeply and intimately that he didn't think he'd ever felt exactly like that before.
She stopped, as prepared for rejection as he was, and said, "I'll be around tomorrow. That part of this equation is already solved. You will be able to find me. I will not pretend like this didn't happen, and I won't pretend that I don't want it to happen again. If any of those things are the factors you're weighing inside that skull, you have some absolutes. You have answers. The real question is—will you be there? Will you pretend like it didn't happen?"
"I'll be around."
"Are you going to push me away? Are you going to pretend like nothing happened and act like you're disgusted by the thought of me?"
He shook his head. "I don't want to hurt."
"Does that mean you don't want me—or you do?"
"I do. I want you."
"Good," she smirked, "then can I help you with this?"
He looked perplexed until she grabbed his erection. As soon as her fingers wrapped around him again, he was ready to go. She stroked his dick a few times, watching his eyes flutter shut, his jaw relax, and his body move in time with her touch. "My turn," she said while she led him to his lounge chair.
She practically pushed him into it, not that he minded. Sitting over his lap, he reached for her immediately, and she shook her head, "I said it's my turn."
He smirked at her while she balanced over him. His dick was pressed between her folds, but he wasn't inside her. He was so close to seeking release but so far away. His eyes kept looking away, but Cuddy demanded, "Look at me."
He glanced up a few times before he met her eyes, like a person trying to adjust to the light of the sun first thing in the morning. When he was finally looking into her the way House always did, she bit her lip and offered something she'd never offered in the same way before. "I want to love you. Will you let me?"
His eyes weren't equivocally meeting her anymore. He was looking right at her, with confusion, excitement, feeling the threat of happiness.
"I need an answer. If you'd prefer, we can have sex and that's it. I'm not going to force you to say something because you're sexually frustrated. But that's not all I want. I don't—think it's all you want either. I need some kinda answer though."
He brushed his lips on hers, on her cheek and jaw, and along her clavicle before he answered, "I want you to love me."
Her reaction was quicker than he was prepared for. They both needed to hear that, and the answer sounded like a starter's pistol. Hands were everywhere, too many places to really tell what was being touched, or how, or for how long, but enough to feel good. She lowered onto him, bringing him completely into her body until he could go no farther. There was affection in what they did, but affection didn't mean they had to be gentle or careful. They were just as libidinous and rough as they had been earlier.
She rocked in his lap at first, keeping him deep inside her while they nipped, pawed and fondled. All they could say was how good the other felt between noises that did not include any real words. The level of tension was so high in him that he could hear it and feel it. He felt like he needed it with everything that he was. He grabbed onto her hips and lifted and dropped her back down on his lap. She gasped and turned back to his damaged leg. "It's fine," he answered before she could ask.
He did it again, lifting her body and pulling her down onto his lap. She grabbed onto the back of the chair and started taking him like he needed to be taken. He wanted this for months. He wanted it ever since he left Mayfield. If he looked deeply enough into his mind, he knew he wanted it for twenty years. A near whimper emerged from his lips before it was replaced by gruffer, more masculine noises. She knew he was so close.
Right as he got near the peak, he grabbed her ass, massaging each cheek while they pounded their bodies together. She gasped when she felt him finally cum, and the excitement pushed her to the end. Her pussy tightened and clenched around him in long throbbing pulses that added even more sensation to the feeling of moving in and out of her. He groaned out, "God, Cuddy," until he wasn't even capable of involuntary words anymore. She moved with him until movement was no longer possible. The tense and pleasured sounds of sex had crescendoed to the fervent, carnal sounds of orgasm until they faded to the noises of sated and appreciative lovers.
After they rested quietly together for a little, she said, "You didn't change your mind, did you? About me? About tomorrow?"
"I'll be around every tomorrow. The question is—will you be?"