This is from the prompt: "What would happen if House took his cue from the patient in 'The Social Contract' and told Cuddy exactly what he'd like to do to her?" The italicized section at the start is from the episode.
Special thanks to Aya, Veronique, Katie and Meg.
Disclaimer: You don't really think I'm connected to the show, right?
Hope you enjoy!
Just Say The Word
House: People don't get personal with you. Except for me, and you dismiss me as a jerk who's jerking your around. But that guy can only tell the truth, and he prefers your body to that of a smoking young hottie.
Cuddy: So that was your way of saying I look good today.
House: You didn't get the slightest kick out of that?
Cuddy: Don't be ridiculous, House.
[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]
As the elevator doors began to close, Cuddy couldn't contain her smile. There was no way she could ever admit to House how charmed she was by this stunt, not so much by the patient's "truth", but by this unorthodox admission that House shared that opinion. After so many months of deflections and pretense, running from the memory of the kiss they'd shared and denying the brief moment of intimacy, this was a bold and surprising move. She only wished…
Something stopped the elevator door from closing, and her head jerked up at the sudden move.
It was a cane. His cane.
"I'm not like him, you know," House said as he stepped into the elevator and quickly pressed a floor button on the panel. "I don't picture you on a king-sized bed with Thirteen."
"What do you want, House?" Cuddy asked dryly, feigning tolerance.
"Right now?" He looked at her intently and slowly stepped closer to her.
Cuddy heard the door close behind him as she looked into his eyes with a bland expression that defied the invasion of butterflies now swarming in her abdomen. He could always elicit a strong response from her. When he invaded her space with such power and control, he always took her breath away, which of course made her want to fight, to roar with her own feminine power and prowess. Right now, his expression was stoic, but his eyes were alive with intent.
"I want to push you up against the wall," he said, and took another step toward her. "I want to run my tongue down your neck and right into your cleavage."
Eyes widening in shock, she searched his expression. Whoa! What game was he playing now?
His eyes pierced hers. "You think I'm jerking you around again," he voiced her thoughts. "You're looking at the past, projecting the future, trying to work through the angles. But your body is responding to the truth."
He placed his left hand against the wall near her head as he leaned toward her, stopping just short of touching her while overtaking her space.
"What truth would that be?" She asked, searching his face for answers, but helpless to prevent the sensual anticipation his nearness provoked.
"That I really would like to run my hand up your thigh and under that tight skirt," he answered in a deep, raspy voice. "I'd like to slowly remove your blouse and bra, and take your nipples in my mouth. I want to taste you and suck you until you're hot for me."
Cuddy swallowed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, that he was saying these things. As crass as House could be, when it came to matters of the heart, or basic intimacy, this type of boldness was rather uncharacteristic. If the sudden jolt that shot through her from breast to core was any indication, it may be good that this was not a regular occurrence. She'd be useless, unable to do anything but pant after him. Damn if she'd pant after any man! Even House…especially House.
"I'd like to feel your heat on my finger."
She had to be dreaming, lost in an erotic fantasy. There was no way this was real.
"House," she said, but she couldn't find words as his eyes slowly roved down her body. She was powerless to ignore her acute awareness of him. Her skin seemed to burn beneath his slow and steady gaze.
"I want to feel your orgasm; watch it explode across your face," he whispered against her ear. "I want to feel every jerk and spasm, to know that feral passion you try to contain. Just say the word."
The elevator door opened behind him and he slowly and deliberately stepped away from her. He had that grin that wasn't a grin on his face: that erotically suggestive smirk that incited lust and provoked annoyance because you just knew he could see your response.
Cuddy couldn't take her eyes off him.
"Just say yes," he said as his eyes devoured and demanded. The intensity emanating from him took her breath away.
"Say yes," he repeated. She watched him limp away until the door closed and blocked her view.
Cuddy collapsed against the elevator rail.
[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
His voice was haunting her; his words taunting her. He'd been teasing her, of course. He was playing another one of his games. And yet the ache at the apex of her thighs was a reminder of her very real response.
Cuddy groaned in frustration and closed the file she'd been trying to read. It was useless. She'd read the words over and over again, and she still had no idea what they said. She could only hear the echoes of his words, feel the controlled passion of his stare, smell the musky scent thinly veiled beneath his cologne.
"Just say the word" he'd said. Was that an actual proposition? Was he playing some kind of game with her? There was something very different about their interchange. There was an emotional charge that ignited the physical undercurrent. It was more magnetic than tempting, and even from the other side of the hospital with doors and corridors separating them, she was drawn to him.
They'd been through a confusing few months. After they'd kissed, he'd avoided any conversation even remotely personal to the point of being offensive. Then she'd thought she'd caught a glimmer of hope, a glimpse that he might be trying to dip his toe into the water, to gauge the temperature. Then she'd adopted Rachel and everything had been chaotic. He'd acted like a jealous child, afraid and demanding, nervous and temperamental. Then last week he'd really thrown her when she'd discovered he was so desperately seeking a sense of normalcy, away from pain and misery and the darkness that had overtaken him throughout the years, that he'd started taking methadone. It was then she knew her suspicions were indeed correct. He did want more from life, for himself, and perhaps in some way he wanted more from her. In the end, the fear of losing his "gift" was stronger than his need for a better life and he'd walked away from any possible methadone treatment or alternative care.
So what was this new turn? Was it just another step in his search for answers to his personal quandary? Or had he at last come to terms with the inevitability of this attraction that sizzled between them? As a game, his move would be crude and obnoxious; but as an intentional move to alleviate the confused emotional clutter of the past few months, his words were a raw and provocative truth that still had her flesh tingling in response.
He'd taken her by surprise, caught her off guard, and left her wanting. He could have moved the play to another plane, taken their entire relationship to another level, but instead he'd planted seeds of fire that demanded a response: her response. In a few well chosen, powerfully erotic words, he'd removed the doubts and fears that had had been holding her captive. His move was to give her a clear move. He was leaving it up to her, acknowledging her power while also ensuring she understood he was granting her power over him, over where they would go from here.
"Just say yes," he'd said.
Her body had been screaming yes for hours. Her caution and control had been arguing against such mindless submission to what could be a flagrant attempt to embarrass her. If she were honest with herself, she'd admit her heart was following her body. It didn't matter what war was waging inside, she was hot. On fire. She was existing on a sexual hair-trigger, which made her think of his fingers…
Her hand was trembling as she scrolled down the contact list on her cell and dialed his number.
If it was her move, she was going to make it. Whatever the game, or the play, she was in. She was always in when it came to House.
"Hello," he answered.
She froze.
What now? Did she demand an explanation for his actions? Tease him with words of want to force his hand? Did she take a more traditional route and ask him out to dinner?
"Cuddy?" His voice was low and held a husky quality that only further ignited her senses.
"Yes," she said.
And hung up.
Oh, God! She buried her face in her hands. What the hell was wrong with her?
She jumped up from her chair and entered her private bathroom. This was insane. House was driving her insane. Not the usual crazy, but truly in need of therapy insane. She needed to get control of herself and stop letting her hormones get the best of her. Although with House, it was more than hormones. As much as she wanted to deny it, what was going on between them was much more than simple attraction.
Leaning over the basin, she wet a rag and brought it to her face. She needed a little cooling off before their next interaction. She needed to be ready for his deflection and snark. She needed to be prepared to…
She jumped when his arms slipped around her, pulling her back into him. She hadn't heard him come in, but she now felt his presence with every part of her being.
His left hand came to rest on top of hers at her stomach, while the right hand took hers and stretched her arms to the side. He placed her hand on his thigh and then slowly ran his fingers up her arm to her shoulder.
"Say it again," he whispered into her ear.
She looked into the mirror and almost groaned at the site of them. His body surrounded her, his jaw moved against her neck and pushed her hair out of the way. The way he looked at her as his fingers followed the line of her collarbone was by far the most erotic vision she'd seen in a very long time.
His eyes caught hers in the mirror and held her with a greater force than his arms held her body.
"Say it," he commanded as the fingers of his left hand weaved with hers, curling them into a united fist at her belly button.
Cuddy leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her eyes didn't release his for a moment, not even as she answered.
"Yes."
He kissed her neck, the scruff of his beard a rough contrast to the softness of his lips. She shivered against him.
House ran his hand along the edge of her blouse as it dipped into a V at her cleavage. She bit back a groan as his hand slid between her breasts then slid beneath the mound to gently cup her. His thumb hovered close to her nipple, but didn't touch, which only heightened the sensitivity of the nub.
Cuddy held her breath as she watched the heat in his eyes turn to blue flame. Her nipples were hard, and aching, reaching out for the touch he was denying; he was enjoying her response on a visceral level she could feel against her backside.
Instead of moving his thumb, he lifted her breast as if measuring the weight. She felt a pulse of frustrated anticipation as she longed for a more intimate touch, and closed her eyes to relax into him. When his left hand brought her hand to his other thigh, she gripped his flesh through the fabric of his jeans and reveled in the way his nostrils flared as the move opened her chest up before him. He opened both his hands and lightly grazed his palm along her nipples; Cuddy gasped in pleasure. House nipped at her ear and cupped both of her breasts.
"Open your eyes," he said.
She did.
His fingers circled her nipples, brushed the tips and then gently pinched the pebbles they became.
"You have the most amazing breasts," he said to her, but his eyes watched the movement of his hands as he deftly began to unbutton her blouse.
Her breasts were heavy, and she could feel the hot flush flowing down her chest as her blood pressure quickened. Cuddy delighted in her body's heightened awareness of him, of her own arousal.
House pushed up her bra and bared her breasts. Cuddy felt the quick intake of his breath as he caught his first glimpse of her. She felt emboldened by the surge of arousal she felt emanating from him, by his thick erection against her lower back. With her arms stretch behind her, she ran her hands up his thighs to grip his ass. The action pushed her breast out and up, causing House to growl in response.
He gripped her in his hands and ground his hips into her. His hands were kneading and teasing her, rolling her nipples between his fingers with a rough and gentle touch, the contrasts creating an intense heat that pulsed throughout her body to center between her legs. With every swipe of his fingers against the tips of her nipples, her hips pushed forward, seeking desperately for release.
House kissed and nipped at her shoulder and up her neck. As he lightly sucked at the tender skin beneath her ear, his left hand slid over her abdomen to cup her between the legs. His fingers were still, but the pressure was intense as he lifted her slightly. The throbbing within her increased, pounding in the cadence of her heartbeat with a strength that reverberated through her body.
Cuddy began to writhe, desperate for him to touch her more intimately, to fulfill the hunger overtaking her. He bent his finger slightly and it dipped into her arousal as his thumb pressed hard against her mound.
"House," she cried out. Watching him as the pleasure he brought her was becoming too much to bear.
He slid a finger slowly across her nipple at the same tormenting speed he ran his finger into her panties, along her folds and across her clit. Her body began to tremble beneath his touch. The muscles in her thighs tightened as he spread her lips. He held her open with thumb and middle finger as he tapped her with his index. She thrashed, twisted and wriggled beneath his touch, pulling away and seeking, desperate for the exquisite torture to end and furiously seeking to hold on.
She turned her head toward him and he kissed her. His lips sealed to hers as his tongue fiercely explored. His tongue circled, and his finger mirrored the action. Cuddy closed her eyes as the she reached the pinnacle and exploded in his arms. He stroked her with the steady rhythm of the waves crashing through her. The tremors shook her body and her legs became weak. He pulled her tight against him, preventing her fall while persisting with an unrelenting rhythm against her clit.
Cuddy had only just begun to feel the slow descent from pleasure when he dipped his finger into her again and pounded fast. His thumb pressed against her nub at the same time his finger catapulted her back into ecstasy. She rode it out as his fingers soothed and calmed, extended her pleasure while at the same time bringing her safely back to consciousness.
Cuddy fell forward against the sink, her arms catching and bracing her. She could still feel his heat against her, his breath against the back of her neck. His hand ran down her spine, over her rear and back up again.
"I want to taste you, Cuddy," he said. "I want my mouth on every part of your body."
He curled into her as she leaned against the sink, and he kissed her ear. "I want you to lose all control in my mouth," he whispered.
Cuddy could hardly breathe. She felt him pull away from her, relieved to have the space to calm down but hungry for the comfort and intimacy she found in his arms. His hand cupped her ass and squeezed lightly. "Say the word," he said.
His words teased her, tempted her. She wanted his mouth on her, his tongue against her. She wanted to touch him and feel him. She wanted to know him. All of him.
Cuddy took a moment to calm her breathing. Maybe he'd be interested in taking this to her place, where there was a shower, and a bed, and unending possibilities for a night of marathon sex. She grinned and stood up straight, turning to face him.
He was gone.
[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]
Cuddy lay in bed that night thinking about what had happened in the private bathroom of her office.
He'd left her. He'd brought her to extreme orgasm with his hands and then left her with the haunting vision of what he could do with his mouth. She was restless, and hot, and more than willing to beg him for more. Was that what he wanted? To bring her to her knees? To break her?
She couldn't help but fall back on old patterns, fearing his motives and anticipating the worst. She was afraid he was playing a game with her, using her own response to him to manipulate the situation for a purpose she didn't understand. She was angry that she'd revealed her deep seated desire for him and worried how he would use the knowledge.
Cuddy curled up in the bed, pulling the extra pillow into her arms and holding it like a lover. She could still hear the raw hunger of his words; it was an aphrodisiac she'd never experienced. His hunger for her was real. There was no way he could fake that kind of intensity, or the depth of response she felt in his embrace. It wasn't a game. She couldn't keep tormenting herself with plans and schemes from the past when something new and real was happening between them, something she'd wanted for so many years.
How often had he asked her to speak up, to tell him what she wanted or needed from him? Every time she pressed him to talk, he'd turn the tables at ask her why. Why did she care? Why did she want him better? Why did she want him there? Why?
It had always felt threatening and adversarial, a strategic play in their game of power. He left nothing to chance. He played by the rules as manipulated and controlled by him. He was the ultimate puppet master. And yet, as she thought about it, she realized when it came to their personal relationship, he never controlled her moves. He never pulled her strings when it came to this bizarre dance between them. If it involved a patient, or clinic duty, or the management of his team, he engineered the ending he wanted, using the strengths and weaknesses of others to create the ultimate end. But if it even hinted at a personal or intimate relationship between them, he reacted much differently, expecting and anticipating her to be an equal participant and not just an opponent. She had always matched him move for move. Sometimes that meant matching his fears and doubts.
He had to know walking away from her today would feed her doubts surrounding the authenticity of his words and actions. He knew she'd be considering his every move and word, questioning his motives and her responses. He'd left anyway. He'd walked away from what she believed was a breakthrough for them. He'd walked away without a second glance, without a word.
Except he had said something; he'd repeated his command from earlier in the day. "Say the word." He'd done what he had been doing for years, placed the ball in her court. She'd always been afraid to play it. She'd been uncertain of the game, but more importantly uncertain of him. In the past, she'd never answered his questions, or moved them closer to answers. She'd never soothed his fears because she'd had too many of her own. This time was different. This time he made clear his intent, his desires, his needs. He made it clear he wanted her. But ultimately, he left the power up to her. If she didn't respond, they'd go on business as usual. It would be just another teasing moment in a long list. But what if she responded, if she said that word he wanted to hear?
She had experienced the answer to that question today in her office. She'd said yes and he'd fulfilled the promise in his words. He'd left her again today with a hint of promise, a clear intent of desire. He wanted her to say 'yes' again. He wanted her to remove all doubt, to confirm her desire for him. He wasn't willing to give more than he was certain he would get in return. He needed an equal playing field, and that would require more of them than they'd ever been comfortable revealing. It would require more steps forward, while avoiding the steps back.
This wasn't a game. His words were a gauntlet. He was demanding truth and consistency in her response. Only then could they determine their relationship. Only then could they define it.
Cuddy picked up the phone and dialed.
She was nervous. She didn't know if this would trigger another one-night stand or the start of a relationship. She didn't even know if she was reading the situation correctly. What if she was wrong? What if this was a game? What if she was making more of this than House intended?
"What?" he answered immediately.
His voice sent a tremor down her spine. It didn't matter where this took them. She would handle it. She was strong and resilient, a formidable opponent if it was required. She hoped for something deeper, more abiding. She hoped to hear his raspy and hungry voice in her ear again. She hoped to feel his breath on her, his mouth against her skin. She hoped for more.
"House?"
"Cuddy?"
He was surprised to hear from her.
"Yes," she said. He was quiet.
House frowned. He didn't understand if she was answering his question, or verifying her identity.
Cuddy grinned. "Yes," she repeated.
He jumped up from his sofa. "Ten minutes," he said.
Cuddy giggled as she thought of him rushing out the door of his apartment.
[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]
She was being devoured. Wonderfully, torturously devoured.
His lips were all over her. He'd run them along her neck and shoulders, down her arms to her fingers. He'd sucked on each of her digits, his eyes gauging her expression and response. He'd licked and sucked and nibbled at her breasts then run his tongue along her abdomen to dip into her belly button. He'd lingered in places where she'd moaned or writhed, increasing the strength and intensity of his mouth on her with every noise she made.
She'd lost count of the times he'd let out a masculine hum at her response. He was delighting in her, savoring her. She was the object of his obsession and she'd never felt more alive. His raw hunger empowered her and she felt no fear or anxiety, there was no past or future, there was only now. There was only House.
Her legs were stretched over his shoulders and his tongue touched her clit. She was ravenous, seeking to claim her orgasm as he greedily feasted on her. His tongue fluttered over her, rimming her, taunting her until she came apart in his mouth. Even then his tongue speared into her, grazing her quaking walls and growling against her as he felt her tremor in his mouth. He was tireless and determined, demanding her response one climax after another.
Cuddy didn't think she could take it anymore. She didn't have it in her. She was boneless and trembling, a mass of wet heat and melting flesh.
He was a powerhouse of strength and endurance, sucking and lapping, touching and feeling, breathing in her scent and exhaling for her pleasure. She screamed out his name and gasped for air. She thought she would hyperventilate, but somehow she didn't care. She was spent, pliable, trapped in the haze of passion and need. She was lost somewhere in the residue of multiple orgasms with the man with a magic tongue.
House sat up on the side of the bed. She watched as he ran his fingers through his hair and then reached for his t-shirt. He was leaving? Seriously?
What more did he need? She'd said yes. She'd responded with enthusiasm and greed. She'd said yes…over and over and over again. What more did he want?
Was this how their relationship would be? A series of sex acts, disconnected from their lives, from their relationship. Was he only going to step in occasionally and service her while he… Wait just a minute.
"I want to taste you," she suddenly said.
He froze.
"I want to see you naked, to touch every part of you, and go down on you. I want to feast on you like you just feasted on me." Cuddy rolled over and scooted in close to him, running her hand up and down his back. If they were going to move forward, they were going to do it together. Together in need, in truth and in passion.
He turned to her then. His eyes were wide and glassy, full of hope and desire as he searched her face.
"Don't go," she said. "Stay with me."
He bent forward to take her mouth. She grasped his shoulders and pulled him down toward her; he deepened the kiss in response.
She pushed him away, catching him off balance so she could roll him over and straddle him.
"Say the word, House," she said, grinning down at him.
His eyes roved over her naked flesh as she perched over him, and he smiled at her. It wasn't the lusty, wanton grin she was expecting. It was a genuine smile of relief and delight.
"Yes," he said.
She helped him undress, jerking and yanking on his clothes in a rush to have him naked beneath her. She surged between his legs, suddenly revived and emboldened, rushing to get a glimpse of his need.
There it was: his big, thick erection.
Cuddy stared. He was beautiful, and she moaned as she took him in her mouth. She kissed the satin skin, licked at the glistening tip, nibbled down the underside and sucked his balls into her mouth. His pulse became stronger, pounding in her hands as her fingers encircled him.
"Oh, God!" He cried out when she began to suck him with long pulls. She took him deep in her throat then pulled away until her lips just barely circled the tip of him. Sucking hard on the tip, she twisted and turned to different angles before opening wide to take him in again.
Cuddy cupped his balls with one hand and squeezed the root of his penis with another. She sucked harder and faster, milking him, moaning as she licked the precum from his tip then rapidly tapped him with her tongue as she took him in her mouth again.
She could feel the muscles in his thighs coil and bunch as he became more and more aroused. Cuddy went wild, working him hard with her mouth, determined to keep her jaw stretched and moving to prevent an ache. The last thing she wanted was to lose momentum, to interrupt his climax in any way. She didn't have to worry.
"Cuddy," he cried out as he threw his head back. "I can't…"
She double fisted him and sucked harder until he exploded. His body shook as he came, and Cuddy lured him to release everything he held in reserves.
When she thought he was spent, exhausted and deplete, she crawled up frame to curl next to him. She hugged him close, bending her leg to drape it over his. He jumped when her thigh grazed his cock, still sensitive and surprisingly still slightly engorged. She chuckled.
House pinched her ass in response and quickly rolled over, trapping her beneath him.
Cuddy wrapped her legs around him, nestling back into the mattress as her hips pushed forward. He nestled between her thighs, slowly pushing his cock into her. Her walls closed around him, pulling him in deep, and they both let out a moan.
"Don't move," she said.
He held her hands at the side of her head, entwining their fingers as he propped himself up to look at her.
"You feel like heaven," he whispered.
Cuddy couldn't turn her eyes away from his. There was something so hypnotic and compelling about the way he was looking at her. It was more than lust, more than excitement or need, or even hunger. It was awe, a type of reverence. As he began to slowly rotate his hips, she was overcome by the complete spirituality of their joining. For the first time, she felt completely in sync with him, transparent and safe.
House kissed her, slowly, gently running his tongue along every area of her mouth and then nipping at her lower lip.
"I don't want this to end," he said against her mouth.
Cuddy sucked at his tongue and he smiled.
"What do you want?" she asked, tightening the muscles around him until he closed his eyes and let out another moan.
He began to move his hips in a slow and steady rhythm, pushing in and pulling out of her.
"I want to be able to do this any time I want."
He bent his legs to change the angle and pushed into her again. She gasped at the friction that shot pleasure to the very heart of her. He was thick and hard again, stretching her as he entered.
"You just want sex?"
He pounded into her as his eyes pierced hers.
"I…want…you." He squeezed her hands as he hammered into her. His voice cracked and, his words were broken. "All…of…you."
Cuddy cried out as her body pulsed and pounded and matched his rhythm. Her sex spasmed around his amazing hardness, and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth in response. He possessed her and she possessed him. As he moved against her, he rubbed the overstimulated nerves that surrounded him, and the pressure built inside her. She bucked up against him and he threw his head back as he dove in deep for one last thrust before they both toppled over the edge and into an abyss of pleasure.
House collapsed on top of her. When he tried to roll to the side, she stopped him, gripping his bare ass as her legs tightened around him.
"Don't move," she said.
He smiled as he burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and gently kissed her there.
"I want a relationship with you," she said. "I want to have this every night and several times a day because we're a couple and we can do this whenever we want."
House removed his fingers from where he'd been holding her hands, then ran them over her wrists and across her elbows. His movements were slow and easy, and intentional, as he continued to follow the line of her biceps until he pushed his hands between her back and the mattress.
"Just say the word," he said, and flipped them both over so she lay on top of him. He ran his hand down her back and cupped her rear, holding her close to him as he flirtatiously gazed at her.
Cuddy flipped her hair to the side and gazed down at him. He wasn't running. He wasn't pretending. He was here with her, and if his smile was an indication, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Where he hoped he would be when he'd stepped into the elevator that morning.
"Just say the word, Cuddy," he repeated.
"Yes," she said, and kissed him.
What else could she say?