Author's Note: This is an M-rated story. Every chapter will contain sexual content. If you are offended by this please do not read.
This story may include a couple of flashbacks, and I will try to keep the timeline clear. If I fail to do this, please let me know and I'll clarify.
I don't own these characters.
"I'm confident in Reber," Cuddy told Wilson as she looked through the glass at her two-month-old son. "I'll just feel better once the surgery is over."
"I'm sure it will be fine. Reber is the best," Wilson answered as he stood next to her, gazing into the infant's room. "You should go home. Sleep for a few hours."
The door to the observation room opened and House entered, disturbing the peaceful silence. As soon as he saw Cuddy, he flinched, "Wilson, I was looking for you. The kids want you to check out a few scans. For some reason my repeated demonstrations of infallibility aren't enough. They want an oncologist."
"Sure," Wilson shrugged.
"They're waiting in your office."
Wilson looked at Cuddy, who seemed immune to the discussion behind her. "I'll be back in a bit."
"Don't worry about it, Wilson. I'm going to go home to get a shower. I'll be back later. There's no need for you to hang around," her tired and worried voice answered.
When Wilson left the room, he was surprised that House didn't take the opportunity to leave as well. After the door closed, House said, "Sucks about your kid."
"They said he'll be fine. This is perfectly routine for them."
"Most surgery is perfectly routine unless you're the one on the table. Or the mom of the one on the table."
She still stared ahead, watching the tiny person tightly swaddled in blankets.
"I blame the donor. I told you you had better options," he stated.
"Thank you for questioning that decision right now," she complained through her tight jaw, "because that is exactly the type of support that I need right now."
"I am known as the guy who knows exactly what to say to make people feel better." Cuddy took a step toward the door when he wedged his body between her and freedom, "You look like you're in pain."
"Of course I'm in pain," she argued, quieting after the initial outburst. "My son is going into surgery in two days. I'm worried. It took me a long time to have this baby, and I have this peculiar emotional attachment to him."
House stared at her face without judgment, searching for clues. "Not that kind of pain."
She shook her head, pushing past him and walking down the hall as quickly as she could.
House left for home a few minutes later, ready for a drink and a few Vicodin in front of his television. In the parking lot, he realized that Cuddy's escape had failed. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car without the engine running, leaning forward on the steering wheel. He got in on the passenger's side. "Is this breakdown emotional or automotive?"
"Get. Out."
"I could help."
"Just go. Please. I can't do this with you here."
"Answer the question—emotional or automotive?"
"My car won't start. I need to go home for an hour to take care of a few things before I come back to stay with him."
"I thought someone was with him."
"My sister is. But if something happens—"
"Nothing is going to happen. If something happens, the nurses and Reber will deal with it anyway. You should sleep. Sitting there staring at him doesn't help anything. I don't think his list of resentments will begin with 'the time my mom left my bedside for a few hours to get a shower after spending every waking moment staring at my boring infant ass.' He won't even remember."
"I will. I need clean clothes and my car won't start. I doubt you're a mechanic, but if you are, by all means, fix it."
"I am not a mechanic."
"Then how are you helping exactly?"
"I do have a car. I will take you home and bring you back."
"What do you want?" she groaned suspiciously.
"If I'm there, I might as well watch you shower." She slowly turned her head to glower, but before she laid into him, he added, "I'll wait in the car."
"I'm having trouble believing this is coming from a place of benevolence stored deep inside you."
"If you try to hitchhike, you might get picked up by an axe murder cannibal. If you die, I have a new boss. Which virtually guarantees I'll have to actually work."
"This is self interest?"
"And nothing more," he answered with a deliberate smile.
She sighed slowly, "Fine. Thanks."
When they got to his car, he handed her a Vicodin.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Vicodin. Or, as the insurance company would prefer, hydrocodone."
"I know what it is, I mean why are you giving it to me?"
"You're in pain. Maybe from sleeping in the chair in your kid's room. Or not sleeping. You're in pain from something. I can tell. You don't want to tell me what it is, I get that. But take the pill."
"It's not prescribed to me."
"OK. I'll write you a prescription. We'll go back inside, wait for you to get it filled, keeping you needlessly away from your son for even longer. Then, I'll eventually steal the leftovers from you anyway, so no matter what, someone will be taking a pill that isn't prescribed for them, and you are the reason why. But one way you're back to your kid faster. The other way, you're wasting precious bonding moments."
She took the pill and dug a water bottle from her purse. After it was swallowed, House asked, "Can I have the date and time? I need it so I can record the exact moment when your life of drug abuse began." He grinned before he began to drive away.
When he turned onto the highway, she complained, "Where are you going?"
"It's faster this way."
"No it isn't."
"Yes it is. During rush hour, driving through town takes twice as long. I know because I actually go home. You go home at midnight, when there's no traffic anywhere."
Neither of them spoke until they met a long string of red brake lights. She sighed a long, dramatic, irritated sigh.
"Fuck," he cursed as he got out of the car, grabbed his cane and limped a few vehicles ahead. After a few minutes, he returned, getting back in the car and admitting, "There's an accident a few miles down, it's on the traffic report. It's gonna be awhile."
"Seriously?" she asked angrily before she grabbed her phone from her purse and called the hospital to check on her son.
After she hung up he asked, "Everything OK?"
"Nothing has changed."
"And that means it's OK."
Her discomfort was really showing after nearly a half hour of idling. He started to look around, suddenly grabbing the gear shift and putting the car into drive.
"Where do you think you're going to go?" she asked.
He pulled onto the shoulder, following the road a short distance until he turned up a stone service road. There was a small open area with snow plows and road treatment supplies. "My leg hurts. We'll wait up here. You're not going to get back to the hospital any faster if we sit in the lane." She took the door handle and started to get out, but he argued, "Stay in the car. If you walk home it will take about two hours. And your car is at the hospital, so you have no way back. Just sit back and relax. We'll be at your place within an hour. If anything happens, your sister will call, and I'll figure something else out."
"Fine," she replied, sitting back and looking at the dusting of snow that still coated the grass from an earlier shower. "It's cold out there anyway."
House extended his seat back and kicked his legs out, rubbing his thigh. With his other hand, he took out his pills, holding the bottle out to her, "Need another one?"
"You're in a sharing mood."
"You look miserable."
"I'm not really sure I could handle that much," she warned, looking at him like he was crazy.
"What's wrong with you? Besides your kid."
"Let it go."
"No, tell me. If you won't tell me I'll guess. Is it genital warts? The plague? Hammer toe?"
"No."
"A common stomach virus? Hemorrhoids? Arthritis? Dementia? Legionnaire's Disease? Mad cow? Because right now you definitely seem like a—"
"Don't finish that sentence."
"Maybe it's the first real case of lupus and the primary symptoms is-" he stopped and looked over at her when the realization dawned on him. "If your boobs hurt why can't you just say that."
"I don't feel like talking about it."
"Do you have any idea the shit I see in the clinic? You can't say that. I actually am a real doctor."
"But you aren't an adult."
"Can't you get a pump or something?"
"God," she complained loudly, looking up toward the roof of the car, "yes I can. I have one at home and one at the office. I thought I was going home right now. I swear, if I say I don't want to talk about something you just keep pushing."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I'm not. I just don't like talking about personal things with you. It always comes back to hurt me."
"I didn't tell anyone about your insemination. The shots. I didn't blab about any of that. This is sort of mommy-related."
She stared out the window, breathing in the cold, damp mildew smell in his car. Shivering, she crossed her arms again, closing her eyes and leaning back. "How long has it been?" he asked loudly.
"This morning. Early."
"He isn't eating at all?"
"House-" she sighed before she decided to answer his questions without resistance, "He can't nurse because he keeps vomiting. IV fluids only. I was with him today, I hate leaving his room and I'm still trying to maintain a little privacy for myself at my hospital. I thought I could just run down to my office or go home to pump."
He turned, looking down through the trees at the unmoving red lights of the cars.
They sat in silence while nearly ten minutes passed. "I'll help you," House offered.
"I know. Get me home and we're good. I'll owe you a favor."
"No, I mean, I'll help you for now."
She side-eyed him, and shook her head, "Whatever you're thinking, no thanks."
"OK."
"What exactly were you proposing?" she asked after thinking on it.
"Getting my Vicodin back. Like recycling."
She snorted out a grim laugh, "You're crazy. Just take another one."
"It was just an offer, Cuddy. Nobody's forcing you."
"Why?"
"You look miserable. I can help."
"You're actually into this?" she asked, aghast again at something he'd suggested.
"It's not a fetish. It's a favor."
"You're disgusting," she humphed.
After several minutes, she turned back and saw the traffic was still stagnant. "The last thing we need is a rumor like that getting out."
"I agree," he answered. "I wasn't planning on bragging about it."
"Fine, do it," she said after a few minutes when things didn't seem to be getting better. "Just a little to help me until I can get home."
"Nope, I don't feel like it anymore."
"You are such an ass. Now you're going to hold the fact that I agreed to do it over my head, aren't you? I knew this was a trap."
"Stop," he interrupted. "Come here. But to be perfectly clear, you tell another soul about this, and I will unleash a spreading of information far more powerful than you could possibly imagine." He ended his threat with an evil grin.
"Agreed."
"Come on," he said, leaning his seat back a little more and pointing at his lap.
"I'm not going to sit on your lap."
"It's the easiest way to do it, Cuddy."
"This isn't a sex thing?"
"Of course not," he answered.
She moved over onto his lap, sitting sideways across it, and then he added, "But I can't promise I won't enjoy it. They are still your breasts." She started to move off again, but he wrapped an arm around her, "Would you relax?"
"My world is falling apart. How am I supposed to relax?"
"Fine. Don't."
"And don't expect anything. They look horrible."
He unzipped her coat, but she impatiently took over and started to unbutton her own shirt. He reached for a clasp in the front of her bra and she whimpered when her breasts tumbled out heavily.
"They're beautiful," he sighed with honesty. "They look amazing. Big, but amazing."
"Be careful."
His hand surrounded one breast, lifting it slightly and softly massaging the full flesh. Droplets appeared along her nipple from that touch alone. She shifted uncomfortably. His other arm wrapped around her, worming under her coat and shirt until his hand rested on his side. His fingers stroked up and down her side, comfortingly. "Just relax," he said with unanticipated concern. "Turn and face me. It'll be easier."
Hesitantly she turned, straddling his lap. He felt that hard, suddenly heavy jolt to his dick. There were no warning tingles, no building threats of arousal. She faced him, straddling his lap, her breasts engorged in front of him. His mind went directly to the last time she was in this position, and the sound of her cumming echoed in his brain. His one arm swooped under her ass, lifting her higher so she was sitting more on his abdomen than his lap. His free hand lifted a breast again to his mouth and he wrapped his lips around it.
"Ow," she yelped, pulling back.
"What?"
"You're doing it wrong."
"I've never done this before, usually these are just for fun. Tell me what you want me to do," he complained angrily.
"Here," she lifted a little more toward him, "put a little more of it in your mouth."
"Like this?" he asked, approaching carefully and wrapping his lips without sucking.
"Yea. Now try it like that."
He pulled her nipple into his mouth a few times and then he felt her body weight relax onto his. He coughed loudly when a burst of fluid flooded his mouth.
"God," she pulled back, "I knew this was a mistake. I'm sure it's disgusting."
"Relax. I thought you were uptight before, but now—." He looked up at her then and added, "It's not disgusting. I just didn't realize what sort of volume we were talking about. I told you, I've never played with them like this before. I'm surprised more babies don't choke. Or maybe it's just your superior breasts."
She smiled, "This is really awkward."
"No it's not."
Before she had a chance to protest, he took her nipple back in his mouth and began to suck. She breathed more calmly as her body released appropriate hormones and she became more at ease. "That's enough," she said when he'd taken enough. He let go and she shifted her body to put the neglected breast in front of his face.
He took the next one easily, without the difficulty of finding the correct position and angle. Eventually she leaned forward, her cheek coming to rest on top of head. "You good?" he asked when she didn't stop him.
"Yea," she answered sleepily, sitting up and quickly wiping tears from her face.
"You could have stopped me if it hurt."
"It didn't."
"What is it?"
"Nothing," she answered, quickly putting her bra back into the place and buttoning her shirt.
"Fine."
"Thank you for that. I'm sure that was not your favorite thing to do. It was nice of you."
"I don't really mind anything that has to do with your breasts."
She sort of laughed, but it only accentuated her tears.
"You can't tell me what's wrong?" he asked. "Just stress from the kid? What is it?"
"When most mothers are ready to leave the hospital after having a baby, we repeatedly ask them all of those questions about postpartum depression, about what they need, do they have help. No one asked me after I had Nathaniel. No one."
"I'm sure Wilson did."
"No one. I don't mind, but it was like no one felt it was necessary to ask."
"You don't project an air of helplessness, Cuddy. More the opposite."
"Thanks for helping me tonight. This—the ride home. All of it. Please don't say anything."
"It wouldn't be good for my reputation either. Your secret's safe." She smiled and nodded before she tried to pull away, and then he locked his arms on her thighs so she couldn't leave. "Do you think you have postpartum depression?"
She looked down toward his chin. "I don't know. I'm worried about my son. What am I going to do if he dies?"
"I saw his chart and Reber thinks-"
"You have no idea what was going on here."
"It's your kid. Of course I know what's going on," House confessed quietly.
"So why act like you didn't know?"
"I don't know. Sometimes you don't want me involved. Sometimes you do. It's hard to tell when you want what."
"No it isn't."
"It is for me," he said decisively so there would be no confusion.
She wasn't crying but he was certain that he'd never seen anyone that sad before in his life. He lifted his back from the chair and brought his mouth to hers. His tongue slid immediately in her mouth, and there was no resistance. She slipped her tongue along his, welcoming him in her mouth as they indulged in the deep wetness of the kiss.
She slid down his abdomen and onto his lap, the fluidity of the movement of her mouth against his pausing when she felt how hard he was beneath her. His body reacted before he could prohibit it, his ass lifting off the seat to raise his body to her while his hands found her hips and pressed her down onto him. Her eyes were stunned although he was confused about why his reaction would surprise her. She popped open the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper. "Better?" she asked.
He reached down, adjusting himself so he was completely free of the jeans because the constraint had become very uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't even sure what it was going to be, but she swallowed his words when she covered his mouth with her lips. Her hands pressed roughly against his stomach, and reached into his boxers. She was acting before he was even prepared for what was going on.
Her one hand cupped his balls, her fingers caressing them while her other hand grabbed his cock. He groaned, "I thought you said we weren't doing this anymore."
"I want it. Do you want it?"
He looked down at her hand on his straining dick and answered gruffly, "What do you think? You were the one who thought it was a bad idea."
She lifted up, twisting and turning to remove her pants and underwear. They were kissing again when his hands unbuttoned her shirt but she wouldn't let him take her bra off again. The car was cold but they couldn't feel the chill. He could see the edges of the scar from her c-section, still red. Her stomach was a little softer than what it had been, but still flatter than most. He guessed that within a few more months, the only clue that she'd ever been pregnant would be the scar because she was a perfectionist when it came to her body. In truth, he liked the softer edges of her body, but didn't say anything because he was certain she would think he was being an ass and would stop what they were doing.
Her fingers covered and circled the head of his cock before she jerked downward with increasingly long pumps along his shaft. He reached for her, pulling her closer with one hand while his other hand reached for her moist pussy. She was beyond wet, and when his fingers thrust into her body, he could feel the wetness coating his palm. He pressed with the heel of his hand against her clit and she mewled her response. His pace quickened because he was drawn into her wetness, lured by the promise of her hot, tight body.
His breath started to quicken, with the slight sound of a grunt at the end of each exhale. He knew he was close, so he grabbed her hand and slowed it. His balls were full and tight, he wouldn't have minded cumming one way or another, but he didn't know if it was an accidental fling in the car or something that she would be open to doing again. "I want to fuck you."
He was prepared to follow that with a question, probably something that sounded more like a demand than a request, but she was scooting forward, aiming his erection right at her core. She answered when she pushed her hips toward him. He loved that first moment sometimes as much as he loved cumming. She was always so tight, but so slick and welcoming, the perfect combination. He loved the feeling of his blunt tip pushing into her body, that first second where he'd push into her. There was always the resistance of her body while she begged to be opened by him until he was finally inside.
Her tight sheathe would grip as he shoved into her, her inner walls clinging to him, sucking him into her body. She made the perfect sounds, little moans and purrs when he was the whole way in her, and sometimes louder gasps when his body would press on her clit. If he was at the wrong angle, he'd use his hand to make sure she was completely stimulated because he loved making her orgasm.
Partially seated in his car, the angle was perfect. She would tip her hips down to rub her clit against his body each time he was completely in her, filling her with every inch of him. His hands were free to grab her ass, to lift her higher so he could plunge into her over and over and over. She was counter-thrusting each time he shoved into her. He could feel his body tightening again, knowing that he was going to explode because his thoughts centered on the way he pistoned in and out of her. He freed one hand, flicking her fluid soaked clit with his finger, hoping that she was soon going to come.
The first tight pulse of her pussy make him cum because he knew she'd follow. She did, the sensation of going in and out was compounded by the squeezing motions inside her body. She came, her voice higher and graceful like a song that would play in head, making his own satisfied growl sound particularly masculine and crude. There was no way to filter that sound, to pretend like he wasn't wrapped up in the sex that it seemed only she could give. He had no choice but to surrender to their bodies, and there was nothing in the world that he'd rather surrender to.
There were times when she'd pull away more quickly, but she didn't. She put her head against his shoulder and stayed there for awhile. He did that sometimes too, they both did. Sex between them didn't happen often, it was rare, but it felt unavoidable every time they allowed it. Sometimes their flings were as much about finding comfort in a little human contact as they were about sex. "The cars are moving," she said after a minute.
"Hunh?"
"On the highway. It's slow, but moving."
He tightened his arms around her, "We'll go soon."
She sat up. "It was my fault, sorry."
"What?"
"The sex. My fault. I let it happen."
"And I always like it when it does. I'm not going to complain."
"I shouldn't be doing this right now. My son is in the hospital and I'm off fucking you in a car. I should write parenting books."
"Parents are still allowed to have sex. That's why there are early kiddie bedtimes."
"I guess," she said as she pulled away from him, looking for something to clean up with and scrounging up a few tissues from her purse. She sat down in the seat, House fixed his clothes and they drove. She called to check on her son, the guilt audible in her voice.
Over an hour later, he dropped her off at the hospital. "You want me to come in with you?" he offered.
"It's OK."
"I'll stop up tomorrow."
"Don't feel obligated," she said.
"You say no one ever asks if you're alright. I'll be up tomorrow to see if you are."
To be continued...