Hi,
This is a one-shot that I had been thinking about for quite a while now. It's set right after (during?) the kiss House and Cuddy shared in Joy.
I hope you like the ride, feedbacks are appreciated! :)
Love Me Tonight
Her hands leave his face and travel along his neck, quickly finding his shoulders. She slides her hands beneath the fabric of his leather jacket and follows the lines of his muscular shoulders, taking the jacket off his body in their way. He almost instinctively helps her in her task, unwrapping his arms from around her to find her back the second the jacket reaches the floor, almost immediately followed by his cane.
He makes one fast motion and steps forward, to push her against the wall behind her. Her body is stuck between his and the wall, he is pressing his chest against hers as if he wants to connect with her. She only leaves his lips to take a quick breath and searches to recreate the contact again, avid of his taste. Her hands find his neck again and wrap around it, pulling him closer to her.
She feels tears threatening to fall down her face when she closes her eyes, relishing the comfort his embrace gives her. She feels protected in his arms. She forgets the world with him. His lips gently brush against hers as they take a breath, breathless after an umpteenth kiss. She instantly misses the warmth of his tongue and the softness of his mouth.
They stare at each other for what seems to be forever before she decides to speak. Her voice is warm and full of want, and hope, maybe.
"Love me tonight."
She is well aware of the risk she takes saying that, but it's what she wants, and she's tired of always having to watch her steps when it comes to him. And all she needs now is to feel that unconditional love he was talking about hours before.
He steps back, taken aback by her words. And for the first time in ages, he doesn't know how to react. In front of her eyes that reflect need and deep sadness, he's lost. He doesn't want to take advantage of her situation, but a part of him can't let him leave her like that.
None of them dare to make a move until he finally leans over her, brushing slightly her lips. He takes more confidence and deepens the kiss, slowly moving his tongue against hers as she hesitantly responds to him. She's surprised by his reaction, but yet, she feels relieved. She did expect him to freak out and run away after her words, but here he is, kissing her with a tenderness she doesn't know him.
She cups his face with both hands, caressing her way to his neck before traveling northern to his short hair. She barely has the time to think that in twenty years, she'd never really touched him - except in rare occasion, and it'd been nothing intimate. She gets lost in the thought of how good he feels under her fingers and against her mouth.
He kisses her patiently as his hands strock her back. Although the passion of the moment, he can feel sadness and sorrow taint her gestures. He wishes he could help it.
Love me tonight.
Her words come back to him, barely whispered when she said them. And they scare him as much as they fill his heart with a feeling of pride and an affection he can only define as love. And then, he realizes. He isn't sure if it's right, though, but he slowly drives her through the corridor, to her bedroom. She doesn't resist, following him in complete consent and a deep trust.
He breaks a kiss to breathe, gently pushing her on the bed as he fills his lungs with oxygen. She docilely lays down on the bed, looking up at the man. It doesn't take much time for him to lean over her and reach for her lips again. She wants him to make her forget, and he does. He takes her breath away in a more passionate kiss, blows her mind with his hand slowly caressing her thighs, the other hand making its way beneath her sweater.
She lets a soft sigh escape her mouth and shuts her eyes. His touch is attentive and patient, he takes his time to make her savor every moment. He caresses her flat stomach, grazing the border of her breasts only to pull away the second later.
She moves slightly beneath him, showing him her impatience and frustration at his reluctance. Their lips meet again after they parted to let them breathe a moment. Her hands stroke his back and shoulders and every inch of him they can reach.
He looks up at her and catches her lusty gaze. He asks her for permission to pleasure her, though she was the one asking for it minutes ago.
''Is it okay?'' he asks, sliding slowly his fingers under the hem of her yoga pants. He uses the left hand, the right one is rougher after all the years he grabbed a cane with it.
''Yes,'' she whispers weakly, her voice is shaky but warm and tainted with lust.
Her letting him touch her this way and trusting him hold an intimacy he almost can't handle. Almost.
He watches her close her eyes again as he applies a little pressure on her pubis. He drives his hand southern, without removing her clothes. He doesn't expose her body to his eyes, it's his way to show her he doesn't want to take advantage on her. His way to convince himself so. He bits his lip at the sight of her features changing to an ecstatic face as his fingers meet the wetness of hers.
He covers her mouth with his as tears start to fall down her cheeks again. She's responsive to his touch, moaning harder with each pressure of his fingers on her clit. She isn't noisy, soft moans and breaths only escape the barrier of her lips on the rhythm of his rubbing thumb on the sensitive spots of her.
He leaves her lips and places soft kisses all over her humid face, his left hand never leaving its activity while the right one is motionless onto her abdomen.
His lips freeze beneath her ear, his breath caresses the sensible skin there. He whispers in her ear words he'd never said to any woman, words he'd never thought himself able of even thinking of.
''I love you, tonight.''
He feels her arching her back and waving her body at the slow rhythm of his fingers and she shivers beneath his touch and the words he's murmuring to her. Tears begin to form in her eyes and fall down her face, again and again. He watches her, almost shocking on what he is witnessing. What he is provoking. She's torn between pleasure and pain, and it's the most beautiful and strong moment he can remember seeing.
He fights his own want, his need. Because he knows that if he tries, she would let him. And he knows what restraining himself means.
She guides him to meet her mouth again, relishing the feelings he gives her and forgetting for a moment everything else. He fastens the movement of his fingers inside of her when she moans suggestively against his parted lips. He takes her to the edge in one last motion before all the tension releases.
"Not today," he says gently when he feels her hand reach for his belt to return the favor. He smiles at her, taking slowly said hand from his waist and kissing her fingertips.
Not today. It meant that it'd happen someday. It makes them both smile slightly, looking in each other's eyes with a piercing deepness.
''Thank you."
He nods, getting off her and putting his feet onto the floor. Without his cane, he limps to the adjacent bathroom and disappears behind the door for several minutes.
''I want you," she tells him when he comes back to the bedroom, sitting onto the bed, cross-legged.
He makes a last step towards her before he reaches the bed and sits on its edge. He inhales deeply, his eyes locked with her lusty gray eyes.
''Listen in baby. You're not thinking straight. Go to sleep now and tomorrow, if you still want me, you know where to find me.''
His voice is calm and confident, unlike the fastening rhythm of his thoughts. His mind is trying to find out the meaning and outcomes of what had just happened and what is actually happening. But all he gets is a beginning of a headache. And lots of unanswered questions.
Before she replies and he looses control over himself, he stands up, kisses her forehead and makes his way outside the room. He leaves her with a hopeful, yet tiny smile, and, he hopes, less miserable.
A knock at his door.
It's late but not that much. Maybe 8 p.m., maybe less. He's sitting at his piano, a glass of scotch as a sole companion. He's lost in thought and lets his fingers translate them into gracious notes of music.
He hasn't seen her all the day, she's taken the day off. He's considered dropping by to check on her in his way home, but abandoned the idea, judging she'd maybe want to be alone. He understood that feeling. He knew it so well.
He didn't know how to comfort her with words, so he's given her the best he could offer; an orgasm and a hope for more. Gestures were more important and significant than words, that was his philosophy. Now it was her turn to decide on the next move.
A knock at his door and the last note fills the air before it vanishes.
He gets up, ignoring the cane leaning against the piano's bench.
She's standing in front of him. She, Lisa Cuddy, at his door. It's what he feared and yet wanted so bad, for so long. She's silent but he can easily read in her eyes, and it's enough for him.
Love me forever.
The End.