Title:

Category: Drabble
Rating: Light..M (a bad word or two and some hot times)
Spoilers: Huddy promo for 5x23

A/N: Yeah, whatever. I don't know how you can do light M on anything but I don't know if I can do the whole "Huddy promo" a justice. I call this my humble "attempt."

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It feels like the world is unraveling, a less than kept together ball of yarn tangling her limbs.

She has no idea where the road began, only that she is standing somewhere on the edge of life and leaping.

His arms encircle her waist like creeping ivy and his fingers leave a searing tale of chaotic lust on her body, a book to be read by the world. She feels her own desire lapping at the barriers of sanity as the cornflower fabric of her shirt begins its' ascent. It's betrayal in the purest form as she works her own hands in tandem with his.

All of the days seem a blur inside of her head now: the banter, the frustration, the angst, the heartache. She tries to shove aside the reminders of every yesterday and live solely in the moment.

When she leaned in to taste him, she only intended to tease, sample, preview the unimaginable and everything that could never transpire between them. As she felt him sending her back into the oak of the desk, she knew all hope was lost for a smooth escape from temptation.

Now, he drags her along, much to her amazement. She thinks she touches every surface of his apartment as they move sideways, parts of it fusing to the beaded sweat on her skin. Her mouth is greedy and wanton, desperately pulling their bodies as close as physically allowed.

His jacket falls with a thud and her shirt flutters with a sing-song cadence on the cool air from the vents. Her flesh prickles from the sensations of his body and the atmosphere. It's a dream. It has to be, she thinks as she spins him, his body finding solace in the river of sheets on his bed.

Idly, she pauses millimeters away from the ravine of his mouth. Her breath curls around his cheek bones and becomes carbon dioxide.

"House," she breathes, like a frail plead or prayer.

She isn't sure which as his hands tuck themselves into the contours of her breasts. Like a sculpture, he molds and shifts and rearranges the elements of her nature. His signature becomes the wet marks along her carotid artery, and she wonders what she will look like once this is all done.

Beneath her, he is stone and she isn't sure she remembers exactly how it will all feel when the barriers have been shattered and she is raw and vulnerable.

Frantic, unbridled, off the hinge. He poises so close to where she wants him most and yet, isn't sure it's where she needs him to be. Nothing separates their bodies from the inevitable joining of natural force. The biological urge to connect and to be filled encompasses her. She encourages him into her most private of places with a gentle nudge of her hips against his own.

Connection, eradication of emptiness comes. Her eyes slam into darkness and her brow knits together. She thinks she sees stars but they crackle and fizzle, dissipating into nothing. Joining leads to friction, and eventually, to ecstasy.

This is dangerous. It is probably a mistake. She aims to make it the most perfect one she has ever made.