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Disclaimer: I don't own House or Cuddy; I just like writing them.
The Decision
The stream of suds slid slowly down the slope of her breast, around and under, creating a winding path as it trailed over her stomach and gathered at the line of hair at the juncture of her thighs. The movement was slow, soft and light, barely a whisper against her skin.
Like his touch.
Every sensation made her think of it: the rustle of her skirt along her thigh, the tickle of lace at her cleavage, the slide of elastic so near the pulpy lips between her legs. The memory of his surprising yet oh so familiar fingers sliding along her sensitive flesh never failed to leave her more heated than the steam rising in the shower stall. He'd brought her body alive and now it wouldn't be quieted by a touch alone.
She'd known better. From the minute she'd let him touch her in her office bathroom, she'd known it was a line they shouldn't cross. A taste of that kind of pleasure would never be enough. Still she'd allowed it. She'd ignored the warning voice and convinced herself she was still in control; she could handle it.
Oh, I handled it.
It had been a dangerous game, and she'd started it. She couldn't deny it.
She hadn't planned it at the time. She'd just needed to touch him, to return the favor, to ease the pressure and give him some of the pleasure he'd given her. But she'd pushed it too far. She'd known it as soon as she'd seen his reflection in the rear view mirror as she left him at the marina.
Getting him off had been an impulsive, but still strategic move; the king's pawn to E4, a leeway move, opening up movement for her side. At least theoretically.
It hadn't been enough. She'd wanted to shake him, to make him lose control. She'd needed to leave his head spinning with thoughts of her that would surpass any fantasy he'd ever had.
She still couldn't believe she'd so brazenly licked her fingers. The memory of his eyes following every move of her tongue, his flushed face and neck, his body's response…the knowledge of how completely she'd affected him had kept her awake that night. Planning his next move had kept him awake; she knew it instinctively.
He was all in. From the minute he'd arrived at the hospital the next morning with that Machiavellian grin on his face and suspicious gleam in his eyes, she'd realized her error. By the time he'd stepped into the crowded elevator, positioning himself behind her and covertly sliding his hand along the curve of her ass, she'd realized the playing board had already shifted in his favor. She'd inadvertently changed the rules of the game and his responding move had left her vulnerable.
And so they'd been secretly groping each other all week. Her body hated her for it.
Cuddy poured a bit of shampoo into her palm then began to massage it into her hair and scalp.
It had only been mild, tantalizing teases at first: his arm brushing her breast as he reached for a file, his hand brushing the curve of her ass, or his body lightly pressing into her as if gauging her resistance and sensitivity. Each day the contact had grown more pronounced and intense. He'd pulled open clinic drawers where she stood so his fingers could graze her crotch, and when she'd joined him in the MRI lab to talk about the patient, he'd brushed her nipple while working the display. He'd dropped x-rays, strategically catching them as they hit her chest, and even spilled a bag of chips and feigned embarrassment as he brushed them from lap.
She'd counterattacked, taking every opportunity to rub against him or press her backside into his crotch. It had only incited him more. He'd squeezed into the booth beside her as she lunched with Wilson and slid his hand beneath her skirt, going high on her thigh, and later he'd somehow managed to slip his cane beneath her skirt during Dr. Brantley's lecture on Ebola containment. The curved handle was more teasing than it should have been.
Cuddy had to hand it to him, he was discreet; much more discreet than she'd been. She still couldn't believe she'd pulled him into the janitor's closet. That was so med school. But she'd needed to make a bold move, a play that would confuse the play. It had backfired, of course.
She'd cupped his crotch; he's cupped her breasts. She'd kissed his neck; he'd bit her ear. She'd wrapped her leg around his thigh; he'd lifted her so he could fit perfectly between her legs.
Cuddy sighed as she rinsed the suds from her hair and felt the hot water pound and pulse on her head, shoulders and down her back.
Her body was overstimulated. She could feel when he entered the room, her body attuned to his every move. His heated looks would singe her skin, his breath against her ear and neck would raise the hairs on her arm and send shivers down her spine. Those light touches had the moisture pooling between her legs almost as quickly as the image of his tongue on those damned red lollipops.
God, I'm so horny.
Cuddy groaned in frustration as she turned off the shower and reached for the towel.
Being this hot for him wasn't so great for her given his sudden shift in mood. He'd almost staggered into the hospital this morning, obviously hung over and clearly experiencing some pain. She'd been stunned when he'd told her he'd woke up in his neighbor's bed…a child's bed.
"How drunk were you?" Cuddy asked.
"About yea drunk," he gestured with his fingers.
Geesh. He was lucky his neighbor hadn't called the police and had him thrown in jail. "Are you okay? You shouldn't be drinking at all, much less…"
"You sound just like Esteban's mom."
"I need you in the clinic."
"Sorry, I'm busy."
"No," she said and grabbed his arm. "I need you in the clinic, now."
House watched as she stalked through the clinic.
"A lecture is not what I need," he'd grumbled, and walked away from her rebelliously.
Cuddy was rougher with the towel than required, using it to scrub her sensitive skin rather than dry it. She was too frustrated to appropriately worry about him. She could see he was in crisis, but she didn't understand why. She couldn't think about it either. She couldn't find the brain cells to analyze what may have triggered his sudden shift from frisky to misery, and that was almost as frustrating as her body's betrayal. Almost.
Tying the towel tightly around her, she flung the shower curtain to the side and stepped out of the stall.
"I hope that groaning was for me."
Of course he was here.
He was sitting on the bench across from her, leaning his wet head against the tiled wall, wearing only a towel around his waist.
Fuck.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, testily.
"Waiting for you."
"In the women's locker room? Have you lost your mind?"
His gaze traveled slowly down her body.
"I was using the hot tub," he said. Not surprising. Wilson had told her House had been using his bathtub because his leg seemed to be bothering him more. He seemed to think it was tied to his relationship with Sam; Cuddy thought there was more to it. "I saw you working out."
"So you thought you you'd follow me in here?" she said. "Anyone could see you."
"There's a hazard sign in the hall, and the door is locked," he dismissed her concerns.
"Which just means the night engineer will wonder what's wrong and use his KEY to check it out."
House shook his head. "No," he said, standing and taking a step toward her. "He's taking care of the water leak in the cafeteria."
"There's a water leak in the cafeteria?"
"It's just a loose pipe," he assured her. "Easy fix."
Cuddy glared at him.
"You didn't."
As usual, he ignored her agitation.
"We need to talk."
He was standing too close.
He smelled of tangy body wash and man musk. It was leaving her lightheaded.
His eyes were a darker shade of blue, hungry and searching with a hint of fear and discontent. She ignored the later, her body instantly harmonizing with the lust he couldn't hide.
Her hand slipped through the seam of the towel, taking advantage of his lack of boundaries and finding his cock.
"You want to talk?" she gave him a sexy grin as she stroked him.
House swallowed hard, trying to maintain his focus when all the blood was racing from one head to another.
"I need to know what this is," he said.
Cuddy ran her thumb along the tip as she gripped his shank more firmly.
"A hand job," she teased, kissing his chest just above the small dusting of hair at the center.
He gripped her wrist, pulling her hand away from him.
"I'm serious," he said firmly.
It was taking everything he had to stop her. He wanted her so much. It was taking him over. He could hardly think about anything else. He felt like everything he wanted was right there within his grasp, but he was afraid. What if this was just a game? What if this wasn't what she wanted? After all, nothing had actually changed, he hadn't changed. He was still a terrible choice for someone with a kid.
Cuddy stared at him, wide-eyed and a bit frantic. He could see there was a battle between her body and mind that was quickly turning into a full-fledged war. He knew the feeling. They'd lost control of the play and now teetered dangerously on the edge of a cliff.
She jerked away from him, beyond frustrated.
"Why do you do this?" she said. "Why do you have to analyze everything?"
She turned away from him and bent to pull her gym bag out from under the bench.
"You're grabbing my dick every chance you get," he pointed out. "I don't think the question is unreasonable."
"Like you're not participating in this groping fest," she bit back, pulling a set of scrubs from the bag.
"I'm not the one who didn't want a relationship."
"This isn't a relationship," she said, turning her back to him.
She didn't see him flinch; she didn't see the shadow descending on his face or the storm clouds brewing in his eyes.
"Why do we have to label it anyway?" she said, dropping the towel and pulling the scrub top over her head, not even bothering with a bra. "That's never worked out well for us in the past."
Every time they'd tried to "talk" in the past it had totally stopped any positive momentum and sent them in a downward spiral. The chasm between them grew wider each time.
Cuddy turned angry eyes on him, holding the scrub bottoms at her waist. "Why can't we just have fun," she asked. "Why do you have to define it, or diagnose it, or whatever it is you're doing?"
House felt like she'd slapped him.
Why can't we just have fun?
He wasn't having fun. He was falling into a dark hole! He couldn't breathe. He was losing more and more ground every day. Couldn't she see that?
"You get to cop a feel and get off every now and then without having to pay for it," she said as she shook the pants out of the fold. "Why can't you just enjoy it?"
Why, indeed? He thought.
House caught her off balance when she went to step into the pants. He jerked them out of her hands and tossed them to the side as quickly as he lifted her off the ground and took one of her nipples into his mouth.
Cuddy gasped, gripping his shoulders for support and trembling at the feel of his hot mouth sucking her, his beard scrapping the tender skin of her areola.
"House," she cried out.
His grip was strong, his movements fierce and determined. This wasn't the tease of the past few days; this was raw and rough. This was passion.
So good.
He spun them around. She felt like she was falling. He caught her, bracing a hand against the wall as he dropped to his knees and guided her feet back to the ground. He was nipping and kissing and biting down her stomach, nuzzling the thin patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs as he lifted one of her legs to slip beneath her. Her leg draped over his should and down his back.
If this should somehow lead to oral sex, so be it.
She'd thought of little else since he'd said it. And now his mouth was on her.
His tongue slid along her folds, lapping at the lips before dipping into her heat. His hands gripped her butt cheeks as he pulled her closer so he could suck her clit firmly into his mouth.
Cuddy thought she would hyperventilate. She was gasping for air, the pressure building in her with such speed and intensity she couldn't think, couldn't react, couldn't do anything but writhe against him and reach for the release only he could give.
She cried out when she felt that final push from deep within, and lost all sense of awareness when he hummed against her swollen flesh, lapping up her release like a thirsty man too long in the desert.
Cuddy laughed. It was almost hysterical. She felt out-of-control and self-conscious, yet strangely relieved and joyful. He spun her around to sit on the edge of the bench.
House didn't give her a chance to recover before lifting her other leg onto his shoulder, spreading her wide as he nestled his head between thighs once again.
"I can't," she mumbled. She was so sensitive, so weak and depleted, she couldn't take…
His mouth sucked on her clit as a finger circled the now dripping wet entrance to her core.
"House!" She grabbed his head, pulling on his hair in desperation, uncertain if she was pulling him close or pushing him away.
His finger dipped deep, his lips tugged hard. She thought she would scream. When she felt another finger at her anus, the muscles in her thighs grew taut automatically gripping his head in a scissor hold.
House was unfazed.
He's not…
There was a brief moment of conscious resistance, but his finger was wet from her release and easily slipped into the tight…
"Oh," she gasped as her eyes rolled back in her head at the overwhelming sensation. Every nerve ending at her clit was alive, sparking and firing shots of pleasure through her. Her walls tightened around his fingers, sucking him in as the muscles in back pushed his other finger out. It was all too much. Too much sensation, too much pressure, too much pleasure, too much…
Cuddy tried not to scream. Someone would hear. Someone could catch them. Someone…
"Oh God!"
Cuddy screamed.
House held still, feeling her pulsing and pounding and gripping his fingers and hand. When he felt the waves of her orgasm subsiding, he licked her clit one last time, causing her to gasp and jerk in a pleasure-pain that had her laughing again.
He looked up at her.
His knees were hurting. His leg felt like a knife had been pushed into his already mangled thigh. His balls were so tight and his dick so hard, he was sure a blood vessel would burst any second.
But he was also pissed. Or hurt. Or maybe just confused. He felt betrayed somehow. Used.
He couldn't explain it. He barely understood it.
She was so beautiful spread open before him, flushed and weak, completely satisfied and lost in a euphoria he desperately needed. She was his world. He couldn't deny it any more than he could admit it.
This was just sex for her.
House kissed her thigh and ran his hand along her folds one last time before awkwardly standing.
Cuddy smiled up at him lazily as he tied the towel around his waist. Why hadn't she noticed it had dropped? Why hadn't he left it where it dropped? It was barely able to hide the erection so proudly peeking through the seam.
He was so beautiful. He was by far the sexiest man she'd ever seen. Did he know that? Did he even realize how breathtaking he could be?
She watched him take the few steps to retrieve the cane he'd leaned against the tile, and quickly sat up when she realized he was heading for the door.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Home," he said, unlocking the door and swinging it open.
"What?" Her legs were too weak to stand. "Why?" she called out to him.
He didn't respond. She wasn't sure he'd even heard her. The pendulum had reversed its swing, and he'd disappeared behind a dark shroud as quickly as he'd brought her to orgasm.
She didn't know what to think; she didn't understand his mood. And in her present condition, she didn't have the capacity to figure it out.
H H H
He had a headache.
Sorting through the confusing data of the past few days – hell, the past few years – was frying his brain.
"You'd be surprised how many things Wilson doesn't tell you," she said.
"Would I?" House chuckled. "Like, how you slept with your father's best friend or..."
"I'm gonna kill him," Cuddy said, but she'd gone pale, her eyes hollow.
House frowned as she suddenly looked around her desk nervously before almost jumping out of her chair and rushing toward the door.
"I have to go," she mumbled.
"Cuddy," he tried to stop her. But she was already gone.
He hadn't expected that reaction. Thinking about it now, he still was surprised he'd found her in tears. That hadn't been the button he'd been trying to push.
Cuddy averted her eyes and quickly wiped her tears as House slid in next to her on the picnic bench.
"Here," he said, handing her one of his red lollipops. "Candy helps."
"A handkerchief would probably work better," she quipped, but her voice lacked the lightness to pull off the humor. She looked out into the distance with sad eyes.
House sat quietly beside her.
"You hit a nerve," she finally said.
He started bouncing his cane on the ground.
"I think I figured that out," he said, then propped his chin on the curve of his cane. "Sorry."
"It's not your fault," she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.
House waited.
"I was in med school," she explained. "They were supposed to be driving through town on the way to a conference, but dad had an emergency at the hospital so Bill went without him. He promised my parents he'd stop in and check on me."
She looked over at him.
"There was a party going on when he got there."
"You were drunk?" he asked.
"Not yet," she said. "I was working on it."
"Middle-aged man; hot young girl," House said. "Not so surprising he'd take advantage."
"I seduced him," she said. His eyes widened; she shrugged. "He'd been eyeing me since I graduated from high school."
House grinned.
"I imagine he wasn't the only man doing that."
Cuddy dropped her face into her cupped hands as she recalled that night.
"I'd been a wreck and I guess I needed the ego boost," her hands were muffling her voice. "So when he showed up looking like the classic, debonair older man and was so obviously infatuated, I just…"
"Why were you a wreck?" he frowned.
She dropped her hands, but looked away from him.
"I was just going through a hard time," she said. "It doesn't matter. It was just one night and quickly forgotten."
"Not by him."
"Not by him," Cuddy sighed in agreement. "I found ways to get out of seeing him, and managed to avoid family holidays for years. Until I was hired here as Dean of Medicine."
He waited for her to explain the connection.
"Dad planned a vacation to Costa Rico since it would be a long time before I'd get a real vacation again and the promotion deserved a celebration," she said. "He didn't tell me Bill would be joining us."
"And Bill had grown into a dirty old man."
"Not dirty," she said. "But determined. I wasn't the kid I had been. I wasn't desperate anymore, and I didn't need the reassurance that I was worthy of such attention or that I still had it. But he didn't want to take no for an answer. We argued. Dad overheard…it all spiraled out of control."
House frowned, sorting through the information in his mind.
"It was just another thing for mom to use against me," she said. "And dad…"
"When was this?" House interrupted.
"I told you, when I got the position…"
"I mean when you slept with him."
"Med school."
"You weren't desperate in med school," he said. "You were a force to be reckoned with from the moment you set foot on campus."
"I was going through a rough patch," Cuddy sighed. "Mom didn't help any. She…"
His eyes widened and glazed over as he had an epiphany.
"It was when I left," he said, even though he hoped it wasn't true.
He could tell by the clouds in her eyes, he was right.
"Got something for you."
House was startled from his thoughts as Thirteen walked in and tossed an envelope on his desk.
"What's this?"
"The money Wilson paid us to go out with you," she said. "Figured you could use it to get him back."
He stared blankly as the rest of the team came into the office behind her.
"It was fun," she shrugged. "He didn't have to pay us."
"I wouldn't go that far," Taub muttered.
"That stack of bills will buy us quite a few pitchers," Chase pointed out. "Or shots."
House grinned. "You were playing him."
"Wouldn't you?"
"Now we can all get bracelets for What-would-House-do," Taub said. "Can we talk about the patient now?"
"No," House said. "Let's talk about you becoming the poorest doctor in this hospital once your wife nails you for alimony."
"Rachel's not leaving me," he said through gritted teeth.
"She will."
Taub glared at his fellow team mates when they all responded at the same time.
"The patient is lactating," he said, handing him a vile of liquid to get the focus off him.
"The guy's pregnant? Cool!" House poured some of the sample milk from the vile into his mug. The team stared at him appalled.
"First he's gay, and now he's pregnant," he said. "How will he ever tell his fiancé?"
Chase laughed. "His therapist loaded him with hormones."
House listened as they discussed possible diagnosis and argued symptoms. He feigned to sip his coffee, but kept pausing just before it touched his lips. They were so easy to jerk around.
"Prolactinomas can be benign," Taub said, his nose clearly turned up as House brought the mug to his mouth, yet again.
"Check his prolactin level, then MRI his pituitary," House said.
They didn't move, obviously waiting for him to take a swallow.
"Go!" he gestured them away.
Thirteen remained.
"You going to drink that?" she asked.
House quirked a brow and watched as she took the mug from him. She took a sip and stared at him.
"You are a freak," he said, but was clearly amused.
"I have nothing to lose," she said. "Unlike Taub…and you."
"You're comparing me to Taub? This should be good."
"He's an idiot," she said. "Trying to have his cake and eat it too. But you! You push others to have the cake, but you're afraid to try it yourself."
"I'm on a diet."
"You're more than willing to lick the icing."
House had a sudden flash of memory: Cuddy spread out before him in the locker room. Had it only been three days?
"The icing is the best part, you know."
"You don't believe that," she said. "You're not just monogamous. You're a closet romantic. You jerk Taub and Wilson and everyone else in a relationship around because you need them to make it work. You need them to prove faithfulness matters because if it doesn't, you can't take that leap. You're an all or nothing kind of guy. Half-way isn't even a choice for you."
"You need to test that cream for hallucinogens," he said. "You clearly are having a reaction."
Thirteen chuckled.
"For a man of truth, you sure like to lie to yourself."
His frown turned to a scowl as she left his office.
H H H
The headache was worse.
House popped three Ibuprofen into his mouth and washed them down with the whiskey he'd poured.
It was bad enough he was putting up with Taub (by far his most annoying team member) and enduring his best friend's insulting attempts to find him friends, but now Thirteen was hitting a little too close to home. She had been since they'd gone out to that lesbian bar.
My self-pity's optional. What about yours?
It had been a reasonable question in light of their conversation. One that kept coming back to him.
He didn't like to admit it, but at the moment his pity was optional. He'd made the choice to accept less than what he wanted, what he needed, and he was paying the price.
Then again, it wasn't even self-pity any more. It had gone beyond that. He was angry and bitter; restless and impatient, finally seeing the futility of trying to find "happiness." He wasn't even sure happiness was real.
Why can't you just enjoy it?
That was the question of the hour.
Any straight, healthy, red-blooded American man would enjoy this deal with Cuddy: get your rocks off with the hottest woman you know without any expectation of emotional commitment. It was like a dream.
It felt like a nightmare.
This isn't a relationship.
Her words still stung.
Maybe she was right. They didn't have a relationship. They never would. He'd never given her anything but heartache, anyway. He was only just beginning to understand that pattern had started back in med school.
"I thought we had something special that night," she said, her voice distant and without emotion. "I'd never connected with anyone the way I did with you. But then you disappeared…everything changed."
But he'd felt it too: the connection.
"I was expelled," he said, trying again to explain what had happened, why he hadn't called. "I didn't think…"
"It doesn't matter," she interrupted. "It was years ago. We're different people now."
House took another sip of whiskey from his mug, remembering the look on her face, the way she closed out the memory, closed him out.
He'd hurt her. The circumstances didn't matter. He'd handled it all wrong. He'd been self-absorbed, selfish and afraid, convinced she'd reject him because he wasn't good enough for her.
As different as they were now, some things were still the same.
"I hired a replacement," her voice interrupted his thoughts.
"For my P.A.," she clarified as she stepped through the door.
She'd told him earlier in the week she was looking to hire a new assistant. That was before he'd tasted her. Before Wilson had started his hire-a-friend campaign. Before he'd come to an important realization.
"She seems great," Cuddy continued.
"Good work."
"You too," she said. "Your patient's going home tomorrow."
"He doesn't have a home," he pointed out.
That's what happens when you deny who you are and try to build a fantasy life. You lose all sense of home. You're unable to commit to the life you're building and unwilling to be content with the truth.
You're an all or nothing kind of guy.
"You want to grab a bite to eat?"
House sighed. "So Wilson got to you too?"
Damn. Did Wilson really think he was so pathetic? Why did he have to involve her?
Cuddy frowned.
"No. This is just me," she smiled uncomfortably. When he didn't respond immediately, she added: "I'm buying."
"I'm not that hungry."
Cuddy was taken aback by his dismissal. Granted, they hadn't really spoken since they'd been so intimate three days ago, but what had happened was very real and very powerful. She'd been unable to think of anything else as she anxiously awaited his next move, their next encounter.
It hadn't come.
"Okay," she said, awkwardly.
He was shutting her out. She'd thought it was just a mood when he'd left her in the locker room, but now it was quite clear.
She knew he'd been busy with his team. Wilson had told her his plan to help House find a social life since he was spending more time with Sam. He still didn't know House had been spending time with her, or at least playing with her. Wilson didn't know they were growing so close because House didn't tell him. He'd kept it a secret; he'd been very discreet, very protective of what they shared.
I need to know what this is.
What did they share? She was afraid to think about it too much, afraid to give it any more power over her. She'd already lost enough control; she was already so weak.
"Talk to me," she pleaded. "Tell me what's going on with you."
He didn't respond. He watched her fidget with her hands as she nervously waited.
She stepped further into his office.
"Don't shut me out," she said. He was her best friend. She depended on him, she needed him, she wanted him.
House closed his eyes.
Shut her out, he thought. What a joke!
She was the one who'd shut him out. He'd been working for months to be the kind of man she needed, the kind of man she could love. But he was no better than her father's friend. He served his purpose, but her heart was closed.
"I thought sobriety would have more rewards," he finally said, shaking his head in disappointment.
"House," she sighed, immediately ready to comfort him. "You haven't lost Wilson, you know. Just because he's dating Sam doesn't mean he's abandoned you."
"I know," he said, looking down at the amber liquid in his mug. "He's moving on…we all are."
Cuddy felt a still, quiet shudder run through her, and a sense of foreboding that had her on edge now.
"That doesn't mean we won't still be together."
"No," he said. "It will just be different."
Cuddy stared at him. The words seemed calm and accepting, but there was something in the air, something in his tone, something in the melancholic shroud over his eyes.
"House," she whispered. "We'll get through this. We're friends."
Friends.
He hated that word. That's when it all started. That was when he'd sold his soul.
House gave her an empty look.
"I can't do this anymore," he quietly said. "I tried, but I can't. I won't."
"I don't understand." Cuddy felt a wave of panic wash through her.
"That's the last thing I want us to be," he said. "Friends."
Cuddy gasped. She felt something crack inside her.
He remained very still as he stared at her with a resolve she'd never seen.