Out With A Bang
By Jules
(2/10)
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Getting Vicodin wasn't easy. Not only had it been illegalized in the States, but there was absolutely no one at PPTH or any other hospital in the tri-state area that would write House a 'script.
There was no hiding an addiction when you had to resort to a drug dealer named Steve-K from Jersey City.
House twirled the orange container like a baton. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would change. That didn't mean that life couldn't suck more.
But Lisa Cuddy was back, and he didn't have the willpower to turn her away.
She looked at his choice candy, her face paling with disgust. She shouldn't have left him that night, she realized now. The relapse wouldn't have been as bad. Hell, she wouldn't be relapsing now if it wasn't for those mind numbing pills.
House smirked and tossed the pills in the air. "Not so sexy today, huh?"
Cuddy leaned against the glass door. "I hate what they do to you."
"That's right. Life would be so much better if I felt every asinine thing you feel."
She put her hand on his wrist gently. "Don't take them tonight."
God, he hated her. Here she was, his ex-girlfriend, making demands, telling him what she wanted, like what she wanted mattered anymore. He slid his hand down her side. "Or what?"
She didn't flinch. "Or I'll leave."
He grinned, his smile not reaching his eyes. "You already left. What's the point, Cuddy?"
She touched his cheek, a familiar, angelic gesture. "You're better than this."
House gritted his teeth, immediately brought back to the night he begged her, the night he swore he could do it all for her. "I thought I couldn't do any better."
She curled her arm around his neck. "Don't take them," she whispered.
Then he was kissing her, because it was either that or drown her out with pills and bourbon. Drowning her with kisses seemed the better option, for now.
It was like a fighting a losing battle, no victor in sight. He pulled her back from the door, dragging her across the room until he hit his desk. But that didn't feel right either. He wanted to be on top of her, dominating her until she broke down and screamed with guilt and sorrow. Manipulating her feelings was the easiest way not to examine his own.
He pushed her down on the chaise, inching her skirt up until he saw the hem of her pantyhose. Yes, drown he would, as he buried his face in dark, scented curls. She always tasted so sweet, so innocent and trusting. The way she bucked against him, always wanting more than what he had both frustrated and empowered him.
As the warmth steadily rose inside of her, she felt herself hit a wall of emotion that couldn't be stopped. She never wanted to cry in front of him. She never wanted to be so weak and pathetic. But as she tumbled over the edge, she cried, her sobs mourning his loss even as he filled her completely.
He lifted his head, unable to stand the sounds of her grief. He ordered gruffly, "Turn around."
It was only then that he could go on, not facing her, not seeing her anger and despair as he moved inside her relentlessly.
She turned her head, searching for his mouth with her own. He was being stubborn, selfish and wouldn't give her what she wanted, wouldn't open his eyes.
She grabbed his wild hair and pulled his head to her, forcing him to kiss her.
It was too much as her mouth cried into his. He came hard, fast, and then the damning ache was gone.
Quickly, he removed himself from her. He looked away, frustrated, hating that the drugs couldn't stop him from wanting her. He reached for the discarded pills. "You're a poor substitute, Cuddy."
She watched as he poured two pills into his hand. She grimaced, her tears fading as she saw him retreat. She stood up with as much dignity as she could muster, righting her clothes. "I don't substitute anything."
She walked out the door.
House stared at the pills as they began to melt in his hand.