Hi everyone,

Here's the new chapter.

It's… a little different than the previous ones, as you'll see, so what I mostly hope is that the result won't be too frustrated and that you'll still enjoy reading it.

This part is set after "Mirror, Mirror" (season 4). Circumstance: House' patient identified House as the 'alpha dog' when confronted to both him and Cuddy. Motive: challenging. First move: House… I guess, though as the title says: "careful what you wish for"… ;P

** CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR **
First Times series #4

Cuddy was seated on her bed, rubbing her legs with moisturizing lotion – her little evening ritual – when the buzzing sound of her blackberry called her attention on the nightstand. She stared at the caller's ID on the screen and heaved a deep, tired sigh. She had a long day at PPTH, and she was just about to go to bed, already craving the much awaited, blissful rest but then, of course, he had to call her…

"House," she said, with a moan of protest. "What do you want?"

"Hey, Cuddy!" he sing-sang at the other end of the line. "Am I calling at a bad time?"

"What do you want?" she repeated wearily.

"Nothing special. I just… wanted to hear the sound of your defeated voice," he teased, reminding her of that stupid bet she'd lost earlier that day when, for his greatest pleasure, his patient with mirror syndrome had identified him as the alpha dog in front of an amused bunch of doctors and nurses.

How could she even get caught up in that game with him? Now, he'd most certainly brag about it any opportunity he'd get, and she would never hear the end of it. Then again, when was she not getting caught up in a game with him anyway? It seemed as if teasing her was his favorite sport. It wasn't like it was something new, coming from him. She was used to dealing with his tantalizing banter, day after day. She was used to his sexual, sometimes inappropriate comments. She'd never confess it, even less to him, but truth was… she liked it. It made her feel powerful, desired, and unique.

"Well, you heard it now," she said flatly. "Goodbye, House."

"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I think I deserve a little reward."

She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. Of course, he wouldn't be true to himself if he didn't seize that opportunity as a chance to get his way with her.

"Fine," she conceded. "No clinic duty for one week."

"Oh, no, no, no," he contested immediately. "Though, I'm definitely holding you on that offer… I was thinking of something different."

"House," she said, narrowing her eyes, bracing herself for whatever maddening idea has crossed his mind, "I'm warning you, you're not taking any more applicants to your hire-A-team marathon. Especially if it involves busty, twenty-something females that aren't even real med students."

"Pfft," he exclaimed extravagantly. "What makes you think I would do that?!"

"Because I know you," she answered simply.

House smiled wickedly and held his cell receiver closer to his ear.

"Well, sure. I could do that, you're right," he admitted with a mischievous tone. "But that wouldn't be as fun as what I have in mind."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked, already afraid to hear his answer.

"I thought… I could come over and… you and I… you know… we could do the naughty. Just this one night…"

She chuckled throatily.

"Yeah, right," she said in a voice that meant she wasn't the least bit taking him seriously.

She knew him all too well. Almost twenty years of interwoven history, half of which spent dealing with each other on a daily basis; she, keeping him in line, he, driving her crazy. Cuddy was more than well trained to the way House played his cards and tried to bargain with her to get what he wanted from her. First, he would state his indecently inappropriate demands. Then, she'd make him stand down to almost nothing, denying him the joy of seeing her yield to his crazy claims. And eventually, they'd meet halfway.

"Where are you Cuddy?" he asked, suddenly interrupting her train of thoughts.

"What?"

"Are you in your living room, watching TV?"

Where the hell is he going with that? She thought, taken off guard by his question. She pouted, incredulous, wondering if this was just another one of his typical bargains, a la House… But then, she thought again if it was, what exactly was he trying to bargain for? They weren't at the hospital and his patient had been diagnosed already. Obviously, this was not about some medical procedures he was trying to get her approval on. And if his characteristic M.O was to start with the highest, craziest bid to get her consent on something more acceptable, what was he expecting to get? I deserved a little reward, he'd said. But he wasn't interested in being discharged of clinic duty…

Cuddy shook her head, quickly chasing the ridiculous idea away from her mind.

"I don't see why this would be relevant," she answered cautiously as some parts of her couldn't help but test the water a little bit with that answer.

"It's kinda late," he said, his voice distinctively lower. "Maybe you're in bed already—"

"House," she warned.

"You are, aren't you?" he went on, totally unimpressed by her obvious resistance. "All alone, in your empty queen size bed—"

"What's this about?" she cut him off, her voice taking on a nervous edge in spite of herself.

"I just wanna know if you're going to bed, that's all."

"Yes, I am. Happy now?"

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone! Geez, why do you care?" she said a bit edgily.

"I'm alone, too," he deadpanned, his tone neutral.

"Yeah. Poor House. That's horrible. I'm very sad," she scoffed. "I'm hanging up now."

"What are you wearing?"

Her mouth fell agape, and she rolled her eyes, half-stunned by his nerves and – she inwardly scolded herself at the undeniable fact – half-amused by how, with his unique, offhanded way he was always subtly instilling banter between them. She should have hung up then. She very well knew that. But there was that itching, uncontrollable need to tease him back, and she couldn't help it. He was the only one who did that to her. Whenever he pushed her buttons, it was impossible to resist. She just had to push his back…

"Well, you said it: I'm going to bed. So, I'm dressed for the night." She smiled as she could almost picture the look of frustration on his face.

"Oh, come on!" he protested almost instantly. "You need to give me more than that! What is it? A nightie? A camisole?"

"PJs. Buttoned-up, flannel shirt with long sleeves and pants," she answered holding back her laughter.

Of course, it was a lie. She was wearing a short, satin nightie with a low-cut cleavage, lined with laces, and ridiculously thin straps barely holding the piece on her bare shoulders. She was naked underneath, hating to sleep with underwear on. It was certainly too sexy, considering she was only wearing it for herself, and therefore quite unnecessary, too, but she'd always considered she owed it to her womanhood, and her self-esteem, to wear feminine nightclothes.

"That just isn't true, Cuddy. And I know it," he said in a resolute tone.

For a split second, Cuddy felt an irrational sense of panic pervade her. What if he was there, standing outside her window and spying on her? Yes, that assumption was nonsensical but, truth is, not so unthinkable in itself. He'd done that in the past: Appearing out of nowhere at her bedroom's window, in the middle of the night, creeping her out. So, he could have done it again.

She quickly sat up straight in her bed and stared intensely at the window. The curtains were drawn and all she could see through the flimsy fabric was just dark emptiness. She rolled her eyes, feeling silly and hating herself for letting him mess with her so easily, even when he clearly wasn't there.

"No, you don't!" she contradicted, trying to sound as sure of herself as she could.

"Hah! You hesitated," he replied, with that smug, self-confident tone of his. "Which means I was right! So, what is it? Come on… You gotta tell me."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do. Because you want me to know."

When had his voice become so damn low and sexy? She took a deep breath and squirmed a little on the mattress, ever so slightly sliding down to a more laid-back position.

"I… uh—"

"Let me guess then," he cooed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to not let his raspy voice do that tickling thing in her lower abdomen it was doing just then. "I'm going for nightie. Short. Low-cut, of course. Maybe… silk?"

"Satin," she corrected before she had time to think.

"Satin, hmm. That's not bad either. What color?"

"White," she replied automatically, as if she were on autopilot.

What the hell was wrong with her? Damn him! She needed to grab hold of herself. Now.

"Are you naked underneath?" he asked with that same deep, husky voice.

"That's none of your business!" she said, and she let out a small puff of victory for being able to regain some poise.

She was not going to let him drag her there, into that dangerously slippery territory. Now, she was perfectly picturing what kind of reward he'd thought about when he'd first mentioned it but let her be damned if she allowed herself to play that game with him!

"Which means you are," he went on, not even paying attention to her snappish retort. "God, Cuddy, I'm sure you look hot as hell in that nightie!"

She felt a twinge between her legs and proof of her insane arousal started pooling along her folds. No, no, no, NO! She couldn't be aroused! She couldn't let him do that to her. There was a pause at the other end of the line, like a hesitation, but then his hot, raspy voice coaxed her again.

"How does it feel?" he said, barely above a whisper.

"Wha… what?"

It didn't matter that she should definitely not risk asking him what he meant. Clearly, she couldn't count on her will and self-control to help her get back to her senses anymore. She needed to hang up. She needed to end that conversation. But his voice was so… hypnotizing. Instead, she clutched her fingers around her blackberry tighter, eager to hear his answer and prolong that delightfully warm sensation that was slowly spreading inside her.

"The satin, along your breasts," he explained as if it were the most natural thing to say in that moment. "Your nipples must be extremely sensitive, right now… They're hard, aren't they?"

"Yes," she blew, short of breath, not recognizing her own voice.

"Feel them," he demanded, and her hand obeyed in spite of herself, her uncooperative fingers slowly brushing the tip of her erect nipples above the thin fabric of her nightie.

The jolt that shook her body became almost unbearable. Her hand travelled from her breasts down to the wet warmth between her thighs, and her fingers curled around her sex, parting her folds. A low moan escaped her lips when her index found her swollen clit.

"Are you touching yourself, Cuddy?" she heard him say, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No!"

She quickly removed her hand from her folds and for a second, she feared he could hear her quickened pulse, as distinctively as she could hear it resonate in her ears.

"Yes, you are. I can hear it in your breath—"

"House," she panted, indeed incapable of controlling her breath. "I'm… I'll see you in the morning."

"But, why?" he asked evenly. "We're doing nothing wrong. You're lonely. I'm lonely. Nobody has to know."

"I'll know. You'll know. This is not happening," she stated in a definite tone.

"Oh-ho, so you were touching yourself, right?" he teased.

Damn him, she hated him and his sixth sense - or whatever it was - that always made him so… so psychic about her! He always knew: When she was ovulating, when she was seeing another man, when she was upset with something. And he always taunted her with that knowledge, as if the very fact that he could be so aware of her rhythms, her life, or her needs would only increase his power over her, and drive her even crazier, just as she was right there and then, feeling both horny and ashamed for being so weak.

Except that, as much as she wanted to hang up, he'd just made it impossible for her to do that now. She was certainly not going to end that conversation when she was at her disadvantage, and he had managed to have the upper hand.

It was already one thing that she'd made a fool of herself that day, when that guy had implied that House was the "boss" of her, in front of all her staff. Eventually, she'd deal with the aftermath of that with her employees. As the Dean, she knew that, even though they'd most probably enjoyed seeing her being beat by another one of House's power plays, in the morning, they'd all return to being docile, pliable doctors that would obey her every command.

But House? That was another matter, entirely. She couldn't let him win twice. She couldn't let him think that he had, indeed, any kind of influence on her. He'd only make a living hell out of her days, after that. And she couldn't afford the annoyance. He wanted to play? Well then, game on! She straightened up in her bed and smiled wickedly.

"What about you, House?" she asked with an innocent voice.

"What?" he exclaimed, visibly stunned.

"Are you turned on, too?"

"Wh… whoa, why would you ask that?

"What's the matter? You started this. You need to give me a little more if you really want me to give you what you want," she challenged coyly.

"Jesus, Cuddy, are you… serious?" he puffed, completely taken aback.

"So, tell me, are you getting hard, right now?"

"I… err…" he stuttered.

"Yes?" she prompted unabashedly with a low, deliberately sexy voice.

"Yes, I am," he finally confessed with a grunt. "What do you think?"

"Me? Nothing," she replied ingenuously. "Just, tell me more… Tell me how hard you are."

"What the fuck are you doing, Cuddy?" he growled reproachfully.

"Just following your lead, that's all. You're lonely. I'm lonely. Nobody has to know, remember?"

"Jesus, that's not how—"

"Aww, House. Come on! Don't be all shy now. You got me all excited and then what? Don't tell me you're not going to deliver," she teased, smiling.

There was a sigh at the other end of the line, or more like an exasperated puff, followed by what she could only assume was confused silence. Ah yes, she thought, wiggling proudly on her bed, careful what you wish for, House. Now, he'd see who the boss really was, here. And maybe she shouldn't have enjoyed that as much as she was, but God knew that she was enjoying it. Oh yes, she was…

"My breasts," she reminded him cockily. "What are you going to do to them?"

"You do realize what you're asking for, right?" he asked, almost angrily.

"Yes," she replied, unhesitant. "I'm a woman. I have needs…" She purposely let her voice trail off until she heard his breaths become shallow. "I'm touching my breasts now. Are you here with me, House?"

"Fuck!" he exclaimed.

"Is that a yes?"

"You know what your breasts do to me, Cuddy. Hell, I can picture them right now, round and firm inside my hand."

"Yes… take them inside your hand. Do you feel this?" She pushed one strap over her shoulder and the nightie fell loose along her side, uncovering one of her breasts.

"I do," he half-moaned.

She palmed her breast inside her hand and slowly began to massage it. She was getting a little engulfed in the game, there was no denying that. But she'd undeniably regained control over the situation and she was leading the dance. So, what if she allowed herself to get a little bit of pleasure along the way? It wouldn't harm anyone, would it?

"And?"

"I'm stroking them," he said tentatively.

"Yes," she approved languorously.

She slid on the mattress and leaned back against the pillows, lying down almost entirely.

"You like that?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Yeah," he stated his voice getting steadier. "You have the most sensitive breasts I've ever held inside my hands. Or maybe it's just because I knew, right away, exactly how to touch them."

Damn. She bit her lower lip forcefully, forcing herself to hold back the lustful moan that threatened to burst out. He wasn't playing fair. But then again, what else should she expect from him? That night they'd shared decades ago, almost in another life, had always been a sort of wicked, ultimate, secret weapon between them. Sometimes bluntly, sometimes in a more elusive way, but each time they were alone, fighting over something completely unrelated and getting nowhere, eventually, it would always resurface, behind a subtle metaphor, a particularly piercing stare, a torturously mischievous smile. They both knew just when to use it as their advantage.

And that's exactly what he was doing right then, taunting her with memories that he was sure would take her off guard… But she knew all of his tricks, and she too could play that game.

"You're very silent," he noted, the cocky amusement behind his words impossible not to register.

She was leading the dance. She had to lead the dance, she repeated to herself, straightening up a little and trying to control her breaths.

"Yeah, well," she replied, feeling inwardly proud of herself for being able to fake indolent indifference perfectly. "There's not a lot of action."

"I think you're right," he replied unimpressed. "I'm not going to just keep fondling your breasts when you and I both know where we'd want to take that next."

She heard him breathe deeply into the receiver, and it felt as if she could almost feel the warmth of the blow on her skin.

"Your nipples are so hard," he said, his voice raspier than ever. "I want to take them in my mouth and nip the tip with my teeth. One, after the other. Close your eyes, Cuddy and touch them. It hurts, just a little, like jolts of electricity… But then, I'll suck them with my tongue. Soothingly. Can you feel it? Coz I can. I can feel your skin, soft and silky against my lips."

She felt a pleasuring wave ripple through her and gather at the center of her core. Once again, her hand irrepressibly slid along her abdomen and found her sex, her fingers just brushing the surface of her folds. She moaned, through set lips and the sound came out as a hoarse, almost painful plea.

Fuck, she scolded herself. Was he serious? Was it still just part of a game? Was he messing with her? It drove her crazy not to be able to determine exactly what his motives were in that instant. Why had he called her? What did he really want from her? She wanted to know what his real agenda was, but he sounded so… in charge… and it was so infuriating! When did she let that happen? That's not how it was supposed to be. She needed to regain control over the situation. Over herself.

"I want to touch you, too," she whispered hoarsely, opting for a new strategy.

"A little impatient, aren't we?" he teased. "Everything in its own time, Cuddy."

"I don't have all night," she provoked, defiantly.

"Alright," he immediately conceded, and she thought she could hear a slight hint of panic in his voice. "I know where you want me to be now—"

"No," she said resolutely.

There was a beat at the other end of the line that felt like an eternity. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

"What is it Cuddy?" House finally said carefully. "I thought you were enjoying the game."

So that was it! He was only trying to mess with her brain. And all of this was just another one of his twisted mind games. One he'd be so happy to remind her whenever he'd need to obtain a favor from her, using it conveniently to embarrass her until she'd have no other choice but to cave to his crazy, childish whims.

She should have known better. She shook her head and smiled. Of course, that's how it would always be between them. It was too late to back down now but not too late to win the game.

"I mean," she said with a pouting voice. "I want you to be in this with me."

"I am."

"Not really," she accused, still pouting.

"What do you want?" he said conciliatory.

"Tell me how you feel," she coaxed.

"Ah, Cuddy, but you know how I feel."

"I don't," she lied. In truth, if he was feeling just half as flustered as she was right now, she was fairly certain he probably was near to dangerously overwhelmed, just like her. The idea somehow reassured her.

"I…" he hesitated for a second and that fleeting extra second made her heart beat faster. "I can… taste your skin," he confessed hoarsely. "Smell it. I remember exactly how it feels."

She gulped and closed her eyes, forcing herself not to let his words overcome her too much. A game, only a game, the little voice in her head kept repeating.

"I remember how you taste, too," she whispered unashamed. "I want to taste you again."

She heard a muffled whimper, several creaks, followed by rustling noises and she pictured him squirm on the mattress as he was probably trying to readjust his position on his bed.

"I want to taste your cock in my mouth—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down. You can't… say things like that without a warning!" he protested.

She smiled mischievously and licked her bottom lip. Oh yes, she could.

"Besides, this is not about me."

"Who said it wasn't?" she answered startled. "You called me. And you wanted a reward. Let me give it to you," she added tantalizingly.

"I… err… That's not what—" he stammered.

"What? Are you afraid, House?"

"Me? Pfft! Afraid of what?"

"Afraid you might lose control," she teased.

"Oh no, sweetheart," he said, chuckling. "That is not what I'm afraid of. Control is your thing, not mine."

Did he just confess in veiled terms that he was… afraid? Could she risk taking the hint and go there when, truth was, maybe she was just too afraid to hear the answer, too.

"Then what is your thing?" she chose to ask instead.

"You… " he replied, deliberately leaving the word hanging in the air for a second.

She sucked in a sharp breath, shook by the powerful shiver that the sound of that sole syllable had just triggered inside her.

"… coming, while moaning out my name," he then added, devilishly smug.

"Really?" she said, controlling her voice to sound as detached and unimpressed as she could. "As usual, humility is definitely not your forte."

"I've done it already. Several times. So that's not really like taking on an impossible challenge…"

"Time goes by, House. Things change."

"Do they?"

She gasped and again, wondered what kind of game he was really playing with her.

"I can still do it now. I can make you come, Cuddy, if that's what you want," he asserted cockily.

Yes, she wanted to come. But not more than she wanted to make him come. She wanted to have that kind of power over him, too. That was childish and insane, and most certainly every kind of wrong but that was the only way she knew how to protect herself from his games.

"Is that what you want?" he insisted.

"Yes."

"Then, let me guide you with my voice."

"But wait!" she said, feeling suddenly breathless. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me," he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

"Will you… touch yourself?"

"Yes," he told her unabashedly.

"But I'll still be able to… do things to you?"

"Not necessarily."

"What if I want to?"

"Then you can. Just tell me what you want, and I'll follow you."

"And—" She stopped to gather her thoughts, fighting against the inexorable, numbing feeling that was slowly invading her muscles and taking her resistance away. "Then what happens?"

"What happens?" he repeated incredulous. "I believe an orgasm is what happens!"

"Whose orgasm?"

"What do you mean whose orgasm?"

"You know what I mean. House, who's gonna have an orgasm?"

"You are," he replied confidently.

She puffed. Of course.

"What about you?"

"Not gonna happen."

"You think I can't make you come?"

"Oh-ho, is that a challenge?" he chuckled hoarsely.

"No. Not a challenge," she lied. "I just want to hear you say that I can make you come."

"Yes, you can," he confessed evenly.

"I really can, House," she declared with a definite tone.

A long silence settled between them and in her mind's eyes, Cuddy tried to picture the look on his face to decipher what kinds of thoughts were brimming inside his brain in that moment.

"Relax, Cuddy. You're overthinking this," he scolded, amused. "Don't analyze. Just let go. Focus on the sound of my voice."

Yes, focus on his voice. Hoarse, smoky and enthralling. Ok. She could do that. She was doing it. She lay down on her bed and took a deep, calming breath.

"Let's start with getting you naked," he said.

"I already am."

"Are you?" There was obvious surprise in his voice.

"I mean, I'm naked under my nightie," she confessed in a thready voice.

"Ok, I think that'll do," he conceded.

"You must get naked, too."

"Don't worry, I'm fine."

"No," she protested. "If we're doing this, we must set some rules—"

"Geez, you and your fucking rules-"

"House," she cut him off. "Just one rule."

"Ok. Hit me."

"You have to promise to do exactly what I ask you to do. No cheating."

"Ok." He seemed to think about this for a second. "But then, you have to do the same with what I ask."

"Ok," she approved.

"No cheating."

"I promise."

"Good. Ok. Wait a second-"

She heard more rustling noises followed by a metallic clicking sound that she assumed was his belt's buckle being undone. Then she heard him writhe on the mattress and suddenly, the thought of him naked popped into her mind and an unexpected shiver ran down her spine, making her squirm with an odd mix of unease and anticipation.

"You still there, Cuddy?" he asked, jolting her out of her reverie.

"Yes."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," she panted.

"I can hear you are," he said. "What I mean is, are you ready?"

"I… yes… I guess I am."

"Let's see about that. I want you to touch yourself, Cuddy. Tell me how ready you are."

She obliged and spread her legs, the pulsing throb between her thighs already unquestionably giving her the answer. She slid one finger between her folds and her juices instantly coat it with the warm, dripping proof of her arousal. She started to slowly run her fingertip along her clit, an aching need to tease her swollen nub taking hold of her. Unable to prevent the sound from escaping her lips, she moaned lasciviously when her finger brushed the sensitive flesh.

"Oh, no! Don't stroke yourself yet," he said, as if he could see her. "Just brush it, gently. Then take your hand away."

"Hmm," she tried to protest.

"Your rule, not mine," he reminded her. "You need to do as I ask. No cheating."

She complied reluctantly and removed her hand from her sex.

"Let me taste you," he said, his voice a raspy command.

She bit her bottom lip, uncertain of how exactly he was going to do that and then she understood. Smiling, she brought her finger to her mouth and slowly licked it. The sucking noise made him groan in approval.

"Hmm, yes. Just like that. Now, tell me how it tastes."

"It… err… it's," she hesitated, and flush invaded her cheeks.

"Tangy," he answered for her, unhesitant, "and musky, with a sweet taste underneath. But barely present, like a citrus fruit…"

"Yes," she said with a puff.

"You thought I wouldn't remember?"

She bucked her hips as a violent electric jolt shook the small of her back and threatened to send her over the edge. No. Not so soon. She needed to control her breaths, she thought, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply.

"I want to kiss you," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Where?" he prompted instantly.

"I…uh," she stuttered. "Everywhere."

He chuckled. "I only have two hands," he scoffed teasingly. "Well, as a matter of fact, just one free hand, technically… so you need to be more precise."

She closed her eyes again and pictured his body, trying to remember where the sensitive spots on his skin were.

"On the indent of your collarbone," she whispered. "And down to the center of your chest."

He moaned into the receiver and the sound echoed like waves into her ear, sending another pleasuring shudder down her spine.

"Feels good?" she asked, regaining control over herself a little.

"Yes."

"Tell me where you hand is."

"On my chest, where you want it to be," he blew.

"No. Not that one—"

"You know where the other one is, Cuddy."

"Tell me."

"Around my cock," he said his voice steadier than she thought it'd be.

"How hard is it?"

"Very hard."

"So, you're saying that… if I take it inside my hand, it won't get harder?"

She heard him grunt a muffled curse and she smiled a wicked, self-satisfied smile.

"I'm sure it can. Take your hand off," she commanded with a bossy voice.

She heard him sigh in frustration – or was it relief? - and she smiled again.

"Now close your eyes. You know my hand is much smaller than yours, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"And you're so… big," she teased with a mischievous tone.

"Yeah," he approved proudly.

"I can barely wrap my fingers around your cock."

"Hmm—"

"But—" she purred, "I can squeeze it tight, just… there. You know where?"

"Where?" he puffed.

"Just below the head… once. Then you'll let me stroke it down its length, softly, barely touching it. Until I squeeze again, at the base... and my other hand will play with your balls the entire time, gently massaging them between my fingers. Can you do that for me? Exactly like I just told you I would do it—"

"Fuck Cuddy—"

"No cheating," she warned.

"Ok. Yeah, I can. I… am," he grunted.

"Keep your eyes closed. Imagine this is my hand around your length, right now… squeezing, and going down, slowly. Then squeezing again."

His moans almost became strangled whines and his breaths noticeably quickened for a while, as she pictured him doing exactly what she'd asked him to.

"How does it feel?"

"Incredible," he admitted honestly.

"I know. You thought I wouldn't remember either?" she teased.

"Fair enough," he said with a smiling voice. "Now, why don't we focus back on you, for a minute?"

She smiled and said nothing, but he knew just how to read her silence.

"Cuddy, you don't know how much I'd want to taste you with my mouth right now but… I can't. And yet, you need to be ready for me."

"Yes."

"You're so tight, even if you're wet, you still need a little warm-up."

"I don't think I do," she said.

"Oh, trust me, you do. I don't exactly have gentle in mind, right now—"

"I like gentle."

"Bullshit."

"That's true," she pouted.

"I'm not saying it's not, but you and I both know that's not how you want it now, Cuddy."

"How do I want it?" she asked ingenuously, perfectly knowing the answer already.

"Hard."

She bit her lower lip forcefully and her hips arched up in anticipation. She slid her hands between her thighs and curled her fingers around her bare sex, pressing them tightly against her mound to fight the urge to finger-fuck her and gave her body the release it craved.

"Don't touch yourself!" he warned.

"I… err," she startled, unmasked, but she still pulled her hand away as she was told.

"Spread your legs for me," he instructed.

She let out a throaty laugh, in spite of herself. Well, she didn't need to be told that.

"Disobeying the rule?" he tantalized instantly deciphering the meaning behind her laugh.

"Where's your hand, right now?" she shot back, sassily.

"Just making sure I'm ready for you when it's time."

"Let me touch myself, then," she pleaded. "I want to be ready, too."

"Alright. Close your eyes. Just focus on the sound of my voice."

"Ok," she said, taking a deep breath.

"Remember your hand is my hand-"

"I know! Fuck House, let me touch myself!" she groaned.

"You're so impatient! Pace yourself, Cuddy. Just think how much better the reward will be."

How could he say that when every nerve ending inside her was burning with torturous need? One touch of her hand anywhere near her core and she feared she might burst into flames when he looked so… nonchalant. How the hell was he doing that?

"Don't come yet," he said, as if he could read her mind.

"I want to come. Don't you want to come?"

"I will if you will—"

"Not if you come first," she still found the strength to challenge him.

"I think I have a little more practice than you do when it comes to deal with frustration," he told her with disarming sincerity.

"Talking about frustration," she moaned through clenched teeth.

"There you are… Now, you're getting ready," he declared, sounding pleased with himself.

"I'm… just… I-" she wanted to protest but no coherent words would come out of her mouth.

"Rub your clit," he said all of a sudden, his voice domineering.

She complied instantly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief as soon as her finger found her nub. She didn't even know why she'd been so docile, waiting for him to give her the green light but he was right, she thought, as the tip of her index leisurely began to draw languorous circles around the swollen bundle of nerves. It felt so good… She was losing herself in the blissful sensation. And she was getting close, so close. God, yes, she needed that!

"Harder," he prompted, and she jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. "I'm here," he reminded her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "That's my hand on your clit. My hand that's making you come-"

"Are you close, Cuddy?" he cooed.

"Yes. No… I-" The touch of her finger on her clit was becoming almost painful. She could feel her inner walls tighten and relax, in pulsating waves, aching to be filled and she wanted to slide her finger inside her. "Are you close, House?" she asked.

"I'm right behind you."

Fuck. Screw him. She wanted him to come, too. She wanted him to come with her. Before her.

"When I tell you to, I want you to slip two fingers inside you. Hard. And deep. Ok?" he said, his raspy voice driving her insane.

"Now?" she begged.

"Not yet," he stammered breathlessly. His voice too was becoming unsteady, and she thought she recognized the unmistakable sounds of imminent release behind his shallow puffs.

Yes, she thought. He was losing it, too. And she was the one doing that to him.

"Fuck me, House," she demanded. "Now!"

"Yes. Arch your back for me—"

"No!"

"What the fuck?" he growled. "Are you forgetting your rule, Cuddy? You can't say no—"

"I'm not saying no," she said, coaxingly. "I just—"

"What?"

"I want you doggy," she told him with a killing voice she was sure would send him hurtling over the edge.

His roar of protest echoed in her ear, and she thought maybe she'd gone too far and he was going to hang up and leave her there, panting and frustrated and… defeated. But then she heard him breathe into the receiver again.

"What?" she asked with an innocent voice. "You said I wanted it hard. And you were right. I want it hard, House. But I want it from behind… because I know that's how you like it the most… Isn't that true? Think about it... You, grabbing my ass tightly inside your hands to hold me still while you pound inside me, mercilessly…. Until I beg you to make me come—"

"Jesus. Fuck!" he groaned.

"I'm ready, House. I'm right here, on all fours, waiting for you—"

A series of incoherent curses, shortly followed by a few strangled moans was all she heard next and then, she figured he'd probably dropped his phone on the bed because all she could hear was the distinctive sounds of rustled sheets and slamming palms on the mattress.

"You there?" she asked cautiously, after a while.

"Fuck!" he finally said, back on the phone.

"Did you just… come?" she asked smiling.

"That was low, Cuddy. And you know it."

"Aren't the words you're looking for more like 'thank you'?" she teased.

"Yeah. You think you're all powerful, now, don't you?" he scoffed, but the hint of admiration in his voice was impossible to miss.

"I don't need to think that," she stated with a quiet laugh. "I just proved it."

"But you came, too, right?" he pressed.

"Well, you dropped your phone, so I guess you'll never be able to tell."

"I can make you come, too, you know," he insisted stubbornly.

"Good night, House."

"Just say the word and I'm there to prove it to you in less than twenty minutes—"

"Good night, House," she repeated with a mischievous smile.

"Cuddyyyy, come on! Fifteen if I go through the red lights."

The only answer he got was the sound of the hung-up tone.

"Good night, Cuddy," he sighed into the receiver, before sliding his phone shut.

At the other end of the line, Cuddy heaved a deep sigh of bliss, as a broad, victorious smile curved her lips upward. When it came to determine who got more sexual power over the other that was a bet, she knew he'd never win against her.

She slipped underneath the sheets and stretched like a feline. Then, with a smile, she slid her hand between her thighs and moaned unreservedly as she pushed her fingers languorously in and out of her core, closing her eyes as she thought about his voice, low and confident, guiding her every move until she came with the most forceful orgasm she'd had in days.

** THE END **

A/N

In my mind, that first time could be the reason why House asks Cuddy what she's wearing at the end of "Living The Dream" later in season 4, as if he wanted a chance to get his revenge with her, and also why she smiles so mischievously when he asks her that, just before saying goodbye to him… ;D

Have a nice evening! ~ maya