Hi everyone,
Here's another one-shot for the First Times series.
This one is set during the episode 5x16 'The Softer Side' between the moment when Cuddy offers House his job back and the end of the episode when she comes to his office to give him his 'hospital administrated' dose of methadone.
Circumstance: House's possible resignation. Motive: Flirtatious. First move: Cuddy.
I hope you'll like it. :)
I'm also taking the opportunity to wish a VERY HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY to the lovely, talented RochelleRene, my funny, sexy friend. I love you, bitch, and if you read this one, consider it my (sadly still belated) present to you. mwah!
Now on to the story…
** AFRAID TO BE HAPPY **
First Times Series #7
Another knock, louder than the previous one, echoed into his living room for the second time. It was the middle of the afternoon – as House had gotten back home after Cuddy had offered him his job back – but he wasn't expecting any visit at this hour. He'd declined the "nurse's" offer (the one he'd hired to watch him during his sleep a few days before) to drop by just in case he also needed to be 'monitored' during the day. He wanted to be alone. In truth, he'd only first called her mainly because he knew Wilson would have showed up at his place the next morning after having heard of his resigning from PPTH. It was somehow part of his plan to catch his friend off guard and convince him that he was perfectly able to take care of himself. It was a lie, of course, but maybe he'd mostly done it to convince himself that he could, as well.
He grabbed hold of the doorknob and inhaled a sharp intake of breath, bracing himself for what he expected to be another one of Wilson's visits; one that would no doubt be annoyingly judgmental, prying and exhausting but – and that was the magic of it – one that would also certainly make him feel better.
Surprisingly though, it was not the oncologist standing on his doorstep. Instead, as the door flung open, House came face to face with Cuddy and he couldn't help but gape at the vision of her, stunning as always: Her dark working suit impeccably enhancing her curves in all the right places, her cheeks flushed with a lovely pink that she'd probably gotten outside from the chilly winter air on her way to his front door, her blue eyes wide with mischief, and her smile the perfect mix of shyness and warmth.
"Hi!" she greeted him.
"I've already agreed not to resign," he replied defensively, his hand clutching the door frame.
"I know," she said, sounding unimpressed, or at least perfectly faking to be.
Without waiting for him to invite her in, she pushed his arm aside and sassily walked past him, entering his apartment, and leaving him rooted to his spot on the doorsill.
"And I said I was okay with you supervising my methadone treatment."
"I know."
"Though, technically, you didn't really leave me much choice."
"I know."
"Is there a reason for you to be here, other than flaunting your know-it-all philosophy to my face?" House jibed, closing the door behind him.
Cuddy looked down briefly, trying to gather up some courage. When she glanced up again, she bit her lower lip in a lovely, self-conscious way that oddly made him feel exposed.
"What do you want?" he asked with a hoarse voice.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay."
House frowned and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, not sure yet if such a casual motive – especially coming from her – should be trusted.
"You're my boss, not my mom," he snapped, a bit angrily. "Checking if I'm okay isn't part of your job. Besides, there's a special nurse I was planning to call to watch over me tonight, so you really don't have to worry, you know-"
"Fine," Cuddy interrupted him, sounding pissed. "I didn't come to check on you. You happy now?"
"Then why are you here?"
"I… I just wanted to see you, that's all."
House's eyebrows flew up in utter surprise.
"You just wanted to see me?"
"So what? We're friends, aren't we? Isn't that what friends do?"
She took her coat off and offhandedly threw it onto the sofa's backrest as if to make a point.
"We're not that kind of friends."
"Why not?"
"Because... you're my boss. I work for you. I'm your employee."
"Don't be stupid, House. You know you're more than just that."
"Am I? Why exactly did you offer me my job back then? Was that a friendly grand gesture, or was it maybe that, as the Dean of Medicine, you realized it was in your best interest to keep the world-best diagnostician among your staff?"
"You really are an ass, you know?" she said, albeit with undeniable fondness.
House joined her inside the living room, and she shamelessly stared at him as he approached, her eyes fixated on his toned legs.
"Still no cane, eh?" she pointed out sounding genuinely pleased for him. "How's the pain?"
"It's fine."
Unabashedly, almost with a sense of possessiveness, she kept on studying him from head to toe, her gaze focusing on his eyes, shooting a quick glance at his abdomen, wandering lower and lingering on his thigh before finally returning to his face.
"I'm proud of you," she said, out of the blue.
"For what?"
"This, you… you're taking care of yourself. You look… happy."
"I'm not in pain, that's different."
"And that's great! I know I wasn't particularly supportive of your decision to take methadone at first, but maybe you were right: With supervised doses, and regular blood tests to assess how your body reacts to that new drug, it will eventually—"
"Will you just cut the crap and tell me why the hell you're here?" he cut her short abruptly.
"Geez, do I really need to have a reason?"
"Sorry, I'm not particularly fond of the idea of having a woman invading my space. Unless she's one whose company I paid for."
"Such a gentleman!" she puffed aggravated.
"You and I both know there is no such thing as you, paying me a friendly visit. So, what's your agenda?"
"I have no agenda!" she protested sounding piqued.
"Yeah, like that's how you roll! I quit and you gave me my job back. I'm on methadone and you basically agreed to be my drug dealer. So, what's the price gonna be, uh? How many extra clinic hours do you expect me to do to pay you back in exchange for your supposedly selfless generosity?"
"You don't believe what I did was selfless?"
"Oh, please. You don't do selfless. It's always quid pro quo with you."
"God, you're such a cynical jerk! I thought you were going to leave, that I would never see you again and I… well, I just—"
"What?"
"It scared me, ok!" she shouted resentfully. "I didn't want to lose you."
"Of course, you didn't! I'm the best doctor you have."
"This is not about that, you moron! I didn't want to lose… you."
House gawked, completely taken aback by her unexpected confession and looked at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads. Taking advantage of his obviously stunned reaction, Cuddy squared her shoulders, and jutted her chin up, staring defiantly back at him.
"Can we both agree that this is a friendly visit now?"
Still speechless, House continued to stare at her, somehow unable to process all the implications of what she'd just said, at least refusing to let his mind wander into the kind of slippery, fantasizing territory it could too easily lead to.
"I know I'm not Wilson," Cuddy huffed sarcastically after a long moment of silence, "but could you at least pretend like me being here isn't some sort of completely unconceivable concept?"
House seemed to finally snap out of it. Shaking his head, he quickly averted his gaze, and looked down at his feet self-consciously.
"Do you have something to drink?"
"Yeah, I do," he said, looking her right in the eyes again.
Some long seconds ticked off as they stared at each other, none of them making the slightest move.
"Well, can you offer me one?" Cuddy finally said rolling her eyes in exasperation for having to spell her request aloud.
"Oh, you mean you want a drink?"
She pouted, upset, and glowered at him a bit.
"So?" she prompted impatiently.
"You know methadone and alcohol don't mix together well, right?"
"I never said you had to join me," she said bitchily, in obvious retaliation of his previous jerkiness.
"Of course!" He shot her an ironic smirk. "Tea? Coffee?"
"I'd rather something stronger."
"It's three in the afternoon," he deadpanned, frowning disapprovingly at her.
"Maybe I'm not your mom, but you're not my dad, either."
"Alright, Sue Ellen." he quipped, as he started walking to his kitchen. "I'll get you your dose… I'm not sure I've got any wine, though—"
"Who said I want wine?" she sassed. "Get me a real drink. Whiskey will be fine."
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, staring at her in disbelief.
"You sure?"
She widened her eyes, as if saying "what do you think?" and nodded her head once in confirmation.
"Fine," he caved, entering his kitchen to fix her the drink she'd asked for.
A few minutes later, he walked back into the living room with one crystal glass filled with a dose of amber liquid in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other.
Cuddy had taken the liberty to sit in his couch and she turned her head in his direction as he approached.
"I thought you'd said methadone and alcohol didn't mix too well."
"It's just a beer," he puffed with a theatrical 'gimme a break' expression. "Plus, that'd be rude of me to let you drink alone, wouldn't it?"
He smiled roguishly at her and handed the glass over to her. As she took it from his hand, she slouched comfortably against the couch's backrest and dropped her high heels on the wooden floor before putting her legs crossed at the ankles on his coffee table.
"Go ahead, make yourself at home," he said sarcastically.
She didn't even bother replying, but shot him a coy smile instead, patting the spot on the couch next to her. House puffed, but still compliantly sat by her side, putting his feet next to hers on the table as well. Cuddy turned her head to the side and raised her glass in front of his face to catch his attention. He took his cue from her, and they chinked glasses - more precisely she, her glass, and he, his beer, from which he drank a large gulp right out of the bottle.
"So, what do you and Wilson usually do when he comes by?" she asked before taking a sip of her whiskey.
"Well, mostly, we sit here, eating cookie dough ice cream, and we watch chick flicks, trying not to cry too much on each other's shoulders," he answered casually.
She let out a throaty chuckle and he smiled, visibly relishing the sound of her laugh.
"I mean, seriously."
"Seriously!"
"Yeah, I'd believe it, maybe… if you replaced ice cream with greasy pizzas and chick flicks with porn."
"Tut! Wilson and I never watch porn together! Awkward, hello! I mean, I'm not even sure he watches porn anyway."
"While you, on the other hand—"
"While me… yeah."
"Yeah," she echoed, drinking from her glass again.
"It's very healthy, you know."
"Sure."
"How would you know, anyway? You don't watch porn."
"Says who?"
"What? Are you telling me you do watch porn?"
He stared at her, looking genuinely bewildered.
"Sometimes."
"Oh my God! You do realize that, from now on, every time I'll need to convince you to okay a procedure, I won't be able to form coherent sentences because I'll be too busy picturing you masturbating in front of a porn movie?"
"Maybe, as your boss, breaking your concentration is part of my master, cunning plan," she teased.
"Doh. As if your cleavages weren't enough of a diversion already!"
She rolled her eyes and laughed, throwing her head back and exposing the gracious curve of her neck. As if mesmerized by the sight of her, so uninhibited and relaxed, he peered intensely at her, and his gaze landed on the delicate hollow of her collarbones, before darting lower, almost unconsciously, to the spot where her V-neck top plunged between her breasts.
When she straightened up, she shot him a side glance and their eyes met for a brief moment. Feeling caught and stupidly inappropriate, House quickly averted his gaze and Cuddy smiled into her glass, as she took another sip from it.
"So," he said sheepishly, "I've already said it, but I assume you want to hear it again, don't you?"
"What?"
"Thank you. For hiring me back."
"No. Thank you. For reconsidering your resignation."
"I was going to do it, you know."
"I know," she said seriously, sounding sad all of a sudden. "But I wouldn't have let that happen."
"Why?"
"Because I just… don't want you to go."
"Yeah, a lot more people would die if I did. Never good for the statistics."
"Screw the statistics!" she exclaimed. "It's you I'm talking about, House. I meant what I said in my office earlier today: We both know that you belong there."
"I'm a doctor. I belong where there're sick people to treat."
"That's not true. The Department of Diagnostic Medicine is your baby. You can't just abandon it."
"No, the Department of Diagnostic Medicine is your baby. And you don't need me to run it. Not really."
"Shut up!" she scolded, swatting the side of his arm playfully. "You want me to say you're indispensable."
"I don't."
"Yes, you do. You're fishing for compliments."
She tilted her head back and downed the rest of her glass in one go. House watched her a bit impressed and couldn't hold back his fond smile when she grimaced in spite of her as the alcohol burnt her throat.
"My glass is empty," she said matter-of-factly.
"I can see that."
"Usually, that'd be your cue to refill it."
He snatched the glass from her hand and carefully laid it on the coffee table in front of him, along with his half-empty bottle of beer.
"Nuh-uh. You've had enough already," he declared repositioning himself next to her in the couch.
"Pfft. Buzzkill!" she slurred sulkily.
"That's my name. Don't wear it out," he joked, looking straight ahead.
He heard her heave a deep sigh and something tightened in his chest, as if his heart had just skipped a beat.
"I would have missed you," she confessed unexpectedly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Maybe for a day or two, but eventually you'd have been just fine," he replied, trying to sound casual.
"You're so wrong about that," she said with a throaty voice.
His heart noticeably sped up, so much so that he could hear its thumping beat echo inside his eardrums. He chose not to reply and stared at his bottle of beer on the table, regretting having gotten rid of it as his throat suddenly felt incredibly dry.
"You looked good in a suit today," she added after another moment of silence.
House took a deep breath and fought the urge to close his eyes shut, as a shiver ran down his spine, making him squirm uncomfortably on the couch. Whatever it was that he was feeling right in that instant, there was no denying the fact that it was dangerously screwing him up.
He was dying to look at her, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what his reaction would be if he indeed turned his head to the side and found her looking back at him. So, he chose to keep his gaze straight ahead instead, deciding once more that staying silent would be the safest option.
Cuddy sighed again, more languorously this time – or maybe he was just imagining things – and he felt the couch's cushion sink under her weight as she shifted next to him to face him. It was as if he'd actually heard her call his name, as beguilingly as the voice of a siren would have, and right there and then, he knew there was nothing he could do to avoid answering that silent call, every one of the safer options he should have chosen suddenly dissolving into an irrepressible urge to lock eyes with her.
He cleared his throat and turned to the side. Her upper body was facing him, and she'd tucked her legs under her butt. She smiled shyly at him and rested the side of her head against the backrest.
"I think I'd forgotten how you look without that scruffy stubble of yours," she said, her smile turning into a mischievous grin.
"Don't worry, now that I don't have to go job-hunting anymore in my 'best employee of the month' costume, I'll grow it back in no time."
She didn't answer. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and slightly leaned forward. He shot her a quizzical look but didn't react at first until she started to lean dangerously closer and raised her hand to his face. He froze, staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Makes you look softer… definitely different, but I like it," she whispered, leaning even closer, as she traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips softly.
Feeling instant panic pervade him, House sat bolt upright and grabbed her wrist, pushing it abruptly away.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?"
"Nothing," she simpered, fluttering her eyelids flirtatiously. "I'm just touching your clean-shaven face, in a friendly way—"
"Oh no, you're not! Let me make this clear: If you wanna be a sort of Wilson replacement to me, you need to understand that touching each other's clean-shaven face isn't part of our bro code."
"But I'm not Wilson," she pouted.
"Precisely."
"Oh, come on, House, you and I, we're a team!"
"No. Me and my team, we're a team. You and I, on the other hand, we're—"
The words died inside his mouth because she silenced him with a shameless, greedy kiss, sucking his lips between hers, and licking his teeth with the tip of her tongue.
When she pulled back, he was so stunned he just stared dumbly at her, with his mouth agape and his lower lip glistening with her saliva.
"Attracted to each other," she said, completing his sentence for him.
House gulped but found himself unable to answer anything.
"It's there, between us," she went on, peering intensely into his gaze. "You know it. I know it. Why deny it exists?"
She leaned forward again, and he barely had time to mumble an unconvinced "don't" before their lips reconnected again.
But this time, his resistance instantly vanished into thin air as soon as her mouth met his, and he gave up fighting entirely. He didn't even try. When she demandingly pushed her tongue between his lips, he sucked in a sharp breath and his whole body tensed, as he launched forward to wrap his arms around her, squeezing her hard against him, pressing, and pressing harder to bring her closer to him, as they devoured each other's mouth without restraint.
They gave in to the rawness of their outburst until they both had to break away from their kiss to gasp for air, and they stared at each other, awestruck, for what seemed like an eternity.
"This is a mistake," he finally rasped breathless.
"House, no! Don't you dare push me away now," she warned, with a slight edge of panic to her voice.
She grabbed his shirt and yanked him toward her, desperately searching for his lips again. She took his mouth demandingly and he let her kiss him, both their desires irrepressibly building up like a wave about to crash them both the moment she found her way back inside his arms.
"If you don't start fucking me in the next five minutes, I swear I"ll—"
"Hell, if I don't!" he groaned between kisses.
"Then do it," she panted, stretching her neck to expose her skin to his caresses. "God, House, do it!"
The pleading, lustful sound of her voice was all he needed to hear to go all in. He dived in her neck and sucked her pulse point greedily, while his hands started crawling underneath her shirt and found their way to her bra hook.
She groped around to find his shoulders and pushed him away from her to disentangle herself from his embrace. He stared at her worriedly, but for no longer than a second when he realized she only needed the space to be able to remove her tank top. She threw it offhandedly over the couch and instantly focused her attention back on him, reaching for his jeans' belt and unbuckling it impatiently. She yanked it out of the loops while he finished unbuttoning her shirt and got rid of it in not time, throwing it randomly away somewhere on the floor, as well. His tee-shirt followed suit quite instantly and Cuddy went for his zipper next, but he pushed her backward and landed on top of her, burying his face between her breasts, sucking and licking the exposed skin ravenously, while she scratched his skull and jerked her hips upward, arching up to close the space between their bodies.
From an outside point of view, they looked like two wrestlers, trying to get control over the other in a messy tangle of limbs.
"Bedroom?" House suggested in the midst of their passionate foreplay.
"Bedroom," she confirmed panting.
He instantly jumped up, rather effortlessly, the dopamine high acting as an incredible pain killer, and he tried to grab her hand, impatient to take her to a more comfortable setting. But instead of following his lead and give it to him, she got up, too, and stood by the couch, reaching for her skirt's zipper in the small of her back.
"Wait!" she said, as she undid it and vigorously swung her hips left and right to get rid of it.
House watched her in awe, as the skirt finally fell down at her ankles, revealing a pair of black stockings. She barely had time to step out of it that he scooped her up, groaning like a caveman, and began striding toward the hallway.
"House, your leg! Put me down," she squeaked as soon as he lifted her off the ground, although her first reflex was to wrap her arms tightly around his neck.
She didn't have time to protest much longer, though, because he'd already carried her to his bedroom before she was even aware of it. He put her down once he'd walked through the doorstep and wrapped his arms around her waist, desperate to feel her body pressed against his again.
He claimed her lips and she gave in to his need without restraint. Their breathings were heavy and their kiss wanting, urging, and demanding, conveying nothing but the imperious need to satisfy their mutual desire. A desire that was growing so strong, it felt as if they were going to spontaneously combust.
House led her toward the bed, hastily maneuvering their entangled bodies within several stumbling steps until they finally bumped against the edge of the mattress. With a small nudge of his hips, he made her fall backward and she reached for the hem of her stockings, starting to roll one of them down to take it off.
"No. You keep these," he ordered with a gruff voice.
She shivered with pleasure at the sound of his bossy voice and docilely repositioned the black silky material up her thigh. The next second, he was on top of her, naked. At some point, he'd taken his jeans and boxers off, as well as his sneakers and socks, but she had totally failed to notice when, or how.
She was in a blur, tangled up in lust and her own desire for him. He unhooked her bra first, and took her nipple in his mouth, instantly causing her chest to jolt upward, as he alternated rough nips of the sensitive peak before soothing it with delicate tongue strokes that almost sent her to the verge of an orgasm right there and then.
When her breathing turned into overwhelmed pants, he stopped his sweet torture and removed her panties, before climbing up to find her face again, kissing her lips, and earlobes, chin, and cheeks, kissing her everywhere as if he wanted to devour her.
"Your skin feels so soft," she blew into his ear.
That was his cue to take it slower and not ruin the moment in clumsy, disastrous precipitation.
Since the second they'd first kissed on his couch, their outburst had consumed them both with such unexpected force, they'd almost forgotten to relish the moment and take their time. House propped himself up on his elbows and allowed himself to pause to look down at her beautiful, flushed face.
"You really do like my clean-shaven face, don't you?" he teased her fondly.
"And?"
"And… nothing. You've always sorta come off more as the 'uptight-administrator-crazy-for-the-bad-boy' type to me. All my old certainties are suddenly falling apart."
She rolled her eyes and chuckled throatily.
"Shut up and kiss me!" she commanded, pressing down on his shoulder blades to bring him closer to her.
He complied without protest and laid a gentle kiss on her lips.
"Soft, eh?"
"Uh-uh."
"And here?" he said, moving to her neck.
"Yeah."
"What about here?" he asked, as he continued to travel down her body, and kissed her breasts.
"Hmm, yeah… here."
"And here?"
He was now teasing her belly button with the tip of his tongue, deliberately rubbing his chin on her lower abdomen.
"God, yes!" she cried, arching up in anticipation for his next move.
But unexpectedly, he lifted up his face and returned his attention to her breasts.
"House!" she protested with a pleading moan.
He pretended not to understand but she felt him smile blissfully against her skin, as surely as she'd seen him.
"You know exactly where I want to feel your soft face now," she said with unabashed lust.
"I have no idea!"
"Think harder."
"Hmm, I'm not sure I can think much harder than I already am, right now," he joked, holding back a laugh.
She forcefully pressed on the top of his skull and guided his head to her lower abdomen impatiently.
"Lick me," she commanded, putting one foot on each side of his shoulders and spreading her legs invitingly.
"Oh, you meant here!" he said, glancing up and shooting her a teasing smile.
Her toes curled up in anticipation as he finally covered her mound with his mouth.
Instantly, she sucked in a sharp breath and arched her back.
"Yes!"
He darted his tongue and started licking the area around her clit in gentle, soft strokes. Her breathing noticeably sped up and he felt a shiver ripple through the muscles in her abdomen. He sucked her clit between his lips and teased the small nub delicately, working her up at a deliberately slow pace. Her thighs started to tremble and, all of a sudden, she dug her nails into his skull and griped his head tightly, pressing his face down her sex feverishly.
"Don't be gentle, House, please, don't... be... gentle," she panted, desperate for release, her whole body tight and stretched like a bowstring.
The incredible need expressed in her words, and the raspy sound of her voice as she'd said them instantly drove him crazy. Anxious to give her exactly what she wanted more than anything else in that instant, he grabbed her thighs and pressed roughly on them to open her wider than she already was. Forget gentleness. Forget soft and slow, he caught the tip of her clit between his teeth and bit into the flesh once.
She yelped, taken off guard by the sudden pain that had shot through her body, but her cry was definitely not a protest. It was the sound of her approval, and the pleasuring pants that immediately followed the antagonistic sensation no doubt gave him proof of that. Spurred by her desire, House unleashed his own, and started stimulating her sensitive flesh with an overwhelming combination of sensations, all at once licking, sucking and fucking her with his tongue until, in moments, he could distinctively feel the muscles inside her tighten, as the orgasm pervaded her, sending rhythmic waves through her body that all gathered at the center of her core in quick, throbbing pulses.
She let out one single, completely incoherent shout that sounded like his name, and before the orgasm subsided and her body had time to relax, he crawled his way up her body to position himself on top of her.
His lips were glistening with her juices, and he slowly licked them before kissing her avidly.
"Oh God, that was—" she moaned against his mouth, still trying to catch her breath.
She started wiggling, as if she wanted to extricate herself from underneath him.
"Let me return the fav—" she started, but he didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence.
"Hell, no!" he groaned. "Forget about that stupid, reciprocating rule. I need to be inside you. Now."
She bit her lower lip coyly, and wrapped her legs around his hips, digging the heels of her feet into the toned flesh of his ass.
"Really?" she teased, playfully, still obviously riding her orgasmic high. "You sure about that?"
"Positive."
Walking the talk, he didn't waste one more second proving to her how serious he was, as he unceremoniously lifted her ass up with one hand to find the perfect angle to push his length inside her tight core in one mighty thrust.
She gasped at the force of his rough penetration and griped his shoulders tightly, while he carefully eased their bodies down until the small of her back lay on the mattress again. He took a deep breath and pulled out, almost to the head, before shoving forward again, hard and deep.
"Fuck," he rasped against the side of her face, at the sensation of her inner walls clamping around his length.
"Soft time is over, isn't it?"
"It is," he said with a slightly warning edge to his voice. "And you've got no one else but you to blame for that."
"Do I look like I'm complaining?" she crooned, massaging the back of his thighs with the sole her feet.
She lifted her hips up a little, getting ready for his next thrust.
"You better not!"
His hands griped her hipbone to stabilize her, and he drove into her again, roughly.
She hissed and locked eyes with him, staring at him almost challengingly, as a mischievous smile curled the corners of her beautiful lips upward.
It was not going to be a gentle ride. He knew it, and she knew it, and, as it was obviously exactly what they both wanted, it was exactly what she gave to him, as much as what he took from her. The rhythm of his hips became quickly relentless, the force of his thrusts equally hard within each sway. Every one of his muscles contracted to focus on the energy his body needed to take her, possess her and shove into her deeper and harder.
But, oddly enough, he didn't feel any pain in his leg even as he focused on the sensations that invaded him and coursed through his veins like a wild stream. Maybe it was the methadone, or maybe it was her and the way she was giving as much as she got, but in that instant, the only thing House was vividly experiencing was relief, and bliss, and a sum of other overwhelming feelings that all dangerously resembled being high.
She dug her nails into his flesh, scratching and pinching, and her head thrashed on the pillow, and he kept shoving into her, carefully listening to her pants, her moans, and the incredibly enthralling sounds of her pleas, as she encouraged him to go faster, and harder, and he knew for sure that she really meant it because he could feel her body speak the same language underneath him, while it undulated, jolted, contracted, and shivered, building up another release for both of them to revel in.
And he took it.
He took his release from every beat of her heart he felt thumping against his chest. He took it from the indescribably unique sensation of her slicking sex sheathing his hardness. He relished the smell of her sweat, the vibrations of her moans against his skin, even the creaking sound of his mattress which, like a beat, put rhythm in his hips, and echoed into his ears like a ritual chant.
When he felt his body tense, just before his orgasm took over and turned his feelings selfishly inward, he opened his eyes wide and stilled, staring at her in awe. It lasted not more than a few seconds, but a few seconds that became timeless as he imprinted the image of her face in his brain just before coming inside her in powerful spurts.
The silent intensity of his gaze overwhelmed her, and she buried her face in his collarbone, tightening the grip of her legs around his waist, and absorbing the jerks of his hips until he collapsed on top of her, completely immobile as if he'd passed out inside her arms.
Quickly recovering, he pulled out of her carefully and rolled to the side not to crush her under his weight for too long.
She sighed voluptuously and stretched like a cat before curling up against him, nuzzling his chest and breathing deeply in the musk scent of his warm, naked body. For a while, the two of them simply relished the peaceful silence of their afterglow.
"We should have done this a long time ago," she said, out of the blue, looking up at him with a fond smile.
His long hand covered the round shape of her bare shoulder, and he stroked her silky skin delicately, as he gazed blankly ahead for a second before locking eyes with her.
"We should have, yeah," he whispered softly.
Her smile grew bigger, and she rubbed the tip of her nose through the light patch of his chest hair.
"Why haven't we?" he added after a beat, startling her a little.
"Why haven't we what?" she said quizzically, her voice a bit flirty.
"Done this before."
His voice, on the other hand, wasn't playful. He was staring at her with gravity, his gaze filled with genuine interrogation. Cuddy perceived the seriousness in his query, and she sucked in a sharp breath, pulling back to prop herself on her elbow.
"Because, well, you know—" she said, chuckling uncomfortably.
"No, tell me," he insisted searching for a sign in her gaze.
She sighed and averted her eyes.
"We work together," she started hesitantly. "For a long time, I thought it would be too complicated for us to deal with that."
"For a long time?" he repeated, taken aback. "What's changed?"
"Nothing really," she said, sounding a bit uneasy. "I mean, you're attracted to me. I led you to believe that it was just a game. A game I, too, was willing to play, but still just a game, when the truth is… I've always been attracted to you… too. But… you were an addict and—"
His eyebrows flew in surprise.
"I am an addict," he corrected.
"But you quit Vicodin. Sure, you're on methadone right now, but I can't deny the positive effect it has on you—"
"What positive effect?"
"Well, for a start, it definitely alleviates your pain," she explained. "I can attest to that," she added, smiling impishly at him, as she slid her hand under the sheet and stroked his abdomen leisurely.
"I'm not completely pain free," he said, unable to repress the sudden need to contradict her that he felt in spite of him in that instant.
"Maybe you're not, but the relief itself is enough to open you to more… satisfying experiences-"
"What do you mean?"
His body imperceptibly tensed alongside hers, as he felt a sudden unexpected awkwardness settle between them.
"You're on methadone right now, and I understand that it's a choice you've made, but you have other options."
"Such as?" he said defensively.
She felt his reluctance and slid on the mattress to position herself face to face next to him. She looked at him with fondness and raised her hand to caress his cheek gently.
"Methadone can be a transitional phase. After several months, we could look into programs, physical therapy programs that—"
"We?" he repeated, dumbfounded.
She gulped and removed her hand from his face, briefly looking down apologetically.
"I mean, no, of course, the choice would be yours."
"But you're willing to help me make it?" he asked, with an unmistakable hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"No, I'm just saying—"
"What are you saying, Cuddy?"
She inhaled deeply and looked at him with melancholy.
"A few months ago, you were here for me… When I lost Joy, you… came to my house. You were… here for me."
He set his lips and averted his gaze, staring at the ceiling and conspicuously avoiding looking her in the eyes.
"So now you're doing the same for me?" he said bitterly, his voice almost inaudible.
"No, of course not!" she exclaimed. "House, look at me."
He jerked his head to the side and looked her straight in the eyes.
"What I'm saying is," she explained trying to sound as most reassuring as she could, "Now, I have a daughter. I thought I would never be given another chance to know this joy, but I was. Rachel is still a baby. She cries a lot. Being around her can be exhausting at times, unnerving even. I know you'd need to feel as much pain free as possible to—"
"Cuddy," he said, stopping her before she went too far.
His eyes grew wide, and a feeling of queasiness hit him when he finally realized what she was really trying to say: She was envisioning a future with him. She was making plans, already thinking about solutions to replace the methadone, that probably included him detoxing in a clinic for several months, but it had nothing to do with her work relationship with him. She was talking about them, together, and how his addiction needed to be dealt with if she were ever going to let him near her daughter.
Rachel, her daughter. God! She had a baby. How did he make himself forget that? Not to mention that he was an addict. He'd always been an addict and he was always going to be one. Just because she was so forcefully willing to forget that didn't make it any less true.
Those few moments, crazy and passionate, that they'd just spent together were just an illusion. A fairytale he'd been stupid enough to believe in, but now he realized that he'd never genuinely thought it was going to become something real.
For a splitting second, Cuddy saw something that resembled panic pass on his face before it disappeared and was replaced by a neutral expression. She smiled and leaned to him to peck him on the lips.
"Look," she said softly. "It's okay. We don't have to discuss that right now."
House puffed and shook his head, as if to chase the conflicting feelings that were messing with him in that instant away from his mind.
Her naked body, so perfect and warm, was still pressed against his body. If he closed his eyes, he could still vividly picture it tangled with his, responding to his caresses, trembling with a desire he had set off inside it. He could even feel the sensation, as surely as if he were still fucking her, making love with her right now.
Detox, physical therapy, Rachel, pain, addiction, Vicodin, the future, the past… I've always been attracted to you… The words started echoing louder and louder into his head, like whispering voices that were all speaking at the same time, making it impossible for him to focus, or look at the facts from an objective point of view.
But, as he'd been well trained to hide his feelings over the years, even to the closest, most important observer, his face remained perfectly inscrutable. Inside, however, he felt completely paralyzed by fear, not knowing what to say or do anymore.
Thankfully, and most unexpectedly, his cell phone suddenly started ringing. He sat bolt upright, silently grateful that he was being granted an opportunity to delay what would be a painful discussion, because no matter what he would decide to say, it was either going to be painful for him, or painful for her…
"Hello," he grumbled into the receiver as soon as he picked up his cell.
On the other end of the line, Foreman explained to him with his toneless voice that he was just calling to give him a quick update on the patient. The little boy was fine, the first round of dialysis had already partly cleared his kidneys and he was recovering quickly. It was the kind of perfect useless phone call that Foreman liked to give him, just to make himself look indispensable.
House nodded a few times during the conversation, trying to ignore the sensation of Cuddy's hand travelling down his torso and sensually caressing his skin, lingering on his nipples before sliding lower to his abdomen.
When he hung up, she stilled her hand, just inches away from his groin and looked up at him naughtily.
"It was Foreman," he said clenching his jaw to brace himself for his upcoming lie. "I need to go to the hospital."
"You don't have to go. I'm sure your team can deal with whatever it is that needs to be taken care of without you."
"Yeah, I do."
"Come on, House, your boss says it's ok if you don't," she said with a simper, coming closer and deliberately rubbing her body against his in the process.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and gently, but firmly, pushed her away from him.
"I really have to go," he insisted, avoiding her gaze.
Frowning suspiciously, Cuddy tried to catch his eyes.
"I… I thought your patient was okay."
"He is, sorta, it's just that—"
"Something came up."
"Yeah."
"So, you have to go?"
Finally looking her straight in the eyes, House nodded self-consciously, feeling visibly uncomfortable. Cuddy studied his face for a second, baffled, and then gulped audibly, looking equally uneasy.
"I see," she said, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah… Sorry."
"No, I understand. Patient comes first."
She sat up and got out of bed, then started gathering the very few clothes she found by his bed – her bra and her panties - before putting them back on.
"I need to go back to the hospital anyway," she added as she finished hooking her bra with her back turned to him. "I shouldn't be here, you know. I'm going to have to pay for those few hours of pure, unadulterated lust!"
She turned to face him with an impish smile, waiting for his equally amused reaction.
Instead, he stared at her with what looked like a mix of sadness and regret.
"Yes, you are," he replied, quickly erasing the expression from his face before she had time to register it.
"I can give you a ride," she offered.
He took a deep breath and deliberately bit his lower lip hard, until it caused enough pain to force him to stop.
"No, I'm gonna take my bike," he said evenly.
"You sure?" she insisted.
She was so beautiful, standing in her underwear right by his bed, with her black stockings curving her toned legs perfectly. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, her eyes had that incredible sparkle lightening them, she was - and would always be - just the most beautiful woman he'd ever known to him.
And he didn't deserve her.
"Yeah, I'm sure. You go now. Go do your administrative stuff."
"Fine."
She started to walk out to go retrieve the rest of her clothes in his living room. On the doorstep, she turned around and shot him one last, mischievous look.
"Are you going to get out of that bed?" she teased.
"Yes, I will. As soon as you're out of here!"
She rolled her eyes and laughed throatily, throwing her head back a little.
"Ok. See you at the hospital, then?" she said with a kittenish look.
"Yeah. I'm sure I'll get there before you anyway."
"Sure," she puffed before padding out, leaving him alone in the room.
House sighed heavily and scanned the empty room, feeling bereft. In his living room, Cuddy quickly got dressed and after a few minutes only, he recognized the sound of her clicking heels on the wooden floor.
His breath caught in his throat when he heard her paces coming back in the direction of his bedroom again. But the sound stopped, and for a brief moment, all he could hear was silence.
Then she began walking again, but this time distinctively in the opposite direction. The sound faded away and then he heard two consecutive clicks made by his door, being open. Then shut.
When there was not a sound in his apartment anymore, he got out of bed and dragged his feet to his closet to get some clothes.
You looked good in a suit today.
The suit was there, stored in the back of his closet. He unhooked it from the coat-hanger and started getting dressed.
** THE END **
A/N
That's it! I hope you've enjoyed reading it, as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
I wanted it to first be somehow fun and relaxed, then hot, before becoming awkward and bittersweet.
Here's why: In a way, I imagine this scene could have happened after the scene in Cuddy's office, and before the end of the episode when she comes to his office to give him the methadone, because I've always thought that Cuddy's walk as she enters his office was more than victorious (as in, she'd gotten what she wanted by preventing him from resigning). I thought it was also sort of flirtatious, as if her deliberate hip sways were a tease.
If that scene I've just described here had happened, I like to think it could explain why Cuddy was so eager to see him happy and why House was so troubled by her insistence: "Why do you care if I'm happy" and prompt to dismiss her with a sort of pessimistic warning: "this is the only me you get"
A sort of 'take it or leave it' desperate deal that he already knew was doomed to fail…
Thank you for reading.
Have a nice day ~ maya