In the Hues of a Life
By Jules
(6/10)
M
Synopsis: An exploration of Cuddy's side of House's recovery and hallucinations.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! ENJOY!
Chapter 6
12:47 A.M.
They barely made it to the bed.
Cuddy hadn't realized how much she missed a simple kiss. However, with House, kissing was anything but simple. He more than kissed her; every touch, caress was savored, as if the last kiss hadn't happened or the next kiss hadn't already begun. The way he kissed completely contradicted everything she knew about him, which only made the reality of him heightened, more mysterious, more of a surreal, yet tangible fantasy.
"Remind me never to be supportive of you again."
"What?" She giggled drunkenly, dragging his body weight over hers, finding his mouth in the darkness.
He cradled her, effectively taking the air out of her, and whispered huskily, "We are so not going to work tomorrow."
She sunk into the bed, burrowing into the comforter with him. The loss of sight was erotic; the sound of his voice and solidness of his body enhanced ten-fold. "We could both quit now. Live off my pension."
House grinned and ran the tips of his fingers down the side of her body. "Screw your pension. All we need is this and a double-wide."
Cuddy laughed loudly, her body rising and shaking the bed. "I'm not living in a trailer with you. I don't care how good you are in—"
"But I am that good." His hand met the fabric of her panties, and their breaths caught as forgotten motor skills returned without warning.
He had always known how to touch her the way she liked it.
Cuddy's face heated and she nuzzled the side of his scratchy cheek. "I was better," she whispered cockily.
House's voice was deceptively gentle, "Always so needlessly competitive."
His finger curved inside of her, causing her to bite down on his shoulder.
"There's only....ah…." She rolled her hips in time with his pulsing fingers. "….so much a drunk 25 year old can do….Oh, shit…" She began to pant.
House 's mouth hovered over hers. He was grinning like an idiot.
"Yeah, unfortunately, I couldn't just lay there like a dead fish and let you screw my brains out. Must have been nice." He nibbled on her bottom lip and pressed his fingers into her, effectively ending their conversation.
1:32 A.M.
She lifted her body over his. His hands found her the curves of her upper thighs. "Hey," she said, her wavering voice betraying her.
"Yeah." His hands tightened around her waist possessively.
Her hand dropped to his chest. His heart was racing, off beat to her pulse. "I'm glad we're here."
"Yeah." He helped her lift her hips. When she came down again, they both cried out.
1:40 A.M.
She wanted to speak, to say something, but her whole body was entangled with his, moving in a beautiful, dark rhythm. He hadn't been able to stay flat on his back; he was up with her, embracing her as their lower bodies danced, moving in an indefinable way that two lovers, who really knew each other, did.
"House…." She kissed him, her thoughts lost to the sensations of his lips and tongue.
"What?" He asked, tangling his hands in her hair, bringing her closer.
She answered him with her hips and inner muscles, sinking down on him slowly. He met her halfway, rocking into her, their bodies a melody of sweat, fluid, and skin.
"It's just…." Her forehead hit his. She wanted to grow old with him. She wanted to fall asleep this way every night. She wanted him to invade her life and turn everything upside down—leave the toilet seat up, forget to put his laundry in the hamper, surprise her with take-out on a bad day and touch her when he didn't think she was paying attention. She wanted to be friends with his mother, take him to her family's crazy holiday parties and watch him horrify her parents. She wanted to catch him skipping out on clinic duty and punish him later for it in her office while the blinds were closed. She wanted to help him find relief for the pain. She wanted to be there, when and if, the cure ever came. And if it didn't, she wanted him to share his pain with her. She wanted him to be happy, to laugh without sarcasm, to smile with his eyes. She wanted him to love her daughter and teach her the value of intellect and thought and the power of lies and truth. Her heart filled with him, the closed-off, skeptical, downtrodden man; and she knew more than anything—
"I know," he spoke into her mouth, gripped her shoulder blades, taking her breasts into his chest.
—She wanted to grow old with him.
1:57 A.M.
At certain altitudes, it becomes difficult to breathe. The air is thinner, crisper, deadlier. It can do strange things to the mind; some say it make the mind clearer, others say it kills brain cells, decreasing function and thought.
The height of her first orgasm was transcendent. She would never be quite sure what she said or did during those moments; her body submitted to him and he was her pilot, flying her higher and higher, sending her totally out of control, her sensor gone.
She had no choice but to crash into him.
When he came, it was deliberate, possessive, with his eyes wide open. She let him come without protection—a futile effort to create—but a beautiful thought nonetheless.
2:15 A.M.
Their breathing had finally quieted; sleep was inevitable. She turned on her side, watching him.
"You're smiling."
"Am not."
"You are grinning."
"Lies." House crossed his arms and tried to force a frown.
She leaned over him, her eyes filled with glee. "You can't even help yourself."
House rolled his eyes, but then he looked at her, and his face softened against his will. Cuddy held her breath, but he quickly said, "You know you could totally charge."
"And he's back." She rolled off of him and turned her back to him.
"Wait, wait." House scooted behind her. "Don't pout."
She slapped his wandering hand. "You just compared what we just did—shared—to something you could have gotten from one of your hookers."
"I was trying to give you a compliment," House said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
Cuddy groaned. "It's fine, House. I get it. You're incapable of enjoying it. Let's just…not talk."
House flipped on his back. "Fine."
She didn't move. "Fine."
Silence. "Hey, Cuddy."
No answer.
"Cuddy."
She sighed and gritted her teeth.
"Cuddy, Cuddy, Cuddy!"
Cuddy flipped over, exasperated. "What, House?!"
He was grinning at her again. "You know that little roll you did with your hips?"
"No." She crossed her arms and tried to force a frown.
"Yeah, you do. That little…" He leaned over her, his eyes filled with glee. "That."
Cuddy rolled her eyes, but then she looked at him, and her face softened against her will. ".…what was that?"
"Sexy, huh?" House held his breath.
"No, but this is," she quickly said before she moved on top of him.
4:15 A.M.
"I can feel that."
He was kissing her back, from one shoulder to the other. One, two, three, blade….
"I didn't know you were awake." Four, five, six, spine….
She sighed happily, "I wasn't." One, two, three, blade….
"But you are now." One, two, three, stomach, four…..
"And whose fault is that?" She moaned. Five, six, seven, pelvis….
"We missed our 3 A.M. date," he admonished. One, two, three, knee….
She opened her eyes, surprised. "What? Really?"
House nodded up her leg. "Yep. Slept clear through it." Four, five, six, thigh….
"Mmmmm….Thank God," she exclaimed. She hadn't slept in months (not that she was sleeping much now, but still).
"Shame though. I kind of liked it." Seven, eight, nine, mouth….
"I guess we'll just have to make up for lost time." She opened her legs for him.
"If you insist." Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen….
6:37 A.M.
The phone shrilled. They both jerked awake, a mess of spent limbs and organs.
"No," Cuddy rejected the interruption and fell back on his chest. She brought the covers over their heads.
"Unplug it." House slung his arm around her, kissing her sloppily, without a care in the world. "C'mere."
The answering machine beeped loudly as they continued to kiss half-awake.
"Cuddy…Cuddy….Pick up the phone. It's Wilson. You need to turn on the news. Cuddy, pick up. Cuddy….the cops found a suicide note. It's all over the news. They know everything."