Smut Tuesday: Scorching (H/C) [NC-17]
Title: Scorching
Author: Josephine
Rating:NC-17
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Genre: Smut
Summary: Prompted by 'Hormones'
A/N: Many thanks to Cincoflex who helped me not only with the beta'ing, but through some low 'It's all stupid!' slumps. :)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hot flashes.
Lisa hated them, hated what they meant, what was creeping up on her.
Menopause.
Old age.
She wasn't there yet, these were just infrequent perimenopause flashes; however to Lisa they were the tolling of a bell. Her youth, with all its promise, slipping away and leaving nothing but an empty house with a cat or four in its wake.
A dry laugh escaped her as Lisa flapped the low cut neck of her blouse, moving out from the sweltering setting sun magnified by her windows. The perfect time for hormonal swings, she grimaced to herself, at the height of the hottest summer on record. Her ever-present bottled water was almost empty, and Lisa glared at it as she hurried to the bathroom attached to her office.
The relief of an empty bladder was doubled by the liberation of peeling off her control top pantyhose, and with a sigh Lisa kicked off her pumps and stripped the hose down her legs, tossing the filmy nylon into the sink. She wiggled her toes in the lush throw rug on the hardwood floor, and decided to leave the pumps where they lay.
The rug had felt good against her skin; suddenly the hot, smothering weight was gone, replaced with a sensuous languor that flooded through Lisa. The orange half-light of the setting sun was now welcome, bringing back memories of spring breaks and vacations down in Bermuda and the Lower Keys. Her plum linen jacket slid easily down her arms to fall unheeded to the floor, and Lisa pulled the pins from her French twist to let her hair spill down her back. She could feel the strands through the thin silk of her blouse, feel them caress her skin as she rolled her head, trying to get rid of a week's worth of tension from committee meetings, angry patients and irate board members, and the relentless wave crashing against her, Gregory House.
Greg.
Lisa watched the sun sink below the trees as she thought of him. He could draw so many emotions from her, but the one that kept coming to the fore now was the way he made her feel with his leers and comments about her anatomy. 'The lady doth protest too much, me thinks' came to mind, and Lisa smiled wryly, being honest with herself in the shadow filled early evening light.
Another hot flash and her hands crept up to free a pearl button, then another; but this time the flush was caused by the image of a younger House, before the infarction, seen from her dorm window as he jogged through the quad. Every morning once the weather warmed she would set her alarm as not to miss his run, not miss the sight of his lean, rangy, sweat slicked body clad only in a pair of thin shorts. Once he disappeared behind Couzens Hall Lisa would fall back into bed, hands roaming over her body, imagining that they were Greg's.
So many years ago… The sun had slipped away, and Lisa finished unbuttoning her blouse. So many years, but her fantasies remained the same. Still Greg. Her fingers trailed down her throat, idly noting the increased pulse, skimmed over the swell of her breasts, displayed by the underwire and lace of the balcony bra. Lisa could feel her nipples harden, pushing against the satin and she shivered, scratching her nails over the points.
"By the sound of things, you're either dying in here or…"
Focusing her eyes, Lisa barely made out the reflection of a figure leaning against her door. Greg. Think of the Devil… She turned slowly, watching his face.
"… definitely the or," he finished, his eyes narrowing as they swept her body. "What naughty things are you up to this late at night?" Greg lumbered across the room, his knuckles white as he gripped his cane. He stopped before her, out of arm's reach.
"Reminiscing," Lisa answered, arching her neck to look up at him. She could see a tic in his jaw, and she stood still, just breathing.
His jaw tightened, his eyes finally flicking up from her cleavage to look at her. "How Bernie Cohen finally got into your panties after the Homecoming dance?"
She shook her head, the brush of her hair making her shiver again. Lisa kept her gaze on him. "College. How a fellow med student would jog past my dorm every morning." The low hiss of Greg's indrawn breath made her smirk a little. "You didn't know I watched you?" The question was rhetorical.
"I counted on it."
Or so she thought. Lisa couldn't move as Greg stepped closer, reaching out for her. He slid his big hand over her waist and spread his fingers over her back. She watched, urging him on in her mind as he bent to her, his stubbled cheek scraping against hers. "What did you do after, Lisa? Did you get dressed and go to class like a good little girl? Or did you end up like me, jacking off in the shower and wishing it was you?"
"The bed," she sighed, her arms lifting, her hands running up his chest, over his shoulders to push his jacket off him. Lisa slipped her hands under his T-shirt to stroke at the muscles as Greg fumbled with his cane, shaking away his jacket. She tugged up on the shirt, helping somewhat in getting it over his head and to the floor. But once it dropped they merely stood, inches from each other, until Lisa reached up, placing her hands on either side of his face, and pulled him to her.
The thump of his cane hitting the carpet didn't register; she was instead lost to the way Greg's tongue was seeking hers, teasing open her mouth and stroking against her teeth. She taunted right back, swiping at him until he delved back into her mouth, then sucked on his tongue, letting her teeth scrape against it as he pulled back.
"Bitch," he muttered against the smile on her lips, and Lisa laughed at the total lack of rancor in the word. Thus distracted, she only noticed Greg had unhooked her bra when his thumbs slipped under the straps and he pulled it and her blouse down to her elbows.
Leaning back, Greg leered at the sight of Lisa: breasts free, arms trapped at her sides by her bra in the front and her blouse in the back. "These are what I jacked off to. Funbags ahoy."
"Wait." Turning away, Lisa missed the scowl crossing Greg's face as his hand grasped empty air.
"Wait? What the hell for? You're not changing your mind, are you?"
"No," she answered, wiggling a little to get he blouse off her as she made her way to her desk. Reaching into the top drawer, she pulled out a sheer pink scarf.
"Ooo, am I gonna get to tie you up?" House waggled his eyebrows at her, taking both the scarf and her bra which was hanging off an arm.
"No," she repeated. The mellow mood the fading sunlight had put her in was long gone, ramped up by the twilight shadows into something hot and aching. "Tie it around the door knob."
Greg looked down at his hand, then up at her. "Your bra?"
Rolling her eyes, Cuddy shot one of her patented glares at him, hers hands firmly on her hips. "The scarf."
"Speaking of college days…" Greg muttered has he limped over the door. Opening it slightly, he leaned against the jamb as he deftly tied the scarf in a knot. Finished, he glanced at her thoughtfully. "You tryst here often?"
"It's for the housekeeping. They see that, they know I'm working and not to disturb me."
"Why not lock it?" Limping back, he stood before her, both stripped to the waist.
"They have a key. This way, they don't disturb me," she emphasized.
Greg grunted, then said nothing, the silence stretching between them, the mood shifting back to old wants and desires. He reached for her again, his hands drawing her forward until he found the hook and zipper to her skirt. His fingers fumbled over the linen seeking the tab; the zipper was loud in the room as it opened, matching Greg's harsh breathing. Lisa merely smiled, and shifted, helping him get it over her hips.
Much to Greg's welcome surprise, as the skirt inched down a silk garter belt that nearly matched her suit in color was revealed. He could only stare in astonishment while Lisa coolly stepped to the side, lifting her skirt behind her with one foot and plucking it off with a hand. She folded it neatly, tossing it on the couch, watching him from under lowered lids the entire time.
Now openly smirking, Lisa leaned back against her desk. Her hands were behind her, which thrust her chest out, and Greg was having a hard time deciding where to look: his beloved funbags, or the dark triangle between Lisa's thighs.
"Your g-string's on wrong side", he said, flicking the strap above the garter belt.
"Logistics, Greg. This way it comes off when I visit the restroom."
Shuffling toward her, Greg gripped the side of the desk as he awkwardly knelt before her. "Off. Like this?" He slid his thumbs under the strings, warm hands splayed over her hips. He stayed like that for a moment, then looked up at her as he dropped his hands, the purple scrap of lace coming with them.
Lisa said nothing, stepping neatly out of her g-string as she had her skirt, but then gasped when Greg leaned forward, mouth pressed to the curly fluff only hinted by the garment he was stuffing in his jeans pocket. Lisa's eyes had fluttered closed and she whimpered as Greg's tongue pushed through and found the hard nub nestled within. He firmly pushed her thighs wider, and she complied, propping one leg on the edge of the deck.
Greg had always been good in bed, the few times they had actually been in each others, but either he had gotten some pointers or her memory wasn't what it used to be because Lisa sure didn't remember feeling like this all those years ago.
Wave upon wave rolled through her, feeling somewhat like the hot flashes she was just having but different; they were a wonderful inferno instead of an empty, irritating flicker of warmth. Lisa's hand grabbed hold of Greg's head as her orgasm blazed though her, fingers tangled in the curls, holding her to him until she floated down like a charred piece of ash, self aware once more.
She finally opened her eyes, looking down to see him resting his cheek against her thigh. Greg must have felt her move, as he lifted his head to look back. Time stretched out between the rekindled lovers until Lisa slid from the desk to kneel next to him. Deliberately she kissed him, let her tongue slide over his as the memory of their mingled tastes came rushing back. Her hand upon his chest, his fur bristly under her palm, Lisa pushed firmly until Greg had lowered himself to the carpet, favoring his leg. He watched her for a bit, as she tugged at his belt, then put his hands behind his head and smirked.
"You could help," Lisa grumbled, the belt slipping out of the loops as he lifted his hips.
"But it's so much sweeter when you work for it yourself." That earned him a glare, and Lisa nearly ripped the fly as she yanked the buttons open. Barely pushing his jeans and boxers past his hips she reached under the denim and cotton to slide her hand over the smooth skin of his cock, drawing it out past the waistband.
Without a word she straddled Greg's knees, leaning down to blow a hot breath across him, following with a long swipe of her tongue. By now his insouciant air had left Greg, and he had propped himself up on his elbows, intent on the vision that God, or some benevolent being, had literally dropped in his lap. He must have made some sound of disappointment as Lisa sat up, because now the smirk was on her face.
"Maybe later," she purred, moving up his legs so she was over his hips, "when you're a good boy and finish all your clinic hours." Cradling his cock in her hand once more, Lisa guided just the head in her.
"That's bribery," he ground out, trying hard not to show how much this was affecting him, how much, if he didn't have a bum leg, he would lift his hips and sink his cock had and deep into the fiery sweetness of Lisa Cuddy's pussy.
"It's an incentive," she corrected, and Greg groaned at the way she was shifting those wicked hips of hers. "Think it over," she added, moving with a purpose now, slowing taking him in, two inches down and one inch back until to his great relief he was buried balls deep in her.
A rich, contented sigh rolled up from Lisa that fed his starved male ego. Too many hookers who only did what they were paid to do and got out had left him more battered and bruised than he had known. Greg continued to watch at her, memorizing every emotion that flickered over her face, every sound that slipped past her lips, as Lisa began to rock, one hand on his chest for balance, the other trailing up over her stomach to cup a breast, fingers toying with a nipple.
One of his hands rested on her thigh, the other cupping her hand as he joined her in teasing the hard tip, her body undulating lissomely over his. Her breathing quickened, her teeth coming out to worry her bottom lip, and her hand dropped to delve under the curls between her thighs, scratching lightly at the hidden nub.
The sight of Lisa pleasuring herself as she rode him was enough to push Greg over the edge and he came hard, his orgasm wrenched from every fiber of his body. He lay there, panting, jeans around his hips and the naked Dean of Medicine draped contentedly over his chest. Not one to give in easily, Greg wondered what other 'incentives' Lisa would offer to get those clinic hours fulfilled.
Author: Josephine
Rating:NC-17
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Genre: Smut
Summary: Prompted by 'Hormones'
A/N: Many thanks to Cincoflex who helped me not only with the beta'ing, but through some low 'It's all stupid!' slumps. :)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hot flashes.
Lisa hated them, hated what they meant, what was creeping up on her.
Menopause.
Old age.
She wasn't there yet, these were just infrequent perimenopause flashes; however to Lisa they were the tolling of a bell. Her youth, with all its promise, slipping away and leaving nothing but an empty house with a cat or four in its wake.
A dry laugh escaped her as Lisa flapped the low cut neck of her blouse, moving out from the sweltering setting sun magnified by her windows. The perfect time for hormonal swings, she grimaced to herself, at the height of the hottest summer on record. Her ever-present bottled water was almost empty, and Lisa glared at it as she hurried to the bathroom attached to her office.
The relief of an empty bladder was doubled by the liberation of peeling off her control top pantyhose, and with a sigh Lisa kicked off her pumps and stripped the hose down her legs, tossing the filmy nylon into the sink. She wiggled her toes in the lush throw rug on the hardwood floor, and decided to leave the pumps where they lay.
The rug had felt good against her skin; suddenly the hot, smothering weight was gone, replaced with a sensuous languor that flooded through Lisa. The orange half-light of the setting sun was now welcome, bringing back memories of spring breaks and vacations down in Bermuda and the Lower Keys. Her plum linen jacket slid easily down her arms to fall unheeded to the floor, and Lisa pulled the pins from her French twist to let her hair spill down her back. She could feel the strands through the thin silk of her blouse, feel them caress her skin as she rolled her head, trying to get rid of a week's worth of tension from committee meetings, angry patients and irate board members, and the relentless wave crashing against her, Gregory House.
Greg.
Lisa watched the sun sink below the trees as she thought of him. He could draw so many emotions from her, but the one that kept coming to the fore now was the way he made her feel with his leers and comments about her anatomy. 'The lady doth protest too much, me thinks' came to mind, and Lisa smiled wryly, being honest with herself in the shadow filled early evening light.
Another hot flash and her hands crept up to free a pearl button, then another; but this time the flush was caused by the image of a younger House, before the infarction, seen from her dorm window as he jogged through the quad. Every morning once the weather warmed she would set her alarm as not to miss his run, not miss the sight of his lean, rangy, sweat slicked body clad only in a pair of thin shorts. Once he disappeared behind Couzens Hall Lisa would fall back into bed, hands roaming over her body, imagining that they were Greg's.
So many years ago… The sun had slipped away, and Lisa finished unbuttoning her blouse. So many years, but her fantasies remained the same. Still Greg. Her fingers trailed down her throat, idly noting the increased pulse, skimmed over the swell of her breasts, displayed by the underwire and lace of the balcony bra. Lisa could feel her nipples harden, pushing against the satin and she shivered, scratching her nails over the points.
"By the sound of things, you're either dying in here or…"
Focusing her eyes, Lisa barely made out the reflection of a figure leaning against her door. Greg. Think of the Devil… She turned slowly, watching his face.
"… definitely the or," he finished, his eyes narrowing as they swept her body. "What naughty things are you up to this late at night?" Greg lumbered across the room, his knuckles white as he gripped his cane. He stopped before her, out of arm's reach.
"Reminiscing," Lisa answered, arching her neck to look up at him. She could see a tic in his jaw, and she stood still, just breathing.
His jaw tightened, his eyes finally flicking up from her cleavage to look at her. "How Bernie Cohen finally got into your panties after the Homecoming dance?"
She shook her head, the brush of her hair making her shiver again. Lisa kept her gaze on him. "College. How a fellow med student would jog past my dorm every morning." The low hiss of Greg's indrawn breath made her smirk a little. "You didn't know I watched you?" The question was rhetorical.
"I counted on it."
Or so she thought. Lisa couldn't move as Greg stepped closer, reaching out for her. He slid his big hand over her waist and spread his fingers over her back. She watched, urging him on in her mind as he bent to her, his stubbled cheek scraping against hers. "What did you do after, Lisa? Did you get dressed and go to class like a good little girl? Or did you end up like me, jacking off in the shower and wishing it was you?"
"The bed," she sighed, her arms lifting, her hands running up his chest, over his shoulders to push his jacket off him. Lisa slipped her hands under his T-shirt to stroke at the muscles as Greg fumbled with his cane, shaking away his jacket. She tugged up on the shirt, helping somewhat in getting it over his head and to the floor. But once it dropped they merely stood, inches from each other, until Lisa reached up, placing her hands on either side of his face, and pulled him to her.
The thump of his cane hitting the carpet didn't register; she was instead lost to the way Greg's tongue was seeking hers, teasing open her mouth and stroking against her teeth. She taunted right back, swiping at him until he delved back into her mouth, then sucked on his tongue, letting her teeth scrape against it as he pulled back.
"Bitch," he muttered against the smile on her lips, and Lisa laughed at the total lack of rancor in the word. Thus distracted, she only noticed Greg had unhooked her bra when his thumbs slipped under the straps and he pulled it and her blouse down to her elbows.
Leaning back, Greg leered at the sight of Lisa: breasts free, arms trapped at her sides by her bra in the front and her blouse in the back. "These are what I jacked off to. Funbags ahoy."
"Wait." Turning away, Lisa missed the scowl crossing Greg's face as his hand grasped empty air.
"Wait? What the hell for? You're not changing your mind, are you?"
"No," she answered, wiggling a little to get he blouse off her as she made her way to her desk. Reaching into the top drawer, she pulled out a sheer pink scarf.
"Ooo, am I gonna get to tie you up?" House waggled his eyebrows at her, taking both the scarf and her bra which was hanging off an arm.
"No," she repeated. The mellow mood the fading sunlight had put her in was long gone, ramped up by the twilight shadows into something hot and aching. "Tie it around the door knob."
Greg looked down at his hand, then up at her. "Your bra?"
Rolling her eyes, Cuddy shot one of her patented glares at him, hers hands firmly on her hips. "The scarf."
"Speaking of college days…" Greg muttered has he limped over the door. Opening it slightly, he leaned against the jamb as he deftly tied the scarf in a knot. Finished, he glanced at her thoughtfully. "You tryst here often?"
"It's for the housekeeping. They see that, they know I'm working and not to disturb me."
"Why not lock it?" Limping back, he stood before her, both stripped to the waist.
"They have a key. This way, they don't disturb me," she emphasized.
Greg grunted, then said nothing, the silence stretching between them, the mood shifting back to old wants and desires. He reached for her again, his hands drawing her forward until he found the hook and zipper to her skirt. His fingers fumbled over the linen seeking the tab; the zipper was loud in the room as it opened, matching Greg's harsh breathing. Lisa merely smiled, and shifted, helping him get it over her hips.
Much to Greg's welcome surprise, as the skirt inched down a silk garter belt that nearly matched her suit in color was revealed. He could only stare in astonishment while Lisa coolly stepped to the side, lifting her skirt behind her with one foot and plucking it off with a hand. She folded it neatly, tossing it on the couch, watching him from under lowered lids the entire time.
Now openly smirking, Lisa leaned back against her desk. Her hands were behind her, which thrust her chest out, and Greg was having a hard time deciding where to look: his beloved funbags, or the dark triangle between Lisa's thighs.
"Your g-string's on wrong side", he said, flicking the strap above the garter belt.
"Logistics, Greg. This way it comes off when I visit the restroom."
Shuffling toward her, Greg gripped the side of the desk as he awkwardly knelt before her. "Off. Like this?" He slid his thumbs under the strings, warm hands splayed over her hips. He stayed like that for a moment, then looked up at her as he dropped his hands, the purple scrap of lace coming with them.
Lisa said nothing, stepping neatly out of her g-string as she had her skirt, but then gasped when Greg leaned forward, mouth pressed to the curly fluff only hinted by the garment he was stuffing in his jeans pocket. Lisa's eyes had fluttered closed and she whimpered as Greg's tongue pushed through and found the hard nub nestled within. He firmly pushed her thighs wider, and she complied, propping one leg on the edge of the deck.
Greg had always been good in bed, the few times they had actually been in each others, but either he had gotten some pointers or her memory wasn't what it used to be because Lisa sure didn't remember feeling like this all those years ago.
Wave upon wave rolled through her, feeling somewhat like the hot flashes she was just having but different; they were a wonderful inferno instead of an empty, irritating flicker of warmth. Lisa's hand grabbed hold of Greg's head as her orgasm blazed though her, fingers tangled in the curls, holding her to him until she floated down like a charred piece of ash, self aware once more.
She finally opened her eyes, looking down to see him resting his cheek against her thigh. Greg must have felt her move, as he lifted his head to look back. Time stretched out between the rekindled lovers until Lisa slid from the desk to kneel next to him. Deliberately she kissed him, let her tongue slide over his as the memory of their mingled tastes came rushing back. Her hand upon his chest, his fur bristly under her palm, Lisa pushed firmly until Greg had lowered himself to the carpet, favoring his leg. He watched her for a bit, as she tugged at his belt, then put his hands behind his head and smirked.
"You could help," Lisa grumbled, the belt slipping out of the loops as he lifted his hips.
"But it's so much sweeter when you work for it yourself." That earned him a glare, and Lisa nearly ripped the fly as she yanked the buttons open. Barely pushing his jeans and boxers past his hips she reached under the denim and cotton to slide her hand over the smooth skin of his cock, drawing it out past the waistband.
Without a word she straddled Greg's knees, leaning down to blow a hot breath across him, following with a long swipe of her tongue. By now his insouciant air had left Greg, and he had propped himself up on his elbows, intent on the vision that God, or some benevolent being, had literally dropped in his lap. He must have made some sound of disappointment as Lisa sat up, because now the smirk was on her face.
"Maybe later," she purred, moving up his legs so she was over his hips, "when you're a good boy and finish all your clinic hours." Cradling his cock in her hand once more, Lisa guided just the head in her.
"That's bribery," he ground out, trying hard not to show how much this was affecting him, how much, if he didn't have a bum leg, he would lift his hips and sink his cock had and deep into the fiery sweetness of Lisa Cuddy's pussy.
"It's an incentive," she corrected, and Greg groaned at the way she was shifting those wicked hips of hers. "Think it over," she added, moving with a purpose now, slowing taking him in, two inches down and one inch back until to his great relief he was buried balls deep in her.
A rich, contented sigh rolled up from Lisa that fed his starved male ego. Too many hookers who only did what they were paid to do and got out had left him more battered and bruised than he had known. Greg continued to watch at her, memorizing every emotion that flickered over her face, every sound that slipped past her lips, as Lisa began to rock, one hand on his chest for balance, the other trailing up over her stomach to cup a breast, fingers toying with a nipple.
One of his hands rested on her thigh, the other cupping her hand as he joined her in teasing the hard tip, her body undulating lissomely over his. Her breathing quickened, her teeth coming out to worry her bottom lip, and her hand dropped to delve under the curls between her thighs, scratching lightly at the hidden nub.
The sight of Lisa pleasuring herself as she rode him was enough to push Greg over the edge and he came hard, his orgasm wrenched from every fiber of his body. He lay there, panting, jeans around his hips and the naked Dean of Medicine draped contentedly over his chest. Not one to give in easily, Greg wondered what other 'incentives' Lisa would offer to get those clinic hours fulfilled.