Jolly Mood - Part 2
Title: Jolly Mood
Status: Three-part short story 2/3 (~ 4100 words for this part)
Rated: sexual content! - consider this an "illustration" of House's jolly mood
Characters: House and Cuddy + Wilson's car.
Summary: House and Cuddy just left Sam and Wilson. In the parking garage, on their way to their car, House suddenly pulls Cuddy with him. In the opposite direction... Unexpected, and hot use of car hood ensues...
Disclaimer: OK. Fine! it's not (all) mine. It belongs to David Shore, the lucky b... * sigh*
comments? ahhh YESSS! :-)
** An Illustration of Jolly Mood **
The elevator door opens to the parking garage and the little 'ding' jerks them out of the passionate kiss they're sharing. House's hand slowly slides from her jaw to the line of her neck, and then envelops the round shape of her shoulder before dropping down along his thigh while Cuddy's hands gently release their tight grip on his coat's lapels. She wears high heels, but she's standing on her tiptoes, like she does each time she's so enraptured in one of their kisses, she wishes she could fly to reach higher for his mouth and not lose one inch of space between her lips and his.
"Mmm" She moans softly while House nips at her bottom lip leisurely, just before drawing apart from her face.
They stare at each other and smile, but the elevator door slowly starts to shut again and House jumps forwards, blocking it with his hand before it closes. Cuddy lets out a brief throaty laugh and steps outside the car. Her heels click on the concrete and it resonates in the emptiness of the garage. She walks assertively, her chin up, her hair waving from left to right in her back, her hips sashaying sensually at each one of her steps. House is right behind her and he drinks in her gorgeous frame, the sound of his heartbeats thudding inside his chest and giving rhythm to his determined limp. Her car is parked just a few yards away, on the right, and he can see it from the central aisle but at the same time, unexpectedly, he also spots another one, right there, on the left corner of the parking garage and he almost doesn't give it a second thought. Suddenly it becomes an urge. In one long stride, he catches up with her and he decidedly grabs her hand, pulling her with him in that direction.
"Hey, what are you doing?" She protests, "We're parked here, we're…"
"Shhh" He says, and he drags her with him, mightily, even though he can feel she doesn't really resist anymore already.
And yet, she still holds back her hand, showing just a glimpse of that little predictable hesitation, fleeting and unsurprising, when she recognizes Wilson's car, parked just in front of them.
"House…"
He stops and turns around, abruptly, and she topples forwards, practically falling into his arms. He clasps her in his embrace and stares at her with a winning, self-confident smile.
"You know you want this," He blows on her silky skin, "Tell me you want this."
She stares at him, with an impenetrable gaze but doesn't answer. Yet, he can tell by the way she gulps and parts her lips slightly, tilting her head to the side that she's struggling to have the strength to say 'no.' But she doesn't say anything.
"You're drunk remember? Which is supposed to make me happy…"
Cuddy laughs and shakes her head.
"Not that kind of happy!" She rebuts with a giggle, the sparkle in her eyes almost telling the opposite.
He wraps one strong arm around her waist and brings her against his hips. Between them, the bottle of champagne is the last solid rampart that still prevents him from squashing her passionately against his chest.
"Ohh yeah, that kind of happy…" He contradicts, beaming like a spoiled child who knows he's going to get his surprise anyway.
Her gaze is defying and she bits her lips, unaware of the effect it has on him, only adding more intensity to the desire that's brewing inside him. Unable to wait one more second, and taking advantage of the fact that she's undeniably lowered her guard a little since he took her in his arms, House suddenly takes a step forward and his whole body pushes her backwards with him, until her back hits the front door of Wilson's car. She gasps and he snatches the bottle of champagne out of her hand, putting it on the roof, just behind her head. Within the next, swift move he hooks his cane to the side-view mirror and, finally able to use both his arms, he lays his hands flat on the car, on both sides of her, at shoulder level, leaning forwards to imprison her in his embrace.
His face is an inch far from her face and it's a test, a game, a challenge. House is standing still and he can feel the rhythm of her breathing speeding up noticeably while she stares back at him, perfectly immobile as well, as if she'd understood the implicit rules of his game but wasn't going to yield. Her mouth is half-open and her breath feels warm on his chin. It smells like wine and it makes him really want to kiss her, badly. He sighs instead and tilts his head up, slightly, so that his lips almost cover hers.
The sound of striding steps echoes in the far distance and Cuddy shivers imperceptibly. She looks modest and shy all of a sudden, and it fills him with an irrepressible need to hold her, protect her. So he caves first. Of course, he caves. But he doesn't even care. He wants to take her in his arms and bury his face into her neck, breathe the delicate scent of her skin there, where the warmth of her pulse changes the fragrance of her perfume and adds the unique blend of her flavor to it, her trademark, the smell of her. He lowers his hands slowly and puts them on her shoulders, then with a light pressure he motions her to stand straight and pulls her closer to him. She doesn't resist when he lifts her off the side of the car against which she's leaning. House seizes her coat's lapels and he brings her to his face to pick a kiss on her lips; delicate and soft at first, but soon passionate and greedy. He bites and she whimpers inside the cavity of his mouth while he tilts his head to the side to savor her better and thrust his tongue deeper to meet hers.
Their arms and hands fight for power and they bump into each other clumsily on their way to embrace each other and squeeze, tighter and stronger, as a wave of lust is now flooding through their veins, growing as intense and impatient as the kiss they're sharing. House slides his long fingers behind her skull and his thumbs press on her cheekbones, and she slides one arm around his waist and behind his back, while the other is roaming his chest, with urgency, disorganized fervor and possessiveness. That's what he wants but even so, it takes him by surprise. He breaks apart from their kiss and searches for air, panting, while he looks at her awestruck, her hair already a wild mess and her eyes glittering with that unmistakable sparkle of desire he knows so well.
"You're hot." He states matter-of-factly, as it is the first evidence that comes to his mind when he watches her smile mischievously at him.
"I'm not going down on you in a parking garage." She replies with a warning tone.
"What makes you think I want you to?" He says, undeniably taking her off guard.
Her mouth drops open and she stares at him confused, but intrigued at the same time.
"You said…"
"What? That you would make me happy?"
She nods, perplexed. House steps back and takes her hand to lead her with him to the front of the car.
"You really think I'm that much of a selfish bastard my only definition of getting off right now would be if you'd go south?" He asks her, frowning disapprovingly, while at the same time, he gently incites her to sit down on the hood of Wilson's car. She's not really aware of doing it and before she knows it, he steps forward and nestles between her legs, putting his hands underneath her skirt, and up her thighs.
"We're not doing it on Wilson's car…" She gasps but she sounds deliciously unsure of what she really wants to decline or accept.
He doesn't answer and it doesn't matter because words are not what he needs now to convey how he feels. He leans down and takes her mouth again. She offers her lips without resistance, then the line of her carotid next as she tilts her head back to stretch her neck higher and give in to his kisses. He knows he's won when she moans as he hikes up her skirt higher and reaches for the hem of her panties. She wriggles on her butt and he plays with her desire, teasing her, just sliding his fingers underneath the lacy cloth of her panties but not taking them off… yet. He brushes the soft curls of her sex with the back of his index, down to the spot when her slit begins to part, and he goes up again while she spreads her legs wider, clutches his shoulders, pulls him to her, demandingly, and implores him with no words. So he nosedives in her neck and licks her tender flesh there. It makes her wheeze and the sound of it pushes his arousal near the edge.
"Lie down." He instructs her in a whisper, and she does, without protesting.
He guides her down until her back meets the surface of the hood and instinctively she puts her heels on the bumper to keep her legs steady and gives her position some balance. She looks amazing and her body, even more. Her skirt is hiked up to the top of her thighs, almost uncovering the complete length of her legs. The contact of the metallic surface with her bare skin must be cold though and she shivers, sucking in a sharp breath and trying to hide her discomfort. Looking at her, House suddenly takes his coat off and puts it out to her, motioning her to lift her hips so he can't slide it underneath her, like a blanket.
"Better?" He inquires, and he covers her kneecaps with his long hands to keep his balance while he slowly leans down between her legs.
He chooses an innocent spot, on her inner thigh, where her skin is silky but where it can't be too dangerous to taste her already. Neither for him, nor for her. He wants this to last, though he knows they've both practically consummated their virtual orgasm already, exhilarated by the forbiddance of the scenario. House's lips cautiously meet her skin and he lays a kiss there, tender and promising, his stubble merely scrapping her. Her response is incredible and instantaneous. She quivers at the sensation of his touch, her left hand reaching out for him blindly, while her hips jolt upwards.
"House…" She stutters, "We can't, someone could come, we…"
Something inside her wants to resist but she's just as unconvinced by her own reticence as can be, her hand which pulls him into her strongly an undeniably proof of it. He smiles along the skin of her thigh and, as a unique answer, kisses her again more fervently this time. His teeth graze and the tip of his tongue licks, and his lips suck and nibble and the wet, warm sensation of this trailing, leisure exploration is obviously doing wonder to her. The need to taste her more is pervading him irresistibly and he rests his hands on both sides of her legs, fondling the length of them from her ankles up to her knees, and higher to her hips where he finally reaches the waistband of her panties.
"Oh my God! This is crazy…" She gasps, but it is nothing other than a statement, as she's now perfectly aware of what he's about to do, and doesn't have the will to oppose any resistance anymore.
When he hooks the elastic band of her panties to take them off, she even arches up her back to help him get rid of them faster. The lacy cloth slides along her legs and past the high heels of her shoes and he rolls her panties into a ball before putting them in his pocket, with a large beam. There's urgency in his yearning now, as he realizes what's happening, standing in front of her half-naked body and the movements of her legs, spreading out and shutting down flippantly but with a slight impatience, are conveying the sheer force of her desire. He bends over and before he even reaches her groin she moans his name languorously, the most appealing sound he wished to hear her call out so many times during those long nights he spent alone craving her touch before she finally became his for real.
First is the fragrance. He approaches her sex and her scent, lustful and intoxicating fills his nostrils with what he's persuaded must be the smell of the forbidden fruit. There's an addiction to it which has been immediate and inescapable the minute he first experienced it and he knows he can't get rid of it. He won't anymore; ever. Each time he thinks about it, he feels dizzy and it frightens him but he, who yet believes in nothing irrational, tells himself it's probably just how it is written and there is no way he can escape it. He doesn't want to anyway. His hands rest on both sides of her ass, somehow maintaining her down on the hood to control her erratic hip sways and he leans down again, until his lips touches her and he can open her with his tongue.
Second is the flavor. Salty but sweet. Sour but delicate. Her tang is a nectar and each drop of it is a proof of the desire he is triggering inside her and there is no word to describe the feeling of fulfillment and pride it releases in him. He flattens her swollen clit with his tongue, without moving, and for a few seconds he just enjoys feeling the rhythm of her arousal pulsating against it. But Cuddy starts to writhe impatiently so to satisfy her growing demanding desire he begins to lick her briskly, drawing circles around her nub and then sucking it between his lips, applying with his tongue strokes the same ravenous pressure than the ones he would use to suck his cherry lollipops. He smiles inwardly at the metaphor that just popped into his mind because her clit is indeed like a cherry, rosy and pulpy, and tasting it feels like tasting the sweetness of the candies he snatches from the jar on the nurse's counter.
Third is the touch. House removes his right hand from her side and places it underneath his chin, searching for her entrance. When he feels her juices coating his fingers, he lets his instinct guide him inside her and pushes his middle finger deep into her core. She instantly gasps loudly, several times, and her arousal rises up a notch noticeably as she clamps around him and imprison him inside her warmth. Her tightness is an incredible sensation that never ceases to amaze him. Slowly, he adds a second digit and begins to pump leisurely in and out of her. One of her hand reaches out for his skull and she grabs a full strand of his hair pulling at it unceremoniously, while the movements of her hips model on the rhythm of his fingers' thrusts and she rocks her pelvis up and down faster to incite him to increase his strokes. Surely there are universal codes for lovemaking but anyhow, he would know exactly what she wants just the same, even if she didn't move or say anything. He feels her under his touch and he recognizes the changes in her pleasure by the way her walls tighten and release around his fingers. Her breathing speeds up too and he knows she's about to reach the jolts of her orgasm. Her gasps turns into whimpers, but she's instinctively put her other hand into her mouth to muffle the sound of her moans and all he can think about is a way to make her loose it until she can no longer hold back her cries.
Fourth is the sound. With his free hand, House slides under her ass and he hoists her up in one mighty, confident gesture and Cuddy instantly throws one of her legs over his shoulder, lifting the small of her back off the hood and clinging to him to stay upward. When he feels she's steady enough not to throw them both off balance, he removes his hand from her ass and stretches his arms towards her face to seize her hand and take it away from her mouth. He wants to hear her come, unreservedly, and there is no way he's going to let the sound of her orgasm die in the depth of her throat. She's too focused on the rising waves on her pleasure to notice and the second after, she lets out a loud moan, sensual and low, quickly followed by short, wheezing pants, indicating she's hurtling over the edge. House's tongue strokes speed up on her clit and he thrusts faster and deeper inside her with his fingers until her gasps turn into husky moans and then into loud cries and suddenly a long wail, filled with liberated lust and orgasmic energy, escapes her lips and resonates against the concrete walls, echoing all the way across the deserted space of the parking garage.
Fifth is the sight. The silence that falls right after is almost religious. They're both short of breath and the sound of their gasps only serves as a proof that all of this is real. House puts out his hand for her and when she seizes it, he pulls her up and welcomes her in his arms the moment she sits up straight on the hood. Her mouth is slightly parted and her eyes glitter with the sparkle of the afterglow. The pulp of her purple lips is wet and tiny pearls of sweat glisten just above her upper lip. Her chest goes up and down rapidly and her cheeks are flushed with heat. Her hair is a little sticky and one of her raven curls hangs loose on her forehead. House notices all that in one glance and he's suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling he fears might be larger than what his heart can handle. Staring at her, he raises his hands up to her face slowly and he spreads his palms on both sides of her cheekbones, cradling her jaws, and combing her hair off of her forehead to clear her beautiful features.
"You're mine." He declares with a gruff voice, still holding her face inside his hands. "Wilson will never be able to do that to you… neither will Sam!"
Just slightly recovering from her amazing ride, Cuddy squints at him interrogatively and then bursts into laughter.
"Aww, so this is what it's all about?" She says giggling.
"What?" House groans, defensively.
"You didn't like it when I said I could consider a foursome with Wilson and Sam, did you?" Her smile widens and she looks at him with a fond gaze.
"I don't feel threatened."
"You're jealous." She corrects, "Just admit it."
"Cuddy, I know you." He says with a sudden gravity in his tone that catches her off guard. "I know all your buttons. Like no one else. I know how to get you mad; and I know how to make you scream in pleasure. I know exactly where to press, what to say, how to say it. I know your silences and what they mean. I know your lies, I know how you try to hide them... I know why..."
She lets out a small gasp and bits her bottom lip, looking at him with eyes full of tenderness. House slides his hands off her face slowly and they land on her bare thighs. She tilts her head down and she stares at them for a second, and again, like always, every word he just said to her, simple and yet so intense, takes her to a whole different level of awe.
"Even with my eyes close, I know every inch of you. Every inch."
She stares at him and raises her hand to caress his stubble. His mouth still glistens with her juices. She doesn't know what to say, so she just leans down and kisses him, greedily, tasting herself on his lips.
"You're mine." He repeats stubbornly when they break apart from their kiss, raising his chin up and challenging her with a possessive stare.
She smiles shyly and slides off of the hood, landing on the concrete floor in front of him and adjusting her skirt to tidy it up along her legs.
"I'm yours." She confirms solemnly, but with a coy gaze "Now gimme back my panties!"
"No way!" He exclaims stepping away from her, "Those ones are going to complete my collection."
Cuddy's eyes widen and she stands agape for a second, staring at him in bafflement.
"What? You don't have any collection of that kind!" She denies forcefully.
"You have to start at some point!" He answers with a laugh, teasing her with a mischievous grin.
Resigned, she shakes her head and starts walking away, grabbing the bottle of champagne on top of the roof on her way.
"Wait!" He calls out after her. "Give me that." He's taken a piece of paper out of God knows where and he's scribbling something on it hastily.
"Why? What are you going to do?" She asks, suspiciously.
"Don't you want to thank Wilson for that amazing evening we just spent?" He says with a devilish grin, holding out his hand to claim the bottle from her.
"I won that bottle. I don't wanna give it back." She pouts, squeezing the bottle against her, not yet resolute to let it go.
"You're a spoiled child." He takes one step forward and grabs the bottle out of her hand, "I'll give you plenty of other bottles like that one. I'll run you a bath with hundreds of bottles of champagne even, if you want!"
She rolls her eyes and releases her grip on the bottle. House carefully puts it on the hood of the car, where minutes before Cuddy was still lying, squirming in delight and panting her pleasure without restraint. Then he sticks the piece of paper on the bottle, rolling it around the neck and before Cuddy can approach, he straightens up and promptly seizes her by the hand, pulling her away with him.
"What did you write on that piece of paper?" she asks, turning her head back to look at the car, as House is striding off as fast as he can, dragging her away from the scene with him.
"Nothing that could make Wilson blush more than he already did tonight!" He answers mysteriously, and he laughs when she stares at him with a panic face, starting to struggle to set her hand free, fighting the irrepressible need to run back there and check by herself. "Tssk!" He says, suddenly stopping and looking her in the eyes reassuringly. "If you must know," he then adds with emphasis, "I just wrote: 'Thank you.'"
Cuddy frowns dubiously.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." House replies, "I would gladly have left a more explicit message to tell him he maybe should consider washing his car or something, but I don't think that would have been very appropriate."
Cuddy's eyebrows fly up in surprise.
"Oh you don't?"
"Why, Cuddy? You really think I totally lack decency and restraint? Pff, I'm hurt." He pouts, faking to be shocked.
Cuddy suddenly feels embarrassed and guilty as she doesn't really know if she's upset him for real or if it's just another one of his antics.
"Well, uh… No! I was just…" she starts, trying to defend herself.
With a sudden huge beam on his lips, House tightens his grip on her hand and pulls her to him, limping faster and forcing her to keep up with his pace.
"Good!" He says joyfully, "Then now I can tell you to hurry up and drive us home really fast because I fully intend to have you reciprocate my favor as soon we'll walk through the front door."
She narrows her eyes at him for a split second, as if she was contemplating his offer.
"Deal!" she exclaims, and she walks past him, hurrying to her car, leaving no doubt about how seriously she means it.
PART 3
Status: Three-part short story 2/3 (~ 4100 words for this part)
Rated: sexual content! - consider this an "illustration" of House's jolly mood
Characters: House and Cuddy + Wilson's car.
Summary: House and Cuddy just left Sam and Wilson. In the parking garage, on their way to their car, House suddenly pulls Cuddy with him. In the opposite direction... Unexpected, and hot use of car hood ensues...
Disclaimer: OK. Fine! it's not (all) mine. It belongs to David Shore, the lucky b... * sigh*
comments? ahhh YESSS! :-)
** An Illustration of Jolly Mood **
The elevator door opens to the parking garage and the little 'ding' jerks them out of the passionate kiss they're sharing. House's hand slowly slides from her jaw to the line of her neck, and then envelops the round shape of her shoulder before dropping down along his thigh while Cuddy's hands gently release their tight grip on his coat's lapels. She wears high heels, but she's standing on her tiptoes, like she does each time she's so enraptured in one of their kisses, she wishes she could fly to reach higher for his mouth and not lose one inch of space between her lips and his.
"Mmm" She moans softly while House nips at her bottom lip leisurely, just before drawing apart from her face.
They stare at each other and smile, but the elevator door slowly starts to shut again and House jumps forwards, blocking it with his hand before it closes. Cuddy lets out a brief throaty laugh and steps outside the car. Her heels click on the concrete and it resonates in the emptiness of the garage. She walks assertively, her chin up, her hair waving from left to right in her back, her hips sashaying sensually at each one of her steps. House is right behind her and he drinks in her gorgeous frame, the sound of his heartbeats thudding inside his chest and giving rhythm to his determined limp. Her car is parked just a few yards away, on the right, and he can see it from the central aisle but at the same time, unexpectedly, he also spots another one, right there, on the left corner of the parking garage and he almost doesn't give it a second thought. Suddenly it becomes an urge. In one long stride, he catches up with her and he decidedly grabs her hand, pulling her with him in that direction.
"Hey, what are you doing?" She protests, "We're parked here, we're…"
"Shhh" He says, and he drags her with him, mightily, even though he can feel she doesn't really resist anymore already.
And yet, she still holds back her hand, showing just a glimpse of that little predictable hesitation, fleeting and unsurprising, when she recognizes Wilson's car, parked just in front of them.
"House…"
He stops and turns around, abruptly, and she topples forwards, practically falling into his arms. He clasps her in his embrace and stares at her with a winning, self-confident smile.
"You know you want this," He blows on her silky skin, "Tell me you want this."
She stares at him, with an impenetrable gaze but doesn't answer. Yet, he can tell by the way she gulps and parts her lips slightly, tilting her head to the side that she's struggling to have the strength to say 'no.' But she doesn't say anything.
"You're drunk remember? Which is supposed to make me happy…"
Cuddy laughs and shakes her head.
"Not that kind of happy!" She rebuts with a giggle, the sparkle in her eyes almost telling the opposite.
He wraps one strong arm around her waist and brings her against his hips. Between them, the bottle of champagne is the last solid rampart that still prevents him from squashing her passionately against his chest.
"Ohh yeah, that kind of happy…" He contradicts, beaming like a spoiled child who knows he's going to get his surprise anyway.
Her gaze is defying and she bits her lips, unaware of the effect it has on him, only adding more intensity to the desire that's brewing inside him. Unable to wait one more second, and taking advantage of the fact that she's undeniably lowered her guard a little since he took her in his arms, House suddenly takes a step forward and his whole body pushes her backwards with him, until her back hits the front door of Wilson's car. She gasps and he snatches the bottle of champagne out of her hand, putting it on the roof, just behind her head. Within the next, swift move he hooks his cane to the side-view mirror and, finally able to use both his arms, he lays his hands flat on the car, on both sides of her, at shoulder level, leaning forwards to imprison her in his embrace.
His face is an inch far from her face and it's a test, a game, a challenge. House is standing still and he can feel the rhythm of her breathing speeding up noticeably while she stares back at him, perfectly immobile as well, as if she'd understood the implicit rules of his game but wasn't going to yield. Her mouth is half-open and her breath feels warm on his chin. It smells like wine and it makes him really want to kiss her, badly. He sighs instead and tilts his head up, slightly, so that his lips almost cover hers.
The sound of striding steps echoes in the far distance and Cuddy shivers imperceptibly. She looks modest and shy all of a sudden, and it fills him with an irrepressible need to hold her, protect her. So he caves first. Of course, he caves. But he doesn't even care. He wants to take her in his arms and bury his face into her neck, breathe the delicate scent of her skin there, where the warmth of her pulse changes the fragrance of her perfume and adds the unique blend of her flavor to it, her trademark, the smell of her. He lowers his hands slowly and puts them on her shoulders, then with a light pressure he motions her to stand straight and pulls her closer to him. She doesn't resist when he lifts her off the side of the car against which she's leaning. House seizes her coat's lapels and he brings her to his face to pick a kiss on her lips; delicate and soft at first, but soon passionate and greedy. He bites and she whimpers inside the cavity of his mouth while he tilts his head to the side to savor her better and thrust his tongue deeper to meet hers.
Their arms and hands fight for power and they bump into each other clumsily on their way to embrace each other and squeeze, tighter and stronger, as a wave of lust is now flooding through their veins, growing as intense and impatient as the kiss they're sharing. House slides his long fingers behind her skull and his thumbs press on her cheekbones, and she slides one arm around his waist and behind his back, while the other is roaming his chest, with urgency, disorganized fervor and possessiveness. That's what he wants but even so, it takes him by surprise. He breaks apart from their kiss and searches for air, panting, while he looks at her awestruck, her hair already a wild mess and her eyes glittering with that unmistakable sparkle of desire he knows so well.
"You're hot." He states matter-of-factly, as it is the first evidence that comes to his mind when he watches her smile mischievously at him.
"I'm not going down on you in a parking garage." She replies with a warning tone.
"What makes you think I want you to?" He says, undeniably taking her off guard.
Her mouth drops open and she stares at him confused, but intrigued at the same time.
"You said…"
"What? That you would make me happy?"
She nods, perplexed. House steps back and takes her hand to lead her with him to the front of the car.
"You really think I'm that much of a selfish bastard my only definition of getting off right now would be if you'd go south?" He asks her, frowning disapprovingly, while at the same time, he gently incites her to sit down on the hood of Wilson's car. She's not really aware of doing it and before she knows it, he steps forward and nestles between her legs, putting his hands underneath her skirt, and up her thighs.
"We're not doing it on Wilson's car…" She gasps but she sounds deliciously unsure of what she really wants to decline or accept.
He doesn't answer and it doesn't matter because words are not what he needs now to convey how he feels. He leans down and takes her mouth again. She offers her lips without resistance, then the line of her carotid next as she tilts her head back to stretch her neck higher and give in to his kisses. He knows he's won when she moans as he hikes up her skirt higher and reaches for the hem of her panties. She wriggles on her butt and he plays with her desire, teasing her, just sliding his fingers underneath the lacy cloth of her panties but not taking them off… yet. He brushes the soft curls of her sex with the back of his index, down to the spot when her slit begins to part, and he goes up again while she spreads her legs wider, clutches his shoulders, pulls him to her, demandingly, and implores him with no words. So he nosedives in her neck and licks her tender flesh there. It makes her wheeze and the sound of it pushes his arousal near the edge.
"Lie down." He instructs her in a whisper, and she does, without protesting.
He guides her down until her back meets the surface of the hood and instinctively she puts her heels on the bumper to keep her legs steady and gives her position some balance. She looks amazing and her body, even more. Her skirt is hiked up to the top of her thighs, almost uncovering the complete length of her legs. The contact of the metallic surface with her bare skin must be cold though and she shivers, sucking in a sharp breath and trying to hide her discomfort. Looking at her, House suddenly takes his coat off and puts it out to her, motioning her to lift her hips so he can't slide it underneath her, like a blanket.
"Better?" He inquires, and he covers her kneecaps with his long hands to keep his balance while he slowly leans down between her legs.
He chooses an innocent spot, on her inner thigh, where her skin is silky but where it can't be too dangerous to taste her already. Neither for him, nor for her. He wants this to last, though he knows they've both practically consummated their virtual orgasm already, exhilarated by the forbiddance of the scenario. House's lips cautiously meet her skin and he lays a kiss there, tender and promising, his stubble merely scrapping her. Her response is incredible and instantaneous. She quivers at the sensation of his touch, her left hand reaching out for him blindly, while her hips jolt upwards.
"House…" She stutters, "We can't, someone could come, we…"
Something inside her wants to resist but she's just as unconvinced by her own reticence as can be, her hand which pulls him into her strongly an undeniably proof of it. He smiles along the skin of her thigh and, as a unique answer, kisses her again more fervently this time. His teeth graze and the tip of his tongue licks, and his lips suck and nibble and the wet, warm sensation of this trailing, leisure exploration is obviously doing wonder to her. The need to taste her more is pervading him irresistibly and he rests his hands on both sides of her legs, fondling the length of them from her ankles up to her knees, and higher to her hips where he finally reaches the waistband of her panties.
"Oh my God! This is crazy…" She gasps, but it is nothing other than a statement, as she's now perfectly aware of what he's about to do, and doesn't have the will to oppose any resistance anymore.
When he hooks the elastic band of her panties to take them off, she even arches up her back to help him get rid of them faster. The lacy cloth slides along her legs and past the high heels of her shoes and he rolls her panties into a ball before putting them in his pocket, with a large beam. There's urgency in his yearning now, as he realizes what's happening, standing in front of her half-naked body and the movements of her legs, spreading out and shutting down flippantly but with a slight impatience, are conveying the sheer force of her desire. He bends over and before he even reaches her groin she moans his name languorously, the most appealing sound he wished to hear her call out so many times during those long nights he spent alone craving her touch before she finally became his for real.
First is the fragrance. He approaches her sex and her scent, lustful and intoxicating fills his nostrils with what he's persuaded must be the smell of the forbidden fruit. There's an addiction to it which has been immediate and inescapable the minute he first experienced it and he knows he can't get rid of it. He won't anymore; ever. Each time he thinks about it, he feels dizzy and it frightens him but he, who yet believes in nothing irrational, tells himself it's probably just how it is written and there is no way he can escape it. He doesn't want to anyway. His hands rest on both sides of her ass, somehow maintaining her down on the hood to control her erratic hip sways and he leans down again, until his lips touches her and he can open her with his tongue.
Second is the flavor. Salty but sweet. Sour but delicate. Her tang is a nectar and each drop of it is a proof of the desire he is triggering inside her and there is no word to describe the feeling of fulfillment and pride it releases in him. He flattens her swollen clit with his tongue, without moving, and for a few seconds he just enjoys feeling the rhythm of her arousal pulsating against it. But Cuddy starts to writhe impatiently so to satisfy her growing demanding desire he begins to lick her briskly, drawing circles around her nub and then sucking it between his lips, applying with his tongue strokes the same ravenous pressure than the ones he would use to suck his cherry lollipops. He smiles inwardly at the metaphor that just popped into his mind because her clit is indeed like a cherry, rosy and pulpy, and tasting it feels like tasting the sweetness of the candies he snatches from the jar on the nurse's counter.
Third is the touch. House removes his right hand from her side and places it underneath his chin, searching for her entrance. When he feels her juices coating his fingers, he lets his instinct guide him inside her and pushes his middle finger deep into her core. She instantly gasps loudly, several times, and her arousal rises up a notch noticeably as she clamps around him and imprison him inside her warmth. Her tightness is an incredible sensation that never ceases to amaze him. Slowly, he adds a second digit and begins to pump leisurely in and out of her. One of her hand reaches out for his skull and she grabs a full strand of his hair pulling at it unceremoniously, while the movements of her hips model on the rhythm of his fingers' thrusts and she rocks her pelvis up and down faster to incite him to increase his strokes. Surely there are universal codes for lovemaking but anyhow, he would know exactly what she wants just the same, even if she didn't move or say anything. He feels her under his touch and he recognizes the changes in her pleasure by the way her walls tighten and release around his fingers. Her breathing speeds up too and he knows she's about to reach the jolts of her orgasm. Her gasps turns into whimpers, but she's instinctively put her other hand into her mouth to muffle the sound of her moans and all he can think about is a way to make her loose it until she can no longer hold back her cries.
Fourth is the sound. With his free hand, House slides under her ass and he hoists her up in one mighty, confident gesture and Cuddy instantly throws one of her legs over his shoulder, lifting the small of her back off the hood and clinging to him to stay upward. When he feels she's steady enough not to throw them both off balance, he removes his hand from her ass and stretches his arms towards her face to seize her hand and take it away from her mouth. He wants to hear her come, unreservedly, and there is no way he's going to let the sound of her orgasm die in the depth of her throat. She's too focused on the rising waves on her pleasure to notice and the second after, she lets out a loud moan, sensual and low, quickly followed by short, wheezing pants, indicating she's hurtling over the edge. House's tongue strokes speed up on her clit and he thrusts faster and deeper inside her with his fingers until her gasps turn into husky moans and then into loud cries and suddenly a long wail, filled with liberated lust and orgasmic energy, escapes her lips and resonates against the concrete walls, echoing all the way across the deserted space of the parking garage.
Fifth is the sight. The silence that falls right after is almost religious. They're both short of breath and the sound of their gasps only serves as a proof that all of this is real. House puts out his hand for her and when she seizes it, he pulls her up and welcomes her in his arms the moment she sits up straight on the hood. Her mouth is slightly parted and her eyes glitter with the sparkle of the afterglow. The pulp of her purple lips is wet and tiny pearls of sweat glisten just above her upper lip. Her chest goes up and down rapidly and her cheeks are flushed with heat. Her hair is a little sticky and one of her raven curls hangs loose on her forehead. House notices all that in one glance and he's suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling he fears might be larger than what his heart can handle. Staring at her, he raises his hands up to her face slowly and he spreads his palms on both sides of her cheekbones, cradling her jaws, and combing her hair off of her forehead to clear her beautiful features.
"You're mine." He declares with a gruff voice, still holding her face inside his hands. "Wilson will never be able to do that to you… neither will Sam!"
Just slightly recovering from her amazing ride, Cuddy squints at him interrogatively and then bursts into laughter.
"Aww, so this is what it's all about?" She says giggling.
"What?" House groans, defensively.
"You didn't like it when I said I could consider a foursome with Wilson and Sam, did you?" Her smile widens and she looks at him with a fond gaze.
"I don't feel threatened."
"You're jealous." She corrects, "Just admit it."
"Cuddy, I know you." He says with a sudden gravity in his tone that catches her off guard. "I know all your buttons. Like no one else. I know how to get you mad; and I know how to make you scream in pleasure. I know exactly where to press, what to say, how to say it. I know your silences and what they mean. I know your lies, I know how you try to hide them... I know why..."
She lets out a small gasp and bits her bottom lip, looking at him with eyes full of tenderness. House slides his hands off her face slowly and they land on her bare thighs. She tilts her head down and she stares at them for a second, and again, like always, every word he just said to her, simple and yet so intense, takes her to a whole different level of awe.
"Even with my eyes close, I know every inch of you. Every inch."
She stares at him and raises her hand to caress his stubble. His mouth still glistens with her juices. She doesn't know what to say, so she just leans down and kisses him, greedily, tasting herself on his lips.
"You're mine." He repeats stubbornly when they break apart from their kiss, raising his chin up and challenging her with a possessive stare.
She smiles shyly and slides off of the hood, landing on the concrete floor in front of him and adjusting her skirt to tidy it up along her legs.
"I'm yours." She confirms solemnly, but with a coy gaze "Now gimme back my panties!"
"No way!" He exclaims stepping away from her, "Those ones are going to complete my collection."
Cuddy's eyes widen and she stands agape for a second, staring at him in bafflement.
"What? You don't have any collection of that kind!" She denies forcefully.
"You have to start at some point!" He answers with a laugh, teasing her with a mischievous grin.
Resigned, she shakes her head and starts walking away, grabbing the bottle of champagne on top of the roof on her way.
"Wait!" He calls out after her. "Give me that." He's taken a piece of paper out of God knows where and he's scribbling something on it hastily.
"Why? What are you going to do?" She asks, suspiciously.
"Don't you want to thank Wilson for that amazing evening we just spent?" He says with a devilish grin, holding out his hand to claim the bottle from her.
"I won that bottle. I don't wanna give it back." She pouts, squeezing the bottle against her, not yet resolute to let it go.
"You're a spoiled child." He takes one step forward and grabs the bottle out of her hand, "I'll give you plenty of other bottles like that one. I'll run you a bath with hundreds of bottles of champagne even, if you want!"
She rolls her eyes and releases her grip on the bottle. House carefully puts it on the hood of the car, where minutes before Cuddy was still lying, squirming in delight and panting her pleasure without restraint. Then he sticks the piece of paper on the bottle, rolling it around the neck and before Cuddy can approach, he straightens up and promptly seizes her by the hand, pulling her away with him.
"What did you write on that piece of paper?" she asks, turning her head back to look at the car, as House is striding off as fast as he can, dragging her away from the scene with him.
"Nothing that could make Wilson blush more than he already did tonight!" He answers mysteriously, and he laughs when she stares at him with a panic face, starting to struggle to set her hand free, fighting the irrepressible need to run back there and check by herself. "Tssk!" He says, suddenly stopping and looking her in the eyes reassuringly. "If you must know," he then adds with emphasis, "I just wrote: 'Thank you.'"
Cuddy frowns dubiously.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." House replies, "I would gladly have left a more explicit message to tell him he maybe should consider washing his car or something, but I don't think that would have been very appropriate."
Cuddy's eyebrows fly up in surprise.
"Oh you don't?"
"Why, Cuddy? You really think I totally lack decency and restraint? Pff, I'm hurt." He pouts, faking to be shocked.
Cuddy suddenly feels embarrassed and guilty as she doesn't really know if she's upset him for real or if it's just another one of his antics.
"Well, uh… No! I was just…" she starts, trying to defend herself.
With a sudden huge beam on his lips, House tightens his grip on her hand and pulls her to him, limping faster and forcing her to keep up with his pace.
"Good!" He says joyfully, "Then now I can tell you to hurry up and drive us home really fast because I fully intend to have you reciprocate my favor as soon we'll walk through the front door."
She narrows her eyes at him for a split second, as if she was contemplating his offer.
"Deal!" she exclaims, and she walks past him, hurrying to her car, leaving no doubt about how seriously she means it.
PART 3