"Crossing Lines" (House/Wilson/Cuddy, NC-17)
Here's the text of my 3_ships fic, Crossing Lines (House/Wilson/Cuddy, NC-17), pasted here for archival purposes. I wrote it for kassrachel.
Crossing Lines
(by Nyssa23)
Dr. Lisa Cuddy sat alone at a candlelit table, an almost-untouched plate of linguine and a half-empty bottle of white wine in front of her. She speared a slice of grilled chicken breast from atop the noodles and swirled it in pesto sauce on the dish, wondering if she should skip dinner entirely and move on to dessert; she thought she heard a slice of chocolate torte calling her name.
"Dr. Cuddy, I presume?" That was definitely not the torte. In fact, it was the last person on Earth she wanted to see or hear right now. Cuddy lifted her head and looked directly into House's steely blue eyes.
"Dammit, House," Cuddy sighed, looked furtively around. "How did you know I was here?"
"I didn't. I Googled 'hangouts for single broads with biological clock issues' and this place was first on the list."
Cuddy briefly considered stabbing her fork into his hand, thought better of it. "Look, House, I came here to get away from you. Whatever you want, you'd better make it quick."
House lowered himself gently into the chair opposite hers. "Baby needs a new set of chromosomes. You're obviously frightened of my raw sex appeal, so I thought I'd let you know I'd be happy to help out."
"Please. You really think I'd consider you as a father for my child? You fuck hookers."
House affected a wounded pose. "My girls are clean. Besides, I always double-bag it, and I test regularly. You wouldn't believe the fast service you can get when you slip the lab techs a twenty."
Cuddy drained her glass of wine and poured another. "Oh, yeah? Do you 'double-bag it' when you fuck Wilson, too?" It wasn't until she looked up at House that she realized she'd struck a nerve. "Don't tell me he doesn't--? So that's why you didn't want me to--"
"Forget it." House slowly stood up. "I'm sure Mr. Clean Genes will be along any minute; guys with solid-gold sperm always look in the back of dark Italian restaurants for the deserving and desperate."
Something in House's eyes made Cuddy jump to her feet. Once she did, she realized how much of an effect the wine was having on her. Reaching carefully down, Cuddy rummaged in her purse and threw some money on the table. She looked straight into his eyes, trying not to sway too much, and pressed her keys into House's hand. "Take me home."
***
The car stopped. Cuddy opened her eyes. "House, when I said take me home, I meant my home."
"My mistake," House said lightly as he opened the car door. "Guess I don't take directions well."
Cuddy looked out the window at the front of House's building. Oh well, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound. She wobbled slightly on her high heels, then slipped them off, holding them in one hand as she followed House inside. She nearly plowed into House's back as he stood frozen in the entryway.
Wilson was sitting on House's couch, a drink in his hand, watching I Love the 80s. Cuddy finally worked around House to see what had stopped him, and dropped her shoes at the sight. For what seemed like hours, they all stood staring at each other.
Then Wilson broke the silence, stammering: "Wow. Cuddy. Are you--?"
House strode in, grabbing the remote in his free hand and clicking the television off. "I'm sure they'll run that one again." He looked at Wilson, who squirmed on the couch. "Besides, I think we can get up to something much more entertaining. Cuddy here is pumped full of fertility drugs and looking for a baby daddy, and I think we're two prime candidates, don't you?"
Wilson looked confused. "Fertility drugs? What about the lesions?"
"Lesions? What the hell did you tell him, House?" She tried to muster a tone of righteous indignation, but Cuddy couldn't stop the very real arousal she felt at the thought of having them both here, now, together.
"Oh, relax. I just did the rational thing and told him you had skin cancer. It was the best I could come up with to explain why you took him out." House took the drink from Wilson's hand and sniffed at it suspiciously, then drained it. "Jesus. A highball? You drink like my mom. At least she never has to worry about whiskey-dick." He placed the glass on the coffee table and looked right at Cuddy. "Me neither. My dick can take it."
Wilson rolled his eyes, then turned to Cuddy. "You should have told me the truth," he chided gently. "I was worried. That's why I did the PCR." He smiled at Cuddy. "Sorry I wasn't much of a date."
Cuddy thought of how it would feel to kiss that mouth, to have his arms around her, and couldn't help noticing the way House stiffened when Wilson smiled at her. She smiled back and lowered her voice seductively, noticing House's hand tightening around the head of his cane. "It's okay. Thanks for being worried about me." She couldn't believe how much this was turning her on. She had to be crazy.
House broke the spell, moving towards the bedroom. "Enough talking. Let's go make a baby."
Cuddy laughed despite herself and let her skirt slip over her thigh-high stockings to the floor. God, she was going to regret this in the morning, maybe for the rest of her life--but tonight, it all seemed worth it. Unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it next to the skirt and shoes, she walked past Wilson, who stood, gaping, for a moment before coming to his senses and following them in.
***
Naked except for her stockings, Cuddy sat on the bed, watching House undress and knowing he didn't want her watching him, which she hoped wouldn't spoil things. When Wilson walked in, she wasted no time in pulling him over by his tie and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. She couldn't help stealing a sideways glance at House, noticing the yearning on his face as she ran her hands over Wilson's bare chest.
House slipped onto the other side of the bed, and Cuddy released Wilson. She'd always secretly wondered about what it would be like to see House completely naked, and it just figured that Wilson would have to be involved for that to happen. She admired the graceful curve of his cock and felt a delighted little shiver run though her body at the sight of it. House smiled a little at that, and his eyes widened with surprise as she drew him close and kissed him hungrily, tasting whiskey on his tongue. His hands moved straight to her breasts (of course, she thought), and she savored the feel of his thumbs on her small dark nipples. She felt Wilson's hands on her back, guiding her down onto the bed.
Almost before she knew it, Cuddy found herself sandwiched, her back spooned against Wilson's chest and House directly above her, his arms braced on either side of her head. She could feel Wilson's erection pressing against her, and her pussy ached for attention; yet the two men were looking past her and into each other's eyes, communicating in a way she could not understand. And, just when she felt she couldn't stand it any more, Wilson eased himself into her and she nearly sobbed with relief, eagerly receiving him, beginning to move in familiar rhythms...
...when something different happened. She couldn't put a name to it at first; it was just a feeling that something wasn't quite right. Then she realized that House was pushing in as well, his cock slick with lube (so that's what he'd been fumbling with, then, above her), stretching her slowly. To Cuddy's surprise, her discomfort was fighting a losing battle with a rush of excitement at the thought of their two cocks rubbing together, slipping past each other. She felt she had to say something though, and managed to gasp out, "Hey--what're you--"
"Oh, relax," House hissed, grimacing slightly as he shifted his weight. "Let's face it, after you've pushed out eight pounds of Cuddy Junior, you won't be doing that ping-pong ball trick again anytime soon."
And, as ridiculous as it was, he was right. As crazy as this was turning out to be, she had to laugh, to accept where the fates had brought her this night of all nights.
***
Somewhere, there was water running. Somewhere, someone was shaking a rattle--no--a pill bottle. A pill bottle? Cuddy opened her eyes, genuinely surprised for a moment that she was not in her own bed. No. This was, oh God, House's bed. She raised her head slightly, watched House down his first Vicodin of the day.
"Good morning, sunshine. Wilson's in the shower." House leaned across the pillow conspiratorially. "Stick around, I'll get him to fix us pancakes." Grinning, he pulled aside the sheet. "Unless, of course, you'd rather try again..."
Cuddy grabbed her clothes and fled to the living room. At least her car was outside, she thought gratefully.
***
A few hours later, in her office, Cuddy stared at the same memo for five minutes without comprehending a word of it. Someone knocked at her door, and she muttered, "Come in," before returning to the same paragraph she had just read.
House sat down in the chair across from her desk. "So, how's the little mother?"
She chose to ignore that. "You're in a good mood. Kill a patient?"
"I'm always in a good mood the morning after a hot lay. You know, you really should have stayed for pancakes."
Cuddy sat bolt upright. "House, you can not tell anyone about what happened last night. If you do, I swear to God I'll--"
"Jesus, Cuddy, think outside your box for a minute. Believe it or not, I have as much to lose as you do if this gets out." He grinned and tapped the end of his cane on her desk. "I mean, boffing the boss--it's so Clinton administration." Whistling, he rose to his feet and left the office, winking archly over his shoulder at her on the way out.
Cuddy steepled her fingers and leaned her forehead against them. It was going, she thought, to be an exceedingly long day.
Crossing Lines
(by Nyssa23)
Dr. Lisa Cuddy sat alone at a candlelit table, an almost-untouched plate of linguine and a half-empty bottle of white wine in front of her. She speared a slice of grilled chicken breast from atop the noodles and swirled it in pesto sauce on the dish, wondering if she should skip dinner entirely and move on to dessert; she thought she heard a slice of chocolate torte calling her name.
"Dr. Cuddy, I presume?" That was definitely not the torte. In fact, it was the last person on Earth she wanted to see or hear right now. Cuddy lifted her head and looked directly into House's steely blue eyes.
"Dammit, House," Cuddy sighed, looked furtively around. "How did you know I was here?"
"I didn't. I Googled 'hangouts for single broads with biological clock issues' and this place was first on the list."
Cuddy briefly considered stabbing her fork into his hand, thought better of it. "Look, House, I came here to get away from you. Whatever you want, you'd better make it quick."
House lowered himself gently into the chair opposite hers. "Baby needs a new set of chromosomes. You're obviously frightened of my raw sex appeal, so I thought I'd let you know I'd be happy to help out."
"Please. You really think I'd consider you as a father for my child? You fuck hookers."
House affected a wounded pose. "My girls are clean. Besides, I always double-bag it, and I test regularly. You wouldn't believe the fast service you can get when you slip the lab techs a twenty."
Cuddy drained her glass of wine and poured another. "Oh, yeah? Do you 'double-bag it' when you fuck Wilson, too?" It wasn't until she looked up at House that she realized she'd struck a nerve. "Don't tell me he doesn't--? So that's why you didn't want me to--"
"Forget it." House slowly stood up. "I'm sure Mr. Clean Genes will be along any minute; guys with solid-gold sperm always look in the back of dark Italian restaurants for the deserving and desperate."
Something in House's eyes made Cuddy jump to her feet. Once she did, she realized how much of an effect the wine was having on her. Reaching carefully down, Cuddy rummaged in her purse and threw some money on the table. She looked straight into his eyes, trying not to sway too much, and pressed her keys into House's hand. "Take me home."
***
The car stopped. Cuddy opened her eyes. "House, when I said take me home, I meant my home."
"My mistake," House said lightly as he opened the car door. "Guess I don't take directions well."
Cuddy looked out the window at the front of House's building. Oh well, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound. She wobbled slightly on her high heels, then slipped them off, holding them in one hand as she followed House inside. She nearly plowed into House's back as he stood frozen in the entryway.
Wilson was sitting on House's couch, a drink in his hand, watching I Love the 80s. Cuddy finally worked around House to see what had stopped him, and dropped her shoes at the sight. For what seemed like hours, they all stood staring at each other.
Then Wilson broke the silence, stammering: "Wow. Cuddy. Are you--?"
House strode in, grabbing the remote in his free hand and clicking the television off. "I'm sure they'll run that one again." He looked at Wilson, who squirmed on the couch. "Besides, I think we can get up to something much more entertaining. Cuddy here is pumped full of fertility drugs and looking for a baby daddy, and I think we're two prime candidates, don't you?"
Wilson looked confused. "Fertility drugs? What about the lesions?"
"Lesions? What the hell did you tell him, House?" She tried to muster a tone of righteous indignation, but Cuddy couldn't stop the very real arousal she felt at the thought of having them both here, now, together.
"Oh, relax. I just did the rational thing and told him you had skin cancer. It was the best I could come up with to explain why you took him out." House took the drink from Wilson's hand and sniffed at it suspiciously, then drained it. "Jesus. A highball? You drink like my mom. At least she never has to worry about whiskey-dick." He placed the glass on the coffee table and looked right at Cuddy. "Me neither. My dick can take it."
Wilson rolled his eyes, then turned to Cuddy. "You should have told me the truth," he chided gently. "I was worried. That's why I did the PCR." He smiled at Cuddy. "Sorry I wasn't much of a date."
Cuddy thought of how it would feel to kiss that mouth, to have his arms around her, and couldn't help noticing the way House stiffened when Wilson smiled at her. She smiled back and lowered her voice seductively, noticing House's hand tightening around the head of his cane. "It's okay. Thanks for being worried about me." She couldn't believe how much this was turning her on. She had to be crazy.
House broke the spell, moving towards the bedroom. "Enough talking. Let's go make a baby."
Cuddy laughed despite herself and let her skirt slip over her thigh-high stockings to the floor. God, she was going to regret this in the morning, maybe for the rest of her life--but tonight, it all seemed worth it. Unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it next to the skirt and shoes, she walked past Wilson, who stood, gaping, for a moment before coming to his senses and following them in.
***
Naked except for her stockings, Cuddy sat on the bed, watching House undress and knowing he didn't want her watching him, which she hoped wouldn't spoil things. When Wilson walked in, she wasted no time in pulling him over by his tie and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. She couldn't help stealing a sideways glance at House, noticing the yearning on his face as she ran her hands over Wilson's bare chest.
House slipped onto the other side of the bed, and Cuddy released Wilson. She'd always secretly wondered about what it would be like to see House completely naked, and it just figured that Wilson would have to be involved for that to happen. She admired the graceful curve of his cock and felt a delighted little shiver run though her body at the sight of it. House smiled a little at that, and his eyes widened with surprise as she drew him close and kissed him hungrily, tasting whiskey on his tongue. His hands moved straight to her breasts (of course, she thought), and she savored the feel of his thumbs on her small dark nipples. She felt Wilson's hands on her back, guiding her down onto the bed.
Almost before she knew it, Cuddy found herself sandwiched, her back spooned against Wilson's chest and House directly above her, his arms braced on either side of her head. She could feel Wilson's erection pressing against her, and her pussy ached for attention; yet the two men were looking past her and into each other's eyes, communicating in a way she could not understand. And, just when she felt she couldn't stand it any more, Wilson eased himself into her and she nearly sobbed with relief, eagerly receiving him, beginning to move in familiar rhythms...
...when something different happened. She couldn't put a name to it at first; it was just a feeling that something wasn't quite right. Then she realized that House was pushing in as well, his cock slick with lube (so that's what he'd been fumbling with, then, above her), stretching her slowly. To Cuddy's surprise, her discomfort was fighting a losing battle with a rush of excitement at the thought of their two cocks rubbing together, slipping past each other. She felt she had to say something though, and managed to gasp out, "Hey--what're you--"
"Oh, relax," House hissed, grimacing slightly as he shifted his weight. "Let's face it, after you've pushed out eight pounds of Cuddy Junior, you won't be doing that ping-pong ball trick again anytime soon."
And, as ridiculous as it was, he was right. As crazy as this was turning out to be, she had to laugh, to accept where the fates had brought her this night of all nights.
***
Somewhere, there was water running. Somewhere, someone was shaking a rattle--no--a pill bottle. A pill bottle? Cuddy opened her eyes, genuinely surprised for a moment that she was not in her own bed. No. This was, oh God, House's bed. She raised her head slightly, watched House down his first Vicodin of the day.
"Good morning, sunshine. Wilson's in the shower." House leaned across the pillow conspiratorially. "Stick around, I'll get him to fix us pancakes." Grinning, he pulled aside the sheet. "Unless, of course, you'd rather try again..."
Cuddy grabbed her clothes and fled to the living room. At least her car was outside, she thought gratefully.
***
A few hours later, in her office, Cuddy stared at the same memo for five minutes without comprehending a word of it. Someone knocked at her door, and she muttered, "Come in," before returning to the same paragraph she had just read.
House sat down in the chair across from her desk. "So, how's the little mother?"
She chose to ignore that. "You're in a good mood. Kill a patient?"
"I'm always in a good mood the morning after a hot lay. You know, you really should have stayed for pancakes."
Cuddy sat bolt upright. "House, you can not tell anyone about what happened last night. If you do, I swear to God I'll--"
"Jesus, Cuddy, think outside your box for a minute. Believe it or not, I have as much to lose as you do if this gets out." He grinned and tapped the end of his cane on her desk. "I mean, boffing the boss--it's so Clinton administration." Whistling, he rose to his feet and left the office, winking archly over his shoulder at her on the way out.
Cuddy steepled her fingers and leaned her forehead against them. It was going, she thought, to be an exceedingly long day.