Cheery Ohs - one-shot
“I can think of at least three better ways for you to use your hands.”
One corner of her lips curled in an amused smile, but she didn’t look up from the busy screen of her Blackberry. Twelve emails down, seven to go. Her thumbs continued to fly over the little buttons. The queen-size bed dipped under his weight. He stretched across the bed on his stomach, elbows propped up for support, box of cheerios in hand, his stubbly chin dangerously close to her naked hip. She should have worn something besides a bra and a pair of flimsy shorts bought with the intent of seducing the man currently roving over her figure with bright, hungry eyes. If he would just lean closer, lower, his lips would touch the indent at her waist. She shifted her gaze back to the blinking red light and scrolled through another email distractedly. Damn him.
“I’ll give you a hint,” he said to her silence, emptying a handful of cereal into his mouth. He munched on them for a few seconds then turned his full attention on her. “Only one of them is less than X-Rated,” he declared, a mischievous twinkle gleaming in his eyes.
“House,” she sighed, sneaking a glance at him over her phone. “I feel bad enough about taking the morning off. I need to send out these emails. Be quiet for a moment,” she chastised him.
“Ah, guilt,” he breathed, and God was he deliberately making the air caress her stomach? “Mea culpa is your prerogative.” He exhaled, and this time she was fairly certain it was deliberate. The warm expulsion of air tickled the tiny hairs on her belly and dipped into her navel enticingly.
“Could you stop breathing?” she snapped and hit the send button on an unintentionally curt email. Great, now she was going to start insulting her donors.
For a moment, his eyes widened in surprise, but then a chuckle softened his features. It was such a deep, heartfelt sound that she couldn’t stop the small smile that claimed her lips in response. “Sorry, party pants, no can do. I kind of need air.”
“That’s not what I…” she paused and drew in a deep calming breath. She couldn’t count on all fingers and toes the things about him that aggravated her. Whether he was dismissing her, not washing the sink after he shaved, ravaging her toothbrush, drinking straight from the juice bottle, forgetting to give the cranky fridge door an extra little push (and he knew the thing wouldn’t close by itself), giving the front door too much of a push and waking Rachel up, punching her pillows out of form, drooling on her bed sheets, leaving his dirty clothes under her sink… sometimes it felt like she had adopted a Golden Retriever. But then he would show up at the end of a long day and sit on her couch, absently rubbing his thigh as he studied the lines on her face and told her exactly how she was feeling. He could read her as easily as one of Rachel’s books, and she caught herself with the newfound fear that the uncomplicated simplicity of it would soon tire him. She wasn’t one of his medical puzzles - a mystery he would slave over for days, depriving himself of sleep just to get to the bottom of it. She was Cuddy - the woman he knew from head to foot, intimately, the woman he had known for decades. He could tell from the way she looked at him if she was tired, horny, happy, calm, worried, stressed, or all of them together. There was nothing to analyze, nothing to experiment with, but he still always managed to hurt himself and hurt her a little. Just enough to remind her of the pain of being without him - as if she could forget. Most days it felt like she was his little obsession, a child’s puzzle changing colors everyday that he always delighted in putting together. She wondered if it was enough to keep him or if he would someday combust, kicking all the jigsaw pieces apart with his foot and then his cane, leaving her ablaze with the debris of their sand castles. “Never mind,” Cuddy said finally, reaching for her notebook which sat perched open on the nightstand, diverting his gaze to hide her thoughts. She scribbled in a quick reminder and closed it.
He was suspiciously quiet for a few minutes, staring at her naked stomach like she had a rash he couldn’t explain. Then he lifted the box of cheerios and tipped it over her abdomen, allowing several pieces to land on her stomach.
“House!” She scowled at him darkly as she steadied herself to keep the cereal from sliding onto her bed. “What are you doing?” she demanded angrily.
“Making breakfast fun,” he stated before placing four fingers on her abdomen just below her breasts, pressing her into the mattress and bending his head to scrape the cereal off her stomach. Her breath hitched involuntarily at the feel of his soft mouth and the chafe of rough stubble against her skin. His lips parted, teeth lightly scraping as he collected his scattered treat. She was going to kill him - after he was finished. “Mmm,” he mumbled, his voice falling into the hollow of her belly button. “Tastes better this way.”
“House,” and this time it was more of a sigh. One of her hands went to his hair, curling in the graying strands to hold him close. “I’m going to kill you,” she promised on a moan as he dipped his tongue into her navel.
He lifted his head and gave her a confused look. “I’m just having breakfast. You’re mean,” he muttered, almost genuinely indignant, reaching for the cereal again and pouring it on her stomach before she could stop him.
“Seriously, I have to work,” she stated firmly, forcing her fingers back to the blasted device. It was the last place her hands wanted to be. She could think of at least three better places for them.
“So work, and I’ll eat. Win-win,” he reasoned nonchalantly and lowered his head again.
She tried to ignore him for all of seven minutes as he ate off of her and licked crumbs - and at one point probably gave her a hickey on her stomach. “House,” she fussed when a new batch of cheerios hit her skin.
“What?” he sighed in exasperation.
“You’re turning me on.”
A wicked triumphant grin lit his darkly handsome face. “That’s always, always a good thing.” He licked the last few pieces of cereal off her stomach and braced his arms on either side of her as he slipped up the bed, his body hovering over hers, his mouth level with her neck - box of cheerios lying forgotten against his pillow. “Put that thing away.” He kissed her cheekbone and tugged at her earlobe before touching the tip of his warm tongue to the delicious spot behind her ear. The phone slid out of her hand and landed somewhere on the carpeted floor, still blinking furiously. She barely registered the fall when his mocking lips were nipping at the corners of hers, coyly staying out of her mouth. She curved her palm around the back of his neck and pulled him into a long, deep kiss, her tongue stroking the roof of his mouth. He tasted like cheerios and coffee, and his deep groans shuddered through her like rings of fire.
House smoothed his hand down her stomach, pushing past the waistband of her flimsy shorts. “No panties,” he rasped. “Always full of surprises, Cuddy,” he whispered, his husky voice tickling her everywhere. “How turned on are you?” he asked, but he wasn’t waiting for an answer because his fingers were already questing, running lightly along the swollen lips of her sex, his palm grinding into her. He hummed in approval or arousal when his hand returned slick. “From cheerios?” he asked in faux disbelief, a roguish glimmer to his clever gaze.
Her eyes slammed shut, and she stopped breathing altogether, her nails urgently digging into his shoulders through the thick cotton of his t-shirt.
“Breathe, Cuddles,” he advised with a smug smile. “I wouldn’t want you fainting on me now.”
“Shut up,” she hissed.
She could feel his grin on her cheek. “Yes, mistress.”
“Just,” she lifted her hips slightly off the bed, curving into his elusive hand, frustrated when he seemed even further away than before.
“Easy,” he cooed, his lips lingering at her temple.
“I’m going to kill you,” she repeated, and this time the threat was so empty it made her smile. She lifted her bare knee, sliding it between his legs. When she grazed his erection, he growled into her hair and one of his fingers slipped into her. She arched, crushing her breasts against his heaving chest, her gasp caught in the torrid kiss he pressed to her mouth.
“Jesus,” he husked, his bottom lip held captive between both of hers. “You don’t play fair.”
She laughed breathlessly, biting his lip hard when he slid another finger into her. “Me?” she mouthed, incredulous, shifting restlessly beneath his toying hands. “Stop teasing.”
He tasted the curve of her neck and trailed a path of nipping kisses to the swell of her right breast, his fingers gently exploring her with rhythmic strokes that made it hard to think. Her entire world contracted around his mouth and hands.
The sound of the door opening shattered the silence in the room. “Lisa, darling, I was thinking…”
The air was so thick with their heavy breathing that the sound of her mother’s voice was magnified for the sheer horror of its presence. House’s hand was in her underwear - or inside her to be more precise - and her hands were frantically trying to get rid of his shirt.
“Mom?” she called out loudly, horrified.
“Talk about a turnoff,” House muttered under his breath, fingers stilling inside her, his head lifting from her breast to twist and find her mother perched in the doorway.
“Oy va voy!” she exclaimed, eyes widening to the size of saucers before she pulled the door shut forcefully. “My God, Lisa, the least you could do is lock the door. You have a child in this house. That’s just…” Her voice faded with her retreating footsteps, but Cuddy was sure she would hear the continuation to that sentence many, many times over the next few days - maybe even years.
Shit.
House took his hand out of her shorts and lifted himself off of her. “Your mother is even shocked in Jewish,” he noted grimly.
She chuckled at that, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. She was wound so tight. “It’s Yiddish,” she told him, her fingers curling in the bed sheets.
One of his large hands closed over hers, loosening her firm grip. “Really?” he asked, scrunching his nose in genuine surprise. “This is the fastest erection death I’ve ever experienced.”
Cuddy laughed, reaching for him with her other hand. Her palm cupped his rough cheek as she sat up, drawing him into a slow, drugging kiss that stretched for endless minutes. They dueled for possession, pushing and pulling. His hand fisted in her hair, holding her close when she pulled away to catch her breath. “Mm, you’re good. That’s the fastest resurrection ever. You could have just showed me your boobs though.”
“Mommy!” The door handle was lowered before her mother’s voice followed Rachel.
“No! Come here, sweetie, mommy is sleeping.”
Cuddy pushed her forehead into his cheek with a frustrated groan, her fist lightly beating against his chest as he slid an arm around her slim shoulders, almost engulfing her. “God, I just…”
“What is she even doing here so early in the morning?” he spat.
“It’s almost noon,” she corrected. “And she wanted to spend the rest of the day with Rachel.”
“She has a key?” he asked with a frown furrowing his brow.
“Yes.” She smoothed a hand down his chest.
“I don’t have a key.”
“She doesn’t eat my food, stray on my furniture and drool over everything like a toddler.”
“Or give you screaming orgasms,” he countered in an exaggerated whisper.
“Don’t remind me,” she groaned, squirming against his side. She was so close.
“We could always…”
“God, no. The next time they walk in I’m going to be in the throes, and that is not something I want my four-year old daughter to see."
“Shower?” he suggested hopefully.
“No, I have to go erase this image permanently from my mother’s memory. I don’t think I’ve ever been caught with my boyfriend’s hand in my underwear.”
He kissed the underside of her jaw. “I was lying about the erection death,” he confessed.
She pushed him away when his lips began exploring her shoulder, teeth tugging at the strap of her bra. “Shower’s all yours,” she announced, leaving the comfort of the bed. She bent to pick up her fallen phone and could almost feel his eyes on her. “Cold shower, House,” she said, plucking one of his discarded t-shirts from the dresser and pulling it over her head.
“No more cheerios for you,” he declared petulantly.
She hid her grin as she slipped out of the room, and gently shut the door.
End.