Darker Inclinations, Chapter 4.1
Title: Darker Inclinations
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Cuddy, House, some Wilson
Author's Note: This was written for help_lisa. This auction was won by grouchy_snarky who wanted a sequel to A Dark Inclination. This series will also fulfill 50kinkyways prompt 29. Submissive.
Warning: This chapter contains explicit sex, including non-penetrative sex and anal play.
Summary: House and Cuddy take their burgeoning relationship further and into darker territories. Can they balance this new dynamic with the one they have at work? Parallels season 4. Established Huddy relationship.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 (Part One), Chapter 1 (Part Two), Chapter 1 (Part Three), Chapter 2 (Part One), Chapter 2 (Part Two), Chapter 3 (Part One), Chapter 3 (Part Two)
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
Her hand runs along his thigh, but he pretends not to notice. He must think she’s only doing this for the attention, that if he denies her the reaction she wants, she’ll stop. He’s wrong about that. Of course, she’ll stop if he indicates that this is something he’s uncomfortable with. But that’s clearly not the issue here; he’s too busy acting as though her touch is unimportant and uninteresting for that to be true. His eyes are defiantly on the film, as if to say her actions are meaningless.
Maybe they are to him.
He enjoys being in control, resisting her when she needs something from him. At least that’s true at work. Why wouldn’t he feel the same way now? She’s not doing anything to make him want to lose control.
She decides it’s time to change that.
Her fingers slide to the fly on his jeans.
He looks over at her with mild curiosity. “What are you doing?” he whispers. She smirks but offers no explanation. They both know what she’s doing. “You could get caught,” he warns, reminding her of the danger.
As if she needs that.
Cuddy knows what could happen. She’s glanced around the room enough times though to know that they are safe, that no one will see. And in any case, she is only planning to tease him, not to go through with anything more. If they are caught, they won’t be caught doing anything… naked.
With that plan in mind, she runs a nail along the zippered seam of his jeans. But instead of enticing him, he just rolls his eyes and focuses on the movie once more.
She touches him more insistently. Her palm presses into him, squeezes him with just the right amount of pressure to get him interested. Beneath the denim, his cock starts to respond.
Again, he looks to her. His mouth moving to her ear, he warns more seriously this time, “You can keep going if you like.” She starts to stroke him through his pants the best she can. It’s too much of a barrier to really take hold of him, but she manages to make him stiffen a little. “But,” he forces out. “You can’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”
She doubts his definition of finishing is waiting until they get home. If she continues then, she realizes how this will end.
They’ll have sex.
In public.
The idea makes her light-headed. It doesn’t repulse her.
She’s scared of going through with it, but at the same time, she’s exhilarated by the possibility. But that’s hardly surprising.
It was the same way on their first date, when she sat across from Wilson. House was next to her, touching her. Instead of making him stop, she was so close to doing anything to make him continue. Naturally he stopped in deference to the need to explore things quietly.
She’s not sure she wants the quiet now.
Professionally, yes, it would benefit her to know that this will last before telling other people. But how will they know this is right if they never take risks? House said that to her last week, and right now she sees that he knew what he was talking about.
If they were together, if everyone knew and there were no work-related issues, she also sees in that moment that she would have no problem continuing. Her hand has stilled as she thinks, but if they were just a normal couple, she wouldn’t even consider stopping.
Before med school, she liked to party; she liked casual sex and didn’t mind having it in bathrooms of bars and clubs occasionally. She would have never been afraid to do something in a movie theatre. Not back then, before her career started to seem possible and she realized that she needed to be more careful. She hadn’t been fearful then, hadn’t cared at all, and didn’t until she understood the need to be guarded as a young doctor.
She’s no longer young though. She’s an adult, with a career that has many accomplishments and accolades. If they get caught, she’ll only be punished if she gets arrested. She’ll be admonished for fraternizing with an employee, but she won’t be fired. When her contemporaries have gone through divorces, addictions, and in a few cases, call girl scandals, she seems much more competent, much more focused on her job. It would be embarrassing, but she would survive - and by extension, so would House. There’s little to fear there, she thinks.
And that makes her wonder if she has lost her mind, if her logic is being dictated by the desire to have some fun with House.
As soon as she thinks it, she suspects it’s true. She wants to believe she can do whatever she wants without repercussions, so she reasons with herself that it is so.
“You’re hesitating right now,” House points out, interrupting her thought process. “And if you’re not sure, you really should stop.”
He’s trying to dissuade her from continuing - not because he doesn’t like it, but because he can see that she has her own reservations. But his efforts don’t pay off. If anything, his concern for her makes her defiant. He’s treating her like a child, as though she’s unaware of how she feels and how she should behave because of it. Cuddy doesn’t need that; she knows what she should do. And if she mostly felt that this was stupid, she wouldn’t go through with it. But the fact is she’s only partly worried about what might happen. She’s frightened enough to give attention to the thought, but that fear hasn’t been enough to stop her. And his reaction to her has the opposite effect, because her instinct is to brush off his concern.
She starts once more to touch him.
Again, his initial reaction is to ignore her. Perhaps he’s hoping that if he does that, the others in the theatre will remain clueless. By Cuddy’s estimation, they would be oblivious no matter how he responds. But she doesn’t question his behavior, doesn’t fight it. She just waits for the inevitable.
She doesn’t have to wait long.
Without warning he grabs her hand. Holding it tightly, he tells her, “Get your things. We’re going.”
She doesn’t hesitate to follow, but she tries not to seem desperate to leave either. Leisurely grabbing her things, she gets up and lets him lead her out. When they are far enough from the screen, she tells him, “We can stay until the end if you -”
“No. We can’t.”
He must think she’s needling him (and maybe she is), but she means what she says. If he would prefer to stay to watch the movie, she’ll be acquiescent, if disappointed. However, she doesn’t have a chance to tell him that. The second she opens her mouth, he shoves her towards the bathroom off to the left.
No one sees him push her through the door. Theatregoers are few on this Tuesday night. Those that are here are watching their movies, not wandering the hallway reserved for unpopular and older films. There are no witnesses to the two of them entering the bathroom together.
As soon as she slips into the room, she breathes a sigh of relief. He’s chosen a family-style bathroom, the kind reserved for the handicapped and men and women with children. As such it’s an individual bathroom, the kind with a lock on the door, the kind that will prevent anyone from disturbing whatever happens.
Consoled by that fact, she only feels excitement when the door closes behind House. She has no idea what he’s intending to do to her in private. Have sex with her? Spank her? He could do either, and both possibilities are equally welcome. Odd as it is to think, it doesn’t matter what he wants; one will almost inevitably lead to the other. And as he turns to lock the door, she tells herself that doing anything in public is what matters here. It means they are behaving like a normal couple.
He’s just being her boyfriend.
At that thought, she can no longer passively wait for him to choose what they will do. She needs answers now, and the quickest way to get them is to make the choice herself.
Taking a step forward, she waits until he’s turning back to her to kiss him. Her tongue barely slips into his mouth before he gently pushes her away.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks suspiciously.
“The movie was boring, and I want you.”
“I see. And you couldn’t wait -”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“And you’re aware someone -”
“No one in that theatre -”
“Someone could have gotten up to get popcorn, go to the bathroom. Leave.”
She is dismissive. “They wouldn’t have seen anything.”
“You don’t know that.” His agitation is real, not something he’s put upon for the fun of it. He’s actually unhappy, making her think sex isn’t the option he’s going to choose. “You think, but you can’t be sure -”
“And you couldn’t be sure when we went out with Wilson and you -”
“That was different.”
“No -”
“I didn’t intend for anything to happen. You, on the other hand, planned on this.”
“And that bothers you.”
His voice is forceful yet quiet. “You know how I feel. This,” he says, gesturing between their bodies. “Is mine. It’s not for anyone else to -”
“If you’re that concerned with privacy,” she challenges. “Why are we in a public bathroom?”
“Yeah, well, that’s kind of necessity this time, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t understand what he means. “Why -”
“When I touch you in public, no one’s the wiser. When you touch me, it’s a little different - unless you think it’s a good idea for me to walk through the front lobby with an erection.”
He looks to her for… she doesn’t know what - an apology, a retort, some sort of response. But her mind is occupied interpreting what he’s just said. Realizing he has no intention of leaving in his current state, she gets that there is only one solution to the problem - sex.
She smiles. “I can take care of -”
“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.” Again, his displeasure is real. Although most men would be happy that their girlfriend was willing to have sex with them in public, House is not like most men. He dutifully sets his cane and jacket to the side and does the same with her things soon after. At no point does he kiss her, begin to show her any affection, or seem even remotely excited that this is happening.
As he begrudgingly takes a step towards her, she tells him, “I’m not a trip to the dentist, House. If you don’t want -”
“Don’t want?” Her description surprises him. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t,” she agrees. “But you’re acting like -”
“Because this isn’t how I planned on the evening going. But the funny thing about that is plans are adaptable. And last I checked, I’m going to enjoy this either way.”
Saying that has an effect on him, or maybe it’s just the simple act of unbuttoning her pants that erases his agitation. After all, it’s hard to feel wronged when he’s about to have sex with her in a public place. They may be good at pressing each other’s buttons, but even she’s not that good.
Nor does she want to be, she realizes as she breathlessly waits for him to undo her zipper. Her obvious anticipation makes him slower. To torture her, he goes tooth by tooth, pausing every step of the way to see her reaction. Part of her wants to tell him to hurry up - to yell, order, and even plead the words until he listens. But she keeps silent; he won’t give her what she wants until he’s ready.
And he’s obviously more interested in taking his time.
He slowly slips her jeans over her hips and takes them down. Air rushes through his teeth as he does this, a soft almost silent whistle spreading through the tiny room while he looks upon the sight of her pale thighs. His demeanor is casual, calm… as if he’s not looking at her with her pants at her ankles. His eyes roam wantonly for a brief second, but he tries not to let that desire show.
She sees it anyway, and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from asking him to speed things up.
But he knows that’s what she’s thinking. He makes that clear.
“That’s good,” he tells her, completely serious. His thumb gently brushes against the center of her panties, along her mound. “It’s nice to finally see you’re capable of behaving.”
She blurts out a “Please” before she can stop herself.
If he considers this a mistake, he doesn’t let that show. His thumb parts her labia and strokes her clit. The effect is instant; she has to swallow to stop herself from asking for more. That’s how nice it feels. But he decides to encourage her anyway.
“That’s right,” he practically coos as he coaxes her body into a slick mess desperate for him. “Get wet for me. Show me how much you want me.”
His thumb snakes down her body and pushes into her hole, taking the underwear with it. The fabric clings to her, makes the act of him touching her warmer but less satisfying. But she doesn’t oppose what he’s doing. On the contrary, she relishes the feel, wants more of it, even as she thinks it’s not enough. Her body helplessly listens to his orders.
He knows this. “Good. That’s perfect. Be a good, wet little girl. Show me how juicy your pussy is for me.”
It should make her laugh; she thinks that he shouldn’t get the reaction he’s getting. Where they are, what he’s saying, it should seem ridiculous. But she can’t stop herself from listening to him, from hanging on every word and responding to every soft and stern command he gives her. Her vaginal muscles tighten with each syllable, try to capture his fingers and the heat he’s stoking throughout her. Every cell on fire because of him, she yearns for more, her entire being a testament to that.
Her feet tingle in her shoes. Her tight nipples rasp against the lace of her bra. Her cheeks turn pink, her gaze catching sight of herself in the mirror next to them.
“No. Look at me,” he orders.
Submissively she listens.
This pleases him, because he nods his head approvingly and slowly takes down her underwear. To her dismay, he leaves the purple scrap of lace around her upper thighs. Between her jeans and now her underwear, she can’t really move or even spread her legs.
She doesn’t dare try to take anything off, because he’s left things where they are for a reason. But she’s not sure she’s going to enjoy the reason. From her perspective, it’s not an issue of if he’ll be able to get between her thighs and penetrate her. It’s a matter of how deeply he’ll be able to go. And maybe he’s content to tease her with the tip and leave her wanting more. But that’s not what she wants.
Cuddy wants every inch of him. She wants, most particularly in that moment, to feel his balls bounce against her as he punishes her with his thick cock, as he fucks the come out of her and fills her with his own.
She realizes though that she probably won’t get any of that.
Not if he’s doing this.
For a second she tries to stay positive. For a moment, the instant he drops his own pants and shorts and stands before her with his erection proudly jutting into the space between them, she thinks maybe she’s jumping to conclusions. Maybe he’ll give her all of that.
“Don’t move.” He says that, but then he shifts her body with his hands. He brings her closer to him until her chest is flush with his. His fingers separating her thighs, it’s just enough so that he can slip his dick between them.
He does not enter her.
The top of his cock nestles between her wet folds, and that’s it. His fingers carefully gather her juices and slide them along his dick before his hands slip away.
Confused - turned on and intrigued but mostly confused, she asks, “What are you doing?”
“Shh,” he tells her, palms on her outer thighs and pressing her legs closed. His dick becomes trapped between them. “Just stay still like a good girl, and I’ll make sure you come.”
It’s easy to believe he’ll make good on his promise. His hands moving to her ass for balance, he begins to thrust in and out of the space her thighs and pussy have created. The feeling of his penis touching her like this is odd for her. But every now and then he’ll pull back enough to rub against her clit, and suddenly that weird sensation turns into one she needs more of.
Her juices dribble onto his cock, smear along her thighs, making it easier for him to have sex with her. To do whatever this is to her anyway, she amends.
“Oh yeah,” House grunts, leaning forward to finally kiss her. Her eyes close at the sudden contact, passionate and hot and just a little sloppy. Instantly she’s surrounded by the touch and sounds of his dick noisily rubbing against her and his mouth on hers. It’s not exactly what she wants, but for now, it’s enough; hearing the effect this is having on him makes it enough.
Really, it must be more than that, because she doesn’t notice his fingers collecting her juices once more. She’s completely oblivious until his finger nudges between her butt cheeks, surprising her. In shock, her eyes wide, she pulls her mouth away from his.
“Wha -”
“Shh,” he hushes once more. His middle finger presses against her anus. “You’re so wet for me, I think you’ve earned a treat.”
She readies herself to be fingered, tries to relax enough so that he can enter her easily. But he doesn’t increase the pressure against her.
“Do you want that? Would you like that?”
He isn’t asking for the potentially humiliating answer. He’s not asking because he thinks she’s getting off on the question. She can tell he’s genuinely trying to verify that doing this is okay.
She starts to tell him “Yes” in a whisper; they are in a bathroom after all, and she’s trying very hard not to forget that fact. But his dick suddenly brushes against her clitoris, and she loudly says, “Yes. God -”
“He cuts her off with his tongue in her mouth. Her cries for more dissolve into him, and his finger forces its way inside her. The new sensation renews her desire to shout, but he doesn’t let her pull away from him.
Not at all to her dismay, House has her trapped. The wet finger in and the hand possessively on her ass prevent her from backing up. His body keeps her from moving forward, and his lips are unforgivingly on hers. No matter how much she wants to moan her thanks loudly, she is forced to take it all quietly.
His finger moves around inside her, but he doesn’t thrust in and out of her. He keeps the digit stuffed in her while he rubs his cock along but not in her pussy.
It makes her feel used.
Controlled.
It makes her want to come.
She can’t though. All of this feels good, but the occasional stroke to her clit and the finger in her ass aren’t enough.
She moves her hips in the hopes that he’ll stop doing what he’s doing and screw her properly. Instead he tightens his grip on her and pulls away.
Her mouth suddenly free, he’s quick to say, “Don’t scream. You can’t -”
“Please,” she whimpers, wanting more.
“Stay still.” His thrusts pick up speed. She’s not close, but he certainly seems like it.
And she wants to get him off, but her body’s needs are more controlling than he is. She doesn’t listen. “I want to come,” she says, trying to keep her voice low. “Please. I….”
She stops talking, because she sees there’s no point in asking for sex then. She’s ready to beg, but at that moment, he begins to pull his dick from between her thighs. And as her voice trails off, he orgasms.
Come splashes against her labia and mound.
Before she can feel the disappointment from knowing that he won’t enter her now, he’s pulled away from her completely. His finger pops out of her ass, and before she understands what’s going on, he’s dragging her underwear back up her thighs.
“What are you - no,” she protests, as he presses the damp fabric against her skin and between her folds.
His spent cock still hanging out, he repeats what she’s just said, “No?”
“I want to -”
“You’re going to,” he says emphatically, knowing precisely how she was going to end that sentence. “Right now in fact.”
He starts to rub her clitoris through her underwear.
She wants to complain. Well, she wishes she had the wherewithal to demand something more than being masturbated through her panties like a young teenager. But by this point, she’s willing to take whatever she can get. She’s too desperate to refuse, and part of her understands: this is all he will give her.
“Does that feel good?” he asks. She doesn’t have a chance to answer, because he keeps talking. “Probably not as good as if I were really touching you, right? But if you’re going to try to get me off in my pants, you haven’t earned any more than this, have you?”
The lesson is lost on her. If she’s supposed to care, she doesn’t.
At all.
If he’s touching her like this, even if it’s not ideal, she’s still going to orgasm. Right now, nothing else matters.
She focuses on the rough feeling of her underwear being rubbed against her. She is uncomfortably wet, her own juices weeping to mix with his, and with each of his finger’s motions, the feeling gets worse.
“You ready to come?” he asks, right at the moment the keening energy inside of her starts to become too much.
She can’t answer.
“I think that’s a yes.” He reaches into her underwear with his free hand to spread her lips. Beneath her panties, he doesn’t stroke her. He just tenderly adjusts her body so that the finger stroking her over her underwear can really give her clitoris proper attention. And as he does so, he encourages her, “Come on. Come for me.”
Between his words and the added friction from her clothing, she orgasms hard, surprisingly enough.
It’s so intense that she wants to scream loudly. The pleasure suddenly too much, she feels the urge to fight the sensation. But she’s too busy trying to breathe to shout. The oxygen being sucked of the room seemingly, Cuddy pants as she rides out the onslaught of joy.
The very second her breathing slows, he pulls away from her. Unceremoniously he starts to get dressed, and eventually, after a brief moment of reluctance, she follows suit. Comfort requires that she wipe his semen off her body with a paper towel, but she doesn’t even bother to see if House will allow that. Inwardly she sneers at the term, allow, but that’s only a minor concern given where they are. Still at the movie theatres, she’s less interested in the terminology and her own comfort and more interested in getting out of here. House must feel the same, because he diligently washes his hands. Since he’s standing still, she takes the time to wipe the sweat off of him, then herself.
But even then, after cleaning up, she looks at their reflections in the mirror, and she thinks:
They still look like they had sex.
Continue on to the rest of the chapter
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Cuddy, House, some Wilson
Author's Note: This was written for help_lisa. This auction was won by grouchy_snarky who wanted a sequel to A Dark Inclination. This series will also fulfill 50kinkyways prompt 29. Submissive.
Warning: This chapter contains explicit sex, including non-penetrative sex and anal play.
Summary: House and Cuddy take their burgeoning relationship further and into darker territories. Can they balance this new dynamic with the one they have at work? Parallels season 4. Established Huddy relationship.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 (Part One), Chapter 1 (Part Two), Chapter 1 (Part Three), Chapter 2 (Part One), Chapter 2 (Part Two), Chapter 3 (Part One), Chapter 3 (Part Two)
Disclaimer: The show is not mine.
Her hand runs along his thigh, but he pretends not to notice. He must think she’s only doing this for the attention, that if he denies her the reaction she wants, she’ll stop. He’s wrong about that. Of course, she’ll stop if he indicates that this is something he’s uncomfortable with. But that’s clearly not the issue here; he’s too busy acting as though her touch is unimportant and uninteresting for that to be true. His eyes are defiantly on the film, as if to say her actions are meaningless.
Maybe they are to him.
He enjoys being in control, resisting her when she needs something from him. At least that’s true at work. Why wouldn’t he feel the same way now? She’s not doing anything to make him want to lose control.
She decides it’s time to change that.
Her fingers slide to the fly on his jeans.
He looks over at her with mild curiosity. “What are you doing?” he whispers. She smirks but offers no explanation. They both know what she’s doing. “You could get caught,” he warns, reminding her of the danger.
As if she needs that.
Cuddy knows what could happen. She’s glanced around the room enough times though to know that they are safe, that no one will see. And in any case, she is only planning to tease him, not to go through with anything more. If they are caught, they won’t be caught doing anything… naked.
With that plan in mind, she runs a nail along the zippered seam of his jeans. But instead of enticing him, he just rolls his eyes and focuses on the movie once more.
She touches him more insistently. Her palm presses into him, squeezes him with just the right amount of pressure to get him interested. Beneath the denim, his cock starts to respond.
Again, he looks to her. His mouth moving to her ear, he warns more seriously this time, “You can keep going if you like.” She starts to stroke him through his pants the best she can. It’s too much of a barrier to really take hold of him, but she manages to make him stiffen a little. “But,” he forces out. “You can’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”
She doubts his definition of finishing is waiting until they get home. If she continues then, she realizes how this will end.
They’ll have sex.
In public.
The idea makes her light-headed. It doesn’t repulse her.
She’s scared of going through with it, but at the same time, she’s exhilarated by the possibility. But that’s hardly surprising.
It was the same way on their first date, when she sat across from Wilson. House was next to her, touching her. Instead of making him stop, she was so close to doing anything to make him continue. Naturally he stopped in deference to the need to explore things quietly.
She’s not sure she wants the quiet now.
Professionally, yes, it would benefit her to know that this will last before telling other people. But how will they know this is right if they never take risks? House said that to her last week, and right now she sees that he knew what he was talking about.
If they were together, if everyone knew and there were no work-related issues, she also sees in that moment that she would have no problem continuing. Her hand has stilled as she thinks, but if they were just a normal couple, she wouldn’t even consider stopping.
Before med school, she liked to party; she liked casual sex and didn’t mind having it in bathrooms of bars and clubs occasionally. She would have never been afraid to do something in a movie theatre. Not back then, before her career started to seem possible and she realized that she needed to be more careful. She hadn’t been fearful then, hadn’t cared at all, and didn’t until she understood the need to be guarded as a young doctor.
She’s no longer young though. She’s an adult, with a career that has many accomplishments and accolades. If they get caught, she’ll only be punished if she gets arrested. She’ll be admonished for fraternizing with an employee, but she won’t be fired. When her contemporaries have gone through divorces, addictions, and in a few cases, call girl scandals, she seems much more competent, much more focused on her job. It would be embarrassing, but she would survive - and by extension, so would House. There’s little to fear there, she thinks.
And that makes her wonder if she has lost her mind, if her logic is being dictated by the desire to have some fun with House.
As soon as she thinks it, she suspects it’s true. She wants to believe she can do whatever she wants without repercussions, so she reasons with herself that it is so.
“You’re hesitating right now,” House points out, interrupting her thought process. “And if you’re not sure, you really should stop.”
He’s trying to dissuade her from continuing - not because he doesn’t like it, but because he can see that she has her own reservations. But his efforts don’t pay off. If anything, his concern for her makes her defiant. He’s treating her like a child, as though she’s unaware of how she feels and how she should behave because of it. Cuddy doesn’t need that; she knows what she should do. And if she mostly felt that this was stupid, she wouldn’t go through with it. But the fact is she’s only partly worried about what might happen. She’s frightened enough to give attention to the thought, but that fear hasn’t been enough to stop her. And his reaction to her has the opposite effect, because her instinct is to brush off his concern.
She starts once more to touch him.
Again, his initial reaction is to ignore her. Perhaps he’s hoping that if he does that, the others in the theatre will remain clueless. By Cuddy’s estimation, they would be oblivious no matter how he responds. But she doesn’t question his behavior, doesn’t fight it. She just waits for the inevitable.
She doesn’t have to wait long.
Without warning he grabs her hand. Holding it tightly, he tells her, “Get your things. We’re going.”
She doesn’t hesitate to follow, but she tries not to seem desperate to leave either. Leisurely grabbing her things, she gets up and lets him lead her out. When they are far enough from the screen, she tells him, “We can stay until the end if you -”
“No. We can’t.”
He must think she’s needling him (and maybe she is), but she means what she says. If he would prefer to stay to watch the movie, she’ll be acquiescent, if disappointed. However, she doesn’t have a chance to tell him that. The second she opens her mouth, he shoves her towards the bathroom off to the left.
No one sees him push her through the door. Theatregoers are few on this Tuesday night. Those that are here are watching their movies, not wandering the hallway reserved for unpopular and older films. There are no witnesses to the two of them entering the bathroom together.
As soon as she slips into the room, she breathes a sigh of relief. He’s chosen a family-style bathroom, the kind reserved for the handicapped and men and women with children. As such it’s an individual bathroom, the kind with a lock on the door, the kind that will prevent anyone from disturbing whatever happens.
Consoled by that fact, she only feels excitement when the door closes behind House. She has no idea what he’s intending to do to her in private. Have sex with her? Spank her? He could do either, and both possibilities are equally welcome. Odd as it is to think, it doesn’t matter what he wants; one will almost inevitably lead to the other. And as he turns to lock the door, she tells herself that doing anything in public is what matters here. It means they are behaving like a normal couple.
He’s just being her boyfriend.
At that thought, she can no longer passively wait for him to choose what they will do. She needs answers now, and the quickest way to get them is to make the choice herself.
Taking a step forward, she waits until he’s turning back to her to kiss him. Her tongue barely slips into his mouth before he gently pushes her away.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks suspiciously.
“The movie was boring, and I want you.”
“I see. And you couldn’t wait -”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“And you’re aware someone -”
“No one in that theatre -”
“Someone could have gotten up to get popcorn, go to the bathroom. Leave.”
She is dismissive. “They wouldn’t have seen anything.”
“You don’t know that.” His agitation is real, not something he’s put upon for the fun of it. He’s actually unhappy, making her think sex isn’t the option he’s going to choose. “You think, but you can’t be sure -”
“And you couldn’t be sure when we went out with Wilson and you -”
“That was different.”
“No -”
“I didn’t intend for anything to happen. You, on the other hand, planned on this.”
“And that bothers you.”
His voice is forceful yet quiet. “You know how I feel. This,” he says, gesturing between their bodies. “Is mine. It’s not for anyone else to -”
“If you’re that concerned with privacy,” she challenges. “Why are we in a public bathroom?”
“Yeah, well, that’s kind of necessity this time, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t understand what he means. “Why -”
“When I touch you in public, no one’s the wiser. When you touch me, it’s a little different - unless you think it’s a good idea for me to walk through the front lobby with an erection.”
He looks to her for… she doesn’t know what - an apology, a retort, some sort of response. But her mind is occupied interpreting what he’s just said. Realizing he has no intention of leaving in his current state, she gets that there is only one solution to the problem - sex.
She smiles. “I can take care of -”
“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.” Again, his displeasure is real. Although most men would be happy that their girlfriend was willing to have sex with them in public, House is not like most men. He dutifully sets his cane and jacket to the side and does the same with her things soon after. At no point does he kiss her, begin to show her any affection, or seem even remotely excited that this is happening.
As he begrudgingly takes a step towards her, she tells him, “I’m not a trip to the dentist, House. If you don’t want -”
“Don’t want?” Her description surprises him. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t,” she agrees. “But you’re acting like -”
“Because this isn’t how I planned on the evening going. But the funny thing about that is plans are adaptable. And last I checked, I’m going to enjoy this either way.”
Saying that has an effect on him, or maybe it’s just the simple act of unbuttoning her pants that erases his agitation. After all, it’s hard to feel wronged when he’s about to have sex with her in a public place. They may be good at pressing each other’s buttons, but even she’s not that good.
Nor does she want to be, she realizes as she breathlessly waits for him to undo her zipper. Her obvious anticipation makes him slower. To torture her, he goes tooth by tooth, pausing every step of the way to see her reaction. Part of her wants to tell him to hurry up - to yell, order, and even plead the words until he listens. But she keeps silent; he won’t give her what she wants until he’s ready.
And he’s obviously more interested in taking his time.
He slowly slips her jeans over her hips and takes them down. Air rushes through his teeth as he does this, a soft almost silent whistle spreading through the tiny room while he looks upon the sight of her pale thighs. His demeanor is casual, calm… as if he’s not looking at her with her pants at her ankles. His eyes roam wantonly for a brief second, but he tries not to let that desire show.
She sees it anyway, and she has to bite her lip to stop herself from asking him to speed things up.
But he knows that’s what she’s thinking. He makes that clear.
“That’s good,” he tells her, completely serious. His thumb gently brushes against the center of her panties, along her mound. “It’s nice to finally see you’re capable of behaving.”
She blurts out a “Please” before she can stop herself.
If he considers this a mistake, he doesn’t let that show. His thumb parts her labia and strokes her clit. The effect is instant; she has to swallow to stop herself from asking for more. That’s how nice it feels. But he decides to encourage her anyway.
“That’s right,” he practically coos as he coaxes her body into a slick mess desperate for him. “Get wet for me. Show me how much you want me.”
His thumb snakes down her body and pushes into her hole, taking the underwear with it. The fabric clings to her, makes the act of him touching her warmer but less satisfying. But she doesn’t oppose what he’s doing. On the contrary, she relishes the feel, wants more of it, even as she thinks it’s not enough. Her body helplessly listens to his orders.
He knows this. “Good. That’s perfect. Be a good, wet little girl. Show me how juicy your pussy is for me.”
It should make her laugh; she thinks that he shouldn’t get the reaction he’s getting. Where they are, what he’s saying, it should seem ridiculous. But she can’t stop herself from listening to him, from hanging on every word and responding to every soft and stern command he gives her. Her vaginal muscles tighten with each syllable, try to capture his fingers and the heat he’s stoking throughout her. Every cell on fire because of him, she yearns for more, her entire being a testament to that.
Her feet tingle in her shoes. Her tight nipples rasp against the lace of her bra. Her cheeks turn pink, her gaze catching sight of herself in the mirror next to them.
“No. Look at me,” he orders.
Submissively she listens.
This pleases him, because he nods his head approvingly and slowly takes down her underwear. To her dismay, he leaves the purple scrap of lace around her upper thighs. Between her jeans and now her underwear, she can’t really move or even spread her legs.
She doesn’t dare try to take anything off, because he’s left things where they are for a reason. But she’s not sure she’s going to enjoy the reason. From her perspective, it’s not an issue of if he’ll be able to get between her thighs and penetrate her. It’s a matter of how deeply he’ll be able to go. And maybe he’s content to tease her with the tip and leave her wanting more. But that’s not what she wants.
Cuddy wants every inch of him. She wants, most particularly in that moment, to feel his balls bounce against her as he punishes her with his thick cock, as he fucks the come out of her and fills her with his own.
She realizes though that she probably won’t get any of that.
Not if he’s doing this.
For a second she tries to stay positive. For a moment, the instant he drops his own pants and shorts and stands before her with his erection proudly jutting into the space between them, she thinks maybe she’s jumping to conclusions. Maybe he’ll give her all of that.
“Don’t move.” He says that, but then he shifts her body with his hands. He brings her closer to him until her chest is flush with his. His fingers separating her thighs, it’s just enough so that he can slip his dick between them.
He does not enter her.
The top of his cock nestles between her wet folds, and that’s it. His fingers carefully gather her juices and slide them along his dick before his hands slip away.
Confused - turned on and intrigued but mostly confused, she asks, “What are you doing?”
“Shh,” he tells her, palms on her outer thighs and pressing her legs closed. His dick becomes trapped between them. “Just stay still like a good girl, and I’ll make sure you come.”
It’s easy to believe he’ll make good on his promise. His hands moving to her ass for balance, he begins to thrust in and out of the space her thighs and pussy have created. The feeling of his penis touching her like this is odd for her. But every now and then he’ll pull back enough to rub against her clit, and suddenly that weird sensation turns into one she needs more of.
Her juices dribble onto his cock, smear along her thighs, making it easier for him to have sex with her. To do whatever this is to her anyway, she amends.
“Oh yeah,” House grunts, leaning forward to finally kiss her. Her eyes close at the sudden contact, passionate and hot and just a little sloppy. Instantly she’s surrounded by the touch and sounds of his dick noisily rubbing against her and his mouth on hers. It’s not exactly what she wants, but for now, it’s enough; hearing the effect this is having on him makes it enough.
Really, it must be more than that, because she doesn’t notice his fingers collecting her juices once more. She’s completely oblivious until his finger nudges between her butt cheeks, surprising her. In shock, her eyes wide, she pulls her mouth away from his.
“Wha -”
“Shh,” he hushes once more. His middle finger presses against her anus. “You’re so wet for me, I think you’ve earned a treat.”
She readies herself to be fingered, tries to relax enough so that he can enter her easily. But he doesn’t increase the pressure against her.
“Do you want that? Would you like that?”
He isn’t asking for the potentially humiliating answer. He’s not asking because he thinks she’s getting off on the question. She can tell he’s genuinely trying to verify that doing this is okay.
She starts to tell him “Yes” in a whisper; they are in a bathroom after all, and she’s trying very hard not to forget that fact. But his dick suddenly brushes against her clitoris, and she loudly says, “Yes. God -”
“He cuts her off with his tongue in her mouth. Her cries for more dissolve into him, and his finger forces its way inside her. The new sensation renews her desire to shout, but he doesn’t let her pull away from him.
Not at all to her dismay, House has her trapped. The wet finger in and the hand possessively on her ass prevent her from backing up. His body keeps her from moving forward, and his lips are unforgivingly on hers. No matter how much she wants to moan her thanks loudly, she is forced to take it all quietly.
His finger moves around inside her, but he doesn’t thrust in and out of her. He keeps the digit stuffed in her while he rubs his cock along but not in her pussy.
It makes her feel used.
Controlled.
It makes her want to come.
She can’t though. All of this feels good, but the occasional stroke to her clit and the finger in her ass aren’t enough.
She moves her hips in the hopes that he’ll stop doing what he’s doing and screw her properly. Instead he tightens his grip on her and pulls away.
Her mouth suddenly free, he’s quick to say, “Don’t scream. You can’t -”
“Please,” she whimpers, wanting more.
“Stay still.” His thrusts pick up speed. She’s not close, but he certainly seems like it.
And she wants to get him off, but her body’s needs are more controlling than he is. She doesn’t listen. “I want to come,” she says, trying to keep her voice low. “Please. I….”
She stops talking, because she sees there’s no point in asking for sex then. She’s ready to beg, but at that moment, he begins to pull his dick from between her thighs. And as her voice trails off, he orgasms.
Come splashes against her labia and mound.
Before she can feel the disappointment from knowing that he won’t enter her now, he’s pulled away from her completely. His finger pops out of her ass, and before she understands what’s going on, he’s dragging her underwear back up her thighs.
“What are you - no,” she protests, as he presses the damp fabric against her skin and between her folds.
His spent cock still hanging out, he repeats what she’s just said, “No?”
“I want to -”
“You’re going to,” he says emphatically, knowing precisely how she was going to end that sentence. “Right now in fact.”
He starts to rub her clitoris through her underwear.
She wants to complain. Well, she wishes she had the wherewithal to demand something more than being masturbated through her panties like a young teenager. But by this point, she’s willing to take whatever she can get. She’s too desperate to refuse, and part of her understands: this is all he will give her.
“Does that feel good?” he asks. She doesn’t have a chance to answer, because he keeps talking. “Probably not as good as if I were really touching you, right? But if you’re going to try to get me off in my pants, you haven’t earned any more than this, have you?”
The lesson is lost on her. If she’s supposed to care, she doesn’t.
At all.
If he’s touching her like this, even if it’s not ideal, she’s still going to orgasm. Right now, nothing else matters.
She focuses on the rough feeling of her underwear being rubbed against her. She is uncomfortably wet, her own juices weeping to mix with his, and with each of his finger’s motions, the feeling gets worse.
“You ready to come?” he asks, right at the moment the keening energy inside of her starts to become too much.
She can’t answer.
“I think that’s a yes.” He reaches into her underwear with his free hand to spread her lips. Beneath her panties, he doesn’t stroke her. He just tenderly adjusts her body so that the finger stroking her over her underwear can really give her clitoris proper attention. And as he does so, he encourages her, “Come on. Come for me.”
Between his words and the added friction from her clothing, she orgasms hard, surprisingly enough.
It’s so intense that she wants to scream loudly. The pleasure suddenly too much, she feels the urge to fight the sensation. But she’s too busy trying to breathe to shout. The oxygen being sucked of the room seemingly, Cuddy pants as she rides out the onslaught of joy.
The very second her breathing slows, he pulls away from her. Unceremoniously he starts to get dressed, and eventually, after a brief moment of reluctance, she follows suit. Comfort requires that she wipe his semen off her body with a paper towel, but she doesn’t even bother to see if House will allow that. Inwardly she sneers at the term, allow, but that’s only a minor concern given where they are. Still at the movie theatres, she’s less interested in the terminology and her own comfort and more interested in getting out of here. House must feel the same, because he diligently washes his hands. Since he’s standing still, she takes the time to wipe the sweat off of him, then herself.
But even then, after cleaning up, she looks at their reflections in the mirror, and she thinks:
They still look like they had sex.
Continue on to the rest of the chapter