(no subject)
Title: Semi
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Up to House's Head.
Warnings: Sex, almost
Summery: Close but no cigar.
Notes: Part Eight. 1580 words.
i. Hot And Bothered
ii. Hesitations
iii. Weird
iv. Practical Application
v. Comfort Zone
vi. Progress?
House was late.
Cuddy had been prepared for this more than likely eventuality. She'd told him dinner would be at six, knowing he wouldn't turn up until sometime after seven. Some people couldn't help being habitually late, House made it an art.
At ten to seven, when he knocked on the her door, dinner was almost ready and she was smiling when she answered, the almost smug expression dropping into shock when she saw him standing there.
He had flowers.
Jeans, t-shirt, a navy shirt and flowers that looked like they needed a good drink.
House looked like he needed a good drink too.
"Hey," he said, thrusting the flowers at her. She took them and kissed him on the cheek.
"You're late," she said, when she found her brain again, chastising him even though she had planned for him to be late.
"Yeah."
He followed her into the kitchen, sniffing for the lasagna, watching her ass in the black skirt she'd chosen, as she picked out a vase from a cupboard. He had lost his mind, he'd decided, getting her flowers.
"Do you want a drink?"
"Beer?" he asked, hopefully.
"It's in the fridge," she told him, turning her attention back to the flowers.
"This is a date isn't it?" he said quietly, twisting the top off his beer with concentration, as if he were performing a medical procedure.
"House, you bought me flowers," she said, "I'd say we've been dating for the past three days."
"Yeah."
"You don't want to be dating me," she stated, dropping her oven gloves to the counter.
"It's not that..."
"No, it's okay," she interrupted him, "it's just about the sex, I can appreciate that." She turned the oven off and walked past him into her dining room. He followed, leaving his beer in the kitchen, and watched as she swept the silverware from the table into her hand, blowing out the single candle she had lit.
"Lisa," he said, "stop."
She ignored him and went back into the kitchen. She looked at the flowers, feeling a petal between her fingertips before pushing them into the corner.
"I'll keep the flowers," she said, turning to face him, but not meeting his eyes, "seems like a shame to waste them."
"I stole them," he said, feeling a touch hopeful when he saw a faint smile.
"Still..." she trailed off, stepped towards him, and kissed him on the lips, hard and angry, forcing her tongue into his mouth.
"Cuddy?" he asked, "I thought you were pissed."
"I am," she replied, dragging his shirts up, "but I might as well get something out of this fucked up rela....thing."
He was pretty sure they should talk, but he'd never been one for talking and she was digging her perfectly, manicured nails into his sides, and circling her hips against his.
He kissed her back, just as hard, grabbing her hips and whirling her around, dropping his cane. He pushed her up against the counter, grinding his hips against hers. She moaned, the sound reverberating through him, and he bit down on her neck, hands pushing her blouse up, up, up over her head. Her breasts were spilling out of the silky lace cups and he moved down to bite the tops of them, sucking hard to both mark her and cause her pain.
If she could be angry, then so could he, if she wasn't going to give him a chance to explain then he was going to fuck her like he had wanted to days ago. Years ago.
"Bedroom," he growled, pulling his body away but leaving his teeth attached to her skin for a moment longer, pulling and pulling until she yelped.
He grabbed his cane from the floor, and made his way to her bedroom, Lisa close behind, stripping off her clothes as she went. When he reached her bedroom he turned around to see her standing naked before him, he wanted to stand and stare but even if he wasn't really angry, she still was, pouncing on him and kissing him, hands pulling at the buttons of his navy shirt, pushing him back towards her bed, cane clattering to the floor again.
He sat down before he fell and noted that she still wasn't making eye contact with him. It was hard to make eye contact with her when her breasts were just there and just perfect. He leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth but she moved away to bed down and undo his jeans, pulling them roughly down his legs, stripping him with the efficiency of a hooker.
He didn't want that from Cuddy, he wanted her warmth and her lust, her passion for him, not her anger. He wanted her love.
"Cmmudy," he said, her name caught up in his t-shirt as she yanked it over his head. "Cuddy stop."
She straddled him, grinding her hips down hard into his, making him groan and he swore at his body's reaction. She nipped at his neck, teeth leaving little indents from his ear to his shoulder, hips still thrusting lightly into his, his boxers the only barrier between them. He reached up, cupping a breast and her cheek to try and kiss her, forgetting that he'd wanted her to stop a moment before, her breasts rubbing against his chest and he'd wanted this for so long. She pulled her head away from him, not letting him kiss her.
He growled, trying to think past the sight of Lisa Cuddy's breasts, her thighs trapping him in and her hand making their way into his boxers.
"Lisa," he said, grabbing her arms. She fought him, wrapping her hand around his cock and squeezing gently. He groaned but held firm. "Lisa stop," he ordered but she didn't answer.
Putting his weight on his good leg, he pushed her up and pulled her over and onto the bed, falling on top of her and trapping her beneath his body. He was bigger than she was, stronger, and while she still fought, she couldn't move. Her legs trapped between his, his hands still gripping her forearms hard enough to bruise.
"I can play rough too," he growled, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. He moved her arms up and together, holding them in one hand. "I told you to stop."
"You want it," she argued, still, still not meeting his eyes, "want me."
"Of course I fucking do, but not like this." He moved his hand down her body, skimming down the side, purely because as angry as she was, she was that beautiful and he couldn't help himself. He reached between their bodies, fingers dancing over her centre, feeling a minimal amount of wetness, and he smirked.
"You're barely fucking wet Lisa," he said, licking his fingers, "you really want me to fuck you dry?"
"Maybe I want some pain."
"I will tear you. It won't just hurt," he said. He was exaggerating, and knew she'd see through it but still... "I don't think you're that much into S and M." She blushed and he kissed her again, coaxing her gently to kiss him properly. She resisted for a moment, then he heard and felt her sigh, kissing him back, her body relaxing under his. He moved his hand down her body again, intending to feel between her thighs when she pushed at him again, the element of surprise giving her purchase to throw him off her and onto his back. She scrambled to her feet grabbing the nearest thing to cover herself up, ridiculous really, but then, he knew anger never really worked in the nude.
"House," she hissed.
"What?"
"First you do want sex, then you don't, and now you do again?" she said, one hand on her hip, blanket wrapped around her. "Make up your mind so I can either go eat or get fucked."
"I want to explain," he said, resting on his elbows. "And eat, and have sex. Not necessarily in that order."
"Explain?" she huffed. "What? You don't want to date me, just fuck me and eat my food?"
"No."
He was starting to feel stupid lying on her bed in just his boxers, scar and cock exposed to her even though he was softening slowly. He pulled his leg over the edge of the bed to sit on the edge and looked across her.
"You do want to date me?"
"No."
"For fucks sake House!" she cried.
"I don't like dating," he said, quietly, "it's awkward and boring and pointless."
"It's not pointless. Frustrating maybe," she paused, "where are you going with this?"
"I want to skip the dating, get straight to the semi-comfortable relationship bit."
"Oh." She dropped down onto the edge of the bed beside him.
They were quiet for a couple of minutes, the air in the room cooling, but the atmosphere warming a little. House was starting to feel cold in his boxers, his leg throbbing an extra beat to remind him he was mostly naked, Cuddy wrapped tightly in her blanket next to him.
"Are you still hungry?" she asked quietly.
"A bit."
"Lasagne's probably a bust. We could get take out," she suggested.
"Okay."
She smiled at him and stood up, the blanket still clutched tight to her chest.
"I'll put some clothes on."
She stood up, making her way around the bed to go looking for her clothes.
"Leave your underwear off," he called out after her.
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Up to House's Head.
Warnings: Sex, almost
Summery: Close but no cigar.
Notes: Part Eight. 1580 words.
i. Hot And Bothered
ii. Hesitations
iii. Weird
iv. Practical Application
v. Comfort Zone
vi. Progress?
House was late.
Cuddy had been prepared for this more than likely eventuality. She'd told him dinner would be at six, knowing he wouldn't turn up until sometime after seven. Some people couldn't help being habitually late, House made it an art.
At ten to seven, when he knocked on the her door, dinner was almost ready and she was smiling when she answered, the almost smug expression dropping into shock when she saw him standing there.
He had flowers.
Jeans, t-shirt, a navy shirt and flowers that looked like they needed a good drink.
House looked like he needed a good drink too.
"Hey," he said, thrusting the flowers at her. She took them and kissed him on the cheek.
"You're late," she said, when she found her brain again, chastising him even though she had planned for him to be late.
"Yeah."
He followed her into the kitchen, sniffing for the lasagna, watching her ass in the black skirt she'd chosen, as she picked out a vase from a cupboard. He had lost his mind, he'd decided, getting her flowers.
"Do you want a drink?"
"Beer?" he asked, hopefully.
"It's in the fridge," she told him, turning her attention back to the flowers.
"This is a date isn't it?" he said quietly, twisting the top off his beer with concentration, as if he were performing a medical procedure.
"House, you bought me flowers," she said, "I'd say we've been dating for the past three days."
"Yeah."
"You don't want to be dating me," she stated, dropping her oven gloves to the counter.
"It's not that..."
"No, it's okay," she interrupted him, "it's just about the sex, I can appreciate that." She turned the oven off and walked past him into her dining room. He followed, leaving his beer in the kitchen, and watched as she swept the silverware from the table into her hand, blowing out the single candle she had lit.
"Lisa," he said, "stop."
She ignored him and went back into the kitchen. She looked at the flowers, feeling a petal between her fingertips before pushing them into the corner.
"I'll keep the flowers," she said, turning to face him, but not meeting his eyes, "seems like a shame to waste them."
"I stole them," he said, feeling a touch hopeful when he saw a faint smile.
"Still..." she trailed off, stepped towards him, and kissed him on the lips, hard and angry, forcing her tongue into his mouth.
"Cuddy?" he asked, "I thought you were pissed."
"I am," she replied, dragging his shirts up, "but I might as well get something out of this fucked up rela....thing."
He was pretty sure they should talk, but he'd never been one for talking and she was digging her perfectly, manicured nails into his sides, and circling her hips against his.
He kissed her back, just as hard, grabbing her hips and whirling her around, dropping his cane. He pushed her up against the counter, grinding his hips against hers. She moaned, the sound reverberating through him, and he bit down on her neck, hands pushing her blouse up, up, up over her head. Her breasts were spilling out of the silky lace cups and he moved down to bite the tops of them, sucking hard to both mark her and cause her pain.
If she could be angry, then so could he, if she wasn't going to give him a chance to explain then he was going to fuck her like he had wanted to days ago. Years ago.
"Bedroom," he growled, pulling his body away but leaving his teeth attached to her skin for a moment longer, pulling and pulling until she yelped.
He grabbed his cane from the floor, and made his way to her bedroom, Lisa close behind, stripping off her clothes as she went. When he reached her bedroom he turned around to see her standing naked before him, he wanted to stand and stare but even if he wasn't really angry, she still was, pouncing on him and kissing him, hands pulling at the buttons of his navy shirt, pushing him back towards her bed, cane clattering to the floor again.
He sat down before he fell and noted that she still wasn't making eye contact with him. It was hard to make eye contact with her when her breasts were just there and just perfect. He leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth but she moved away to bed down and undo his jeans, pulling them roughly down his legs, stripping him with the efficiency of a hooker.
He didn't want that from Cuddy, he wanted her warmth and her lust, her passion for him, not her anger. He wanted her love.
"Cmmudy," he said, her name caught up in his t-shirt as she yanked it over his head. "Cuddy stop."
She straddled him, grinding her hips down hard into his, making him groan and he swore at his body's reaction. She nipped at his neck, teeth leaving little indents from his ear to his shoulder, hips still thrusting lightly into his, his boxers the only barrier between them. He reached up, cupping a breast and her cheek to try and kiss her, forgetting that he'd wanted her to stop a moment before, her breasts rubbing against his chest and he'd wanted this for so long. She pulled her head away from him, not letting him kiss her.
He growled, trying to think past the sight of Lisa Cuddy's breasts, her thighs trapping him in and her hand making their way into his boxers.
"Lisa," he said, grabbing her arms. She fought him, wrapping her hand around his cock and squeezing gently. He groaned but held firm. "Lisa stop," he ordered but she didn't answer.
Putting his weight on his good leg, he pushed her up and pulled her over and onto the bed, falling on top of her and trapping her beneath his body. He was bigger than she was, stronger, and while she still fought, she couldn't move. Her legs trapped between his, his hands still gripping her forearms hard enough to bruise.
"I can play rough too," he growled, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. He moved her arms up and together, holding them in one hand. "I told you to stop."
"You want it," she argued, still, still not meeting his eyes, "want me."
"Of course I fucking do, but not like this." He moved his hand down her body, skimming down the side, purely because as angry as she was, she was that beautiful and he couldn't help himself. He reached between their bodies, fingers dancing over her centre, feeling a minimal amount of wetness, and he smirked.
"You're barely fucking wet Lisa," he said, licking his fingers, "you really want me to fuck you dry?"
"Maybe I want some pain."
"I will tear you. It won't just hurt," he said. He was exaggerating, and knew she'd see through it but still... "I don't think you're that much into S and M." She blushed and he kissed her again, coaxing her gently to kiss him properly. She resisted for a moment, then he heard and felt her sigh, kissing him back, her body relaxing under his. He moved his hand down her body again, intending to feel between her thighs when she pushed at him again, the element of surprise giving her purchase to throw him off her and onto his back. She scrambled to her feet grabbing the nearest thing to cover herself up, ridiculous really, but then, he knew anger never really worked in the nude.
"House," she hissed.
"What?"
"First you do want sex, then you don't, and now you do again?" she said, one hand on her hip, blanket wrapped around her. "Make up your mind so I can either go eat or get fucked."
"I want to explain," he said, resting on his elbows. "And eat, and have sex. Not necessarily in that order."
"Explain?" she huffed. "What? You don't want to date me, just fuck me and eat my food?"
"No."
He was starting to feel stupid lying on her bed in just his boxers, scar and cock exposed to her even though he was softening slowly. He pulled his leg over the edge of the bed to sit on the edge and looked across her.
"You do want to date me?"
"No."
"For fucks sake House!" she cried.
"I don't like dating," he said, quietly, "it's awkward and boring and pointless."
"It's not pointless. Frustrating maybe," she paused, "where are you going with this?"
"I want to skip the dating, get straight to the semi-comfortable relationship bit."
"Oh." She dropped down onto the edge of the bed beside him.
They were quiet for a couple of minutes, the air in the room cooling, but the atmosphere warming a little. House was starting to feel cold in his boxers, his leg throbbing an extra beat to remind him he was mostly naked, Cuddy wrapped tightly in her blanket next to him.
"Are you still hungry?" she asked quietly.
"A bit."
"Lasagne's probably a bust. We could get take out," she suggested.
"Okay."
She smiled at him and stood up, the blanket still clutched tight to her chest.
"I'll put some clothes on."
She stood up, making her way around the bed to go looking for her clothes.
"Leave your underwear off," he called out after her.