(no subject)
Title: Confessional
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Season Four
Warnings: Sex.
Summery: A ride.
Notes: Part Ten. It's just getting PWP now. 1665 words.
i. Hot And Bothered
ii. Hesitations
iii. Weird
iv. Practical Application
v. Comfort Zone
vi. Progress?
vii. Think
viii. Semi
ix. Show and Tell
House woke up on his back as usual but with Cuddy attached to him, arms and legs curled around him. Most of her face was buried into his chest and hidden by her dark hair and he smiled. This wasn't the first time they'd woken up together, but this was the first time so much skin had been involved. She was like a heavy silk blanket and it was beautiful and annoying.
"Why are you awake?" she mumbled into his skin, "s'not even light."
"Snot," he smirked.
"What are you eight?"
"Yes. Pedophile." She ignored him, remaining still. "I can't sleep with a limpet attached to my side."
She ignored him again, curling up closer instead, holding him tighter.
"Leg! Leg!" he cried and she jumped to the side, almost falling off the bed as she tried to get away from him. When she sat up he was grinning at her.
"House! That's not funny!" she scolded. His grin grew at the anger, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact she looked gorgeous first thing in the morning. Disheveled hair curling around her face, her expression softer, relaxed.
The nudity helped too.
"You owe me a ride," he said, pulling her back to him and kissing her, tongue pushing into her mouth immediately, ignoring the morning breath and the taste of him still in her mouth.
"Do you only think about sex?"
"Whenever I look at you, yes," he said, "but most people do. It's the low cut tops."
"Shut up."
"No, now, giddy up. You owe me. Or I owe you, I'm not exactly sure. In any case, there's riding to be done." She sighed then groaned when he pushed his erection into her side. "I think I might have a riding crop at home."
"Really?" she said, eyes wide. He smirked and kissed her again, pulling their bodies flush against each others.
"Somewhere," he replied, thrusting up against her again.
"Have to supply your own props for when the hookers come round?"
"Good one," he said, reaching down between them to wrap a fist around his own dick. She rubbed herself shamelessly against his knuckles with a sleepy smile, sucking on his tongue a second later. He let go to palm a breast, scraping the nail of his thumb over her nipple and making her gasp. When he moved the hand down to run a finger over her clit, he found her wet and she moaned, whined almost. He smirked, he'd woken because his leg was ragging him, throbbing and thumping, but this was something worth staying awake for, and he rolled onto his back, grabbing his Vicodin. She shuffled closed to him, kissing the skin of his shoulder as he swallowed two pills, a normality in the middle of all this new-ness with Cuddy.
"On ya get," he said patting his good leg.
"You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, House."
"Not really, that's why I'm with you."
"I love you too," she said, voice laced with sleep and sarcasm, straddling him anyway, eyes not quite completely open.
She pressed down on her clit, hands between her legs, moaning as her fingers moved and House reached out to take her hand, reaching up to pinch a nipple with the other.
"Greg!" His name was a sharp breath of air pulled into her lungs, her voice full of sleep too, and it was the sexiest things about her right them. And her breasts. Always her breasts. She lifted up into her knees, grabbing his dick and sinking down onto him slowly, sweetly, groaning and breathing hard.
House could barely keep his brain going.
"Fucking hell Lisa," he muttered, grabbing hold of her waist to ground himself and to stop her from moving just yet. "All those guys and you're still this fucking tight?"
"I'm not a whore Greg," she said, moving despite his tight hold.
"Yeah, but you put out on the first date."
"I don't date a whole lot though," she said, leaning forward to rest her palms on his chest, rocking her hips, voice strained, every word already punctuating by heavy breaths, "not anymore."
"Whatever you say babe," he forced out.
"Don't. Call me babe," she said, flexing her muscles around him, his groan loud, panicked. "If you think I've slept with half of New Jersey, why haven't you insisted on wearing a condom like with the rest of your whores?"
"If you think I sleep with so many whores, why haven't you?" he asked in reply, gripping her hips a little harder, and thrusting up into her tight heat.
"You'd never catch an STD. You'd probably use more protection with a hooker than in a medical procedure," she said, words not quite coming out as she intended, sounding as angry as she wanted, picked up her pace, every word a strain, they were both too sleepy for this to be a long fuck, "you wash before and after you go to the bathroom."
He laughed, a chocked sound that he refused to acknowledge sounded like a desperate sob already, and she rolled her hips in reply to his noises. It was a struggle, his body fighting his insistence to stay alert, aware of every movement and feeling, when the pleasure made him want to shut down. He thrust up harder into her body, all searing heat and velvet, with more force and more pace.
She was making more new noises too, and whatever retort he'd had was lost with the soft sleepy 'uh' noises she expelled every time he thrust up. Her eyes had closed, and just her fingertips touched his chest as she moved against him in a slightly disjointed rhythm that stopped this from being fantastic, but still meant it was pretty fantastic.
His internal thesaurus had pretty much been burnt by the heat of her.
She moved one hand to touch between her legs again, just brushing over her clit at first and he loved the sight of it. He could come at the sight of it, he thought, though, with his leg, probably not. She pressed down a little harder, the ripples of pleasure rushing through them both, the little 'uh' noises louder, moving harder.
"That, you, are," he huffed out the words, pausing to take a deep breath so he could get a full sentence out of his mouth, "hottest thing I've seen outside of a porno."
She didn't reply, made a whiny 'mmm?' noise, sliding one finger down to where he was pushing into her, digging her nail into his flesh so it dragged along his dick as he thrust in and out.
"Ah, fucking hell Cuddy!" he cried out. "That hurt."
"Aw," she breathed, "poor baby," she said with a wicked grin, eyes still shut.
"Don't call me baby," he grunted.
"Sorry," she said, still grinning, crying out when he thrust harder into her.
Their pace was becoming frantic, Cuddy's fingers moving just as fast and rough on her clit. It was too good, good, good, good and he wished he could think of words, other than fuck, and good and Cuddy.
"I, I haven't," he huffed, each word followed by an 'eh' noise, "only a couple of hookers," he managed.
"House, shut up," Cuddy moaned.
"No," he said, "s'inportant," his brain was shutting down, he was giving in, "only blow jobs," he confessed, whispering like it was church and she was Mother Superior Cuddy. "Needed a distraction."
She didn't reply, couldn't reply, hands slamming down onto his chest as she came, crying out his name, his words unimportant compared to the act. To the fact he'd actually told her something.
"Greg, Greg, Greg," she gasped out and he kept moving, gripping hard and gritting his teeth. He had a lot of regrets, but this, wasn't going to be one of them. Nor his confession, and he came thinking about that, that level of trust he had in Cuddy.
He jerked sporadically against her, spilling deep into her body, warmth spreading through them both. He collapsed back into the pillows, panting and Cuddy shifted to his side, off his his leg. They laid side by side on the bed, breathing hard, House reaching out to lay a hand flat on Cuddy's thigh, just to be connected top her, because he didn't feel connected to his brain. Just the throb of pleasure and thud of pain in his thigh. When his breathing slowed a little, he stood up, paced around the room, stretching out his leg.
"You okay?" she panted, eyes still closed, lungs still working over time.
"Yeah," he grunted, "you?"
"Completely fucked." He chuckled at that.
"Want a drunk?" he asked.
"Please."
When he came back she was curled up under the blankets, eyes closed, a smile on her face. He climbed in next to her.
"Water," he said, and she sat up to take the glass, gulping down half.
"Thank you," she said, putting it down on her bedside cabinet. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, really," he insisted, frowning. She nodded, curling up next to him, keeping away from his bad leg instinctively. "About what I said," he spoke quietly.
"It's okay Greg."
"No, sometimes things have to be said."
"What do you want to say?" she asked.
"It was all true," he said, "Wilson's idea, but all true."
"Wilson suggested hookers?"
House chuckled.
"Yes, I don't think he was completely serious. The distraction part was the imporatant bit."
"You never focus on the important."
"Hence the hookers," he said. She smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "You're taking the hooker thing very well," he mused.
She shrugged. "I'm hardly shocked by anything you've done."
"That's a lie."
"Okay, then..." she paused, "I'm sad more than anything. Because you're miserable enough to resort to hookers."
"You can be my distraction now," he mumbled, a look of vulnerability on his face she'd never seen before. She kissed him on the cheek again.
"Go back to sleep House."
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: NC-17
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Season Four
Warnings: Sex.
Summery: A ride.
Notes: Part Ten. It's just getting PWP now. 1665 words.
i. Hot And Bothered
ii. Hesitations
iii. Weird
iv. Practical Application
v. Comfort Zone
vi. Progress?
vii. Think
viii. Semi
ix. Show and Tell
House woke up on his back as usual but with Cuddy attached to him, arms and legs curled around him. Most of her face was buried into his chest and hidden by her dark hair and he smiled. This wasn't the first time they'd woken up together, but this was the first time so much skin had been involved. She was like a heavy silk blanket and it was beautiful and annoying.
"Why are you awake?" she mumbled into his skin, "s'not even light."
"Snot," he smirked.
"What are you eight?"
"Yes. Pedophile." She ignored him, remaining still. "I can't sleep with a limpet attached to my side."
She ignored him again, curling up closer instead, holding him tighter.
"Leg! Leg!" he cried and she jumped to the side, almost falling off the bed as she tried to get away from him. When she sat up he was grinning at her.
"House! That's not funny!" she scolded. His grin grew at the anger, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact she looked gorgeous first thing in the morning. Disheveled hair curling around her face, her expression softer, relaxed.
The nudity helped too.
"You owe me a ride," he said, pulling her back to him and kissing her, tongue pushing into her mouth immediately, ignoring the morning breath and the taste of him still in her mouth.
"Do you only think about sex?"
"Whenever I look at you, yes," he said, "but most people do. It's the low cut tops."
"Shut up."
"No, now, giddy up. You owe me. Or I owe you, I'm not exactly sure. In any case, there's riding to be done." She sighed then groaned when he pushed his erection into her side. "I think I might have a riding crop at home."
"Really?" she said, eyes wide. He smirked and kissed her again, pulling their bodies flush against each others.
"Somewhere," he replied, thrusting up against her again.
"Have to supply your own props for when the hookers come round?"
"Good one," he said, reaching down between them to wrap a fist around his own dick. She rubbed herself shamelessly against his knuckles with a sleepy smile, sucking on his tongue a second later. He let go to palm a breast, scraping the nail of his thumb over her nipple and making her gasp. When he moved the hand down to run a finger over her clit, he found her wet and she moaned, whined almost. He smirked, he'd woken because his leg was ragging him, throbbing and thumping, but this was something worth staying awake for, and he rolled onto his back, grabbing his Vicodin. She shuffled closed to him, kissing the skin of his shoulder as he swallowed two pills, a normality in the middle of all this new-ness with Cuddy.
"On ya get," he said patting his good leg.
"You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, House."
"Not really, that's why I'm with you."
"I love you too," she said, voice laced with sleep and sarcasm, straddling him anyway, eyes not quite completely open.
She pressed down on her clit, hands between her legs, moaning as her fingers moved and House reached out to take her hand, reaching up to pinch a nipple with the other.
"Greg!" His name was a sharp breath of air pulled into her lungs, her voice full of sleep too, and it was the sexiest things about her right them. And her breasts. Always her breasts. She lifted up into her knees, grabbing his dick and sinking down onto him slowly, sweetly, groaning and breathing hard.
House could barely keep his brain going.
"Fucking hell Lisa," he muttered, grabbing hold of her waist to ground himself and to stop her from moving just yet. "All those guys and you're still this fucking tight?"
"I'm not a whore Greg," she said, moving despite his tight hold.
"Yeah, but you put out on the first date."
"I don't date a whole lot though," she said, leaning forward to rest her palms on his chest, rocking her hips, voice strained, every word already punctuating by heavy breaths, "not anymore."
"Whatever you say babe," he forced out.
"Don't. Call me babe," she said, flexing her muscles around him, his groan loud, panicked. "If you think I've slept with half of New Jersey, why haven't you insisted on wearing a condom like with the rest of your whores?"
"If you think I sleep with so many whores, why haven't you?" he asked in reply, gripping her hips a little harder, and thrusting up into her tight heat.
"You'd never catch an STD. You'd probably use more protection with a hooker than in a medical procedure," she said, words not quite coming out as she intended, sounding as angry as she wanted, picked up her pace, every word a strain, they were both too sleepy for this to be a long fuck, "you wash before and after you go to the bathroom."
He laughed, a chocked sound that he refused to acknowledge sounded like a desperate sob already, and she rolled her hips in reply to his noises. It was a struggle, his body fighting his insistence to stay alert, aware of every movement and feeling, when the pleasure made him want to shut down. He thrust up harder into her body, all searing heat and velvet, with more force and more pace.
She was making more new noises too, and whatever retort he'd had was lost with the soft sleepy 'uh' noises she expelled every time he thrust up. Her eyes had closed, and just her fingertips touched his chest as she moved against him in a slightly disjointed rhythm that stopped this from being fantastic, but still meant it was pretty fantastic.
His internal thesaurus had pretty much been burnt by the heat of her.
She moved one hand to touch between her legs again, just brushing over her clit at first and he loved the sight of it. He could come at the sight of it, he thought, though, with his leg, probably not. She pressed down a little harder, the ripples of pleasure rushing through them both, the little 'uh' noises louder, moving harder.
"That, you, are," he huffed out the words, pausing to take a deep breath so he could get a full sentence out of his mouth, "hottest thing I've seen outside of a porno."
She didn't reply, made a whiny 'mmm?' noise, sliding one finger down to where he was pushing into her, digging her nail into his flesh so it dragged along his dick as he thrust in and out.
"Ah, fucking hell Cuddy!" he cried out. "That hurt."
"Aw," she breathed, "poor baby," she said with a wicked grin, eyes still shut.
"Don't call me baby," he grunted.
"Sorry," she said, still grinning, crying out when he thrust harder into her.
Their pace was becoming frantic, Cuddy's fingers moving just as fast and rough on her clit. It was too good, good, good, good and he wished he could think of words, other than fuck, and good and Cuddy.
"I, I haven't," he huffed, each word followed by an 'eh' noise, "only a couple of hookers," he managed.
"House, shut up," Cuddy moaned.
"No," he said, "s'inportant," his brain was shutting down, he was giving in, "only blow jobs," he confessed, whispering like it was church and she was Mother Superior Cuddy. "Needed a distraction."
She didn't reply, couldn't reply, hands slamming down onto his chest as she came, crying out his name, his words unimportant compared to the act. To the fact he'd actually told her something.
"Greg, Greg, Greg," she gasped out and he kept moving, gripping hard and gritting his teeth. He had a lot of regrets, but this, wasn't going to be one of them. Nor his confession, and he came thinking about that, that level of trust he had in Cuddy.
He jerked sporadically against her, spilling deep into her body, warmth spreading through them both. He collapsed back into the pillows, panting and Cuddy shifted to his side, off his his leg. They laid side by side on the bed, breathing hard, House reaching out to lay a hand flat on Cuddy's thigh, just to be connected top her, because he didn't feel connected to his brain. Just the throb of pleasure and thud of pain in his thigh. When his breathing slowed a little, he stood up, paced around the room, stretching out his leg.
"You okay?" she panted, eyes still closed, lungs still working over time.
"Yeah," he grunted, "you?"
"Completely fucked." He chuckled at that.
"Want a drunk?" he asked.
"Please."
When he came back she was curled up under the blankets, eyes closed, a smile on her face. He climbed in next to her.
"Water," he said, and she sat up to take the glass, gulping down half.
"Thank you," she said, putting it down on her bedside cabinet. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, really," he insisted, frowning. She nodded, curling up next to him, keeping away from his bad leg instinctively. "About what I said," he spoke quietly.
"It's okay Greg."
"No, sometimes things have to be said."
"What do you want to say?" she asked.
"It was all true," he said, "Wilson's idea, but all true."
"Wilson suggested hookers?"
House chuckled.
"Yes, I don't think he was completely serious. The distraction part was the imporatant bit."
"You never focus on the important."
"Hence the hookers," he said. She smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "You're taking the hooker thing very well," he mused.
She shrugged. "I'm hardly shocked by anything you've done."
"That's a lie."
"Okay, then..." she paused, "I'm sad more than anything. Because you're miserable enough to resort to hookers."
"You can be my distraction now," he mumbled, a look of vulnerability on his face she'd never seen before. She kissed him on the cheek again.
"Go back to sleep House."