Darker Inclinations, Chapter 3.2

Jan 20, 2013 16:27

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. 
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)

Disclaimer:  The show is not mine.



She tries to sit up so she can kiss him, but he stops her.  Hands on her shoulders, he pushes her back down.

“Not yet.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you haven’t asked how my week has gone.”

“I know how your week -”

“Do you?”

“Your team looked for a patient.  You made fun of them when they didn’t find something you liked.  You bothered Wilson.  You avoided the clinic.  I more than likely paid you to play your guitar and watch porn.”

He acts like she’s being silly.  “You don’t know that.”

“I do too.”

“All right, maybe you got sixty - seventy percent of that right.  Maybe.  And that would only be because you have the ability to look out into the clinic, so -”

“I didn’t say it was the result of psychic abilities.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses.  “Point is: your powers of deduction aren’t as great as you think they are.”

“What did I -”

“The porn?”

“You think I.T. doesn’t tell me every time you frequent prostitutes and porpoises dot com?”

Again, he is quick to ignore what she tells him.  “Then, and that was an experiment by the way, you should know I was good -”

“Good?”  She scoffs at the idea.

“As in there were no naked women or marine creatures of any sort in front of me this week.”

He’s completely serious.  At first she thinks he must be joking.  His insistence is so severe that he can’t actually mean it.  But he does, because a boyish smile never comes.  He never lets on in any way that he’s mocking her in some way.  His seriousness lingers instead.

“All right,” she says hastily, sensing the urgency with which she needs to validate his feelings.  “You didn’t watch - what does it matter exactly?”

“It matters, because you should realize I don’t need to watch anything when I have you.”

The compliment is implicit, ridiculous.  She’s enough to keep him satisfied in bed, and that’s nice to know - but not nice to hear.  It might be praise, but it’s not exactly flattering to be told that she knows how to make her boyfriend come.  By now, she has witnessed first hand the proof of that fact, felt him grip her tightly, listen to him cry out as the orgasm takes hold of him.

She has no doubt that she is better than something he can find on the Internet.

“If that’s supposed to be flattering -”

“You’re implying that it isn’t.”

“Just implying?”

He doesn’t get it.  “There’s something wrong with saying -”

“If we had bad sex, we wouldn’t be together,” she says flatly.  “You don’t need to say it, because it’s obvious.”

“Most of the things I tell you are obvious.  Every time I step in your office to ask for your approval, I tell you things that are -”

“Don’t start.”

“If I compliment you, by definition, I’m stating the obvious.  If I say you’re beautiful -”

“All right,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes.  “You’ve made your point.”

“You don’t agree with -”

“I just don’t need to be told that I’m better at getting you off than a video.”

“Okay.”  Probably fed up with the ridiculous direction the conversation has taken, he gives in.  “I guess that makes sense,” he says after a brief moment’s consideration.  “You like it more when I’m telling you how bad you are.”

She feels the nervous energy inside her, knows that her cheeks are beginning to turn pink.  It makes no sense, as she’s hardly ashamed of anything he’s saying.  But knowing that they have an understanding now, she finds that incredibly sexy.

Breathlessly she tries to deny it, if only because she feels like that’s what she should do.  “That’s… that’s not -”

“It is,” he insists, fingers gripping her hair tightly so she can’t move.  His other hand starts to undo the button of her pants.  Her body clenches with anticipation, even as she knows that there’s no way he’s going to give her what she wants.  “You are so naughty you’d prefer I spank you and treat you like the dirty girl you are than sing your praises.”

She abandons any plan to fight his conclusion.  Maybe it would be better if she told him he was wrong, but in the end, he’s right.  And if he’s right, then she’ll eventually allow herself to be proven wrong.  And if she does that, then she’ll look like an idiot for having disagreed with him in the first place.

“You’re right.  I would.  So if your goal here is to make me happy, why don’t you -”

“Why don’t I do what you want?” he supplies with a sneer.  “Because that’s not the way this works.  You do what I say, not the other way around.”

“But -”

“Let me guess.  This is the part where you deny it.”  She glowers at him.  “You don’t have to admit you like it this way.  You’ve already done that once, haven’t you?  And the orgasm you have later -”

“So we are going to have sex at some point then?”

He continues talking like he can’t hear her.  “Is going to prove to me once again just how you like it.”

“So if I enjoy it, it means you’re right?  That’s what you’re saying?  Because that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s sex.  If you’re involved, it’s always going to be good enough to -”

“Now who’s stating the obvious?”

“Shut up.”

He switches tactics.  “Okay.  Fine.  Have it your way.  We can do whatever you want.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Sure, I do.”

Cuddy isn’t so eager that she can’t see the potential trap in front of her.  She knows that he’s trying to prove his point and nothing else; he thinks she’ll make him right, and if she’s not careful, she’ll have to admit to that later on.

Nevertheless, she doesn’t shy away from the opportunity.  If she can get what she wants right now, that’s all that matters to her.

“Fine,” she says before he can change his mind.  “No more talking.”

“If that’s what you want.”  He’s egging her on, toying with her.

She sits up abruptly, moves to straddle him.  A week without him has made her more direct, not that passivity had ever been a problem before for her.  And it shows.

“Shut up,” she orders, hands running through his hair.  As she eases herself down on top of his lap, she waits for him to taunt her further.  For all of his willingness to relinquish control, being able to follow through isn’t a guarantee.  He’s convincing, but she knows it’s just as likely that he will change his mind soon.

But he stays quiet.

It’s surprising but maybe not, given that she doesn’t give him much of a chance to say anything. Need outweighs the desire to see his reaction, and she quickly finds herself kissing him.

His lips warm against hers, she no longer cares about whatever endgame he might have.  She just wants him.

Now.

Her hips grind against his lap, a promise of what’s to come.  Her hands guiding his to her fly, she encourages him to help her undress.  “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” she tells him between kisses.

“I missed you too,” he admits, thumb dipping beneath the waistband of her pants.  “I don’t want to do that again.”

On that they agree.  They’ve only been apart for a week, but it’s made her wonder where they might be if there hadn’t been any fight.  Things probably wouldn’t be much different, she guesses.  It took them months to want to start dating, so she knows they don’t move quickly.  They would probably be in the exact same position.  Only they would have had more sex together, more conversation.  There would be less awkwardness right now.  And while she understands that this fight was inevitable, she has no desire to live through it again.

The fact that they might forces her to pull away from him.  “Promise me you’ll warn me.”  She can tell that he thinks she’s being ridiculous.

But what he says is, “I don’t live to make you unhappy.  If you -”

“There have been moments that would suggest otherwise,” she points out.

He doesn’t deny it.  “Yeah.  That’s true.  The reverse is also accurate.  But those are aberrations.  I don’t get off on hurting you.  If you need a warning, Cuddy, I’ll give you one, because, like I just said, I don’t enjoy making you miserable.  Especially since your misery now has the side effect of me not getting laid.”

“So this is about -”

“This is about both of us being… happy.”  He stumbles over the words as if the concept isn’t one he really understands.  “If we’re dating, I want it to work.  I don’t want to make you think I’m taking advantage of you.  And if you think I’m going to refuse your conditions, you’re an idiot.  And if you don’t trust me to listen, because you think I really just enjoy torturing you for no good reason, you’re an idiot who needs to rethink who she lets penetrate her.”

It’s almost amazing to her how he can be both reassuring and cold.  By now his demeanor is one she has experienced in nearly every scenario imaginable.  She knows how he reacts, how he sees the world.  She can anticipate his responses in her bones without even considering it consciously.  Yet there is still a piece of her that is taken aback every time he acts like this.

Every time he lays something that seems so complicated out so clearly.

“I understand,” she says coolly.  “I’m not an -”

“Then trust me.”

“I do,” she says, hands moving to his shoulders.  “I do.  I just needed some reassurance to -”

“And now you have it.  Don’t you?”

It’s a loaded question, but she immediately says, “Yes.”  He has done his best to give her that.

“Yet we keep coming back to this issue.  Why?”

He knows why.  They both do.  It’s hard to trust him when there is so much at stake.  Promises and reassurances mean little by comparison, seem inadequate no matter how honest.  But that doesn’t lessen her need for them.  If anything, it’s the opposite; she needs the encouragement more than ever.  The more he fails to relieve her doubts in any sort of permanent way, the more she wants him to do just that: reassure her.  Seeing the cycle for what it is, she shakes her head.

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you know the issue.”

“You’re worried about the outcome of all this,” he says knowingly.

She nods her head once.  “As much as I want you to tell me it’ll be all right, you can’t say anything that will work.”

“Then you have to stop prompting me to -”

“I know.”  But even while saying that, she feels herself look to him for reassurance.

“Well I’m convinced.”

“It’ll get it easier for me,” she says, more to herself than to him.

“That is actually true.”

She knows that.  Dubious as she seems, she understands that her doubt will lessen over time.  These moments will plague her less; she’ll trust him more.  The deeper she sinks into this relationship, yes, the harder it will be for them to extricate themselves, but so too will it shield her from the fear of it ending.  And more than wanting to run away, she wants that security.  Tentativeness washes over her in waves, but that hardly stops her from being carried away with need for him, with desire for this relationship to be real.

“I’ve ruined the moment, haven’t I?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I love having to convince my girlfriend to be my -”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

“Really.”  He doesn’t believe her.

“I want to be with you,” she says flatly, honestly.  It’s obvious though that House doesn’t believe that.  In his mind, if she wanted to be with him, she wouldn’t be concerned; this wouldn’t be happening.  She rolls her eyes.  “Don’t tell me you don’t have doubts.”

“I don’t.”

Cuddy scoffs.  “Of course not.  I don’t know why I tried to -”

“No, I know for certain that, if this ends, I’m screwed.  We break up?  That’s not a problem for you.”  She starts to object, but he doesn’t let her get the thought out.  “Sure.  It’s uncomfortable, but you don’t need me to do your job.  I am a footnote to your career.”

“That’s not -”

“It is true.  It is.  A pretty large footnote, granted, but you don’t need me the way I need you.  Professionally,” he clarifies.  “You have a problem with me, I have to fix that, because I can’t work if you’re that mad.  You can’t work with me at all, then I’m gone.”

“You’re a good doctor.”

“I’m a great doctor, but as you are aware, it takes a certain kind of person to hire me.”  She doesn’t ask him what kind of person that would be; she knows his answer would be insulting.  “I’m the one who’s losing out here if things go wrong.  And if you can’t date me?  Who else will?”

She’s tempted to laugh, because he’s acting as though a lack of options is exclusive to him.  He makes her sound like a better catch than she is.  Unfortunately he’s probably accurately estimated his own desirability to the outside world, but he hasn’t even remotely come close to describing hers properly.  As nice as her body might be, men don’t like her.  They really don’t.  Too often they resent her success, take issue with her all-encompassing devotion to her job.  They get off on trying to change her, make her less of a doctor, less self-assured.

And now that she has this… proclivity of hers?  She’s afraid that that complicates matters.  She can’t imagine trusting another man to do the things that he has done.  She knows that some would be game - a very few who wouldn’t bat an eye at her requests.  But the quality of those men concerns her.

Some might love to punish and control her… but only as a means to feel better about themselves, to degrade her because she’s as successful as she is.  And how would she be able to trust or love someone who would be tempted to do that?  She wouldn’t; she couldn’t.  But the likelihood of other men behaving that way makes House just as equally her only option as she seems to be his.

“You make it sound like you’re the only one with something to -”

“No.  What I’m saying is: I have no doubts about it.  I know for sure that I’m done if we break up.”

“And that doesn’t make you hesitate -”

“What is there to hesitate about?  It’s done.  You’ve gotten what you wanted.  We’re dating.  There’s no going back now.”

She can’t get past what he’s said.  “What I wanted?”

“Don’t read into that.”

“I think I have to.”

“I said that because it was your suggestion.”

“And you went along with -”

“When have I ever gone along with anything?” he snaps.

“My point exactly.  This is what you want too.”

“Then please let that mean something to you, Cuddy.”

“It does,” she insists.

But words aren’t enough for him any longer.  The merry go round she has put them on has robbed him of his patience.  His unyielding expression says as much.  And he reinforces that by telling her, “Prove it to me.  Now.”

Cuddy would if she knew how.  As it is though, she’s not sure what he wants, what will please him.  “I - I don’t know what you -”

“Do you want me?” he demands.

“Yes.”  It’s the only thing about this relationship she knows to be unequivocally true.

“Then show me that.”

She hesitates.  Unsure she looks for clarification.  “You want to have sex?”  It’s a stupid question, but it’s the only thing she can think of that he wants.  How else is she supposed to show -

“I really do have to spell it out for you, don’t I?” he asks condescendingly, interrupting her thoughts.  “Yes, you’re going to have sex with me.  And since you can’t control your need for me to pat you on the head and tell you everything will be all right every five seconds, I will control that.”

She feels childish pointing out, “I can’t help it.”  But she says it anyway.

“Let me say it again: I have no interest in hurting you, whether we break up or not.  If you want a warning, you will get one.  Believe me: you will get one.  I have no desire to violate that list in any way.  I won’t.”  He gives her a moment as if to let the words sink in.  “Now I’m not saying it again tonight.  You understand, I’d like to never say those things again ever.  But I’ll start small for you.”

“And what if I need to hear you -”

“Then you have a way of making it clear that that’s what you need, don’t you?”

She realizes that she does.  She has her safe word.  “I do.”

“Then it’s settled.  Unless it’s absolutely necessary, don’t bring this up again tonight.”

“What are you going to do if I do?”

His gaze narrows on her.  “Something you don’t like.”

The vagueness is enticing though she knows it shouldn’t be.  “So you don’t know,” she challenges.

He’s amused.  “Oh, I know.”

“Then -”

“You don’t need to be this annoying.  If you want to know what will happen, you can bring that topic up again and find out.”  He cocks his head to the side.  “I don’t recommend that.  But if you’re that desperate, by all means, go ahead.”

She doesn’t dare.  Her curiosity is not like his; she won’t follow it through at all cost.  Unlike him, she can control that part of herself.  And if she does end up crossing that line, it will not be because she’s interested in seeing the punishment House has decided is appropriate for this particular infraction.  It will be because she can’t help but say the words he has deemed verboten.

Cuddy wants desperately to avoid that.

“No,” she says, shaking her head.  “I don’t want to do that.”

He’s surprised.  “I’m impressed.”

“You think I’m dying to -”

“I think you enjoy it, yeah.  Actually, I know -”

“Yes.  Obviously.”  The steeliness in her voice melts away instantly.  Her forehead coming forward, she rests her head on his shoulder, whispers, “More than anything, I just want this to work.”

His stubble scratches her cheek as he looks over and down at her.  “Me too.”

“I don’t want to make you think otherwise out of… stupid curiosity.”

“I wouldn’t.  I know what you want.”

She sees a way out of the lull she’s caused and takes it.  “Know what I want right now?”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as though he has to think about it.  “I think I have an idea.”

She pulls back, just enough so that she can look at him.  “An idea?”

“‘Idea’ is what I like to call my boner.”

It’s not even funny, but she laughs anyway.  The mood between them has lightened, which makes her almost giddy with relief.  Wrapped up in the momentary feeling of weightlessness, she leans forward once more and kisses him.

Her smile rubs off on him as he chuckles too.  Their kiss is light and soft, his hands warm against the small of her back and between her shoulder blades.  His touch is gentle, making her feel precious.

Cherished.

His behavior is the antithesis of what she has come to expect from him.  Yet she is no less turned on by it.  And when she slips his cock inside of her, when she slowly rocks against him, her cries are earnest.

He moans encouragement throughout, sweat dripping along his collarbone.  But he doesn’t control, doesn’t direct her.  Afterwards, she’ll be mildly pleased that they can have sex without the secrecy (well, with less of it at least), without the power play.  As the moment though, she doesn’t care.

His dick is inside of her, stretching her, pushing her closer to the edge.  She’s warm and wet, and his occasional thrust to meet her motions spread the heat in her.  His hand reaches between their bodies and rubs her clit.  If he started this to prove that she needs it to be rough, he’s doing all he can to make sure her orgasm is just as good now.  For all of his words, they are both making it clear right now that she likes the games they play; she doesn’t need it.

When they come together, her toes dig into the couch cushion, and she knows:

He is without a doubt her one chance at happiness.

She doesn’t want anyone or anything else.

**************************

He picks her up from her house ten minutes before he says he’ll be there.  He acts normal (normal for him anyway), but she gets the feeling that he’s eager, anxious.

It’s their first date without Wilson’s cover.

She tries her best not to see it that way.  Technically, they’re making up the date that she canceled, which Wilson had had a hand in.  House didn’t, as far as she knows, tell Wilson that they were going to redo the trip to the movies.  But Wilson had been involved at one point.  So Cuddy’s not sure that this really counts as a step forward.

House has obviously decided otherwise.  This is progress of some sort for him.

Cuddy does her best to ignore that.  If she too places importance on the date, it will end in disaster, because she will be just as anxious as he is.  And if there’s one thing she understands, it’s that they must even one another out emotionally.  That’s how they bring out the best in each other professionally - by her keeping him from taking too many risks and him preventing her from not taking enough; they average one another out, protect each other from their shortcomings.

Since their relationship began, he has been the one consoling her.  Tonight it’s her turn.

Her strategy is simple: act like it will be okay; don’t talk about it.  If she tries to reassure him through her words, he’ll ignore her, make fun of her.  He’ll be so embarrassed at needing her to say that it will be all right that he will automatically and instantaneously reject whatever she says.  So she’ll give him what he needs through her actions.

She starts by holding his hand in the car.  He looks down briefly at the contact but says nothing.  Instead he abruptly pulls away so he can turn the steering wheel.

“Did you let Wilson know?” she asks, trying to smooth over the moment.

“No.  He was busy.  With his girlfriend.”

“Have you figured out who -”

“No.  And he won’t tell me.”

Looking at him, she can see that the line of questioning has made him increasingly uneasy.  It makes her wonder if the nervousness she saw had anything to do with her or if he has just twisted himself into a fit over the secrets Wilson is keeping.

“Maybe you should just give it time,” she says, leaning over so she can kiss his neck.  He doesn’t pull away from that.  They’re in a car, so it’s not like he can get away from her touch.  But afterwards, he looks at her as though she’s acting strangely.

“You’re in a good mood,” he accuses.

She smiles.  “I am.  I’m with you.”

“We’ll see if you feel the same way after the movie.”

“I don’t care about the movie.”

“Considering the reviews this thing’s gotten, that’s probably a good thing.”  He means that the movie is bad, but that fact, for whatever reason, pleases him, because he smiles.  As he reaches over and takes her hand, he seems happy, not nervous but eager to spend time with her.

It doesn’t last.

Within minutes, his mood falters.  His mind goes back to Wilson.

At least she assumes this is what happens.  “I need to give you more work if you’re this obsessed with -”

“Who’s that nurse with the ponytail in the clinic?”  Since that describes approximately eighty percent of the nurses in the free clinic, Cuddy’s not sure who he’s talking about.  “The blonde.”  That doesn’t help.  “She’s new.”

“I haven’t hired anyone to work in the clinic in eight months.”

His face falls.  “Oh…. well, she seemed new to me.”

“Because you haven’t been in the clinic in -”

“I was there today, wasn’t I?”

“Yes.  And apparently, only so that you could figure out who Wilson is sleeping with.”

“Well, why else would I be there?”

He’s completely serious, which makes her grouse.  “To do your job, maybe.”

“If you knew how many asses I’ve fingered and how many crotches I’ve swabbed today, you wouldn’t say that.  Just because I distracted myself with finding Wilson’s girlfriend doesn’t mean I didn’t do -”

“Oh, you poor baby.  Having to treat patients.  That must have been so hard for you,” she mocks.  “Should I get on my knees and thank you for making that sacrifice?”

When he pulls up to a red light, he looks over at her.  “Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to pull over on the side of the road so I can put you over my knee.”

She clenches her thighs together to stave off the heat spreading through her body.  It’s a threat, she tells herself.  He’s going to spank her; she shouldn’t want that as badly as she does.  Not surprisingly the internal pep talk doesn’t work.  “Really?”

He shakes his head.  “I don’t think so.  You’d clearly enjoy it too much.”

Her disappointment is palpable, so much so that she’s no longer in the mood to make him feel better.  Uninterested in discussing Wilson, she falls silent for the remainder of the car ride.

By the time they get to the movie theatre, House has surely picked up on her displeasure.  He just doesn’t care, because he makes no move to cheer her up.  He simply buys the tickets, offers to buy popcorn (which she turns down), and walks behind her as they head into the theatre.

Unlike when they were in the car, they act as though they hardly know one another now.  He coolly sits next to her, like he doesn’t really want to be there with her.  And she in turn appears annoyed, uncomfortable.  But then, she is irritated, frustrated by his ability to make her wet and then deny her what she wants within seconds.  For her the line between fiction and reality is blurred, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

She tries to ignore the way she feels.  She tries to tell herself that she should enjoy being on a date with him, not desperate for him to take her home and have sex with her.  And after a moment, she does appreciate what they’re doing.  It’s not as though she can’t see how amazing it is that they’re at the movies together, like a real couple.  She can.  She just wishes she could forget the threat House made and the way it made her feel.

By the fifteen-minute mark of the movie though, she knows she can’t.  The film is too awful to hold her attention - a fact that seems to be true for the handful of people in the theatre as well, save House.  The plot is ridiculous, both convoluted and unbelievable, and she finds her mind drifting back to the one thing she doesn’t want to think about.

Eventually, she gives up fighting altogether.  The movie’s not good, so why not think of other things?  For that matter, why not force House to recognize her dilemma, to address it?

The darkness emboldens her.  There are a few other people in the room, but they aren’t looking back at her.  Even if they did, seats in the theatre block their view.  And the one person sitting a few rows behind House is currently snoring, so she won’t see anything either.  The only one who will be a witness to what Cuddy is doing is House, is the only person she wants to capture the attention of.

As she glances over at him, she realizes that this could easily backfire.  If she attempts to leave him as turned on as he did her, he could very well decide to punish her.  But her frustration makes it worth the risk.

Without a word, she leans over and rests her head on his shoulder.  Immediately he stiffens.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“No one’s going to notice.  It’s dark.”

“Still.”

“There are six people in here.  No one knows us.  Who cares?”

He looks at her as though she’s lost her mind.  When she doesn’t say that she’s kidding or pull away, he says quietly, “You’re serious.”  She nods her head.

It takes him a second to process what she’s saying.  He remains tense, unsure that she means what she says; she can feel his doubt radiating from him.  Eventually though he calms down, accepts that this is what she wants.  “Fine,” he tells her, moving one of his arms out of the way so she can get closer to him.

She lets herself relax against him.  His fingers lightly stroke her upper arm, the touch barely felt thanks to the thickness of her sweater.  But when she lays her head on his chest, he’s soft against her cheek, and she can hear his heart beating - although just barely because of the movie blaring in the background.  And it seems like enough.

The movie is forgotten soon after however.  Try as she might to pay attention, all she can think of then is how far they have come.  Before she didn’t think they were taking much of a step, doing this, but when compared with where they were three months ago, three weeks ago, they have come far.

They’re in public, on a date.  There’s no pretense, no pretend.  His arm is around her, and anyone looking at them would know they’re a couple.  Normally that would make her afraid, that people would see she was crossing a line.  But no one watching the trashy film in front of them cares, and she certainly isn’t bothered by what they might see.

Anonymity makes her reckless.  House’s soft touches make her yearn for more.

It’s a dangerous combination.  It’s one she can’t resist.

Her caution abandoned, her hand slides along his leg.  He shoots her a warning look; if she continues, she knows what will happen.  He is making sure of that.  But she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even consider whether or not she should be trying to turn him on in a public place.

She just keeps going.

Continue on to the next chapter

(chaptered fic) darker inclinations, (ficathon) 50kinkyways, (character) greg house, (ficathon) help lisa, (fandom) house, (ship) house/cuddy, (author) quack, (character) lisa cuddy

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