Gift of Screws, Chapter 24.2
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Twenty Four, Part Two
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning: This fic also contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he
wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18 (Part 1), Chapter 18 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 1), Chapter 19 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 3), Chapter 19 (Part 4), Chapter 20 (Part 1), Chapter 20 (Part 2), Chapter 21 (Part 1), Chapter 21 (Part 2), Chapter 22 (Part 1), Chapter 22 (Part 2), Chapter 23 (Part 1), Chapter 23 (Part 2), Chapter 24 (Part 1)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
He let go of her to give her the space to lift herself onto the kitchen counter. Watching as she scooted to the lip of the tile, staring at her spread thighs and the pussy exposed to him, he shoved his pajama pants down over his hips. Exposing himself to her, he reached for his dick and began to stroke himself.
Immediately she shook her head. “Don’t,” she nearly whined. “Let me do that.”
House obviously had no problem with that. He wasn’t idiotic enough to think that anything between them had changed; she was still angry and upset. But he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have sex - especially when she was crazed like this.
Carefully he kicked her fallen clothing out of the way; the last thing they needed was for the mood to be killed, because he’d somehow sullied her clean clothes. Moving between her spread legs, he drew her attention away from his cock long enough to ask, “You gonna leave those on?” He pointed to the heels she was still wearing.
She merely smiled and took hold of his penis. Stroking him, she said knowingly, “You like it when I leave them on.”
That might have been true. If he were in his right mind, he definitely would have been able to say one way or another. But as his attention was solely focused on the hand bringing him to hardness, he couldn’t think of anything other than that. Maybe a better man could have, but he just watched her, eyes trained on her fist running up and down his shaft. Her thumb every now and then running along the head of his dick, it didn’t take him long to become hopelessly entranced by every inch of her.
She was still wearing her sweater, still clothed from the waist up. Her lips slightly reddened and plumped from being kissed, cheeks blushed, and eyes fiery, it was all he needed. She was gorgeous and touching him, wanting him, waiting for his cock to fill her body, fuck her to orgasm.
His hands knotted in her hair. Yanking her head back, he kissed her jaw.
“Don’t,” she said in a rush of air. “You’ll ruin my make up.”
He pulled his lips away from her skin, albeit reluctantly. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, I’d suggest you do something with that cunt of yours.”
“I’m really sorry for taking my time. From now on, I’ll try to stick your flaccid penis inside of me, and we’ll see how much fun that is.”
He pushed her back down onto the countertop with so much force the spice rack on the wall rattled. More than likely afraid of bashing her head against the wall, Cuddy turned her head as she went down. Her fingers losing their grip on him, he was able to shove his dick inside of her.
“Oh God!” she cried out, louder than he thought she should have been.
Each word punctuated by a violent thrust into her, he asked, “How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut up?”
Not surprisingly his tone and his actions only made her noisier. Grinding her body against his, she was making them louder - his balls slapping against her ass, her panting and whimpering meeting his own moans and harsh breathing.
And she was slick, searing hot against his cock. As angry as they had been at one another, none of that could touch how good this felt. Burying himself to the hilt over and over, he could think little about what had happened, all of the things that were bothering them. That didn’t matter to him then. As he leaned against her, forearm against her throat, his dick changed angles within her. Pounding that tight pussy of hers, he would have thought it was easy to forget all of their problems….
If he’d been thinking about much of anything.
But he wasn’t. He was too busy fucking her with all he possessed, relishing the way her heels dug into his back - her legs secure around his body.
The pots and pans in the cabinets rattled loudly. And though Cuddy hadn’t wanted him to mess up her make up, there was really no chance of that happening. She was sweating but nowhere nearly as badly as he was, he who was dripping with it, dripping onto her. But she didn’t seem to mind that.
In fact, her mind seemed to be on something else altogether.
Her hand tapping the arm he held against her neck, he immediately began to pull away. He hadn’t thought he’d been pressing against her too hard; choking her hadn’t been his intentions, and she had never expressed how rough she wanted it, but he knew she would not tolerate bruises - not today, definitely not today. And if she was touching him there, he could only believe that he had taken things unintentionally too far.
Yet, when he went to release her, she latched onto him by the wrist. “No,” she told him breathlessly. “Harder.”
House felt dizzy with exhilaration. For all of their issues, sex had never been one of them. Whatever he had wanted to try, she had been right there with him. Perhaps on occasion he had mentioned a threesome, something she had shot down almost immediately. But the fact was he had never needed any woman other than this one and never would. She was his equal in bed, not only willing to do what he liked but also just as perverted as he was. If she had been accepting of his proclivities, he had been similarly appeasing. No, he thought, for all of their problems - and there were many - sexual compatibility had never been one of those. They had always made sense here.
Grinning he did what she wanted. He could feel her pulse point against his skin. Sweat trapped between them and the shared knowledge that her life was underneath his arm, it made him crazy with desire. An insanity only her body could cure, he ignored his own exhaustion, the ache in his thigh. He thrust into her repeatedly as though none of those things mattered.
Her hips bucked against him with each push into her. In the heat of the moment, one of her heels fell off, but they didn’t stop. The hand still on his arm, her grip on him was as tight as she could make it, crushing with its force. The other holding the lip of the countertop, she was doing her best to avoid being pushed head first into the wall. But he doubted she would have actually cared if she had hit the backsplash. She was too far gone for that.
“Oh God,” she kept saying. “Harder. More.” No matter how hard she wanted to be quiet, it was obvious that she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself. “That feels so good. Keep going.”
He appreciated the encouragement. Knowing that she was getting out of this everything she needed made him happy, made him all the more interested in making sure she came like she’d been deprived of sex all weekend long.
Unfortunately they had had sex all weekend long. Well, it wasn’t unfortunate, but in this particular scenario it made it hard for him to hold off on his own release; they had been together so many times that he was thoroughly exhausted.
But he did his best to ignore the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the feel of his balls tightening with desire, and the leaden sear of need boiling in his stomach. He forced himself to hold out, knowing that she would be even more crazed if he didn’t. Picturing that helped him keep his orgasm at bay; thinking how frustrated she would be if he came too soon, he used that possibility to pretend like he wasn’t ready for things to end.
Picking up his pace, he worked towards making her come. His free hand groping at her clothed breast, he thrust in and out of her as harshly and quickly as he could.
It didn’t take long.
A slew of curse words uncharacteristically crossing her tongue, she screwed her eyes shut. Muscles clenching together in a syrupy squeeze of heat, she was pushed over the edge, coming loudly enough that he had to muffle her cries with his hand. Fingers on her chin for leverage, he gave her a few more thrusts before he was overcome as well. Her pussy wrapped tightly around him, the warmth and wetness was more than he could bear. Rushing to kiss her, he buried his dick in her pussy, his tongue in her mouth, and let go.
She gave him a few minutes to recover, the sweat dripping from him proof enough that he had pushed himself beyond his limits. Knowing that he was exhausted, she didn’t want to shove him off of her the second they were done.
The temptation was there, of course. She was hot; after all she was still half-dressed. The countertop was sticking to her ass, and as she felt a good part of the overwhelming tension leave her, she was left with the realization: they were having sex on the kitchen counter.
In theory that sounded great. In reality… it seemed a little seedy this morning. They’d done it there before; they’d done it everywhere in the house. But there was something about it today that struck her as wrong. She had no idea why that was though. At least she had no real explanation until he pulled away from, until he pulled out.
The feel of his semen giving her the realization immediately, it permanently killed any belief she might have had that this moment of need was worth it. Because his semen was inside of her. Sperm were inside of her body - when she hadn’t taken her birth control.
When she could in theory get pregnant.
Reason suggested that that would probably never happen. She was old; he was older. She’d never been particularly fertile. He might have been, but with his lifestyle, he’d probably killed off every last decent sperm he possessed… which meant that if she did end up pregnant, they’d be having a child with three eyes and God only knew what else. She would have liked to believe that her body would abort any fetus that horrendous, but if it were anything like its father, it would stubbornly fight, in this case for survival. And if today went anything like her weekend had, she would not only get pregnant, she would have twins or quintuplets or something equally difficult and ridiculous.
Her mind racing, there was little thought given to how rational any of this was. Maybe that was because she knew she wasn’t being all that logical. She would like to think that that was the reason. But really, that wasn’t the case; if she wasn’t thinking how realistic any of this was, it was because she was simply too fixated on the possibility of pregnancy to consider anything else.
Disgusted, she hopped down off the counter. Brushing past him for the paper towels, she thought over and over that this was not what she had wanted. She’d wanted sex; she’d wanted to ease some of her frustration. She hadn’t intended on this. And the fact that they had stupidly opened the door to a whole other set of problems made her feel sick to her stomach.
The reaction didn’t go unnoticed.
“You okay?” House asked, his voice breathy.
Her response was simple. “Your semen.” Paper towel in hand, she hurriedly tried to wipe herself free of his fluids.
He didn’t understand. “Yes, that tends to happen when we have sex. I know all those years in college made you forget, but when you have sex with a man, semen does tend to be involved.”
She was red, almost purple with anger. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. She’d proposed sex, and now she was mad they’d had it? He didn’t get it.
“We had unprotected sex,” she explained in frustration.
Still he didn’t understand. “So?”
“So I don’t want to be pregnant.”
House was tempted to point out that those words were at odds with half the things she’d said and done this weekend. She’d been giving indications all weekend that she wouldn’t mind another child, that there was some part of her that longed for that baby she’d never had. And in the heat of the moment, triggered by her inaction, he had made the choice for her by throwing the birth control out.
But watching her now, he could see that he had been wrong. Had he reached an incorrect conclusion? He didn’t think so. Yet he had been wrong anyway - wrong to push her this hard, this weekend, when she wasn’t ready.
That was what it came down to: she wasn’t ready.
For any of it.
She wasn’t prepared to have another child or to even try for one. She wasn’t at the point where she could relinquish some control of the daughter she did have. Even if it strained everyone’s relationships in the home, Cuddy just wasn’t there yet. She’d done all she could to get him to that point, but that was precisely the problem. She’d focused on him to the extent that she’d clearly never eased her own mind into the inevitability of shared parenthood. And now that he was coming around, she was just starting to realize the enormity of the leap she’d been demanding they make. Now, when the focus was on her to change, she couldn’t handle it.
He’d thought that, if he’d just been equally unforgiving of her as she had been of him, she would change. He’d lied, told her all the things she’d needed to hear, specifically that he loved Rachel. He’d believed that saying those things would ignite something inside of Cuddy. But with his mercilessness, he had failed to take into account how she would react to being pushed so hard. Perhaps on any other weekend, she could have appreciated his position. She could have begun the process of changing. With Rachel and work and everything else however, she was not ready to look at her own behavior.
She couldn’t.
And by pushing the matter, he’d… broken her.
He realized that she would object to the term he used if he should ever mention it to her. For that matter, House himself had a problem with the choice of words. She was not falling apart, wasn’t a crying mess. All told, aside from the way her inner thighs were turning pink from her scrubbing, she seemed… okay. There was something about her that seemed unhinged, sure. An energy surrounded her that suggested that at any time, she could turn on him. There was no better word than broken, but even then, he recognized that it colored the situation in a way that didn’t reflect reality. And he knew, if he were to act like that word choice was reality, she would kill him.
Trying to keep his tone far from patronizing, he said calmly, “Stop doing that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Shut up.” She stuffed the paper towel into the trashcan with particular vehemence. “I can’t believe you did this,” she accused.
He was tempted to ask what she was talking about, the fact that he had thrown away her birth control or come inside her. But he resisted the urge. That wouldn’t solve anything. In fact most of what he could say wouldn’t make things better. Nearly kept speechless, he offered her the one reminder he knew wouldn’t get him into trouble.
“Yeah, if only they made a pill you could take after unprotected sex that would -”
“You think that’s the tone that’s going to help me right now?”
She was right, and he knew it. He hadn’t intended to be sarcastic, but the words had come out that way of their own volition. Out of habit, he hadn’t controlled himself, and he thought he deserved every bit of dangerous accusation she was hurling in his direction.
“You’re right,” he said in even tones. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Enraged she started to get dressed. And that made him feel ridiculous. They were both half naked in the kitchen arguing. With equal haste, he pulled his own pajama pants on.
“I don’t need you to be condescending,” she told him, as she stepped into her underwear.
“I wasn’t trying to be.” She looked at him as though she didn’t believe him at all. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his palm, he thought she had every right to be doubtful. “I wasn’t,” he repeated without sounding too forceful. “I’m just… tired.”
“Well, you’re not the only one.” The words weren’t harsh; they were uneasy, as though she didn’t know what to do now that he was suddenly backing down.
He nodded his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
She looked like her eyes might pop out of her head; that was how surprised she was. “Seriously?”
Again, he nodded his head. “I’ve been pushing you too hard, and I shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted quietly. “This thing with Rachel, a new baby… I shouldn’t have done that.”
There was a side to him that recognized the danger in stepping back. Seeing the muffled victory in her eyes, he knew that she had taken the wrong message from all of this. Which had been a concern of his as soon as he’d spoken - that she would take this apology to mean that he had changed his mind or worse, that he’d been wrong all along.
It was too late to do anything though.
“So you admit you were wrong?” She was searching for clarification so she could hear him admit it out loud.
“I went about it the wrong way,” he said tactfully.
Her brow scrunching together in confusion, she looked at him as though she didn’t understand. “I don’t - what does that mean?”
“I haven’t changed my mind about anything I said,” he explained. He would not go so far as to insist that he’d been right, even though he had been. “Everything I said… I still mean it. But you’re not ready to hear it, so -”
“So you’re not really apologizing for anything other than… what? Bad timing?”
He didn’t answer the question, and he wasn’t going to. She was looking for a fight, looking for a reason to lash out at him. It didn’t matter what he said or did; she was going to find some aspect of his words and deeds that was worth taking issue with. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her now; he’d had theories, but at the moment, he was beginning to suspect that he was wrong to think this was just about him pushing her, just a reaction to Rachel’s health scare. Truthfully, it seemed to him that Cuddy was responding to everything that had headed her way this weekend. It wasn’t one singular thing. It was everything, and the more he tried to resolve one issue, the harder she would rail against him. Completely entrenched in the problems and perceived threats, she could not see that he was trying to help. And the more he attempted to do that, the worse it would be for all of them.
In other words, he had no choice but to walk away. When she needed him, she would find him. But he couldn’t bring her closer before she was ready. He could see that much now.
“I’m gonna go check on Rachel,” House said eventually. “You should get going before you’re late.”
She was stunned by his tactic, so much so that she didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’d successfully disappeared into their bedroom. She’d expected him to fight back, to condescendingly explain just how wrong she was to think any of the things he had clearly said. But he hadn’t done that at all.
He had walked away.
At first she wanted to follow him, wanted to keep this going. But she didn’t even take a step in that direction. Even if she’d been desperate for a fight, he was with Rachel now. Going after him would mean Rachel would hear, and Cuddy didn’t want that to happen. Regardless of everything else, keeping all of this from Rachel was of the utmost importance.
Unfortunately Cuddy suspected that he wouldn’t leave her daughter’s side no matter how long she stuck around. He obviously didn’t want to talk about this anymore at the moment, which was why he’d left. So if she’d chased after him, nothing would change.
Out of other options, she had no choice but to start to get ready for work once more. She was shaking as she redressed, smoothed her hair down, wiped at her smeared make up. Whatever stress release she’d been hoping to find… it had been undone by the arguing, by the possibility of pregnancy looming over her head.
Now more tense than ever, she wasn’t sure how she would make it through the day. Like a tightly wound spring, she felt as though half the battle today would be to keep herself under control. Anger had its place, and she would use it whenever it was appropriate. But she had to make sure that objectively her behavior was warranted.
Glaring in the direction House had disappeared, she was tempted once more to hunt him down and yell. She couldn’t though, and part of her had to wonder what was going on with her if she was this upset.
No, she had never been an unusually sane person. She had looked at House and seen the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. That didn't seem particularly well adjusted. But her behavior in the last twelve hours went beyond what she was usually like. Even in the past, when she had been similarly stressed, she hadn't responded like this. There'd been that time House had suspected an epidemic in Maternity, and it had taken time to find the source of the outbreak, sure. She'd been angry and pretty crazy then. Yet that paled in comparison to how she was behaving now.
And she didn't understand why. She hated the term, hysterical, knew the word was one men liked to use when women were making a point. But from an outsider's perspective, the word fit her behavior, fit how she felt. She was absolutely unhinged, and there was no denying it.
Someone might suggest that it was because Rachel could have… been seriously hurt, Cuddy finished awkwardly. Yet she knew differently, because this feeling was somehow keeping her from truly considering just how much Rachel had been in danger. There just something about the frantic energy inside of her, the need to lash out, that made quiet contemplation unsuccessful.
As she left the house, she couldn’t help but think she was screwed. She needed all of her focus to be on work… and she knew it wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be. Because when she wasn’t thinking what the hell was wrong with her, she was wondering what the hell was wrong with House.
Outwardly she did her job. Reassuring clinic patients, giving D.E.A. agents access to her doctors, handling donors - she did all of it with detached precision. If she accomplished her goal of at least appearing sane, it was due to her concentration being elsewhere entirely.
No matter what she did or said, part of her lingered on her fight with House. He’d been so full of conviction the night before, determined to prove that she had missed something when it had come to her own daughter. Words failing him, he’d brought up the idea of a new baby, had blamed her for their family dynamic being as convoluted as it was. And then he’d quickly backed off from that point of view, first when Rachel had been ill and then this morning. He’d said he hadn’t changed his mind, but he must have, right? For him to back track so quickly, something must have made him reconsider his position. After all, this was House. He didn’t walk away from anything. He never admitted when he was wrong, not when it came to personal things anyway. He never backed down, never really apologized - just offered a few curt words that were supposed to mean I’m sorry and a few kind acts to sweeten the deal. In the past twelve hours, he’d apologized more than he’d ever done before in his life.
She had no idea why.
If he hadn’t changed his mind, then… what was it? Why alter your tactics after years of doing the same thing over and over? As many times as she tried to answer that question, she couldn’t. Because no matter how hard she tried, she just didn’t get it.
Once more, she thought she needed some sort of… test. As a doctor, that was what she knew to do; when something was suspected as being wrong, you ran tests; you deduced through fact and information what was going on. You worked through educated hypotheses, and eventually you came to a conclusion that was correct. Right now, she was going through the motions and coming up with nothing. That only meant she needed more information. As unpredictable and insane as House could be, in the end, there was some sort of explanation for his behavior. If she didn’t understand now, she simply wasn’t in a position to.
But what test would give her any insight into his thought process?
She was half-heartedly contemplating a psych eval when one of the nurses from the maternity ward knocked on her office door. Looking up, Cuddy didn’t smile at the older woman. Interruptions almost always meant there was a problem, and the last thing any of them needed was a baby missing or something equally horrendous. But Cuddy waved her in anyway.
“You need something?”
“An adoption just went through about ten minutes ago. Family’s about to sign the papers and take the baby home,” the other woman explained. “Thought you might like to see, take your mind off what’s going on.”
Cuddy heard what she was saying. Understanding creating an idea, she couldn’t respond at first. She was too busy considering her options.
Going through it in her mind, she thought: House had been waffling back and forth about how he should treat Rachel, what position he should have in her life. Last night he had taken a big step in claiming that he loved her, that there were things he knew that Cuddy didn’t. Reading between the lines, she understood that he’d been urging her to give him greater control. He’d been asking for her to accept him in Rachel’s life in a bigger, more important way. And then Cuddy had been the one wrought with indecision.
But as her current conversation was attempting to prove, nothing put things into perspective like legal work. When she’d fostered Rachel, part of her had second-guessed herself. Becoming a mother had seemed daunting, a change so enormous that the very idea of it had terrified her. However, when she’d finally had the paperwork in front of her, Cuddy had been able to recognize just how badly she’d wanted motherhood all along. It had clarified for her everything she’d been unsure about. It had provided for her answers to more questions than she’d known she’d had.
Fighting the urge to smile, she suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to do with House.
Continue on to the next chapter
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating: NC-17 for sex
Characters: House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note: This piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning: This fic also contains sex. If that bothers you, don't read.
Summary: For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he
wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2), Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18 (Part 1), Chapter 18 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 1), Chapter 19 (Part 2), Chapter 19 (Part 3), Chapter 19 (Part 4), Chapter 20 (Part 1), Chapter 20 (Part 2), Chapter 21 (Part 1), Chapter 21 (Part 2), Chapter 22 (Part 1), Chapter 22 (Part 2), Chapter 23 (Part 1), Chapter 23 (Part 2), Chapter 24 (Part 1)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
He let go of her to give her the space to lift herself onto the kitchen counter. Watching as she scooted to the lip of the tile, staring at her spread thighs and the pussy exposed to him, he shoved his pajama pants down over his hips. Exposing himself to her, he reached for his dick and began to stroke himself.
Immediately she shook her head. “Don’t,” she nearly whined. “Let me do that.”
House obviously had no problem with that. He wasn’t idiotic enough to think that anything between them had changed; she was still angry and upset. But he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have sex - especially when she was crazed like this.
Carefully he kicked her fallen clothing out of the way; the last thing they needed was for the mood to be killed, because he’d somehow sullied her clean clothes. Moving between her spread legs, he drew her attention away from his cock long enough to ask, “You gonna leave those on?” He pointed to the heels she was still wearing.
She merely smiled and took hold of his penis. Stroking him, she said knowingly, “You like it when I leave them on.”
That might have been true. If he were in his right mind, he definitely would have been able to say one way or another. But as his attention was solely focused on the hand bringing him to hardness, he couldn’t think of anything other than that. Maybe a better man could have, but he just watched her, eyes trained on her fist running up and down his shaft. Her thumb every now and then running along the head of his dick, it didn’t take him long to become hopelessly entranced by every inch of her.
She was still wearing her sweater, still clothed from the waist up. Her lips slightly reddened and plumped from being kissed, cheeks blushed, and eyes fiery, it was all he needed. She was gorgeous and touching him, wanting him, waiting for his cock to fill her body, fuck her to orgasm.
His hands knotted in her hair. Yanking her head back, he kissed her jaw.
“Don’t,” she said in a rush of air. “You’ll ruin my make up.”
He pulled his lips away from her skin, albeit reluctantly. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, I’d suggest you do something with that cunt of yours.”
“I’m really sorry for taking my time. From now on, I’ll try to stick your flaccid penis inside of me, and we’ll see how much fun that is.”
He pushed her back down onto the countertop with so much force the spice rack on the wall rattled. More than likely afraid of bashing her head against the wall, Cuddy turned her head as she went down. Her fingers losing their grip on him, he was able to shove his dick inside of her.
“Oh God!” she cried out, louder than he thought she should have been.
Each word punctuated by a violent thrust into her, he asked, “How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut up?”
Not surprisingly his tone and his actions only made her noisier. Grinding her body against his, she was making them louder - his balls slapping against her ass, her panting and whimpering meeting his own moans and harsh breathing.
And she was slick, searing hot against his cock. As angry as they had been at one another, none of that could touch how good this felt. Burying himself to the hilt over and over, he could think little about what had happened, all of the things that were bothering them. That didn’t matter to him then. As he leaned against her, forearm against her throat, his dick changed angles within her. Pounding that tight pussy of hers, he would have thought it was easy to forget all of their problems….
If he’d been thinking about much of anything.
But he wasn’t. He was too busy fucking her with all he possessed, relishing the way her heels dug into his back - her legs secure around his body.
The pots and pans in the cabinets rattled loudly. And though Cuddy hadn’t wanted him to mess up her make up, there was really no chance of that happening. She was sweating but nowhere nearly as badly as he was, he who was dripping with it, dripping onto her. But she didn’t seem to mind that.
In fact, her mind seemed to be on something else altogether.
Her hand tapping the arm he held against her neck, he immediately began to pull away. He hadn’t thought he’d been pressing against her too hard; choking her hadn’t been his intentions, and she had never expressed how rough she wanted it, but he knew she would not tolerate bruises - not today, definitely not today. And if she was touching him there, he could only believe that he had taken things unintentionally too far.
Yet, when he went to release her, she latched onto him by the wrist. “No,” she told him breathlessly. “Harder.”
House felt dizzy with exhilaration. For all of their issues, sex had never been one of them. Whatever he had wanted to try, she had been right there with him. Perhaps on occasion he had mentioned a threesome, something she had shot down almost immediately. But the fact was he had never needed any woman other than this one and never would. She was his equal in bed, not only willing to do what he liked but also just as perverted as he was. If she had been accepting of his proclivities, he had been similarly appeasing. No, he thought, for all of their problems - and there were many - sexual compatibility had never been one of those. They had always made sense here.
Grinning he did what she wanted. He could feel her pulse point against his skin. Sweat trapped between them and the shared knowledge that her life was underneath his arm, it made him crazy with desire. An insanity only her body could cure, he ignored his own exhaustion, the ache in his thigh. He thrust into her repeatedly as though none of those things mattered.
Her hips bucked against him with each push into her. In the heat of the moment, one of her heels fell off, but they didn’t stop. The hand still on his arm, her grip on him was as tight as she could make it, crushing with its force. The other holding the lip of the countertop, she was doing her best to avoid being pushed head first into the wall. But he doubted she would have actually cared if she had hit the backsplash. She was too far gone for that.
“Oh God,” she kept saying. “Harder. More.” No matter how hard she wanted to be quiet, it was obvious that she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself. “That feels so good. Keep going.”
He appreciated the encouragement. Knowing that she was getting out of this everything she needed made him happy, made him all the more interested in making sure she came like she’d been deprived of sex all weekend long.
Unfortunately they had had sex all weekend long. Well, it wasn’t unfortunate, but in this particular scenario it made it hard for him to hold off on his own release; they had been together so many times that he was thoroughly exhausted.
But he did his best to ignore the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears, the feel of his balls tightening with desire, and the leaden sear of need boiling in his stomach. He forced himself to hold out, knowing that she would be even more crazed if he didn’t. Picturing that helped him keep his orgasm at bay; thinking how frustrated she would be if he came too soon, he used that possibility to pretend like he wasn’t ready for things to end.
Picking up his pace, he worked towards making her come. His free hand groping at her clothed breast, he thrust in and out of her as harshly and quickly as he could.
It didn’t take long.
A slew of curse words uncharacteristically crossing her tongue, she screwed her eyes shut. Muscles clenching together in a syrupy squeeze of heat, she was pushed over the edge, coming loudly enough that he had to muffle her cries with his hand. Fingers on her chin for leverage, he gave her a few more thrusts before he was overcome as well. Her pussy wrapped tightly around him, the warmth and wetness was more than he could bear. Rushing to kiss her, he buried his dick in her pussy, his tongue in her mouth, and let go.
She gave him a few minutes to recover, the sweat dripping from him proof enough that he had pushed himself beyond his limits. Knowing that he was exhausted, she didn’t want to shove him off of her the second they were done.
The temptation was there, of course. She was hot; after all she was still half-dressed. The countertop was sticking to her ass, and as she felt a good part of the overwhelming tension leave her, she was left with the realization: they were having sex on the kitchen counter.
In theory that sounded great. In reality… it seemed a little seedy this morning. They’d done it there before; they’d done it everywhere in the house. But there was something about it today that struck her as wrong. She had no idea why that was though. At least she had no real explanation until he pulled away from, until he pulled out.
The feel of his semen giving her the realization immediately, it permanently killed any belief she might have had that this moment of need was worth it. Because his semen was inside of her. Sperm were inside of her body - when she hadn’t taken her birth control.
When she could in theory get pregnant.
Reason suggested that that would probably never happen. She was old; he was older. She’d never been particularly fertile. He might have been, but with his lifestyle, he’d probably killed off every last decent sperm he possessed… which meant that if she did end up pregnant, they’d be having a child with three eyes and God only knew what else. She would have liked to believe that her body would abort any fetus that horrendous, but if it were anything like its father, it would stubbornly fight, in this case for survival. And if today went anything like her weekend had, she would not only get pregnant, she would have twins or quintuplets or something equally difficult and ridiculous.
Her mind racing, there was little thought given to how rational any of this was. Maybe that was because she knew she wasn’t being all that logical. She would like to think that that was the reason. But really, that wasn’t the case; if she wasn’t thinking how realistic any of this was, it was because she was simply too fixated on the possibility of pregnancy to consider anything else.
Disgusted, she hopped down off the counter. Brushing past him for the paper towels, she thought over and over that this was not what she had wanted. She’d wanted sex; she’d wanted to ease some of her frustration. She hadn’t intended on this. And the fact that they had stupidly opened the door to a whole other set of problems made her feel sick to her stomach.
The reaction didn’t go unnoticed.
“You okay?” House asked, his voice breathy.
Her response was simple. “Your semen.” Paper towel in hand, she hurriedly tried to wipe herself free of his fluids.
He didn’t understand. “Yes, that tends to happen when we have sex. I know all those years in college made you forget, but when you have sex with a man, semen does tend to be involved.”
She was red, almost purple with anger. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. She’d proposed sex, and now she was mad they’d had it? He didn’t get it.
“We had unprotected sex,” she explained in frustration.
Still he didn’t understand. “So?”
“So I don’t want to be pregnant.”
House was tempted to point out that those words were at odds with half the things she’d said and done this weekend. She’d been giving indications all weekend that she wouldn’t mind another child, that there was some part of her that longed for that baby she’d never had. And in the heat of the moment, triggered by her inaction, he had made the choice for her by throwing the birth control out.
But watching her now, he could see that he had been wrong. Had he reached an incorrect conclusion? He didn’t think so. Yet he had been wrong anyway - wrong to push her this hard, this weekend, when she wasn’t ready.
That was what it came down to: she wasn’t ready.
For any of it.
She wasn’t prepared to have another child or to even try for one. She wasn’t at the point where she could relinquish some control of the daughter she did have. Even if it strained everyone’s relationships in the home, Cuddy just wasn’t there yet. She’d done all she could to get him to that point, but that was precisely the problem. She’d focused on him to the extent that she’d clearly never eased her own mind into the inevitability of shared parenthood. And now that he was coming around, she was just starting to realize the enormity of the leap she’d been demanding they make. Now, when the focus was on her to change, she couldn’t handle it.
He’d thought that, if he’d just been equally unforgiving of her as she had been of him, she would change. He’d lied, told her all the things she’d needed to hear, specifically that he loved Rachel. He’d believed that saying those things would ignite something inside of Cuddy. But with his mercilessness, he had failed to take into account how she would react to being pushed so hard. Perhaps on any other weekend, she could have appreciated his position. She could have begun the process of changing. With Rachel and work and everything else however, she was not ready to look at her own behavior.
She couldn’t.
And by pushing the matter, he’d… broken her.
He realized that she would object to the term he used if he should ever mention it to her. For that matter, House himself had a problem with the choice of words. She was not falling apart, wasn’t a crying mess. All told, aside from the way her inner thighs were turning pink from her scrubbing, she seemed… okay. There was something about her that seemed unhinged, sure. An energy surrounded her that suggested that at any time, she could turn on him. There was no better word than broken, but even then, he recognized that it colored the situation in a way that didn’t reflect reality. And he knew, if he were to act like that word choice was reality, she would kill him.
Trying to keep his tone far from patronizing, he said calmly, “Stop doing that. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Shut up.” She stuffed the paper towel into the trashcan with particular vehemence. “I can’t believe you did this,” she accused.
He was tempted to ask what she was talking about, the fact that he had thrown away her birth control or come inside her. But he resisted the urge. That wouldn’t solve anything. In fact most of what he could say wouldn’t make things better. Nearly kept speechless, he offered her the one reminder he knew wouldn’t get him into trouble.
“Yeah, if only they made a pill you could take after unprotected sex that would -”
“You think that’s the tone that’s going to help me right now?”
She was right, and he knew it. He hadn’t intended to be sarcastic, but the words had come out that way of their own volition. Out of habit, he hadn’t controlled himself, and he thought he deserved every bit of dangerous accusation she was hurling in his direction.
“You’re right,” he said in even tones. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Enraged she started to get dressed. And that made him feel ridiculous. They were both half naked in the kitchen arguing. With equal haste, he pulled his own pajama pants on.
“I don’t need you to be condescending,” she told him, as she stepped into her underwear.
“I wasn’t trying to be.” She looked at him as though she didn’t believe him at all. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his palm, he thought she had every right to be doubtful. “I wasn’t,” he repeated without sounding too forceful. “I’m just… tired.”
“Well, you’re not the only one.” The words weren’t harsh; they were uneasy, as though she didn’t know what to do now that he was suddenly backing down.
He nodded his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
She looked like her eyes might pop out of her head; that was how surprised she was. “Seriously?”
Again, he nodded his head. “I’ve been pushing you too hard, and I shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted quietly. “This thing with Rachel, a new baby… I shouldn’t have done that.”
There was a side to him that recognized the danger in stepping back. Seeing the muffled victory in her eyes, he knew that she had taken the wrong message from all of this. Which had been a concern of his as soon as he’d spoken - that she would take this apology to mean that he had changed his mind or worse, that he’d been wrong all along.
It was too late to do anything though.
“So you admit you were wrong?” She was searching for clarification so she could hear him admit it out loud.
“I went about it the wrong way,” he said tactfully.
Her brow scrunching together in confusion, she looked at him as though she didn’t understand. “I don’t - what does that mean?”
“I haven’t changed my mind about anything I said,” he explained. He would not go so far as to insist that he’d been right, even though he had been. “Everything I said… I still mean it. But you’re not ready to hear it, so -”
“So you’re not really apologizing for anything other than… what? Bad timing?”
He didn’t answer the question, and he wasn’t going to. She was looking for a fight, looking for a reason to lash out at him. It didn’t matter what he said or did; she was going to find some aspect of his words and deeds that was worth taking issue with. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her now; he’d had theories, but at the moment, he was beginning to suspect that he was wrong to think this was just about him pushing her, just a reaction to Rachel’s health scare. Truthfully, it seemed to him that Cuddy was responding to everything that had headed her way this weekend. It wasn’t one singular thing. It was everything, and the more he tried to resolve one issue, the harder she would rail against him. Completely entrenched in the problems and perceived threats, she could not see that he was trying to help. And the more he attempted to do that, the worse it would be for all of them.
In other words, he had no choice but to walk away. When she needed him, she would find him. But he couldn’t bring her closer before she was ready. He could see that much now.
“I’m gonna go check on Rachel,” House said eventually. “You should get going before you’re late.”
She was stunned by his tactic, so much so that she didn’t even have a chance to respond before he’d successfully disappeared into their bedroom. She’d expected him to fight back, to condescendingly explain just how wrong she was to think any of the things he had clearly said. But he hadn’t done that at all.
He had walked away.
At first she wanted to follow him, wanted to keep this going. But she didn’t even take a step in that direction. Even if she’d been desperate for a fight, he was with Rachel now. Going after him would mean Rachel would hear, and Cuddy didn’t want that to happen. Regardless of everything else, keeping all of this from Rachel was of the utmost importance.
Unfortunately Cuddy suspected that he wouldn’t leave her daughter’s side no matter how long she stuck around. He obviously didn’t want to talk about this anymore at the moment, which was why he’d left. So if she’d chased after him, nothing would change.
Out of other options, she had no choice but to start to get ready for work once more. She was shaking as she redressed, smoothed her hair down, wiped at her smeared make up. Whatever stress release she’d been hoping to find… it had been undone by the arguing, by the possibility of pregnancy looming over her head.
Now more tense than ever, she wasn’t sure how she would make it through the day. Like a tightly wound spring, she felt as though half the battle today would be to keep herself under control. Anger had its place, and she would use it whenever it was appropriate. But she had to make sure that objectively her behavior was warranted.
Glaring in the direction House had disappeared, she was tempted once more to hunt him down and yell. She couldn’t though, and part of her had to wonder what was going on with her if she was this upset.
No, she had never been an unusually sane person. She had looked at House and seen the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. That didn't seem particularly well adjusted. But her behavior in the last twelve hours went beyond what she was usually like. Even in the past, when she had been similarly stressed, she hadn't responded like this. There'd been that time House had suspected an epidemic in Maternity, and it had taken time to find the source of the outbreak, sure. She'd been angry and pretty crazy then. Yet that paled in comparison to how she was behaving now.
And she didn't understand why. She hated the term, hysterical, knew the word was one men liked to use when women were making a point. But from an outsider's perspective, the word fit her behavior, fit how she felt. She was absolutely unhinged, and there was no denying it.
Someone might suggest that it was because Rachel could have… been seriously hurt, Cuddy finished awkwardly. Yet she knew differently, because this feeling was somehow keeping her from truly considering just how much Rachel had been in danger. There just something about the frantic energy inside of her, the need to lash out, that made quiet contemplation unsuccessful.
As she left the house, she couldn’t help but think she was screwed. She needed all of her focus to be on work… and she knew it wouldn’t be. It couldn’t be. Because when she wasn’t thinking what the hell was wrong with her, she was wondering what the hell was wrong with House.
Outwardly she did her job. Reassuring clinic patients, giving D.E.A. agents access to her doctors, handling donors - she did all of it with detached precision. If she accomplished her goal of at least appearing sane, it was due to her concentration being elsewhere entirely.
No matter what she did or said, part of her lingered on her fight with House. He’d been so full of conviction the night before, determined to prove that she had missed something when it had come to her own daughter. Words failing him, he’d brought up the idea of a new baby, had blamed her for their family dynamic being as convoluted as it was. And then he’d quickly backed off from that point of view, first when Rachel had been ill and then this morning. He’d said he hadn’t changed his mind, but he must have, right? For him to back track so quickly, something must have made him reconsider his position. After all, this was House. He didn’t walk away from anything. He never admitted when he was wrong, not when it came to personal things anyway. He never backed down, never really apologized - just offered a few curt words that were supposed to mean I’m sorry and a few kind acts to sweeten the deal. In the past twelve hours, he’d apologized more than he’d ever done before in his life.
She had no idea why.
If he hadn’t changed his mind, then… what was it? Why alter your tactics after years of doing the same thing over and over? As many times as she tried to answer that question, she couldn’t. Because no matter how hard she tried, she just didn’t get it.
Once more, she thought she needed some sort of… test. As a doctor, that was what she knew to do; when something was suspected as being wrong, you ran tests; you deduced through fact and information what was going on. You worked through educated hypotheses, and eventually you came to a conclusion that was correct. Right now, she was going through the motions and coming up with nothing. That only meant she needed more information. As unpredictable and insane as House could be, in the end, there was some sort of explanation for his behavior. If she didn’t understand now, she simply wasn’t in a position to.
But what test would give her any insight into his thought process?
She was half-heartedly contemplating a psych eval when one of the nurses from the maternity ward knocked on her office door. Looking up, Cuddy didn’t smile at the older woman. Interruptions almost always meant there was a problem, and the last thing any of them needed was a baby missing or something equally horrendous. But Cuddy waved her in anyway.
“You need something?”
“An adoption just went through about ten minutes ago. Family’s about to sign the papers and take the baby home,” the other woman explained. “Thought you might like to see, take your mind off what’s going on.”
Cuddy heard what she was saying. Understanding creating an idea, she couldn’t respond at first. She was too busy considering her options.
Going through it in her mind, she thought: House had been waffling back and forth about how he should treat Rachel, what position he should have in her life. Last night he had taken a big step in claiming that he loved her, that there were things he knew that Cuddy didn’t. Reading between the lines, she understood that he’d been urging her to give him greater control. He’d been asking for her to accept him in Rachel’s life in a bigger, more important way. And then Cuddy had been the one wrought with indecision.
But as her current conversation was attempting to prove, nothing put things into perspective like legal work. When she’d fostered Rachel, part of her had second-guessed herself. Becoming a mother had seemed daunting, a change so enormous that the very idea of it had terrified her. However, when she’d finally had the paperwork in front of her, Cuddy had been able to recognize just how badly she’d wanted motherhood all along. It had clarified for her everything she’d been unsure about. It had provided for her answers to more questions than she’d known she’d had.
Fighting the urge to smile, she suddenly knew exactly what she wanted to do with House.
Continue on to the next chapter