Gift of Screws, Chapter Nine, Part 3
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Nine, Part 3
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. This fic also contains sex. If any of those things bother you, please hit your back button. This chapter is also split into multiple posts because of Livejournal's word limit.
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)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
There was no other explanation.
She… wanted another child.
And since he didn't want any, she was realizing that this was obviously a problem.
A big problem.
A problem that would… probably end their relationship.
No.
As he looked over the pieces of the shattered bowl, he understood that this situation would end their relationship.
How could it not?
If she wanted a baby, then he was one big obstacle in that occurring. He certainly wasn't the only problem; he was more than aware of Cuddy's journey to motherhood and everything that had entailed, and he knew he wouldn't the only obstacle.
But he would be the first one she came across.
And if he said no…
That was it.
She would have to decide what she wanted more - him or a baby - and he knew what the choice would be, what the choice would have to be. Perhaps she wouldn't dump him outright. But… the absence of a child would gradually get to her. At first she would accept the way things were; she would tell herself that she could get used to a small family, that she didn't really want another kid. And that would work until it didn't, and then she would start to resent him. Cuddy would deny it, of course, but she would eventually resent him. And then… then they would break up anyway.
Sooner or later, that was what would happen if he didn't agree to a kid.
So… if he wanted to keep her (and it went without saying that he did), he would have to say… yes?
Instantly he felt the need to distance himself from his thoughts. It was safer that way.
House reached for the tweezers he'd been using to arrange the pieces of the bowl. For a brief moment earlier, he'd thought he could get away with doing this by hand. But the bandages on his fingers now were proof that he couldn't.
Changing tactics, he slowly began to sort through the broken bits. The ceramic pieces scraping and scratching against the wood of his desk fairly noisily, it still wasn't loud enough to silence the thoughts floating in his mind. But it did allow him to consider the matter with enough detachment to prevent himself from losing it.
Testing two misshapen pieces to see if they would fit, he mentally did the same with the idea of him entering parenthood.
He didn't want to be a father.
He'd made that much obvious. But the real question for him was not whether he wanted kids. It was whether he could give that up for Cuddy.
Could he?
He wanted to say no. His first instinct was to believe that he could never give her what she needed. But if that were true… breaking up with Cuddy would become an inevitability. And so, understandably wanting to avoid that, he knew that his only option was to give her a kid. Which meant that at this point, it wasn't even a matter of could.
He had to.
Which meant that he had to accept that and move on. He just… had to find some way of being all right with fatherhood and then go from there.
He was very purposely trying not to think about how life would change. No good could come from thinking about how he was doing this - giving Cuddy another distraction - in order to keep her in his life. So he focused on what was right in front of him, the one indisputable truth he was now facing:
Sharing Cuddy with two people was better than living without her.
Far better.
But knowing that didn't make his choice settle in the pit of his stomach any easier.
As he worked on the bowl, there was every now and then a moment where he would think - briefly - that maybe he really could do this. After all, it wasn't like he'd ever dated Cuddy without a kid being involved. Rachel had been there since the beginning. And though there were times when House didn't appreciate Little Orphan Annie in his life… he couldn't really imagine life with Cuddy without the rug rat. She was annoying, yes - yes. But he never found himself thinking that Cuddy didn't love him because Rachel existed.
So…
Maybe…
Maybe it would be okay.
But for each moment of optimism, there were hundreds more capable of dragging him back down into the muck of despair and doubt. He couldn't do this… right?
Or could he?
Hours later, long after he'd made this decision, he still didn't know what the answer to that fundamental question was. He still felt unsure, scared… perplexed in every way by his future. The back and forth had exhausted him without resolution, and it had consumed his entire evening.
He'd hoped to use the bowl as a distraction, but in truth it had been completely abandoned (as had dinner) in favor of wondering what the next couple of years would be like.
IUI?
IVF?
Pregnancy?
Birth mothers?
Adoption agencies?
It all seemed so… daunting and ill fitting, especially since he didn't really want to do any of it.
This was obviously all Cuddy - her dreams, her desires, her needs.
And though he was choosing to go along with that, he couldn't help but have a hard time envisioning what all of it would be like for him.
Part of him wanted to believe that things with a new child could be like how they were with Rachel; he would be the closest thing the kid had to a father, but he wouldn't be the father, and nobody would ever call him that. He would just be… the bystander in all of the parental stuff.
He would have been okay with that… he guessed. However, he knew it wouldn't be like that.
It would never be like that.
Already Cuddy was pushing him to be closer to Rachel, to take more responsibility, and he doubted that that pressure would be any less with another kid. In fact, he was sure Cuddy would be a thousand times worse than she was now. More children meant more needs, which meant more demand on Cuddy, which would inevitably lead her to being proportionately demanding of him.
But wanting to keep - protect - this relationship, House wasn't willing to let that concern derail his plan.
Was that - this - completely insane?
He was getting the distinct feeling that this was crazy.
All right, it was definitely nuts. Maybe it wasn't as bad as hallucinating a night with Cuddy; maybe it wasn't actual mental illness, but it was… not good.
Then again, it wasn't like he was swimming with options here.
At that second, House reached for the phone on his desk. He needed to talk to Wilson. He didn't think he was missing something, but he was so blinded by fear (he admitted it) that maybe he was. And if he was going to be thinking that this was his only option, he wanted to know that that was actually true before Cuddy delivered the placenta.
God, he thought with a sigh.
Pregnant Cuddy.
The concept was so discombobulating that he couldn't help but pause mid-dial. The very idea so strange and so awful, House reacted by hanging up immediately. He'd wanted to talk to Wilson, but realizing it would come at the expense of being able to pretend that this wasn't happening…
Yeah, he could wait to talk about this.
Part of him might have felt like he would burst if he didn't, but right now, the majority of House was afraid to give voice to the choice he was making. And that was something he couldn't get past.
So… for the time being, he would just have to deal with this on his own.
Of course, how he was going to do that, he had no idea.
What the hell, he though peevishly, bitterly. Why couldn't his girlfriend want something normal like… flowers or jewelry or whatever the hell it was that women liked? He could give her those things. Why did she want a baby?
Really - why?
Was there supposed to be something appealing about baby barf and dirty diapers and loud crying at two in the morning? Sure, he could rationally understand that there was a biological imperative at work here; he could comprehend that Cuddy wanted to reproduce for reasons that were out of her control. But that was why she had a brain - to rationalize her decisions regardless of what the rest of her wanted. And either she wasn't doing that or she had and still felt that another baby was a good thing, which brought him right back to his original question:
Why?
Was there something he was missing about pregnancy that made it seem awesome (he couldn't help but say that word derisively in his mind) to Cuddy? Was there some hidden joy in mucus plugs and afterbirth that he was missing? Was he supposed to think that there was something appealing about crapping your pants in front of a bunch of strangers? Cause he'd seen that, thanks to his years as a doctor (and Wilson's friend, but he preferred not to think about that time), and frankly he couldn't see the appeal - especially if the result of all of that was a kid.
But maybe he was getting too far ahead of himself there. Before the baby, before the birth, there had to be the pregnancy (assuming they were to go that route). And truth be told… House just couldn't see it.
Okay. He knew that there had been a time when he'd seen Cuddy pregnant. The fall after he'd been shot, there had been a very brief period of time when she'd been pregnant. And though he had known, sensed it at the time, she still hadn't looked the part. But if she didn't miscarry this time, things would be different.
And he wasn't sure he could handle that. Because although her body wasn't the only thing he liked about her, he couldn't deny that he was attached to it as it was. He liked the way her breasts fit nicely in his hands, the warm weight just enough to be satisfying without making him feel like there was too much to handle. He liked being able to skim her ribs and clavicle with his fingertips, liked the way her hipbones pressed into his palms when he gripped her hips. He liked her ass, loved everything about it; in fact, he could have waxed poetically for hours about her ass if he wanted to. But since it and everything else about her physique were going to change, he didn't want to think about what he was about to lose.
In fact, now that he thought about it, maybe the right thing to do was to focus on what he would gain from Cuddy being pregnant. Granted, off the top of his head, he couldn't think of a single thing, but he figured that there must have been something he was missing. Sure, men had a biological drive to spread their seed everywhere, but the fact of the matter was that some men had been capable of monogamy. Odd though it might have been, there were men who stuck around after impregnating their wives, girlfriends, and mistresses. So there must have been something to look forward to… aside from the whole parenting thing.
What that was exactly, he still had no idea. But he did suspect that the answer was at his fingertips.
Almost literally.
Reaching down, House opened the lowermost drawer in his desk. In it were the contents of many of the things he'd taken from patients' homes. Not for personal use, mind you, but every now and then, he would come across a patient so intent on lying that blackmail became a necessary tool to diagnose.
Sometimes, that meant using possessions to make the threat potent.
In this particular case, he hadn't actually needed to use the DVD copy of Screwin' for Two 2 to get the patient to own up to her elicit behavior. But House had kept the DVD he'd stolen nonetheless. Again, not for personal use; pregnant ladies didn't exactly do it for him (he just assumed that there'd be a time when Wilson, in the process of a divorce, would need a good laugh, and Steve McQueef's fine work would certainly accomplish that).
But now he was wondering if it might illuminate for him the possible good that could come from getting Cuddy pregnant.
Clutching the DVD to his chest, he realized that this was the very definition of pathetic. Looking to porn for any sort of advice was pathetic. He could freely admit as much. But at this point, what did he really have to lose?
Since he could only answer that question with nothing, he decided that anything that could make this situation better was something he was going to use to his advantage.
Even if it was porn.
Glancing at the clock, he was pleased to see that it was late. Cuddy would be wrangling Rachel for bed, and since Rachel had more cookies in her than a box of Oreos, that would take a while. Which meant that he would have plenty of time to watch Screwin' for Two 2 without interruption.
Or not.
He'd barely had the movie on for five minutes before Cuddy came trudging into the bedroom. Her footsteps heavy and sluggish, she muttered, "I smell like prunes."
He watched her silently as she crawled onto the bed. Curling up next to him, she pressed her face into his chest and exhaled. She was warm against him, the small of her back heated under his fingertips. And she was right, he thought, as he pushed her hair out of her face; she did smell like prunes. "A little bit," he said in agreement, pulling her closer to him.
She made a noise that sounded like a whine-groan hybrid, her voice almost lost completely by the pregnant brunette moaning as she rode some guy sitting in a Lazy Boy. "I need to shower."
"You smell fine," House told her honestly. The prune thing aside, more than anything, he thought she smelled like cookies - sweet and warm in a way that could only be the product of baking. He liked it.
Cuddy did not. "You're watching porn. Your opinion -"
"Is irrelevant because I'm doing a little research? I don't think so."
She sat up a little, propping herself up on her elbows. Although he expected her to argue with him, she simply asked, "What are you watching?" And he supposed that it made sense that she acquiesced the point; after all, how many times had she watched porn with him? Answer: too many for her to think that being a fan of pornography automatically invalidated your opinions.
But House couldn't exactly feel smug. As she turned her head to see what he was watching, he understood that the upper hand was quickly moving to her. As if the ground were swelling, cracking, and shifting beneath him, he could feel things sway towards her advantage.
If she felt it though, she didn't say. All she did was repeat in confusion, "What are you watching?"
Maybe he should have told her everything he knew right then and there. But, although the conversation about children seemed an unavoidable one, he couldn't say the words. So he simply said, "I know what you've been hiding."
She looked at him as though he were crazy. "And you think I've been hiding a pregnant woman fetish? Because…" She chuckled lightly. "This isn't attractive."
"So then I shouldn't pre-order Screwin' for Two 3 when it comes out?"
She wasn't so much amused by the joke as she was by the title. "That's what this is called?" He handed the DVD case to her in response. As she read the box, she scoffed. "'A pregnant woman just can't seem to get enough… they eat all the time, wanna fuck all the time,'" Cuddy quoted with disdain. "'These out of control bitches with buns in the oven' - House, I really hope you don't think that this is what -"
"You want a baby," he said in a tone as emotionless as he could make it. "I know that much."
At first Cuddy wasn't sure she heard him right. Of all the things he could think that she wanted, babies… was the last thing she expected him to say. And though she could recognize what the words meant, as they washed over her, she found herself wondering if there weren't some hidden message that she was missing. Because surely he was not thinking that she wanted a child.
But he must have been.
He was offering no other explanation, no smirk that said, "I'm screwing with you." And so, he must have been completely serious, which made no sense at all.
Her eyes darting back and forth from him to the DVD box to him once more, she was hesitant when she asked, "What are - what are you talking about?"
"I thought I was clear. You want a baby." His gaze was intent on hers, his rigid body, as though he were uncomfortable saying the words, reinforcing the idea that he was being serious.
Cuddy shook her head and tossed the DVD case onto the nightstand. "No."
"You -"
"I don't want a child." He looked at her with disbelief, which only infuriated her. Louder, angrier, she repeated, "I don't want a child."
But as the words came out of her mouth for a second time, she realized that that wasn't exactly true. She did want Rachel. So Cuddy had to immediately add, "I don't want another child."
Still, House didn't seem convinced. It didn't matter that she was rebuking the entire notion of another child; it didn't matter that she had said earlier today that she didn't want another baby. He clearly refused to believe her.
However, she wasn't going to go to bed with him thinking - as he obviously was - that she needed a son or another daughter. And though making him understand that required her to immerse herself into his insanity, she knew it had to be done.
Sitting up, she tucked her feet under her ass and looked at him. "Why would you even think that I wanted that?"
He didn't answer right away. He couldn't. The way she was vehemently denying the whole thing made him wonder if he hadn't overlooked something, if he hadn't screwed something up along the way.
Swallowing hard, he forced himself to explain with a slight shake of the head, "Rachel said at lunch… and then you were avoiding me…"
His thoughts were broken, half-completed and barely uttered with any volume. Facing the possibility of being incorrect, he was reluctant to explain fully, to demonstrate just how wrong he'd gotten the whole thing. And if Cuddy could read between the lines at all, it was because she clearly understood him better than he her.
"House…" Her voice was equally quiet and filled with pitiful understanding that felt suffocating to his sensibilities. "If you'll recall, I told Rachel I didn't want -"
"Then she ran away, and you -"
"Rachel was upset, because her friend told her that we didn't want any more kids, because we didn't love her," Cuddy explained, trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone. "Rachel doesn't actually want a brother or sister. She just thinks she does, because she is terrified that I think she's a burden."
She bit down on her lip, her anger nearly getting the better of her. As it had been with Rachel, Madison's words would not be forgotten any time soon. But Cuddy was determined not to dwell on them either.
Clearing her throat, she added, "I calmed her down. I told her that I loved her and that her friend was an idiot. I didn't promise her a sibling, and I don't ever plan on doing that."
"Oh."
Reality stupefied him, left him unable to speak beyond that single word. But it obviously wasn't enough for Cuddy.
"'Oh'?" She was lightly mocking him.
His head bobbed a little as he tried to process what she had told him. "I… you don't want another kid?"
"No."
But her answer was a little too exasperated, a little too hurried to be believable. Even to her own ears, she could recognize as much.
"All right," she conceded. "I won't deny that… having another baby would be… nice. It would be. But…" She shrugged. "I don't want to go through that process again."
"Because of me," House said, as though he were finishing the thought for her.
However, truthfully, her choice had nothing to do with him. And the last thing she wanted was for him to believe that he had somehow kept her from having more children when she really wanted them.
"No," she said loudly with as much earnestness as she could infuse into her tone. "Not because of you. Because… getting Rachel? It wasn't easy, and I don't want to go through all of that again without any promise of there actually being a baby at the end of the road."
But that just seemed to make him even more displeased.
"So you're afraid to -"
"I'm not a coward," she interrupted insistently.
"No? You're just -"
"Yeah." She could feel her anger build. She hated when he did this to her - when he put very complex, difficult choices in simple black and white terms that only seemed to degrade her decision. "I'm just choosing to avoid putting my family through -"
"So you're doing this for us," he said, the words dripping with disdain.
"I'm doing this, because, as nice as the whole idea is, another baby would be hard to obtain and… even harder for all of us to adjust to." He opened his mouth to say something, but Cuddy was too quick for him. "This isn't about you. This isn't about me being afraid. I'm just not willing to risk my happiness - or yours or Rachel's - for something I don't feel compelled to have."
Almost immediately she could tell that he was finally listening to her; there was no instantaneous comeback, no insult or quip for her to respond to. And though she didn't really understand why those words were the ones getting through to him, they very obviously were.
There was no explaining how grateful she was for that.
Smiling a little, she leaned over, hands on his chest, and kissed him. He was slow to respond, despite the fact that her warm mouth craved a response. Almost as though he weren't sure how to react, it took him a moment to move. But eventually, he did, his lips quivering ever so slightly as he captured her lower lip with his mouth.
His hands were warm, rubbing along her back. His fingers splayed as widely as possible, his palms flush against her skin, he held her close to him, as though he feared her slipping away from him.
His words a whisper along her mouth, he asked, "You sure?"
Her smile widened, and he could feel the changing contour of her lips pressed against his own. His stubble scraping and snagging as she spoke, he felt it in his body when she explained without any hesitation or doubt, "You, me, Rachel - that's our family."
The honesty in her words was startling. House didn't know what he'd expected her to say, but he did know that it hadn't been that; it hadn't been the idea that Cuddy viewed them as a family - and a complete one at that. Perhaps he'd suspected - feared - it, but hearing it now…
It was a truth that frightened him, even as he recognized that his body thrummed with the pleasure of having heard it. And he couldn't help but make a joke out of it (it was easier, safer that way).
"What - no dog?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes and pulled away. "I'm allergic to dogs."
"Barely."
"They make my eyes water."
"Fine. A cat?"
"Would send Rachel into anaphylaxis, which you know."
"Lizard? Fish? Bird? Rat?"
He was irritating the hell out of her, but for some reason, she couldn't help but laugh anyway.
"Never mind," she replied with a chuckle. "A dog. If we have to have a pet in this equation, a dog. God only knows it can't be any more filthy than you."
House opened his mouth to reply, but at that exact moment, one of the women from Screwin' for Two 2 moaned loudly, drawing both of their attentions to the television.
Cuddy groaned. "For the love of God, please turn that off." As he did, she asked curiously, as though the question were just entering her mind, "You thought I was avoiding you earlier?"
At that moment, he remembered that she had been avoiding him, that that had been the impetus for all of this to begin with. And if she weren't desperate for a baby (thankfully), then she must have been avoiding him for some other reason.
He jerked his head to look at her. "Yeah. I did. Why were you avoiding me?"
She started to say, "I wasn't." But that was a lie. She knew it. And in the face of him seemingly offering her a baby (in the most roundabout, repulsive way possible), it felt wrong to lie; it felt like she had no other choice than to offer him at least something equally revealing in turn.
Resting her back against the headboard, she didn't look at him when she explained, "I was… talking to Rachel when we were making cookies. You heard me say… things…" Her voice hitched in the back of her throat. Honesty, though necessary, wasn't easy for her, and she couldn't help but feel raw and ill at ease at trying to explain to him why she had been upset.
Or at least partially why she'd been upset; what she was saying now wasn't a lie. But it was only part of the truth.
It was the part he could handle.
Not that he couldn't handle hearing about how she was going to see John Kelley tomorrow. Though House would behave otherwise, Cuddy knew he could deal with that. But since he would act like a two year old sharing a toy, she wasn't going to tell him that… not now anyway.
So she swallowed hard and forced herself to say the one thing she thought she could handle uttering. "I was talking about what it meant to be a Jew, and you were there, and you said… nothing."
He looked at her in confusion. "Was I supposed to say something?"
She shook her head furiously. "I don't know. Maybe I was hoping that you would…" Her voice drifted off in mid-thought.
"I would what?"
She bit her lip, her mind fighting the desire to tell him to just forget about it. "I don't know what I wanted. But you were just… standing there, watching me like… and - and not saying anything -"
"What did you want me to say?" he asked, sitting up in interest.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I don't -"
"You do," he insisted knowingly. "Or else, you wouldn't have avoided me, and you wouldn't -"
"I wanted you to be supportive," she blurted out loudly. And now that the truth was out there, she couldn't hold back. "I wanted you to give me this weekend, not as part of some bet, but because you -"
"What?" he demanded to know. "Because I suddenly believed in God?"
"No," she snapped. "Because you knew it was important to me. Not because you wanted me to fuck -"
"Oh, come on!" He held his hands up to his chest as though to tell her to stop it. "Who says those things are mutually exclusive?"
It wasn't the answer she was expecting. "What?"
"Why can't it be both?" he asked her in a calmer manner. "Why can't it be that I get that it's important to you and that I like taking every opportunity that I can to have sex with you?"
She looked at him dumbfounded. "What?"
He rolled his eyes. "It's important to you. I might not like that, but I am capable of understanding that it matters to you."
"I wish you did," she said in a shaky voice that was barely above a whisper.
There.
She'd said it, one of the many things she thought but never said out of fear. Fear of rejection, being mocked… all of it, and by uttering those words, she had now foolishly put herself in the position of being on the receiving end of all of that.
But in the end, he didn't mock her at all. Instead, he told her, "I know. You want me to believe the same things. You want my approval..." He shrugged a little and said with utmost seriousness, "You don't need it."
"You act like wanting it is a bad thing." She scoffed a little at the idea. "Considering you were thinking you had to agree to have a baby with -"
"I never said that."
She laughed mockingly. "You didn't have to. I read between the lines."
"Well, good for you," he snapped. Quickly though he got his temper under control. He didn't want a fight, not really.
His voice calm once more, he continued, "You want me to approve of everything you believe in, and that's not going to happen. I'm not… someone you answer to."
What he was saying was all nice in theory. But she was reluctant to simply accept it. Looking at him doubtfully, she said, "Right. I don't answer to you. But I do something you don't like, and I get to listen to you taunt -"
"It's what I do," he replied easily.
"So I see."
"I never said I was perfect."
"Well, that much is obvious."
He looked at her as though he were wounded. However, she didn't feel guilty at all, because she could see the mirth in his eyes.
"And here I was, offering you sperm and compliments, about to say something nice," he told her in dismay.
"Don't let me stop you."
House shook his head. "Too late now."
She opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, he rolled over on the bed. The motion startled her, forcing her into silence as he settled between her legs. Without a word, she moved her thighs farther apart to accommodate his warm weight. His hips pressed into hers.
Leaning down until his lips were close to her left ear, he said in a husky voice, "Now I'm going to have to do all sorts of naughty things to you."
She welcomed the change in tone eagerly. Though it didn't feel as though much had been resolved, she realized that they had come to some sort of agreement: they didn't need to change for one another. And although it wasn't the most satisfying way to end a conversation, she was okay with that for now.
Her fingers curled under the hem of his t-shirt. "Like you needed a reason to do that."
He smirked and reached to undo the jeans she'd put on after her bath. He slowly pulled down her zipper. The soft hiss of the fastener being undone tooth by tooth tantalized her ears, the knowledge that they were going to have sex making her heart race. The noise of the zipper and her heartbeat made her head feel as though it were buzzing, and her entire body began to thrum with that erotic energy.
However, he didn't undress her right then and there. Instead he asked her in a teasing voice, "What color panties are you wearin'?"
Given the argument they'd had earlier, it was a question Cuddy had no intention of answering. A groan the only noise escaping her lips, she brought one of her knees to her chest. Perhaps it was childish to want to respond to someone by kicking them, but she hardly cared. And he caught her by the ankle before her foot had even had a chance to connect with his chest, so it didn't exactly matter anyway.
His hand powerfully gripping her, he shook his head in dismay. "That's not very nice, Cuddy."
She was unremorseful. "You deserve it."
"For asking a question?" He was toying with her, trying to annoy her. She knew this, because as stupid as he could be, he wasn't that much of an idiot.
"For -"
"You know," he interrupted loudly. "You're just lucky that that impressive display of flexibility has earned you a reprieve. Otherwise your ass -"
"You keep saying you're going to do all these things to my ass, but so far…" She looked at him challengingly. "That's just been talk."
"Don't dare me, sweetheart."
"I wasn't," she replied innocently, sitting up just enough so that she could pull his shirt off. As she tossed it to the floor, she said, "I was just wondering if you planned on having sex with me or boring me to sleep."
He squeezed one of her breasts lightly. "I like a lot of foreplay."
"Well, as long as you plan on getting me off at some point." She tried to sound as peevish as she could, but it was hard; she could feel his cock, just beginning to stiffen, against her inner thigh and his thumb circling around her nipple. And though she wanted to sound annoyed, everything he was doing was making her want him above all else.
"Believe me," he said intently, as he untangled his body from hers. He moved to the foot of the bed and wrapped his hands around the bottom of her jeans. "I definitely plan on doing that."
Her response was to raise her hips off of the bed. He hadn't said that he was planning on taking her pants off, but she didn't doubt that that was exactly what he was going to do. And by lifting her ass off of the bed, it was now easy for him to pull her jeans off of her body.
"Wow," he said, dropping the pants on the floor. Eloquent it was not, but House thought that it was apt. Because "wow" was the perfect description for discovering that his girlfriend hadn't been wearing any underwear at all.
She spread her legs wider for his benefit. "After you judged my choice in lingerie earlier today, I decided it wasn't worth your hassling to put on another pair."
Sitting on the bed, he took off his socks and undid his pants. "I think you should take that approach to all clothes from now on."
"That's surprising," she replied drolly. "Next thing you'll be telling me that I should start my morning right by sucking you off every -"
"I already tell you that… although where you put my penis doesn't really matter."
But Cuddy was in no mood to joke. As though she'd suddenly reached her limit, she said in a voice that approached a whine, "Can you please hurry, because -"
"Relax," he told her, pushing his pants and underwear to the floor. He was naked before her, a fact that never failed to give him a semi. Admittedly House knew he wouldn't last that long this time, knew that all of the sex they'd had today was pushing the limits of what his aging body could handle. Still, he couldn't fight the power the idea of having sex with her had over him. His voice lower, he said promisingly, "You'll get some."
He started to crawl on his hands and knees back up the length of the bed. But he paused when she asked, "Would that be happening any time soon? Do I have time to read a book or -"
"You want a time frame?" Taking one of her legs in his hands, he raised the limb into the air. Her skin was smooth underneath his fingertips, and he could feel the taught muscle of her calves, the product of more yoga and runs than he could imagine. She was perfect, he thought, everything he wanted and never thought he could have. And the thought heavy in his mind, he pressed a kiss to the back of her knee.
She hissed through her teeth, the noise thankfully killing whatever complaint she was clearly ready to utter.
He kissed her there again; the back of her knees were, for reasons unknown to him, incredibly sensitive, and just a skim of a thumb or lick of the tongue were enough to get her further into the mood. Indeed, with one past peck and nip of his teeth, she was right where he wanted her.
"House…"
Letting go of her body, he crawled the rest of the distance. When he was sitting next to her, he reached over and cupped one of her breasts. "Wanna take this off?" he asked, referring to the sweater and bra she was wearing.
She nodded her head enthusiastically.
"Sit up," he ordered.
She did, making it easier for him to grasp the fuzzy material of her sweater and pull it over her head. He tossed the shirt across the room; he didn't exactly care where it landed, as long as it was nowhere near them. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cuddy fingering through her hair (cause clearly, he was going to care about the effect the static had had on her dark curls).
Thinking she was too self-conscious, he kissed her. His body, practically corkscrewed at the torso, loomed over top of hers. He balanced his weight on one elbow, so that he could unclasp her bra with his free hand. His eyes were closed, so his fingers searched blindly. Which apparently took too long for her, because as he skimmed her back, she bit his lower lip.
She wasn't teasing either. It wasn't a playful little twinge to urge him on. House didn't want to say that she was trying to hurt him either (though it did hurt), but he definitely got the impression that she was attempting to get a rise from him.
It made sense, he thought, purposely taunting her by delicately flicking his tongue into her mouth and along her teeth. She was stressed, undeniably so. And when she was stressed, she liked sex as rough as they could make it.
He doubted she was even fully aware of it, of her need to control by being controlled, by being dominated. And he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up, because he knew she would say it was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard.
He wasn't wrong, of course; in every aspect of her life, when things were stressful, she took comfort in being able to complete even the littlest of tasks. It made her feel more in control, and when it came to the bedroom, whether she admitted it or not, she felt protected and reassured in doing what he ordered.
And he had no problem giving her what she wanted. But he didn't appreciate being bitten.
Pulling away from her, he said mockingly, "That wasn't nice."
If he expected her to fight him on that point, what he got in response was decidedly different. Completely serious, she replied, "I want your dick in my mouth. Now."
Read the rest of the 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. This fic also contains sex. If any of those things bother you, please hit your back button. This chapter is also split into multiple posts because of Livejournal's word limit.
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)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
There was no other explanation.
She… wanted another child.
And since he didn't want any, she was realizing that this was obviously a problem.
A big problem.
A problem that would… probably end their relationship.
No.
As he looked over the pieces of the shattered bowl, he understood that this situation would end their relationship.
How could it not?
If she wanted a baby, then he was one big obstacle in that occurring. He certainly wasn't the only problem; he was more than aware of Cuddy's journey to motherhood and everything that had entailed, and he knew he wouldn't the only obstacle.
But he would be the first one she came across.
And if he said no…
That was it.
She would have to decide what she wanted more - him or a baby - and he knew what the choice would be, what the choice would have to be. Perhaps she wouldn't dump him outright. But… the absence of a child would gradually get to her. At first she would accept the way things were; she would tell herself that she could get used to a small family, that she didn't really want another kid. And that would work until it didn't, and then she would start to resent him. Cuddy would deny it, of course, but she would eventually resent him. And then… then they would break up anyway.
Sooner or later, that was what would happen if he didn't agree to a kid.
So… if he wanted to keep her (and it went without saying that he did), he would have to say… yes?
Instantly he felt the need to distance himself from his thoughts. It was safer that way.
House reached for the tweezers he'd been using to arrange the pieces of the bowl. For a brief moment earlier, he'd thought he could get away with doing this by hand. But the bandages on his fingers now were proof that he couldn't.
Changing tactics, he slowly began to sort through the broken bits. The ceramic pieces scraping and scratching against the wood of his desk fairly noisily, it still wasn't loud enough to silence the thoughts floating in his mind. But it did allow him to consider the matter with enough detachment to prevent himself from losing it.
Testing two misshapen pieces to see if they would fit, he mentally did the same with the idea of him entering parenthood.
He didn't want to be a father.
He'd made that much obvious. But the real question for him was not whether he wanted kids. It was whether he could give that up for Cuddy.
Could he?
He wanted to say no. His first instinct was to believe that he could never give her what she needed. But if that were true… breaking up with Cuddy would become an inevitability. And so, understandably wanting to avoid that, he knew that his only option was to give her a kid. Which meant that at this point, it wasn't even a matter of could.
He had to.
Which meant that he had to accept that and move on. He just… had to find some way of being all right with fatherhood and then go from there.
He was very purposely trying not to think about how life would change. No good could come from thinking about how he was doing this - giving Cuddy another distraction - in order to keep her in his life. So he focused on what was right in front of him, the one indisputable truth he was now facing:
Sharing Cuddy with two people was better than living without her.
Far better.
But knowing that didn't make his choice settle in the pit of his stomach any easier.
As he worked on the bowl, there was every now and then a moment where he would think - briefly - that maybe he really could do this. After all, it wasn't like he'd ever dated Cuddy without a kid being involved. Rachel had been there since the beginning. And though there were times when House didn't appreciate Little Orphan Annie in his life… he couldn't really imagine life with Cuddy without the rug rat. She was annoying, yes - yes. But he never found himself thinking that Cuddy didn't love him because Rachel existed.
So…
Maybe…
Maybe it would be okay.
But for each moment of optimism, there were hundreds more capable of dragging him back down into the muck of despair and doubt. He couldn't do this… right?
Or could he?
Hours later, long after he'd made this decision, he still didn't know what the answer to that fundamental question was. He still felt unsure, scared… perplexed in every way by his future. The back and forth had exhausted him without resolution, and it had consumed his entire evening.
He'd hoped to use the bowl as a distraction, but in truth it had been completely abandoned (as had dinner) in favor of wondering what the next couple of years would be like.
IUI?
IVF?
Pregnancy?
Birth mothers?
Adoption agencies?
It all seemed so… daunting and ill fitting, especially since he didn't really want to do any of it.
This was obviously all Cuddy - her dreams, her desires, her needs.
And though he was choosing to go along with that, he couldn't help but have a hard time envisioning what all of it would be like for him.
Part of him wanted to believe that things with a new child could be like how they were with Rachel; he would be the closest thing the kid had to a father, but he wouldn't be the father, and nobody would ever call him that. He would just be… the bystander in all of the parental stuff.
He would have been okay with that… he guessed. However, he knew it wouldn't be like that.
It would never be like that.
Already Cuddy was pushing him to be closer to Rachel, to take more responsibility, and he doubted that that pressure would be any less with another kid. In fact, he was sure Cuddy would be a thousand times worse than she was now. More children meant more needs, which meant more demand on Cuddy, which would inevitably lead her to being proportionately demanding of him.
But wanting to keep - protect - this relationship, House wasn't willing to let that concern derail his plan.
Was that - this - completely insane?
He was getting the distinct feeling that this was crazy.
All right, it was definitely nuts. Maybe it wasn't as bad as hallucinating a night with Cuddy; maybe it wasn't actual mental illness, but it was… not good.
Then again, it wasn't like he was swimming with options here.
At that second, House reached for the phone on his desk. He needed to talk to Wilson. He didn't think he was missing something, but he was so blinded by fear (he admitted it) that maybe he was. And if he was going to be thinking that this was his only option, he wanted to know that that was actually true before Cuddy delivered the placenta.
God, he thought with a sigh.
Pregnant Cuddy.
The concept was so discombobulating that he couldn't help but pause mid-dial. The very idea so strange and so awful, House reacted by hanging up immediately. He'd wanted to talk to Wilson, but realizing it would come at the expense of being able to pretend that this wasn't happening…
Yeah, he could wait to talk about this.
Part of him might have felt like he would burst if he didn't, but right now, the majority of House was afraid to give voice to the choice he was making. And that was something he couldn't get past.
So… for the time being, he would just have to deal with this on his own.
Of course, how he was going to do that, he had no idea.
What the hell, he though peevishly, bitterly. Why couldn't his girlfriend want something normal like… flowers or jewelry or whatever the hell it was that women liked? He could give her those things. Why did she want a baby?
Really - why?
Was there supposed to be something appealing about baby barf and dirty diapers and loud crying at two in the morning? Sure, he could rationally understand that there was a biological imperative at work here; he could comprehend that Cuddy wanted to reproduce for reasons that were out of her control. But that was why she had a brain - to rationalize her decisions regardless of what the rest of her wanted. And either she wasn't doing that or she had and still felt that another baby was a good thing, which brought him right back to his original question:
Why?
Was there something he was missing about pregnancy that made it seem awesome (he couldn't help but say that word derisively in his mind) to Cuddy? Was there some hidden joy in mucus plugs and afterbirth that he was missing? Was he supposed to think that there was something appealing about crapping your pants in front of a bunch of strangers? Cause he'd seen that, thanks to his years as a doctor (and Wilson's friend, but he preferred not to think about that time), and frankly he couldn't see the appeal - especially if the result of all of that was a kid.
But maybe he was getting too far ahead of himself there. Before the baby, before the birth, there had to be the pregnancy (assuming they were to go that route). And truth be told… House just couldn't see it.
Okay. He knew that there had been a time when he'd seen Cuddy pregnant. The fall after he'd been shot, there had been a very brief period of time when she'd been pregnant. And though he had known, sensed it at the time, she still hadn't looked the part. But if she didn't miscarry this time, things would be different.
And he wasn't sure he could handle that. Because although her body wasn't the only thing he liked about her, he couldn't deny that he was attached to it as it was. He liked the way her breasts fit nicely in his hands, the warm weight just enough to be satisfying without making him feel like there was too much to handle. He liked being able to skim her ribs and clavicle with his fingertips, liked the way her hipbones pressed into his palms when he gripped her hips. He liked her ass, loved everything about it; in fact, he could have waxed poetically for hours about her ass if he wanted to. But since it and everything else about her physique were going to change, he didn't want to think about what he was about to lose.
In fact, now that he thought about it, maybe the right thing to do was to focus on what he would gain from Cuddy being pregnant. Granted, off the top of his head, he couldn't think of a single thing, but he figured that there must have been something he was missing. Sure, men had a biological drive to spread their seed everywhere, but the fact of the matter was that some men had been capable of monogamy. Odd though it might have been, there were men who stuck around after impregnating their wives, girlfriends, and mistresses. So there must have been something to look forward to… aside from the whole parenting thing.
What that was exactly, he still had no idea. But he did suspect that the answer was at his fingertips.
Almost literally.
Reaching down, House opened the lowermost drawer in his desk. In it were the contents of many of the things he'd taken from patients' homes. Not for personal use, mind you, but every now and then, he would come across a patient so intent on lying that blackmail became a necessary tool to diagnose.
Sometimes, that meant using possessions to make the threat potent.
In this particular case, he hadn't actually needed to use the DVD copy of Screwin' for Two 2 to get the patient to own up to her elicit behavior. But House had kept the DVD he'd stolen nonetheless. Again, not for personal use; pregnant ladies didn't exactly do it for him (he just assumed that there'd be a time when Wilson, in the process of a divorce, would need a good laugh, and Steve McQueef's fine work would certainly accomplish that).
But now he was wondering if it might illuminate for him the possible good that could come from getting Cuddy pregnant.
Clutching the DVD to his chest, he realized that this was the very definition of pathetic. Looking to porn for any sort of advice was pathetic. He could freely admit as much. But at this point, what did he really have to lose?
Since he could only answer that question with nothing, he decided that anything that could make this situation better was something he was going to use to his advantage.
Even if it was porn.
Glancing at the clock, he was pleased to see that it was late. Cuddy would be wrangling Rachel for bed, and since Rachel had more cookies in her than a box of Oreos, that would take a while. Which meant that he would have plenty of time to watch Screwin' for Two 2 without interruption.
Or not.
He'd barely had the movie on for five minutes before Cuddy came trudging into the bedroom. Her footsteps heavy and sluggish, she muttered, "I smell like prunes."
He watched her silently as she crawled onto the bed. Curling up next to him, she pressed her face into his chest and exhaled. She was warm against him, the small of her back heated under his fingertips. And she was right, he thought, as he pushed her hair out of her face; she did smell like prunes. "A little bit," he said in agreement, pulling her closer to him.
She made a noise that sounded like a whine-groan hybrid, her voice almost lost completely by the pregnant brunette moaning as she rode some guy sitting in a Lazy Boy. "I need to shower."
"You smell fine," House told her honestly. The prune thing aside, more than anything, he thought she smelled like cookies - sweet and warm in a way that could only be the product of baking. He liked it.
Cuddy did not. "You're watching porn. Your opinion -"
"Is irrelevant because I'm doing a little research? I don't think so."
She sat up a little, propping herself up on her elbows. Although he expected her to argue with him, she simply asked, "What are you watching?" And he supposed that it made sense that she acquiesced the point; after all, how many times had she watched porn with him? Answer: too many for her to think that being a fan of pornography automatically invalidated your opinions.
But House couldn't exactly feel smug. As she turned her head to see what he was watching, he understood that the upper hand was quickly moving to her. As if the ground were swelling, cracking, and shifting beneath him, he could feel things sway towards her advantage.
If she felt it though, she didn't say. All she did was repeat in confusion, "What are you watching?"
Maybe he should have told her everything he knew right then and there. But, although the conversation about children seemed an unavoidable one, he couldn't say the words. So he simply said, "I know what you've been hiding."
She looked at him as though he were crazy. "And you think I've been hiding a pregnant woman fetish? Because…" She chuckled lightly. "This isn't attractive."
"So then I shouldn't pre-order Screwin' for Two 3 when it comes out?"
She wasn't so much amused by the joke as she was by the title. "That's what this is called?" He handed the DVD case to her in response. As she read the box, she scoffed. "'A pregnant woman just can't seem to get enough… they eat all the time, wanna fuck all the time,'" Cuddy quoted with disdain. "'These out of control bitches with buns in the oven' - House, I really hope you don't think that this is what -"
"You want a baby," he said in a tone as emotionless as he could make it. "I know that much."
At first Cuddy wasn't sure she heard him right. Of all the things he could think that she wanted, babies… was the last thing she expected him to say. And though she could recognize what the words meant, as they washed over her, she found herself wondering if there weren't some hidden message that she was missing. Because surely he was not thinking that she wanted a child.
But he must have been.
He was offering no other explanation, no smirk that said, "I'm screwing with you." And so, he must have been completely serious, which made no sense at all.
Her eyes darting back and forth from him to the DVD box to him once more, she was hesitant when she asked, "What are - what are you talking about?"
"I thought I was clear. You want a baby." His gaze was intent on hers, his rigid body, as though he were uncomfortable saying the words, reinforcing the idea that he was being serious.
Cuddy shook her head and tossed the DVD case onto the nightstand. "No."
"You -"
"I don't want a child." He looked at her with disbelief, which only infuriated her. Louder, angrier, she repeated, "I don't want a child."
But as the words came out of her mouth for a second time, she realized that that wasn't exactly true. She did want Rachel. So Cuddy had to immediately add, "I don't want another child."
Still, House didn't seem convinced. It didn't matter that she was rebuking the entire notion of another child; it didn't matter that she had said earlier today that she didn't want another baby. He clearly refused to believe her.
However, she wasn't going to go to bed with him thinking - as he obviously was - that she needed a son or another daughter. And though making him understand that required her to immerse herself into his insanity, she knew it had to be done.
Sitting up, she tucked her feet under her ass and looked at him. "Why would you even think that I wanted that?"
He didn't answer right away. He couldn't. The way she was vehemently denying the whole thing made him wonder if he hadn't overlooked something, if he hadn't screwed something up along the way.
Swallowing hard, he forced himself to explain with a slight shake of the head, "Rachel said at lunch… and then you were avoiding me…"
His thoughts were broken, half-completed and barely uttered with any volume. Facing the possibility of being incorrect, he was reluctant to explain fully, to demonstrate just how wrong he'd gotten the whole thing. And if Cuddy could read between the lines at all, it was because she clearly understood him better than he her.
"House…" Her voice was equally quiet and filled with pitiful understanding that felt suffocating to his sensibilities. "If you'll recall, I told Rachel I didn't want -"
"Then she ran away, and you -"
"Rachel was upset, because her friend told her that we didn't want any more kids, because we didn't love her," Cuddy explained, trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone. "Rachel doesn't actually want a brother or sister. She just thinks she does, because she is terrified that I think she's a burden."
She bit down on her lip, her anger nearly getting the better of her. As it had been with Rachel, Madison's words would not be forgotten any time soon. But Cuddy was determined not to dwell on them either.
Clearing her throat, she added, "I calmed her down. I told her that I loved her and that her friend was an idiot. I didn't promise her a sibling, and I don't ever plan on doing that."
"Oh."
Reality stupefied him, left him unable to speak beyond that single word. But it obviously wasn't enough for Cuddy.
"'Oh'?" She was lightly mocking him.
His head bobbed a little as he tried to process what she had told him. "I… you don't want another kid?"
"No."
But her answer was a little too exasperated, a little too hurried to be believable. Even to her own ears, she could recognize as much.
"All right," she conceded. "I won't deny that… having another baby would be… nice. It would be. But…" She shrugged. "I don't want to go through that process again."
"Because of me," House said, as though he were finishing the thought for her.
However, truthfully, her choice had nothing to do with him. And the last thing she wanted was for him to believe that he had somehow kept her from having more children when she really wanted them.
"No," she said loudly with as much earnestness as she could infuse into her tone. "Not because of you. Because… getting Rachel? It wasn't easy, and I don't want to go through all of that again without any promise of there actually being a baby at the end of the road."
But that just seemed to make him even more displeased.
"So you're afraid to -"
"I'm not a coward," she interrupted insistently.
"No? You're just -"
"Yeah." She could feel her anger build. She hated when he did this to her - when he put very complex, difficult choices in simple black and white terms that only seemed to degrade her decision. "I'm just choosing to avoid putting my family through -"
"So you're doing this for us," he said, the words dripping with disdain.
"I'm doing this, because, as nice as the whole idea is, another baby would be hard to obtain and… even harder for all of us to adjust to." He opened his mouth to say something, but Cuddy was too quick for him. "This isn't about you. This isn't about me being afraid. I'm just not willing to risk my happiness - or yours or Rachel's - for something I don't feel compelled to have."
Almost immediately she could tell that he was finally listening to her; there was no instantaneous comeback, no insult or quip for her to respond to. And though she didn't really understand why those words were the ones getting through to him, they very obviously were.
There was no explaining how grateful she was for that.
Smiling a little, she leaned over, hands on his chest, and kissed him. He was slow to respond, despite the fact that her warm mouth craved a response. Almost as though he weren't sure how to react, it took him a moment to move. But eventually, he did, his lips quivering ever so slightly as he captured her lower lip with his mouth.
His hands were warm, rubbing along her back. His fingers splayed as widely as possible, his palms flush against her skin, he held her close to him, as though he feared her slipping away from him.
His words a whisper along her mouth, he asked, "You sure?"
Her smile widened, and he could feel the changing contour of her lips pressed against his own. His stubble scraping and snagging as she spoke, he felt it in his body when she explained without any hesitation or doubt, "You, me, Rachel - that's our family."
The honesty in her words was startling. House didn't know what he'd expected her to say, but he did know that it hadn't been that; it hadn't been the idea that Cuddy viewed them as a family - and a complete one at that. Perhaps he'd suspected - feared - it, but hearing it now…
It was a truth that frightened him, even as he recognized that his body thrummed with the pleasure of having heard it. And he couldn't help but make a joke out of it (it was easier, safer that way).
"What - no dog?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes and pulled away. "I'm allergic to dogs."
"Barely."
"They make my eyes water."
"Fine. A cat?"
"Would send Rachel into anaphylaxis, which you know."
"Lizard? Fish? Bird? Rat?"
He was irritating the hell out of her, but for some reason, she couldn't help but laugh anyway.
"Never mind," she replied with a chuckle. "A dog. If we have to have a pet in this equation, a dog. God only knows it can't be any more filthy than you."
House opened his mouth to reply, but at that exact moment, one of the women from Screwin' for Two 2 moaned loudly, drawing both of their attentions to the television.
Cuddy groaned. "For the love of God, please turn that off." As he did, she asked curiously, as though the question were just entering her mind, "You thought I was avoiding you earlier?"
At that moment, he remembered that she had been avoiding him, that that had been the impetus for all of this to begin with. And if she weren't desperate for a baby (thankfully), then she must have been avoiding him for some other reason.
He jerked his head to look at her. "Yeah. I did. Why were you avoiding me?"
She started to say, "I wasn't." But that was a lie. She knew it. And in the face of him seemingly offering her a baby (in the most roundabout, repulsive way possible), it felt wrong to lie; it felt like she had no other choice than to offer him at least something equally revealing in turn.
Resting her back against the headboard, she didn't look at him when she explained, "I was… talking to Rachel when we were making cookies. You heard me say… things…" Her voice hitched in the back of her throat. Honesty, though necessary, wasn't easy for her, and she couldn't help but feel raw and ill at ease at trying to explain to him why she had been upset.
Or at least partially why she'd been upset; what she was saying now wasn't a lie. But it was only part of the truth.
It was the part he could handle.
Not that he couldn't handle hearing about how she was going to see John Kelley tomorrow. Though House would behave otherwise, Cuddy knew he could deal with that. But since he would act like a two year old sharing a toy, she wasn't going to tell him that… not now anyway.
So she swallowed hard and forced herself to say the one thing she thought she could handle uttering. "I was talking about what it meant to be a Jew, and you were there, and you said… nothing."
He looked at her in confusion. "Was I supposed to say something?"
She shook her head furiously. "I don't know. Maybe I was hoping that you would…" Her voice drifted off in mid-thought.
"I would what?"
She bit her lip, her mind fighting the desire to tell him to just forget about it. "I don't know what I wanted. But you were just… standing there, watching me like… and - and not saying anything -"
"What did you want me to say?" he asked, sitting up in interest.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I don't -"
"You do," he insisted knowingly. "Or else, you wouldn't have avoided me, and you wouldn't -"
"I wanted you to be supportive," she blurted out loudly. And now that the truth was out there, she couldn't hold back. "I wanted you to give me this weekend, not as part of some bet, but because you -"
"What?" he demanded to know. "Because I suddenly believed in God?"
"No," she snapped. "Because you knew it was important to me. Not because you wanted me to fuck -"
"Oh, come on!" He held his hands up to his chest as though to tell her to stop it. "Who says those things are mutually exclusive?"
It wasn't the answer she was expecting. "What?"
"Why can't it be both?" he asked her in a calmer manner. "Why can't it be that I get that it's important to you and that I like taking every opportunity that I can to have sex with you?"
She looked at him dumbfounded. "What?"
He rolled his eyes. "It's important to you. I might not like that, but I am capable of understanding that it matters to you."
"I wish you did," she said in a shaky voice that was barely above a whisper.
There.
She'd said it, one of the many things she thought but never said out of fear. Fear of rejection, being mocked… all of it, and by uttering those words, she had now foolishly put herself in the position of being on the receiving end of all of that.
But in the end, he didn't mock her at all. Instead, he told her, "I know. You want me to believe the same things. You want my approval..." He shrugged a little and said with utmost seriousness, "You don't need it."
"You act like wanting it is a bad thing." She scoffed a little at the idea. "Considering you were thinking you had to agree to have a baby with -"
"I never said that."
She laughed mockingly. "You didn't have to. I read between the lines."
"Well, good for you," he snapped. Quickly though he got his temper under control. He didn't want a fight, not really.
His voice calm once more, he continued, "You want me to approve of everything you believe in, and that's not going to happen. I'm not… someone you answer to."
What he was saying was all nice in theory. But she was reluctant to simply accept it. Looking at him doubtfully, she said, "Right. I don't answer to you. But I do something you don't like, and I get to listen to you taunt -"
"It's what I do," he replied easily.
"So I see."
"I never said I was perfect."
"Well, that much is obvious."
He looked at her as though he were wounded. However, she didn't feel guilty at all, because she could see the mirth in his eyes.
"And here I was, offering you sperm and compliments, about to say something nice," he told her in dismay.
"Don't let me stop you."
House shook his head. "Too late now."
She opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, he rolled over on the bed. The motion startled her, forcing her into silence as he settled between her legs. Without a word, she moved her thighs farther apart to accommodate his warm weight. His hips pressed into hers.
Leaning down until his lips were close to her left ear, he said in a husky voice, "Now I'm going to have to do all sorts of naughty things to you."
She welcomed the change in tone eagerly. Though it didn't feel as though much had been resolved, she realized that they had come to some sort of agreement: they didn't need to change for one another. And although it wasn't the most satisfying way to end a conversation, she was okay with that for now.
Her fingers curled under the hem of his t-shirt. "Like you needed a reason to do that."
He smirked and reached to undo the jeans she'd put on after her bath. He slowly pulled down her zipper. The soft hiss of the fastener being undone tooth by tooth tantalized her ears, the knowledge that they were going to have sex making her heart race. The noise of the zipper and her heartbeat made her head feel as though it were buzzing, and her entire body began to thrum with that erotic energy.
However, he didn't undress her right then and there. Instead he asked her in a teasing voice, "What color panties are you wearin'?"
Given the argument they'd had earlier, it was a question Cuddy had no intention of answering. A groan the only noise escaping her lips, she brought one of her knees to her chest. Perhaps it was childish to want to respond to someone by kicking them, but she hardly cared. And he caught her by the ankle before her foot had even had a chance to connect with his chest, so it didn't exactly matter anyway.
His hand powerfully gripping her, he shook his head in dismay. "That's not very nice, Cuddy."
She was unremorseful. "You deserve it."
"For asking a question?" He was toying with her, trying to annoy her. She knew this, because as stupid as he could be, he wasn't that much of an idiot.
"For -"
"You know," he interrupted loudly. "You're just lucky that that impressive display of flexibility has earned you a reprieve. Otherwise your ass -"
"You keep saying you're going to do all these things to my ass, but so far…" She looked at him challengingly. "That's just been talk."
"Don't dare me, sweetheart."
"I wasn't," she replied innocently, sitting up just enough so that she could pull his shirt off. As she tossed it to the floor, she said, "I was just wondering if you planned on having sex with me or boring me to sleep."
He squeezed one of her breasts lightly. "I like a lot of foreplay."
"Well, as long as you plan on getting me off at some point." She tried to sound as peevish as she could, but it was hard; she could feel his cock, just beginning to stiffen, against her inner thigh and his thumb circling around her nipple. And though she wanted to sound annoyed, everything he was doing was making her want him above all else.
"Believe me," he said intently, as he untangled his body from hers. He moved to the foot of the bed and wrapped his hands around the bottom of her jeans. "I definitely plan on doing that."
Her response was to raise her hips off of the bed. He hadn't said that he was planning on taking her pants off, but she didn't doubt that that was exactly what he was going to do. And by lifting her ass off of the bed, it was now easy for him to pull her jeans off of her body.
"Wow," he said, dropping the pants on the floor. Eloquent it was not, but House thought that it was apt. Because "wow" was the perfect description for discovering that his girlfriend hadn't been wearing any underwear at all.
She spread her legs wider for his benefit. "After you judged my choice in lingerie earlier today, I decided it wasn't worth your hassling to put on another pair."
Sitting on the bed, he took off his socks and undid his pants. "I think you should take that approach to all clothes from now on."
"That's surprising," she replied drolly. "Next thing you'll be telling me that I should start my morning right by sucking you off every -"
"I already tell you that… although where you put my penis doesn't really matter."
But Cuddy was in no mood to joke. As though she'd suddenly reached her limit, she said in a voice that approached a whine, "Can you please hurry, because -"
"Relax," he told her, pushing his pants and underwear to the floor. He was naked before her, a fact that never failed to give him a semi. Admittedly House knew he wouldn't last that long this time, knew that all of the sex they'd had today was pushing the limits of what his aging body could handle. Still, he couldn't fight the power the idea of having sex with her had over him. His voice lower, he said promisingly, "You'll get some."
He started to crawl on his hands and knees back up the length of the bed. But he paused when she asked, "Would that be happening any time soon? Do I have time to read a book or -"
"You want a time frame?" Taking one of her legs in his hands, he raised the limb into the air. Her skin was smooth underneath his fingertips, and he could feel the taught muscle of her calves, the product of more yoga and runs than he could imagine. She was perfect, he thought, everything he wanted and never thought he could have. And the thought heavy in his mind, he pressed a kiss to the back of her knee.
She hissed through her teeth, the noise thankfully killing whatever complaint she was clearly ready to utter.
He kissed her there again; the back of her knees were, for reasons unknown to him, incredibly sensitive, and just a skim of a thumb or lick of the tongue were enough to get her further into the mood. Indeed, with one past peck and nip of his teeth, she was right where he wanted her.
"House…"
Letting go of her body, he crawled the rest of the distance. When he was sitting next to her, he reached over and cupped one of her breasts. "Wanna take this off?" he asked, referring to the sweater and bra she was wearing.
She nodded her head enthusiastically.
"Sit up," he ordered.
She did, making it easier for him to grasp the fuzzy material of her sweater and pull it over her head. He tossed the shirt across the room; he didn't exactly care where it landed, as long as it was nowhere near them. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cuddy fingering through her hair (cause clearly, he was going to care about the effect the static had had on her dark curls).
Thinking she was too self-conscious, he kissed her. His body, practically corkscrewed at the torso, loomed over top of hers. He balanced his weight on one elbow, so that he could unclasp her bra with his free hand. His eyes were closed, so his fingers searched blindly. Which apparently took too long for her, because as he skimmed her back, she bit his lower lip.
She wasn't teasing either. It wasn't a playful little twinge to urge him on. House didn't want to say that she was trying to hurt him either (though it did hurt), but he definitely got the impression that she was attempting to get a rise from him.
It made sense, he thought, purposely taunting her by delicately flicking his tongue into her mouth and along her teeth. She was stressed, undeniably so. And when she was stressed, she liked sex as rough as they could make it.
He doubted she was even fully aware of it, of her need to control by being controlled, by being dominated. And he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up, because he knew she would say it was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard.
He wasn't wrong, of course; in every aspect of her life, when things were stressful, she took comfort in being able to complete even the littlest of tasks. It made her feel more in control, and when it came to the bedroom, whether she admitted it or not, she felt protected and reassured in doing what he ordered.
And he had no problem giving her what she wanted. But he didn't appreciate being bitten.
Pulling away from her, he said mockingly, "That wasn't nice."
If he expected her to fight him on that point, what he got in response was decidedly different. Completely serious, she replied, "I want your dick in my mouth. Now."
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