Gift of Screws, Chapter 9, Part 4
Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Nine, Part 4
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), Chapter 9 (Part 3)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
He blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. Rolling off of her, he settled his back against the headboard. He hadn't thought she'd be all that interested in blow jobs after what Rachel had walked into earlier today. But hey, if Cuddy wanted to do that, who was he to refuse?
Of course, he wasn't going to let her control the whole endeavor completely. He had no intention of letting that happen. And she didn't really want to direct things anyway (he knew that much), so it would all work itself out in the end.
But as of right now, he was willing to let her guide things.
The bed dipped as she rolled onto her side. His penis still wasn't all that hard on account of the fact that they hadn't done much up to this point. But the sight of her naked body and the knowledge that they would soon be joined together in a way that felt amazing and life altering every time they did it was beginning to breathe life into him.
At that moment, almost as though she were thinking the same thing, she looked into his eyes and smiled a little bit. Teasing she asked, "You think I wouldn't want to do this after -"
He groaned, stopping her from finishing the thought. "I think that we should make it a point never to speak about that again."
Without even thinking much about it, House reached over and stroked her throat with the back of his hand. His knuckles raked lightly over the muscles, taut with the effort necessary for her to look up to him, and she smiled even wider. "All right," she said gently.
Honestly, she didn't really want to talk about it either. Clearly Cuddy would have had to have been mentally ill to want to discuss at length how her daughter had walked in on them having sex; if anything, if Cuddy had her way, this would never be brought up, mentioned - referenced in any way ever again. So she couldn't have been more relieved to know that House felt the same way. Not that she really thought he would want to talk about it, of course, but she didn't put it past him to bring it up to distract her, shame her, etc. If anyone was the kind of person to bring up that horribly embarrassing moment for personal gain, it was House.
That said, she had been the one to bring it up now. Aside from the fact that she suspected House was thinking about it anyway, she thought that it was important to let him know:
She didn't blame him.
Earlier she had. She couldn't deny that. When it had first happened, underneath all of the shame, underneath all of the fear that Rachel would be screwed up for life, Cuddy had blamed House - had hated him for somehow letting this happen. And though she had kept her temper as in check as she possibly could, she worried that she hadn't been as successful at that as was necessary to keep House from realizing that she did blame him. In fact, she was sure that he knew on some level that she had.
And now, all she wanted him to know was that... it was over. Rachel was fine - albeit sick from having way too many cookies. Though the little girl had brought up the notion of having babies, it had turned out that that had less to do with what she'd seen and more to do with what Madison had told her. Actually, given the way Madison had hurt Rachel's feelings, Cuddy was sure that Rachel would have asked about brothers and sisters soon enough anyway. And because of that, there was no rational reason to be upset at House.
... Well, at least, there was no reason to punish him for that.
She was prematurely feeling irritation over how he would react tomorrow upon learning that she was going to talk to John Kelley. But she wasn't willing to let that get in the way of what she wanted tonight, what she wanted right now.
And what she wanted was House.
In every way, as completely and totally as possible - she wanted him.
She wanted to be consumed by his desire for her and vice versa.
She wanted her body to be set ablaze with the embers of need and lust and love; she wanted the burn of the searing hot fire that hadn't been extinguished even after all of this time to consume her totally.
But in order to do that, she needed to get him hard.
He wasn't, unfortunately, though she knew that he would quickly rise to the occasion; he might have been an older man, certainly older than when they'd first done this. But he was more than capable of giving it to her the way she wanted as many times as she wanted (and then some).
She just had to give him a little preparation.
And she was more than willing (and eager) to provide it.
As one of his hands skimmed the length of her body, his fingers dancing along her ribs, she reached for his cock. It was warm under her palm, the desire to taste him compelling her to lean forward.
Her hair slipped past her shoulders. The strands tickled his thigh and her upper chest. She started to lower her head, so that she could lick him. But at that moment, House stopped her by ordering, "Move up on the bed."
That was nearly impossible to do. She'd been resting against the headboard, and, thanks to the pillows and a wall, there really wasn't anywhere she could go. "I -"
"I want to touch you," he told her in a deep voice.
She nodded her head. She couldn't refuse him. The bed rocked as Cuddy shifted on the bed as best she could. House helped her move her pussy closer in reach. His hands on her hips, he guided her further up on the mattress. And though it absolutely broke the mood she'd been going for, in the end, she was glad to have the order.
As she lowered her head once more, House allowed his hand to skim across her ass. His touch was gentle, so feather light that she almost questioned whether or not it was actually happening. But it must have been, because as she pressed her first kiss to his penis, she felt him dip his fingers between her warm folds.
She gasped, blowing hot air onto his sensitive flesh (which only served to make his hips flinch in burgeoning desire). His hand possessively cupped her bottom. Though he was doing it in a way that was gentle for him, his grip was quickly becoming one she couldn't ignore. And didn't want to; his fingers were splayed as wide as they could possibly be. The tips of his middle and ring finger were just beginning to slip past her labia.
The sensation wasn't strong enough to make her soaking with desire. She doubted he expected it to. But the soft little caresses he was giving her were slowly warming her up.
And they were definitely making her quick to please him.
She placed one last sloppy kiss along the side of his cock. Her hand, lightly cupping his balls, eagerly slid back to his penis; now that there was a little moisture there, she could more eagerly stroke him to hardness. And as she fisted him, he muttered his approval. "That's good," he told her, the "good" coming out so slowly as though there were at least six or seven o's in the word.
She smirked, though he, with eyes closed, took no note of her satisfaction. If he thought that was good, she would love what she planned on doing next. She ran her tongue along his swelling prick toward his head. All the while, she kept stroking him.
"Keep going," he told her, gripping her ass tightly, as though that was going to encourage her (it did).
For a brief moment, she lapped at the tip of his dick. She did it gingerly, not wanting to give him too much for fear of things ending too quickly. Although she certainly didn't mind stopping things with oral sex, she wanted him inside her... in a different way. And she didn't want to give him so much pleasure that he came within seconds.
But perhaps that was unavoidable, she thought. As she allowed the rest of her mouth to follow her tongue, he cried out in pleasure. His hips bucked lightly as she let his swollen member pass through her lips.
He couldn't help it. Her mouth was warm, warmer and wetter than he remembered it being from earlier. Of course, all he really remembered from earlier was the terrible way things had ended.
Fearing that his own mind would allow that memory to replay in his mind, he suddenly cleared his throat. His hands moving to her shoulders, he told her, "Stop."
Her hand still fisting his dick, she looked up at him, "'Stop"?"
"On your back."
The order left no room for discussion, which she understood immediately. Nevertheless, she didn't move. Well, all right, she did; she bowed her head once more and sucked the tip of his penis into her mouth. But unlike before, he didn't seem pleased.
"Cuddy."
She hummed in response as she pulled him in deeper, and though he was going to make her stop, he couldn't help but be tempted to let her continue. The vibrations she was creating in her throat were echoing in his body, making it nearly impossible to hold back a gasp. That he did was surprising, he thought.
That he could reach down and tug her off of him was nothing short of a miracle.
She had no choice but to let his now wet cock slip out of her mouth. She might not have wanted to do what he said, but she also didn't want to hurt him.
When she released him, she looked up in annoyance.
"On your back," he repeated, each monosyllabic word coming out in a halting, serious-to-the-point-of-angry voice.
But once again she didn't move. "What are you going to do if I don't?"
He could tell what she was doing. She was being so transparent with the way she was trying to provoke him. And he knew precisely what she wanted - she wanted it to hurt - which was why he had no intention of letting her force his hand.
He wasn't against giving it to her roughly. But if the whole point of her behavior in these times was to give him the upper hand, he thought that it defeated the purpose to give her expressly what she wanted.
Still, he couldn't help but cater to her needs a little bit.
His hands gripping her forearms tightly, he physically pulled her off of him and pushed her down onto the mattress. "Don't move," he warned.
"Or what?" she challenged playfully.
He sighed and stroked her stomach. Not for very long - all the talk about pregnancy filled the act with all sorts of potential deeper meaning that, when recognized, forced his hand to her thigh. "Just relax."
She shifted on the mattress a little bit. She was clearly trying to do what he was telling her, but it was hard, and he could practically feel the tense energy radiating from her form.
"Relax," he repeated, spreading her legs with his hands. "Close your eyes."
She didn't want to, but the stress from work and Rachel and everything else was wearing on her quickly. And if House wanted her to close her eyes, if only to avoid getting more stressed (which would happen, because they would fight), she would do that.
"Fine."
"You're cranky," he commented, leaning down to lick her pelvic bone.
She jerked in surprise, controlling herself just enough so that she wouldn't accidentally hurt House. Oh, part of her absolutely felt that he deserved it. But the rest of her was far too focused on the long, wet trail his tongue was creating along her body.
So of course he had to stop.
One of his hands was warmly rubbing her knee when he suggested, "Maybe I should just put you to bed now - you know, since you're acting like a -"
Her eyelids fluttered open. "I'm not acting like a child."
He paused for a moment before responding, "Yeah, that doesn't convince me."
"Are you actually planning on having sex with me, or are you just interested in toying with me?"
Shifting on the bed, House curled up next to Cuddy. His head on her pillow and now right by her ear, he said quietly, "You know me better than that."
He slipped his hand down her body leisurely. There was no way she didn't know where he was headed, and he wanted the anticipation to eat away at and supplant the tension she'd been victim to all day, thanks to work and her daughter.
It worked.
Even before he touched Cuddy, he could tell that she was falling prey to what he wanted; by the time he circled her belly button with his index finger, she let out a little grunt. Though it was one of frustration, it was an indication that she didn't want him to take his time. The fact that, the second his palm brushed against her mound, she was spreading her legs as widely and lewdly as they could go just reinforced that idea.
His fingers searching for her clit, he kissed her ear lightly and whispered, "I always take care of my pussy, don't I?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear just in time to see her swallow hard. The proof right before him, he could see that his words and actions were getting to her.
His middle finger circled her opening, each loop more insistent than the last. He wasn't hurting her, of course. She hadn't exactly been wet when he'd started, but everything he was doing was getting her juices going.
"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out as though he disapproved of her lack of response.
"I..." She shook her head a little, as though she didn't even really understand what the question was.
His thumb lightly stroked her clitoris, the tight little bud now straining for her touch. This too he stimulated in little circles. But he didn't apply nearly as much pressure; he didn't need to, of course. He didn't know if she was just that easy or if the years she'd gone without sex had made her easy, but what he did know was that she was quick to orgasm, especially when there was direct stimulation to her clitoris. And though he normally liked using this to his advantage, he didn't want her to come right away.
He wanted her to feel it in her entire body first.
So he made circles that were just slightly too wide, slightly too obtuse. She would feel it; it would drive her nuts. But it wouldn't be what she needed.
"Do you need me to repeat the question?" he asked tauntingly as he moved his face closer to her neck. He wanted to be as close to her as possible. Though he was usually one to advocate personal space, in this instance, he wanted absolutely nothing separating her from him. He wanted to know, to feel each shift in her body. He wanted her to feel completely and helplessly exposed to him.
"I..." She chuckled quietly, nervously.
"Hmm." His lips pressed to the space where her shoulders and neck met, he hoped she felt it. "I think I do need to repeat myself."
He was patronizing her, and she knew it. There was no way she didn't, he thought. But he was hardly ashamed by the fact. If anything, he was purposely being condescending; though she would undoubtedly hate that kind of behavior in any other area of her life, he knew she was oddly turned on by it in this one.
"Don't worry," he cooed. "I won't hold it against you too much."
He slipped one finger inside of her. She gasped a little, her walls clamping down on him as hard as she could. God, she was tight, he thought. "I get that it's hard for you," he said slowly, withdrawing his finger with equal languidness. "It's difficult to concentrate when you know you're going to have your pussy stuffed in a couple minutes."
Cuddy tried to laugh at his language; it was ridiculous, admittedly. But she didn't actually laugh. As he pushed his finger back into her insistently, the giggle she'd been trying to utter morphed into something that sounded more like a hiss.
"But I do want an answer," he said kissing her neck, her shoulder, and then her jaw. Little pecks peppering her in odd places, it made her reluctant to look at him. Obviously she didn't want him to stop. But when he cupped her jaw with his hand, thumb on her chin, and forced her to look over at him, she was forced to deal with the situation head on.
Her voice breathless, she asked, "What was the question?"
He let go of her jaw. Now that she was looking at him, he knew that she wouldn't look away until he told her to. Though obedience had never been her strong suit, nor something he wanted from her on a daily basis, when it came to sex... submission was something she liked to dabble in with perfect mastery. No, she wouldn't look away. She would do exactly what he wanted, because it was what she needed right now.
Truth be told, House wasn't sure if that was a curse of a gift. Having complete control was incredibly hot, but he was also always mindful that he couldn't push too far. Obviously he would push her boundaries a little bit; she liked that. But there was always the risk of scaring her, hurting her, going too far with her that made this specific kind of encounter something he was hesitant to have on a regular basis with her.
On the other hand, he supposed she was aware of those facts. She couldn't be so ignorant as to not think that handing complete control over to someone else put her at risk for being asked to do things she wasn't necessarily comfortable with. The fact that she so rarely let anyone have any control over her choices and actions he took as proof enough that she understood how easily things could turn for her. And she must have been equally aware that he feared his ability to control himself, because she didn't ask - well, she never asked - for him to do this until she thought she was going to lose it.
Although he never said it, he appreciated her restraint - just as he hoped she appreciated his. Perhaps it shouldn't have made him feel reassured, but it did; it just made him feel like she was willing to go down whatever path he wanted to in these moments.
Using his now free hand to tweak one of her nipples, House pushed the lingering doubt from his mind. Things would be okay.
And with all the arrogance that knowledge provided for him, he repeated his question, "I said, 'I always take care of my pussy, don't I?'" He emphasized the possessive pronoun, feeling in that moment as though it was important for her to know that she was absolutely, completely his.
But she didn't give him the yes or no she was expecting. Instead, she told him snidely, "I didn't realize you had one."
He pulled his finger from her cunt and stilled the thumb that had been circling her clit. If she was going to play that way, he wasn't going to make her feel good.
Purposely bumping his groin into her hip, his erection tickling her skin and the earliest trace of precum marring her pale flesh, he asked, "Does it feel like I have one on my body?"
She didn't answer the question; her hips were too busy shifting to try and rub herself against the fingers that had stilled in between her labia.
So he responded by pulling his hand away completely.
"Don't," she practically pleaded.
Inwardly she wanted to groan at the sound of her own voice. Though it was probably exactly what House wanted to hear, she hated the way she sounded like she was one step away from begging for a hand job.
"I will do what I want," he told her admonishingly. "You will do as I say, or I'm going to stop right now, and you can wait until morning to get off."
She wanted to punch him in the face; he was being such an arrogant little prick (so it was kind of business as usual), and she would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smirk, which he probably wasn't even aware existed, off his face.
But in the end, she stopped moving, fulfilling the silent expectation of her, because she knew that she wanted to get off. And in order to do that any time soon, she would need to give him what he wanted, and punching him in the face, though tempting, probably wouldn't get her what she wanted.
"Sorry," she muttered, the word sounding as perfunctory and obligatory as it was.
"I'm sure," House said doubtfully.
Unfortunately for her, he made no move to touch her again. And she knew that there was only one explanation for it; he wanted her to ask for it - to beg. Peevish, she wanted to do anything but that. But again, giving him what he wanted in this instance was easier than trying to wrangle control from him.
Besides, did she really want to be in charge right now?
The answer so clear in her mind (no), she didn't even have to think it.
"Fine." Her voice sounded like a grumble. "You're... good at... what you do," she said vaguely, wanting to avoid having to call herself his pussy if she could. "Now will you please get -"
"That's not I asked."
She rolled her eyes. "Close enough."
"I don't think so."
"Yes, it -"
He looked at her in all seriousness. "I would rethink that logic," he warned. "Because if you don't do what I want... I might be tempted to do the same when I'm inside you and feeling the need to come way before you're ready."
There was an unspoken threat in his words, a threat that she was not oblivious to. And knowing that her hand had been forced, she sighed. "What do you want me to say?"
At that, his hand skated across the flesh of her thigh and back to her core. Two fingers immediately pushing inside of her with enough power to make her exhale loudly, he said nothing. She waited for him to say something; her gaze was intent on him, just in case she was supposed to pick up on some House version of Morse code. But he just kept pushing and withdrawing his fingers as though the conversation had never happened.
"House?" she asked, her voice unsure and shaky. She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, but the way he was coaxing her fluids from her body, the way it felt like he was touching every bit of her, made her unable to control her emotions.
"Shhh," he whispered into her ear. His breath was hot against the delicate shell of cartilage, and long after he'd finishing hushing her, the hiss seemed to linger on within her.
All of a sudden, she felt hot and confused, her desire and his behavior making her feel a little drunk. "But -"
"It's okay," he told her gently.
"But -"
"Just enjoy it, all right?"
It was an easier command to say than to follow apparently. And honestly, he wasn't surprised by her confusion. He probably would have been too if the situation were reversed. After all, they weren't the kind to back off.
But he had.
That wasn't by any means normal for them. He knew it, which was why he could understand her confusion. They weren't the kind of people to back off. Especially when it came to dealings that only they were privy to, they rarely capitulated. In a way, there was no need to; they understood fully that they loved one another, that they were as screwed up and awful as two people could be, and that almost all (if not all) was forgivable. And he knew full well that making her say something she clearly didn't want to utter would be forgiven.
Honestly though, House just wasn't in the mood to do that tonight. He could, but more than anything, he thought it was in bad form to force your girlfriend, who was wonderful enough to say no to more babies, to say something she didn't find the least bit sexy.
Maybe it said something about him that he felt that there were times where it was okay to make her do those things. But in his defense, she let him do it, wanted him to do it on occasion, so it wasn't like she was really against it. He just thought that in this case, maybe... maybe it was better to...
He didn't like the way he wanted to finish the thought. But after a couple seconds of hesitation, his mind on his thoughts and absolutely not on the way Cuddy was meeting his fingers' thrusts by grinding her hips against his hand, he decided that his initial ending was good enough - if not very clever and completely saccharine.
He didn't want to make her say the words, because he thought that maybe it was better to take the time to remind himself how lucky he was to have her, someone who was so perfect and so unlucky as to have him in her life.
He wanted to cherish her, wanted to worship her body. He knew that it wouldn't even begin to do her justice, to do the way he felt justice. But any attempt was better than no attempt at all, and he was nothing if not headstrong enough to try.
With that in mind, he focused once more on the task at hand... on the task covering his hand?
Her juices were flowing freely now, coating the fingers he was pushing into her repeatedly and dribbling down onto his palm and heel. He could smell her, that wonderful scent that he could only describe as her. Every now and then a moan catching in the back of her throat, he could tell that she had taken his order to enjoy it seriously.
He smiled and laved the outer shell of her ear. His voice rough and throaty, he encouraged her further. "That's right. That's good."
At that moment, he let his thumb slide along the ridge of her clitoris. And though it wasn't substantial contact, it was enough to make Cuddy agree with him. "Yes," she crooned.
"You like that? Hmm?" He kissed his way in short pecks towards her mouth, which was already slightly ajar.
Totally focused on the way her stomach seemed laden with that ever-winding need to orgasm, she was taken aback when she felt his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth.
He swallowed her "Oh," her surprise muted by his body and her sudden desire for it.
She was close. Despite all of the sex they'd had during the day, the way he was making her feel, the precision with which he was feeling all of her with just the perfect amount of speed, destroyed any notion of "too much." His thumb on her clitoris stroking her in soft touches, it didn't feel like she'd come several times today.
It didn't feel like she'd ever had sex.
Her thirst unquenchable, her need a force greater than her own body, she reached for him. She needed him, all of him at that moment. His fingers, his mouth, it wasn't enough. She needed more than the stubble burning her and the thumb setting her ablaze in a whole different way.
This just wasn't enough.
But the hand on his hipbone woke no sense of exigency inside of him. And it just figured, she thought almost bitterly; he was the one who could fuck almost the second it had been suggested. But now he was the one who wanted to take his time when she wanted to hurry things up.
She pulled away from him. "Please," she urged.
"Not yet," he told her, adding a third finger to the other two.
Immediately, she felt fuller, her body stretching to accommodate him. Now, he was really touching every bit of her; now she felt as though she couldn't take any more. She just wanted him, all of him. "House," she told him, aiming for a voice that was stern enough to show that she wasn't kidding.
"I want you to come first," he told her, reaching for her breast once more.
His hand was warm against her soft flesh as he cupped her. A bead of sweat dislodged itself from underneath the curve of her chest and slipped lazily down her ribs. She hadn't even realized he'd made her that hot, that... unconscious to what her body was doing. But as the wet sensation tickled her, she was forced into feeling all sorts of other sensations - ones that didn't originate between her legs.
There was sweat between her toes and fingers, pooling along her back. The rational part of her couldn't help but think that sleeping tonight would be particular miserable, but she didn't really care about damp sheets. She did care about getting off.
And if House wanted her to come before he had sex with her...
She supposed she couldn't disappoint him.
As he tugged at the nipple trapped between his fingers, she hissed, "Well, if you insist."
He kissed her again. It was soft, short and simple. "I do." His forehead resting against hers, he explained in a tone that left her clit throbbing, "I want you so wet for me, Cuddy."
She squeezed the muscles around his fingers. "I'm not wet enough for you?"
"You're getting there," he admitted. "Just a little bit more."
"And then?"
The question had barely had enough time to reach his ears before a loud groan followed. He thought he must have hit a particularly sweet spot, because she was so much more flush now than she had been seconds ago.
He pulled again at the nipple in his grasp. It was behaving nicely, hardening into a delicate peak from his ministrations. "You know what happens next."
"Not with you," she muttered.
Normally, she would have said that as a complaint. But this was more teasing, as it was hard to be too angry with the man who was getting you off.
He leaned down, so that he could rub his nose against her clavicle. The bone had always been prominent, but these days, it was much more visible - thanks to her new exercise regime. And to be honest, it made her look... more vulnerable, more... fragile to him. But he wouldn't ever complain about it to her; she was thin but not to the point of harming herself, and he wasn't going to make her self-conscious about one of the few ways (though it was decidedly less fun) of relieving the stress that always seemed to overwhelm her.
Against her flushed skin, he said, "Good to know I don't bore you."
She panted as he kissed her skin and tasted her sweat. "You could... never bore me," she told him in halted tones.
"I don't know." He pretended to be doubtful over that fact. "How many minutes have I had my fingers in you, and you haven't come?"
She shook her head as best as she could without accidentally smacking him in the face. "Close," she reassured, straining for more sensation. "I could come if you were inside me."
He scoffed. "I am inside of you."
At that, she practically growled, and he knew that she was much closer than he'd originally thought. Because if she were this frustrated over some stupid remark, then she was either ready to orgasm or so not even remotely close to that. And he would have had to have been foolish to think the latter was even an option at this point.
"Not the way I want," she whined. "Harder."
"God, you are just full of complaints." He didn't actually care that she was whining, of course, but he was a little surprised at her commitment to it. "Maybe you should just keep your mouth closed until -"
"Screw you."
"You are. You will," he told her firmly. "As soon as you come, I will be right there."
Her eyes fluttered shut, a subtle indication that what he'd said had done something for her, had turned her on.
He decided he could work with that.
"That's right," he said, rubbing her clit harder. "The second you come, I am going to spread your legs and take you." He ran a thumb over her nipple, his palm cupping her breast with enough pressure for her to feel him. "I'm not going to care how sensitive you are. I don't care if you're not ready. The second, your pretty, tight, warm little box squeezes my fingers, I'm going to penetrate you," he told her, nipping at her collarbone. "Do you understand me, Cuddy? I'm going to give you the best pounding you've ever had, baby."
"Yes," she moaned, liking where this was going. His words flashed in images before the inky darkness behind her eyelids. She could see everything he was talking about - her cunt still trying to adjust from an orgasm being forced to take him inch by inch inside of her sensitive body.
She wanted that.
"You feel that?" he asked her, pressing his penis into her hipbone. "That's all for you, and like a good girl, you're going to take it over and over," he said. He emphasized the overs, his voice louder and the words in time to his fingers thrusting inside of her. "And I'm not going to stop until I come inside you, deep inside you."
She couldn't take anymore.
The fingers on her nipple tweaked her insistently. The fingers inside of her pumped as hard as they could. Each motion met with the downward motion of her hips, she was matching him thrust for thrust. His thumb rubbed her clit in circles that echoed through her body as though he had been skipping rocks and she was the body of water. Every ripple of pleasure coursed through her body. Each one larger than the last, she felt her entire body vibrate with that energy until the ripples had mixed and mingled together and there was no way to separate each pulse from the other.
Her fingers digging into the sheets, she came to the sound of his words. Her muscles clenched his fingers tightly, so tightly that he stilled his thrusts.
He had said that the second she had an orgasm, he would fuck her. But in the actual moment, House was a little more forgiving, allowing her to ride out her orgasm with all the help he could give her without hurting her.
His thumb moved away from her clit, so that he could stimulate her without direct contact. The rest of his fingers still, he let her rock herself through the rest of her orgasm patiently.
When she'd stopped moving, her body settling on the bed once more, he withdrew his hand from her. And eagerly he moved on the bed, so that he was once more between her legs. The show she'd inadvertently put on for him had made him harder, much harder, than the direct stimulation of her mouth on his dick had or ever could. Perhaps that sounded odd, but there was quite frankly nothing sexier than watching his girlfriend come.
Correction, he thought within seconds; there was nothing sexier than watching his girlfriend recovering from an orgasm as he entered her.
Nothing.
She whined a little (in a good way) as he pressed the head of his penis against her labia. She was wet against him, that sticky sound of her juices coming into contact with his flesh like music to his ears. Using his hand to guide himself, he pushed himself inside her. Her muscles were still contracting, and now they were squeezing him in a way that almost made him lose it right then and there.
Unable to control himself, he fell forward onto his elbows and thrust all the way in.
She screamed.
Not loudly, not in a you're-hurting-me sort of way, not even in surprise; this was a shout of the good kind; though hard to describe, it was something she only did when she was so overwhelmed (again in a good way) by the desire inside of her. It meant that she was almost instantly ready to come again.
Her body shaking underneath him, he knew that, no matter how quickly he came, she would come away satisfied.
Withdrawing from her, he said before pushing himself back in, "See? I said you would get what you wanted."
She nodded her head in agreement, her arms wrapping themselves along his shoulders. "Yes."
Cuddy wasn't really answering the question. She was far too interested in what he was doing to her body than to even paying attention to what he was saying.
And he knew that - and contemplated using it to his advantage. If she wasn't going to listen, then he could safely say whatever it was he wanted to say without fear of repercussions.
His hips rocking back and forth, her slickness tight all around him, he said in between grunts, "Love you."
It was such a false thing to say. He did love her, very much, but he realized that it was easy to say those words to someone who was letting you go ball deep. It was also easy to say the words when she wasn't listening.
"Harder," she moaned, her hands moving to his ass. As she cupped him, her nails dug into him. "More."
But instead he slowed down, taking her in languid, long strokes. It wouldn't be hard to come quickly. The way her mouth hung open and a few strands of dark hair clung to her pale skin; her nipples taut and yearning for his mouth; her body, sopping wet and hot, tight around his penis - it would have been easy to fall apart now and never look back.
However, he wasn't ready for that to happen. He didn't want it to happen, because he never wanted this to end.
"House," she insisted. "Don't..." She licked her lips. "Do it right," she said vaguely.
He refused on principle to do what she wanted. "You're awfully whiny," he told her. As though punishing her, he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Giving her just the slightest hint of teeth, he felt her reaction; her muscles clenched him, almost painfully so.
And she came again, her body entire body arching off of the bed (as best as it could underneath his weight anyway). Her head resting on his shoulder as he continued to pump, she couldn't see his face of triumph when she shouted, "Oh God."
She was practically clamped around him in every way imaginable. Her arms had moved once more and were wrapped around his upper back; her legs were slung tightly over his hips; her internal muscles rhythmically tensed and released against him.
Her breath was hot on his shoulder, and he felt completely trapped by her. He couldn't thrust into her with as much ease now; she was clinging to him, which made pulling out of her nearly impossible.
But House didn't mind. The way he was practically wearing her was enough of an aphrodisiac to make the short thrusts he had to make more than pleasurable.
He wanted to make fun of her, wanted to point out that she'd been wanting him to go harder and he hadn't needed to. He wanted to but couldn't. He could feel his own need quickly becoming too great for him to handle; his balls swayed heavily against her ass; his nipples were impossibly hard, though she hadn't touched him. Each nerve ending on his skin seemed to be stimulated by her mere presence. He wanted to make fun of her, but he wanted to come inside of her more.
House grunted loudly at the idea of it. Though they'd had sex plenty today, there was never going to be a time where filling her with his come wasn't going to be something he wanted to do.
She must have felt the same way, because at that moment, she told him loudly, "Keep going."
"I'm trying," he said through gritted teeth.
"I want you to come. In me."
He wanted to mockingly ask her if there were really any other place he was going to do that but didn't. Words were lost to him when compared to the feeling of the cunt he was pumping. She was soaking wet, coating him with the proof of her attraction for him. And growing inside of his body was some proof of his own for her.
Rocking against her, he drove into her as far as he could, as hard as he could - as though there were some place of her he hadn't touched, she thought to herself. Or would have thought to herself if his thrust hadn't set off another orgasm for her.
She was loud, unconsciously, explosively loud in crying out, "Yes!"
The feeling tunneling in on her quickly, it was met with House coming inside of her. A long "Oh" escaping him, he drove himself into her. His semen spraying her in long, generous pulses, she cried out again as her body milked him of everything he had.
He sagged against her. Exhausted he could barely hold himself up, thanks to their mind-blowing sex, and she was still coming down from her high as he pressed her into the mattress.
It felt good at first, to have his weight on top of her. She liked the feeling of being unable to escape him (at the moment anyway). But it quickly became a problem. He was making her hot, sweaty. "Hey," she told him quietly.
She didn't even have to finish the words before he rolled off of her. Her eyes watching him, she was a little surprised that he didn't simply move to his side of the bed.
Granted, getting up to brush your teeth before sleeping wasn't exactly odd; she was just surprised that he didn't feel the need to strut like a peacock about the number of orgasms he'd given her. That he wasn't doing that made her suspicious to the point that she felt obligated to follow him into the bathroom.
However, she only had to peel herself off of the damn sheets to understand what was going on.
Looking at her side of the bed, she could see that it practically wet with their combined sweat. And though it was her side of the bed, she didn't want to sleep in that. The simple solution would be to make him switch sides.
And it suddenly became clear why he'd nearly bolted from the bed seconds after coming inside of her. He didn't want to give her a chance to steal his side.
Well, that just wasn't going to happen.
But in the end, it did. She'd been too slow, had too much to do in order to beat House to the sought-out side of the bed. And by the time, she'd put on pajamas, he was already nestled under the covers with a victorious smirk on her face.
"Switch sides with me?" she asked nicely, hoping that maybe she could appeal to his better nature.
"Nope."
Apparently he didn't have a better nature.
"Come on."
"Sorry."
She stomped over to his side of the bed and yanked the sheets down. "I had sex with you in a school."
He looked up at her as though he'd forgotten. "How many orgasms did you just have?" She growled, and he said over top of the noise she was making, "I don't think you want to use sexual performance as a -"
"Shut up and move," she snapped.
… Well, all right, it came out more of a whine, but she was okay with that.
"Not gonna happen." He patted the space next to him on the bed. "So just park those sweet -"
"Never mind."
At that point, she realized that he would never share with her. And too exhausted to fight him any longer, Cuddy simply capitulated and crawled under the covers that had yet to dry.
It was miserable. He was happy next to her, but she was hot and uncomfortable, despite the season. And the longer she thought of her situation, the longer she lay in the darkness not saying anything, the more her mind was allowed to wander to other unpleasant things.
"House?" she asked, trying to push the dark thoughts out of her mind.
"Not trading," he muttered into his pillow.
She shook her head, concern for her job and her daughter filling it already. "That's not what I mean."
He exhaled loudly. "What?" She hesitated to say anything, not knowing what she should really tell him, and this fact just made him repeat (albeit with agitation), "What?"
"Never mind."
He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't really hear, though she could assume it was something about how annoying she was. "Just tell me."
And she didn't know why she did end up saying something. Later on, she would claim exhaustion, but in reality, she didn't know why she opened her mouth. Maybe it was because of the safety she found in the darkness.
Whatever the reason, at that moment, she couldn't help but say, "Just… tell me things will be all right."
"Everything's going to be fine," he said hastily.
"Forget it."
"What do you want me to say?" he asked in frustration.
She rolled away from him, turning her back on him. "Next time," she said bitterly. "Try to sound like you mean it."
It was only hours later, long after he'd fallen asleep, that she realized he had meant it.
She just hadn't believed him.
Go 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. 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), Chapter 9 (Part 3)
Disclaimer: I don't own it.
He blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. Rolling off of her, he settled his back against the headboard. He hadn't thought she'd be all that interested in blow jobs after what Rachel had walked into earlier today. But hey, if Cuddy wanted to do that, who was he to refuse?
Of course, he wasn't going to let her control the whole endeavor completely. He had no intention of letting that happen. And she didn't really want to direct things anyway (he knew that much), so it would all work itself out in the end.
But as of right now, he was willing to let her guide things.
The bed dipped as she rolled onto her side. His penis still wasn't all that hard on account of the fact that they hadn't done much up to this point. But the sight of her naked body and the knowledge that they would soon be joined together in a way that felt amazing and life altering every time they did it was beginning to breathe life into him.
At that moment, almost as though she were thinking the same thing, she looked into his eyes and smiled a little bit. Teasing she asked, "You think I wouldn't want to do this after -"
He groaned, stopping her from finishing the thought. "I think that we should make it a point never to speak about that again."
Without even thinking much about it, House reached over and stroked her throat with the back of his hand. His knuckles raked lightly over the muscles, taut with the effort necessary for her to look up to him, and she smiled even wider. "All right," she said gently.
Honestly, she didn't really want to talk about it either. Clearly Cuddy would have had to have been mentally ill to want to discuss at length how her daughter had walked in on them having sex; if anything, if Cuddy had her way, this would never be brought up, mentioned - referenced in any way ever again. So she couldn't have been more relieved to know that House felt the same way. Not that she really thought he would want to talk about it, of course, but she didn't put it past him to bring it up to distract her, shame her, etc. If anyone was the kind of person to bring up that horribly embarrassing moment for personal gain, it was House.
That said, she had been the one to bring it up now. Aside from the fact that she suspected House was thinking about it anyway, she thought that it was important to let him know:
She didn't blame him.
Earlier she had. She couldn't deny that. When it had first happened, underneath all of the shame, underneath all of the fear that Rachel would be screwed up for life, Cuddy had blamed House - had hated him for somehow letting this happen. And though she had kept her temper as in check as she possibly could, she worried that she hadn't been as successful at that as was necessary to keep House from realizing that she did blame him. In fact, she was sure that he knew on some level that she had.
And now, all she wanted him to know was that... it was over. Rachel was fine - albeit sick from having way too many cookies. Though the little girl had brought up the notion of having babies, it had turned out that that had less to do with what she'd seen and more to do with what Madison had told her. Actually, given the way Madison had hurt Rachel's feelings, Cuddy was sure that Rachel would have asked about brothers and sisters soon enough anyway. And because of that, there was no rational reason to be upset at House.
... Well, at least, there was no reason to punish him for that.
She was prematurely feeling irritation over how he would react tomorrow upon learning that she was going to talk to John Kelley. But she wasn't willing to let that get in the way of what she wanted tonight, what she wanted right now.
And what she wanted was House.
In every way, as completely and totally as possible - she wanted him.
She wanted to be consumed by his desire for her and vice versa.
She wanted her body to be set ablaze with the embers of need and lust and love; she wanted the burn of the searing hot fire that hadn't been extinguished even after all of this time to consume her totally.
But in order to do that, she needed to get him hard.
He wasn't, unfortunately, though she knew that he would quickly rise to the occasion; he might have been an older man, certainly older than when they'd first done this. But he was more than capable of giving it to her the way she wanted as many times as she wanted (and then some).
She just had to give him a little preparation.
And she was more than willing (and eager) to provide it.
As one of his hands skimmed the length of her body, his fingers dancing along her ribs, she reached for his cock. It was warm under her palm, the desire to taste him compelling her to lean forward.
Her hair slipped past her shoulders. The strands tickled his thigh and her upper chest. She started to lower her head, so that she could lick him. But at that moment, House stopped her by ordering, "Move up on the bed."
That was nearly impossible to do. She'd been resting against the headboard, and, thanks to the pillows and a wall, there really wasn't anywhere she could go. "I -"
"I want to touch you," he told her in a deep voice.
She nodded her head. She couldn't refuse him. The bed rocked as Cuddy shifted on the bed as best she could. House helped her move her pussy closer in reach. His hands on her hips, he guided her further up on the mattress. And though it absolutely broke the mood she'd been going for, in the end, she was glad to have the order.
As she lowered her head once more, House allowed his hand to skim across her ass. His touch was gentle, so feather light that she almost questioned whether or not it was actually happening. But it must have been, because as she pressed her first kiss to his penis, she felt him dip his fingers between her warm folds.
She gasped, blowing hot air onto his sensitive flesh (which only served to make his hips flinch in burgeoning desire). His hand possessively cupped her bottom. Though he was doing it in a way that was gentle for him, his grip was quickly becoming one she couldn't ignore. And didn't want to; his fingers were splayed as wide as they could possibly be. The tips of his middle and ring finger were just beginning to slip past her labia.
The sensation wasn't strong enough to make her soaking with desire. She doubted he expected it to. But the soft little caresses he was giving her were slowly warming her up.
And they were definitely making her quick to please him.
She placed one last sloppy kiss along the side of his cock. Her hand, lightly cupping his balls, eagerly slid back to his penis; now that there was a little moisture there, she could more eagerly stroke him to hardness. And as she fisted him, he muttered his approval. "That's good," he told her, the "good" coming out so slowly as though there were at least six or seven o's in the word.
She smirked, though he, with eyes closed, took no note of her satisfaction. If he thought that was good, she would love what she planned on doing next. She ran her tongue along his swelling prick toward his head. All the while, she kept stroking him.
"Keep going," he told her, gripping her ass tightly, as though that was going to encourage her (it did).
For a brief moment, she lapped at the tip of his dick. She did it gingerly, not wanting to give him too much for fear of things ending too quickly. Although she certainly didn't mind stopping things with oral sex, she wanted him inside her... in a different way. And she didn't want to give him so much pleasure that he came within seconds.
But perhaps that was unavoidable, she thought. As she allowed the rest of her mouth to follow her tongue, he cried out in pleasure. His hips bucked lightly as she let his swollen member pass through her lips.
He couldn't help it. Her mouth was warm, warmer and wetter than he remembered it being from earlier. Of course, all he really remembered from earlier was the terrible way things had ended.
Fearing that his own mind would allow that memory to replay in his mind, he suddenly cleared his throat. His hands moving to her shoulders, he told her, "Stop."
Her hand still fisting his dick, she looked up at him, "'Stop"?"
"On your back."
The order left no room for discussion, which she understood immediately. Nevertheless, she didn't move. Well, all right, she did; she bowed her head once more and sucked the tip of his penis into her mouth. But unlike before, he didn't seem pleased.
"Cuddy."
She hummed in response as she pulled him in deeper, and though he was going to make her stop, he couldn't help but be tempted to let her continue. The vibrations she was creating in her throat were echoing in his body, making it nearly impossible to hold back a gasp. That he did was surprising, he thought.
That he could reach down and tug her off of him was nothing short of a miracle.
She had no choice but to let his now wet cock slip out of her mouth. She might not have wanted to do what he said, but she also didn't want to hurt him.
When she released him, she looked up in annoyance.
"On your back," he repeated, each monosyllabic word coming out in a halting, serious-to-the-point-of-angry voice.
But once again she didn't move. "What are you going to do if I don't?"
He could tell what she was doing. She was being so transparent with the way she was trying to provoke him. And he knew precisely what she wanted - she wanted it to hurt - which was why he had no intention of letting her force his hand.
He wasn't against giving it to her roughly. But if the whole point of her behavior in these times was to give him the upper hand, he thought that it defeated the purpose to give her expressly what she wanted.
Still, he couldn't help but cater to her needs a little bit.
His hands gripping her forearms tightly, he physically pulled her off of him and pushed her down onto the mattress. "Don't move," he warned.
"Or what?" she challenged playfully.
He sighed and stroked her stomach. Not for very long - all the talk about pregnancy filled the act with all sorts of potential deeper meaning that, when recognized, forced his hand to her thigh. "Just relax."
She shifted on the mattress a little bit. She was clearly trying to do what he was telling her, but it was hard, and he could practically feel the tense energy radiating from her form.
"Relax," he repeated, spreading her legs with his hands. "Close your eyes."
She didn't want to, but the stress from work and Rachel and everything else was wearing on her quickly. And if House wanted her to close her eyes, if only to avoid getting more stressed (which would happen, because they would fight), she would do that.
"Fine."
"You're cranky," he commented, leaning down to lick her pelvic bone.
She jerked in surprise, controlling herself just enough so that she wouldn't accidentally hurt House. Oh, part of her absolutely felt that he deserved it. But the rest of her was far too focused on the long, wet trail his tongue was creating along her body.
So of course he had to stop.
One of his hands was warmly rubbing her knee when he suggested, "Maybe I should just put you to bed now - you know, since you're acting like a -"
Her eyelids fluttered open. "I'm not acting like a child."
He paused for a moment before responding, "Yeah, that doesn't convince me."
"Are you actually planning on having sex with me, or are you just interested in toying with me?"
Shifting on the bed, House curled up next to Cuddy. His head on her pillow and now right by her ear, he said quietly, "You know me better than that."
He slipped his hand down her body leisurely. There was no way she didn't know where he was headed, and he wanted the anticipation to eat away at and supplant the tension she'd been victim to all day, thanks to work and her daughter.
It worked.
Even before he touched Cuddy, he could tell that she was falling prey to what he wanted; by the time he circled her belly button with his index finger, she let out a little grunt. Though it was one of frustration, it was an indication that she didn't want him to take his time. The fact that, the second his palm brushed against her mound, she was spreading her legs as widely and lewdly as they could go just reinforced that idea.
His fingers searching for her clit, he kissed her ear lightly and whispered, "I always take care of my pussy, don't I?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear just in time to see her swallow hard. The proof right before him, he could see that his words and actions were getting to her.
His middle finger circled her opening, each loop more insistent than the last. He wasn't hurting her, of course. She hadn't exactly been wet when he'd started, but everything he was doing was getting her juices going.
"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out as though he disapproved of her lack of response.
"I..." She shook her head a little, as though she didn't even really understand what the question was.
His thumb lightly stroked her clitoris, the tight little bud now straining for her touch. This too he stimulated in little circles. But he didn't apply nearly as much pressure; he didn't need to, of course. He didn't know if she was just that easy or if the years she'd gone without sex had made her easy, but what he did know was that she was quick to orgasm, especially when there was direct stimulation to her clitoris. And though he normally liked using this to his advantage, he didn't want her to come right away.
He wanted her to feel it in her entire body first.
So he made circles that were just slightly too wide, slightly too obtuse. She would feel it; it would drive her nuts. But it wouldn't be what she needed.
"Do you need me to repeat the question?" he asked tauntingly as he moved his face closer to her neck. He wanted to be as close to her as possible. Though he was usually one to advocate personal space, in this instance, he wanted absolutely nothing separating her from him. He wanted to know, to feel each shift in her body. He wanted her to feel completely and helplessly exposed to him.
"I..." She chuckled quietly, nervously.
"Hmm." His lips pressed to the space where her shoulders and neck met, he hoped she felt it. "I think I do need to repeat myself."
He was patronizing her, and she knew it. There was no way she didn't, he thought. But he was hardly ashamed by the fact. If anything, he was purposely being condescending; though she would undoubtedly hate that kind of behavior in any other area of her life, he knew she was oddly turned on by it in this one.
"Don't worry," he cooed. "I won't hold it against you too much."
He slipped one finger inside of her. She gasped a little, her walls clamping down on him as hard as she could. God, she was tight, he thought. "I get that it's hard for you," he said slowly, withdrawing his finger with equal languidness. "It's difficult to concentrate when you know you're going to have your pussy stuffed in a couple minutes."
Cuddy tried to laugh at his language; it was ridiculous, admittedly. But she didn't actually laugh. As he pushed his finger back into her insistently, the giggle she'd been trying to utter morphed into something that sounded more like a hiss.
"But I do want an answer," he said kissing her neck, her shoulder, and then her jaw. Little pecks peppering her in odd places, it made her reluctant to look at him. Obviously she didn't want him to stop. But when he cupped her jaw with his hand, thumb on her chin, and forced her to look over at him, she was forced to deal with the situation head on.
Her voice breathless, she asked, "What was the question?"
He let go of her jaw. Now that she was looking at him, he knew that she wouldn't look away until he told her to. Though obedience had never been her strong suit, nor something he wanted from her on a daily basis, when it came to sex... submission was something she liked to dabble in with perfect mastery. No, she wouldn't look away. She would do exactly what he wanted, because it was what she needed right now.
Truth be told, House wasn't sure if that was a curse of a gift. Having complete control was incredibly hot, but he was also always mindful that he couldn't push too far. Obviously he would push her boundaries a little bit; she liked that. But there was always the risk of scaring her, hurting her, going too far with her that made this specific kind of encounter something he was hesitant to have on a regular basis with her.
On the other hand, he supposed she was aware of those facts. She couldn't be so ignorant as to not think that handing complete control over to someone else put her at risk for being asked to do things she wasn't necessarily comfortable with. The fact that she so rarely let anyone have any control over her choices and actions he took as proof enough that she understood how easily things could turn for her. And she must have been equally aware that he feared his ability to control himself, because she didn't ask - well, she never asked - for him to do this until she thought she was going to lose it.
Although he never said it, he appreciated her restraint - just as he hoped she appreciated his. Perhaps it shouldn't have made him feel reassured, but it did; it just made him feel like she was willing to go down whatever path he wanted to in these moments.
Using his now free hand to tweak one of her nipples, House pushed the lingering doubt from his mind. Things would be okay.
And with all the arrogance that knowledge provided for him, he repeated his question, "I said, 'I always take care of my pussy, don't I?'" He emphasized the possessive pronoun, feeling in that moment as though it was important for her to know that she was absolutely, completely his.
But she didn't give him the yes or no she was expecting. Instead, she told him snidely, "I didn't realize you had one."
He pulled his finger from her cunt and stilled the thumb that had been circling her clit. If she was going to play that way, he wasn't going to make her feel good.
Purposely bumping his groin into her hip, his erection tickling her skin and the earliest trace of precum marring her pale flesh, he asked, "Does it feel like I have one on my body?"
She didn't answer the question; her hips were too busy shifting to try and rub herself against the fingers that had stilled in between her labia.
So he responded by pulling his hand away completely.
"Don't," she practically pleaded.
Inwardly she wanted to groan at the sound of her own voice. Though it was probably exactly what House wanted to hear, she hated the way she sounded like she was one step away from begging for a hand job.
"I will do what I want," he told her admonishingly. "You will do as I say, or I'm going to stop right now, and you can wait until morning to get off."
She wanted to punch him in the face; he was being such an arrogant little prick (so it was kind of business as usual), and she would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smirk, which he probably wasn't even aware existed, off his face.
But in the end, she stopped moving, fulfilling the silent expectation of her, because she knew that she wanted to get off. And in order to do that any time soon, she would need to give him what he wanted, and punching him in the face, though tempting, probably wouldn't get her what she wanted.
"Sorry," she muttered, the word sounding as perfunctory and obligatory as it was.
"I'm sure," House said doubtfully.
Unfortunately for her, he made no move to touch her again. And she knew that there was only one explanation for it; he wanted her to ask for it - to beg. Peevish, she wanted to do anything but that. But again, giving him what he wanted in this instance was easier than trying to wrangle control from him.
Besides, did she really want to be in charge right now?
The answer so clear in her mind (no), she didn't even have to think it.
"Fine." Her voice sounded like a grumble. "You're... good at... what you do," she said vaguely, wanting to avoid having to call herself his pussy if she could. "Now will you please get -"
"That's not I asked."
She rolled her eyes. "Close enough."
"I don't think so."
"Yes, it -"
He looked at her in all seriousness. "I would rethink that logic," he warned. "Because if you don't do what I want... I might be tempted to do the same when I'm inside you and feeling the need to come way before you're ready."
There was an unspoken threat in his words, a threat that she was not oblivious to. And knowing that her hand had been forced, she sighed. "What do you want me to say?"
At that, his hand skated across the flesh of her thigh and back to her core. Two fingers immediately pushing inside of her with enough power to make her exhale loudly, he said nothing. She waited for him to say something; her gaze was intent on him, just in case she was supposed to pick up on some House version of Morse code. But he just kept pushing and withdrawing his fingers as though the conversation had never happened.
"House?" she asked, her voice unsure and shaky. She hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, but the way he was coaxing her fluids from her body, the way it felt like he was touching every bit of her, made her unable to control her emotions.
"Shhh," he whispered into her ear. His breath was hot against the delicate shell of cartilage, and long after he'd finishing hushing her, the hiss seemed to linger on within her.
All of a sudden, she felt hot and confused, her desire and his behavior making her feel a little drunk. "But -"
"It's okay," he told her gently.
"But -"
"Just enjoy it, all right?"
It was an easier command to say than to follow apparently. And honestly, he wasn't surprised by her confusion. He probably would have been too if the situation were reversed. After all, they weren't the kind to back off.
But he had.
That wasn't by any means normal for them. He knew it, which was why he could understand her confusion. They weren't the kind of people to back off. Especially when it came to dealings that only they were privy to, they rarely capitulated. In a way, there was no need to; they understood fully that they loved one another, that they were as screwed up and awful as two people could be, and that almost all (if not all) was forgivable. And he knew full well that making her say something she clearly didn't want to utter would be forgiven.
Honestly though, House just wasn't in the mood to do that tonight. He could, but more than anything, he thought it was in bad form to force your girlfriend, who was wonderful enough to say no to more babies, to say something she didn't find the least bit sexy.
Maybe it said something about him that he felt that there were times where it was okay to make her do those things. But in his defense, she let him do it, wanted him to do it on occasion, so it wasn't like she was really against it. He just thought that in this case, maybe... maybe it was better to...
He didn't like the way he wanted to finish the thought. But after a couple seconds of hesitation, his mind on his thoughts and absolutely not on the way Cuddy was meeting his fingers' thrusts by grinding her hips against his hand, he decided that his initial ending was good enough - if not very clever and completely saccharine.
He didn't want to make her say the words, because he thought that maybe it was better to take the time to remind himself how lucky he was to have her, someone who was so perfect and so unlucky as to have him in her life.
He wanted to cherish her, wanted to worship her body. He knew that it wouldn't even begin to do her justice, to do the way he felt justice. But any attempt was better than no attempt at all, and he was nothing if not headstrong enough to try.
With that in mind, he focused once more on the task at hand... on the task covering his hand?
Her juices were flowing freely now, coating the fingers he was pushing into her repeatedly and dribbling down onto his palm and heel. He could smell her, that wonderful scent that he could only describe as her. Every now and then a moan catching in the back of her throat, he could tell that she had taken his order to enjoy it seriously.
He smiled and laved the outer shell of her ear. His voice rough and throaty, he encouraged her further. "That's right. That's good."
At that moment, he let his thumb slide along the ridge of her clitoris. And though it wasn't substantial contact, it was enough to make Cuddy agree with him. "Yes," she crooned.
"You like that? Hmm?" He kissed his way in short pecks towards her mouth, which was already slightly ajar.
Totally focused on the way her stomach seemed laden with that ever-winding need to orgasm, she was taken aback when she felt his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth.
He swallowed her "Oh," her surprise muted by his body and her sudden desire for it.
She was close. Despite all of the sex they'd had during the day, the way he was making her feel, the precision with which he was feeling all of her with just the perfect amount of speed, destroyed any notion of "too much." His thumb on her clitoris stroking her in soft touches, it didn't feel like she'd come several times today.
It didn't feel like she'd ever had sex.
Her thirst unquenchable, her need a force greater than her own body, she reached for him. She needed him, all of him at that moment. His fingers, his mouth, it wasn't enough. She needed more than the stubble burning her and the thumb setting her ablaze in a whole different way.
This just wasn't enough.
But the hand on his hipbone woke no sense of exigency inside of him. And it just figured, she thought almost bitterly; he was the one who could fuck almost the second it had been suggested. But now he was the one who wanted to take his time when she wanted to hurry things up.
She pulled away from him. "Please," she urged.
"Not yet," he told her, adding a third finger to the other two.
Immediately, she felt fuller, her body stretching to accommodate him. Now, he was really touching every bit of her; now she felt as though she couldn't take any more. She just wanted him, all of him. "House," she told him, aiming for a voice that was stern enough to show that she wasn't kidding.
"I want you to come first," he told her, reaching for her breast once more.
His hand was warm against her soft flesh as he cupped her. A bead of sweat dislodged itself from underneath the curve of her chest and slipped lazily down her ribs. She hadn't even realized he'd made her that hot, that... unconscious to what her body was doing. But as the wet sensation tickled her, she was forced into feeling all sorts of other sensations - ones that didn't originate between her legs.
There was sweat between her toes and fingers, pooling along her back. The rational part of her couldn't help but think that sleeping tonight would be particular miserable, but she didn't really care about damp sheets. She did care about getting off.
And if House wanted her to come before he had sex with her...
She supposed she couldn't disappoint him.
As he tugged at the nipple trapped between his fingers, she hissed, "Well, if you insist."
He kissed her again. It was soft, short and simple. "I do." His forehead resting against hers, he explained in a tone that left her clit throbbing, "I want you so wet for me, Cuddy."
She squeezed the muscles around his fingers. "I'm not wet enough for you?"
"You're getting there," he admitted. "Just a little bit more."
"And then?"
The question had barely had enough time to reach his ears before a loud groan followed. He thought he must have hit a particularly sweet spot, because she was so much more flush now than she had been seconds ago.
He pulled again at the nipple in his grasp. It was behaving nicely, hardening into a delicate peak from his ministrations. "You know what happens next."
"Not with you," she muttered.
Normally, she would have said that as a complaint. But this was more teasing, as it was hard to be too angry with the man who was getting you off.
He leaned down, so that he could rub his nose against her clavicle. The bone had always been prominent, but these days, it was much more visible - thanks to her new exercise regime. And to be honest, it made her look... more vulnerable, more... fragile to him. But he wouldn't ever complain about it to her; she was thin but not to the point of harming herself, and he wasn't going to make her self-conscious about one of the few ways (though it was decidedly less fun) of relieving the stress that always seemed to overwhelm her.
Against her flushed skin, he said, "Good to know I don't bore you."
She panted as he kissed her skin and tasted her sweat. "You could... never bore me," she told him in halted tones.
"I don't know." He pretended to be doubtful over that fact. "How many minutes have I had my fingers in you, and you haven't come?"
She shook her head as best as she could without accidentally smacking him in the face. "Close," she reassured, straining for more sensation. "I could come if you were inside me."
He scoffed. "I am inside of you."
At that, she practically growled, and he knew that she was much closer than he'd originally thought. Because if she were this frustrated over some stupid remark, then she was either ready to orgasm or so not even remotely close to that. And he would have had to have been foolish to think the latter was even an option at this point.
"Not the way I want," she whined. "Harder."
"God, you are just full of complaints." He didn't actually care that she was whining, of course, but he was a little surprised at her commitment to it. "Maybe you should just keep your mouth closed until -"
"Screw you."
"You are. You will," he told her firmly. "As soon as you come, I will be right there."
Her eyes fluttered shut, a subtle indication that what he'd said had done something for her, had turned her on.
He decided he could work with that.
"That's right," he said, rubbing her clit harder. "The second you come, I am going to spread your legs and take you." He ran a thumb over her nipple, his palm cupping her breast with enough pressure for her to feel him. "I'm not going to care how sensitive you are. I don't care if you're not ready. The second, your pretty, tight, warm little box squeezes my fingers, I'm going to penetrate you," he told her, nipping at her collarbone. "Do you understand me, Cuddy? I'm going to give you the best pounding you've ever had, baby."
"Yes," she moaned, liking where this was going. His words flashed in images before the inky darkness behind her eyelids. She could see everything he was talking about - her cunt still trying to adjust from an orgasm being forced to take him inch by inch inside of her sensitive body.
She wanted that.
"You feel that?" he asked her, pressing his penis into her hipbone. "That's all for you, and like a good girl, you're going to take it over and over," he said. He emphasized the overs, his voice louder and the words in time to his fingers thrusting inside of her. "And I'm not going to stop until I come inside you, deep inside you."
She couldn't take anymore.
The fingers on her nipple tweaked her insistently. The fingers inside of her pumped as hard as they could. Each motion met with the downward motion of her hips, she was matching him thrust for thrust. His thumb rubbed her clit in circles that echoed through her body as though he had been skipping rocks and she was the body of water. Every ripple of pleasure coursed through her body. Each one larger than the last, she felt her entire body vibrate with that energy until the ripples had mixed and mingled together and there was no way to separate each pulse from the other.
Her fingers digging into the sheets, she came to the sound of his words. Her muscles clenched his fingers tightly, so tightly that he stilled his thrusts.
He had said that the second she had an orgasm, he would fuck her. But in the actual moment, House was a little more forgiving, allowing her to ride out her orgasm with all the help he could give her without hurting her.
His thumb moved away from her clit, so that he could stimulate her without direct contact. The rest of his fingers still, he let her rock herself through the rest of her orgasm patiently.
When she'd stopped moving, her body settling on the bed once more, he withdrew his hand from her. And eagerly he moved on the bed, so that he was once more between her legs. The show she'd inadvertently put on for him had made him harder, much harder, than the direct stimulation of her mouth on his dick had or ever could. Perhaps that sounded odd, but there was quite frankly nothing sexier than watching his girlfriend come.
Correction, he thought within seconds; there was nothing sexier than watching his girlfriend recovering from an orgasm as he entered her.
Nothing.
She whined a little (in a good way) as he pressed the head of his penis against her labia. She was wet against him, that sticky sound of her juices coming into contact with his flesh like music to his ears. Using his hand to guide himself, he pushed himself inside her. Her muscles were still contracting, and now they were squeezing him in a way that almost made him lose it right then and there.
Unable to control himself, he fell forward onto his elbows and thrust all the way in.
She screamed.
Not loudly, not in a you're-hurting-me sort of way, not even in surprise; this was a shout of the good kind; though hard to describe, it was something she only did when she was so overwhelmed (again in a good way) by the desire inside of her. It meant that she was almost instantly ready to come again.
Her body shaking underneath him, he knew that, no matter how quickly he came, she would come away satisfied.
Withdrawing from her, he said before pushing himself back in, "See? I said you would get what you wanted."
She nodded her head in agreement, her arms wrapping themselves along his shoulders. "Yes."
Cuddy wasn't really answering the question. She was far too interested in what he was doing to her body than to even paying attention to what he was saying.
And he knew that - and contemplated using it to his advantage. If she wasn't going to listen, then he could safely say whatever it was he wanted to say without fear of repercussions.
His hips rocking back and forth, her slickness tight all around him, he said in between grunts, "Love you."
It was such a false thing to say. He did love her, very much, but he realized that it was easy to say those words to someone who was letting you go ball deep. It was also easy to say the words when she wasn't listening.
"Harder," she moaned, her hands moving to his ass. As she cupped him, her nails dug into him. "More."
But instead he slowed down, taking her in languid, long strokes. It wouldn't be hard to come quickly. The way her mouth hung open and a few strands of dark hair clung to her pale skin; her nipples taut and yearning for his mouth; her body, sopping wet and hot, tight around his penis - it would have been easy to fall apart now and never look back.
However, he wasn't ready for that to happen. He didn't want it to happen, because he never wanted this to end.
"House," she insisted. "Don't..." She licked her lips. "Do it right," she said vaguely.
He refused on principle to do what she wanted. "You're awfully whiny," he told her. As though punishing her, he took one of her nipples in his mouth. Giving her just the slightest hint of teeth, he felt her reaction; her muscles clenched him, almost painfully so.
And she came again, her body entire body arching off of the bed (as best as it could underneath his weight anyway). Her head resting on his shoulder as he continued to pump, she couldn't see his face of triumph when she shouted, "Oh God."
She was practically clamped around him in every way imaginable. Her arms had moved once more and were wrapped around his upper back; her legs were slung tightly over his hips; her internal muscles rhythmically tensed and released against him.
Her breath was hot on his shoulder, and he felt completely trapped by her. He couldn't thrust into her with as much ease now; she was clinging to him, which made pulling out of her nearly impossible.
But House didn't mind. The way he was practically wearing her was enough of an aphrodisiac to make the short thrusts he had to make more than pleasurable.
He wanted to make fun of her, wanted to point out that she'd been wanting him to go harder and he hadn't needed to. He wanted to but couldn't. He could feel his own need quickly becoming too great for him to handle; his balls swayed heavily against her ass; his nipples were impossibly hard, though she hadn't touched him. Each nerve ending on his skin seemed to be stimulated by her mere presence. He wanted to make fun of her, but he wanted to come inside of her more.
House grunted loudly at the idea of it. Though they'd had sex plenty today, there was never going to be a time where filling her with his come wasn't going to be something he wanted to do.
She must have felt the same way, because at that moment, she told him loudly, "Keep going."
"I'm trying," he said through gritted teeth.
"I want you to come. In me."
He wanted to mockingly ask her if there were really any other place he was going to do that but didn't. Words were lost to him when compared to the feeling of the cunt he was pumping. She was soaking wet, coating him with the proof of her attraction for him. And growing inside of his body was some proof of his own for her.
Rocking against her, he drove into her as far as he could, as hard as he could - as though there were some place of her he hadn't touched, she thought to herself. Or would have thought to herself if his thrust hadn't set off another orgasm for her.
She was loud, unconsciously, explosively loud in crying out, "Yes!"
The feeling tunneling in on her quickly, it was met with House coming inside of her. A long "Oh" escaping him, he drove himself into her. His semen spraying her in long, generous pulses, she cried out again as her body milked him of everything he had.
He sagged against her. Exhausted he could barely hold himself up, thanks to their mind-blowing sex, and she was still coming down from her high as he pressed her into the mattress.
It felt good at first, to have his weight on top of her. She liked the feeling of being unable to escape him (at the moment anyway). But it quickly became a problem. He was making her hot, sweaty. "Hey," she told him quietly.
She didn't even have to finish the words before he rolled off of her. Her eyes watching him, she was a little surprised that he didn't simply move to his side of the bed.
Granted, getting up to brush your teeth before sleeping wasn't exactly odd; she was just surprised that he didn't feel the need to strut like a peacock about the number of orgasms he'd given her. That he wasn't doing that made her suspicious to the point that she felt obligated to follow him into the bathroom.
However, she only had to peel herself off of the damn sheets to understand what was going on.
Looking at her side of the bed, she could see that it practically wet with their combined sweat. And though it was her side of the bed, she didn't want to sleep in that. The simple solution would be to make him switch sides.
And it suddenly became clear why he'd nearly bolted from the bed seconds after coming inside of her. He didn't want to give her a chance to steal his side.
Well, that just wasn't going to happen.
But in the end, it did. She'd been too slow, had too much to do in order to beat House to the sought-out side of the bed. And by the time, she'd put on pajamas, he was already nestled under the covers with a victorious smirk on her face.
"Switch sides with me?" she asked nicely, hoping that maybe she could appeal to his better nature.
"Nope."
Apparently he didn't have a better nature.
"Come on."
"Sorry."
She stomped over to his side of the bed and yanked the sheets down. "I had sex with you in a school."
He looked up at her as though he'd forgotten. "How many orgasms did you just have?" She growled, and he said over top of the noise she was making, "I don't think you want to use sexual performance as a -"
"Shut up and move," she snapped.
… Well, all right, it came out more of a whine, but she was okay with that.
"Not gonna happen." He patted the space next to him on the bed. "So just park those sweet -"
"Never mind."
At that point, she realized that he would never share with her. And too exhausted to fight him any longer, Cuddy simply capitulated and crawled under the covers that had yet to dry.
It was miserable. He was happy next to her, but she was hot and uncomfortable, despite the season. And the longer she thought of her situation, the longer she lay in the darkness not saying anything, the more her mind was allowed to wander to other unpleasant things.
"House?" she asked, trying to push the dark thoughts out of her mind.
"Not trading," he muttered into his pillow.
She shook her head, concern for her job and her daughter filling it already. "That's not what I mean."
He exhaled loudly. "What?" She hesitated to say anything, not knowing what she should really tell him, and this fact just made him repeat (albeit with agitation), "What?"
"Never mind."
He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't really hear, though she could assume it was something about how annoying she was. "Just tell me."
And she didn't know why she did end up saying something. Later on, she would claim exhaustion, but in reality, she didn't know why she opened her mouth. Maybe it was because of the safety she found in the darkness.
Whatever the reason, at that moment, she couldn't help but say, "Just… tell me things will be all right."
"Everything's going to be fine," he said hastily.
"Forget it."
"What do you want me to say?" he asked in frustration.
She rolled away from him, turning her back on him. "Next time," she said bitterly. "Try to sound like you mean it."
It was only hours later, long after he'd fallen asleep, that she realized he had meant it.
She just hadn't believed him.
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