Gift of Screws, Chapter Thirteen

[lieueitak]

Title: Gift of Screws, Chapter Thirteen
Author: Duckie Nicks
Rating:  NC-17 for sex
Characters:  House, Cuddy, Rachel Cuddy
Author's Note:  This piece takes place in the future when Rachel is five; House and Cuddy are in an established relationship.
Warning:  This fic also contains sex. This chapter contains anal sex/play.  If any of those things bother you, please hit your back button. 
Summary:  For a price, House agrees to celebrate Purim with Cuddy and Rachel. But although he's getting all the sex he wants, he's still not sure he'll be able to last the weekend. Established relationship, contains sexual situations.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 (Part 1), Chapter 9 (Part 2), Chapter 9 (Part 3), Chapter 9 (Part 4), Chapter 10 (Part 1), Chapter 10 (Part 2), Chapter 10 (Part 3), Chapter 11, Chapter 12 (Part 1), Chapter 12 (Part 2)

Disclaimer: I don't own it.


"Essential oils are wrung:
The attar from the rose
Is not expressed by suns alone,
It is the gift of screws." - Emily Dickinson

"Don't bother," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep, his words slurred together. To tell the truth, he wasn't entirely sure he'd spoken out loud or if he'd just imagined doing so; they'd collapsed into bed (her on top of him by his insistence) so late last night that House was half convinced that he'd simply hallucinated his part of the conversation.

But he must have said something aloud. Because as she rolled off of him, she countered in a voice just as deep and hazy, "Can't let it keep going off."

That wasn't exactly true though. He'd set it to turn itself off after ringing for more than a minute, but she wouldn't know that. The metallic beeping of the alarm was one he - not she - was most familiar with; although paying attention to the annoying tones was waking him up, he also understood that he recognized the sound.

It wasn't the alarm she used to wake up or the noise that usually woke him up in the morning. It wasn't even the third alarm she always insisted on setting, for the rare if not impossible instance when she might sleep through and forget to give Rachel her medicine.

No, this kind of beeping was one he heard often. It was the get-your-ass-out-of-bed-unless-you-want-to-be-fired-House alarm. Since he usually heard this obnoxious tune at least twice a week, he felt that he was more than qualified to identify it - even in his current state of near slumber.

Not that that explained why the damn thing was going off on a Sunday, he conceded. But after a moment's worth of consideration, he surmised that two events must have occurred without his knowledge. One, Cuddy had to have turned the alarm clock on at some point; this he could easily believe had happened without him noticing as he had been fairly… distracted last night.

Less believable was condition number two: they'd both slept through the first seven thousand wake up calls Cuddy had set. But that too seemed more understandable the more he thought about it.

Last night had completely exhausted them both. They'd already been tired, thanks to the all the sex they'd had, but Rachel's midnight visit had pushed them over the edge. And though he had never actually believed Cuddy's reassuring words, he was glad now that she'd misread him; had that conversation lasted any longer, they probably would have slept through every alarm she'd set.

As it was, House resented being awake now. He knew it was already late in the morning, but he would have liked nothing more than to go back to sleep. His head pounded - not because he'd been drinking, though it did feel like a hangover, but because the daylight seemed particularly intrusive to someone who only wanted to sleep longer.

A quick glance at Cuddy told him that she felt the same way. Normally quick to get up, she looked like she barely had enough energy to slap the alarm clock off. And even after doing that, she still didn't get up. Instead she unceremoniously laid back down. Her back towards the edge of the bed, her body facing him, House could see her tired eyes rimmed red with sleepiness.

"Come here," he told her quietly, the request mimicking the one he'd made only hours ago.

After they'd unceremoniously agreed to return to bed, those two words had been the only things said between them. She'd been content to crawl onto her side of the bed and remain huddled in a little ball to ward herself against the cold.

He hadn't though.

Oh, he hadn't cared all that much about her being cold. Considering she'd tossed her wet towel on his part of the mattress, he'd found it fitting that she'd been freezing. But those peevish feelings hadn't compared to his need to be close to her.

And whether that had been due to the very real fear of losing her, he hadn't known.

Or cared.

He'd simply let himself give into his desire and reach for her.

Being pulled on top of him, she hadn't complained. She hadn't even asked what he'd been doing. She'd just accepted her spot on top of him as though she'd always slept there.

This time, however, she simply rested on her side next to him. "I have to get up," she offered lazily in explanation.

He reached for her. One of his hands cupping one of her butt cheeks, he said (in what he hoped was an enticing manner), "Five minutes."

She smiled tiredly but said, "I wish I could. But it's late, and Rachel -"

"Can wait."

"She needs to eat, get her medicine."

This was all true, House realized. If Rachel, by some miracle, were still sleeping, she would need to wake up soon and be fed and medicated; waiting too long between meals would lower her blood sugar, perhaps to dangerous levels. And supposing that Rachel had gotten up earlier and had, after failing to rouse anyone else, fed herself, he realized that that still wasn't a less dangerous scenario. In that case, she would need her medicine soon, depending on when she'd eaten.

But if she were awake, she wouldn't have stayed away quietly. She'd have climbed on top of Cuddy with as much grace and self-control as a hyperactive Golden Retriever, which meant Rachel must have still been asleep. And since that seemed to be the case, he didn't see why she couldn't wait a few more minutes to be woken up.

Yet when he said that - "She can wait a little bit" - Cuddy obviously didn't agree; the look of disapproval that she gave him attested to as much.

"You can't avoid her forever."

It was the last thing he'd expected her to say. If only because he hadn't thought about avoiding Rachel at all, he was surprised to hear Cuddy assume that he had.

His head shaking a little at the very idea, he said, "I wasn't -"

"It's okay," she interrupted consolingly. "No one in their right mind would expect things to be different in a day."

"I wasn't thinking about that." His reply was quick, perhaps too quick to be believable, but it was the truth. He hadn't been thinking about that at all. Admittedly that was probably because he didn't want to consider any of that or how things with Rachel would turn out.

"So then you were thinking of…."

House knew he was being prompted here. How could he not see that? She was hardly being smooth in her fishing expedition. But he found it hard to be peevish about the matter. Considering how much she was willing to put up with, he figured he should return the favor - especially when she was only trying to gauge his mood.

And yet he found himself evading the implicit question altogether. "I was trying to figure out why you don't seem to own a pair of pants to sleep in."

As far as diversions went, this one was pretty lame. However, he'd been running his fingertips along the curve of her ass and up and down the backs of her legs, and since he'd casually noticed she was cool, it had been the first thing to pop into his mind.

Without truly considering the matter, he'd responded. And stupid though it was, his response did have the intended effect of distracting Cuddy.

Her brow crinkled in confusion, she asked, "You want to talk about what I'm wearing?"

"Hardly" was his breezy reply. His fingers sneaking underneath the thin silky material of her shorts, he added, "Not complaining either."

She didn't seem all that convinced. Or maybe she did believe that he was telling the truth, but he could tell that she felt compelled to respond. His remarks had obviously made her self-conscious.

Her cheeks pinker than normal, she explained, "I get warm in my sleep - especially with you in my bed."

At that he shot her a look Cuddy could best describe as a peevish way of saying, "Well, you're not perfect either."

So she tried to put it more nicely. Things didn't need to be any more tense or problematic than they already had been this weekend. "I'm not complaining," she said in a matter of fact voice. "When I sleep, I'm sensitive to heat. When you sleep, you get very warm. Wearing pants would make me hot. Wearing less…" she drawled the words out slowly and scooted closer to him on the bed. "Means I can be closer to you."

No doubt, she thought, he would counter her oversimplified summation with at least five examples of when that had not happened. Even though she doubted he cared much about the subject, if there were exceptions, he would probably feel compelled to mention them. He couldn't help himself.

Which meant she would need to change the subject quickly if she wanted to avoid listening to him talk.

"Means you can grab my ass without any -"

He snorted loudly in interruption. "Without any what? Effort?" His warm fingers splayed widely along the curve of her ass, though he didn't squeeze. "Cause I don't think there's much effort involved."

"So I've noticed."

She could feel his hand shift suddenly and awkwardly underneath the cotton of her shorts, making it hard for her to pay attention to what he was saying. "You could wear a suit of armor and chastity belt, and I'd still find a way. Seriously."

"I know," she said in a breathy voice. She hadn't meant for the sentence to practically sound like a hiss, but it had been at that moment that his fingers had skirted around her thighs and gone straight for her clitoris.

Given the way they were laying, he missed, of course, though she was sure that that had been intentional. House didn't miss. But at the moment, her legs were pressed together as she lie on her side, and across from her, he had to hold his hand parallel to her mount to touch her. And the result was that it wasn't easy to wedge fingers between her lips.

That hardly mattered though.

She'd been interested the second he'd put his hand on her ass. The warm weight of his palm had thrilled her; the way his fingers, trapped in her shorts, had squirmed along her body had accentuated the feeling and the intimacy shared by the act.

No, he didn't need to be anywhere near perfect with his aim to turn her on. As it was, he'd already managed to sneak a finger perfectly between her thighs. And granted, it wasn't touching anywhere that she would react to specifically, but the fact that he was touching her at all made her body long for him.

"You're persistent," she added after some time. Given what he was doing, it was hard to coat her words with the annoyance she occasionally felt when it came to his determination. But she did her best. Because, although she wasn't irritated now, she was sure, in the future, she'd regret wasting the opportunity to say something.

However, it was clear by looking at House's pleased face that the opportunity had already been lost. She didn't need to think very hard about why that was, the answer obvious; she just hadn't been peeved enough to sound convincing, and in response, he had taken the remark to be a compliment.

Or no, she decided after gazing at him for a few more seconds. He knew she was going for an insult - just as he felt she had failed. And he was amused by both of those conditions.

Stilling the hand in her shorts, he offered, "I can stop if you want."

She glared at him.

"No?" He was asking in an earnest tone that he knew would annoy her. "But I thought you had to wake up Rachel."

She replied in a falsely bright voice that matched his, "I did. I do. And then you decided to get frisky -"

"'Frisky'?" he repeated mockingly.

She rolled her eyes before pointedly glancing down the length of her body. "Look where your hand is."

Thanks to the covers, it was impossible to actually see. But House wasn't concerned either way. "So you want me to stop."

Oh, he knew that was exactly what she didn't want. He'd barely done anything, but he understood that it had been more than enough to ensure he'd spend his morning buttering her muffin.

Again, he recognized that he hadn't done much of anything to turn her on. In fact, he doubted if she was aroused much at all. But one thing he did know about Cuddy, one thing he knew for certain, was that she hated leaving things unfinished.

She hadn't always been that way, but over the years, her hand in hospital bureaucracy had agitated and accentuated her anal-retentive tendencies.

He supposed he couldn't complain, considering it was her careful eye and overall attentiveness that kept his office afloat; once Cameron had quit (for good), he'd found it impossible to convince another team member to take care of his paperwork. Without Cuddy, he'd have been forced to it himself, so he guessed he should have been grateful for her fondness for tying loose ends. Especially since he was using that personality trait to get laid, yeah, he supposed he could tolerate her desire for perfection.

Then again, they would have sex either way. Whether he used her anal-retentiveness to his advantage or not, they would have sex. She could blame it on their unwritten agreement or him for making a move before she'd had a chance to reject him just as he could blame her hatred for unfinished business. But at the end of the day, they simply enjoyed sex. And no matter the circumstances, they would have had it today - in the same way they indulged most days.

So what did it really matter if he was baiting Cuddy into sex now?

Well, okay, it was pissing her off. Her teeth clenched, she practically snarled, "You started this. You can finish it."

"But Rachel -"

"Will be better served if I'm not serving a life sentence for murdering you," she hissed.

He scoffed at the idea. "You're not going to kill me for withholding sex."

"No." She nodded her head in agreement after a moment's pause. "But I'm also not going to spend my morning juggling Rachel's needs and yours. So if you want to have sex, we're having it now."

In the strictest sense of their undocumented contract, she'd just broken the rules. He was the one who was supposed to decide when they had sex; it was actually the only thing under his province, everything else they did this weekend up to her. But House wasn't even remotely tempted to point that out.

Rachel was, for better or worse, the one thing that trumped any compromise he might have had with Cuddy. And because of that, he knew there was no point in arguing. She wouldn't listen to him, and it didn't matter anyway; he was the one who had wanted her to stay in bed to begin with, so he figured he might as well go along with what she was saying.

"Fine," he replied immediately. "How much time do I get?"

The question was a reasonable one. If the point was to avoid starting something they couldn't finish, Cuddy knew she needed to consider how much longer she was willing to wait before waking Rachel.

Without even glancing at a clock, Cuddy decided it could wait fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Which was more than enough time for sex, but….

She groaned loudly in a way that had nothing to do with House's hand.

"That long, huh," he muttered in disapproval.

"Twenty minutes if we're lucky."

Even if she had wanted to, there was no hiding the disappointment in her words or her voice. There was certainly no way House had missed it, but then again, she didn't exactly care if he knew. If anything, she thought that maybe he had a right to know.

"That's enough time," House said simply, confidently.

And Cuddy knew that it was. Even if it only ended up being fifteen minutes, they would have enough time. But having to stop in the middle of something wasn't what she feared happening.

Nor did she worry all that much about Rachel walking in on them. That had happened yesterday, and as they'd all walked away relatively unscathed, Cuddy was no longer frightened by that prospect. What were the chances of that occurring two days in a row anyway? Pretty slim, she figured, even if you took into consideration that they had sex more frequently than most couples.

So when House offered, "We can lock the door. I doubt she's going to walk in after yesterday," she didn't disagree.

She just said, "I'm not worried about that."

Though she expected him to push her for an explanation, he didn't. Perhaps he sensed that she was going to elaborate and realized that being quiet would serve him better. Whatever the reason, she supposed it didn't matter; he was being considerate and patient, two qualities she appreciated at that moment, and that was really all that concerned her then.

At least, it made it easier to say, "I know we can be quick. It's just…." She shook her head a little and scooted to be closer to him. "It would be nice if we didn't have to be."

Once more his hand moved to her ass. But this time, he wasn't trying to cop a feel or turn her on; he was just, in his own screwed up way, trying to be reassuring, supportive.

"It just seems like we haven't had any time to ourselves," she muttered quietly.

"Yeah," he agreed, her head lightly bumping into his chin as they snuggled closer.

"Between work and Rachel and -"

"Yeah," he repeated. But this time his voice was harsher, more sarcastic than it had been. "All that time lost when we could have been having sex…. What were you thinking adopting the pound puppy?"

She knew he was joking; if he actually believed that, he would never say those words aloud. He certainly wouldn't say it when sex was on the line. And while that wasn't to say she wasn't offended on some level, she understood that he didn't mean to be insensitive.

Of course, she would prefer that he never say those things, not even jokingly. Had anyone else asked her that question, no matter the context, she would have wanted to kill them. And that instinctual feeling didn't go away just because she loved him.

But House was the kind of person who was so unusual that he needed to be judged by a completely different code of conduct. Any other human being saying those things would have been trying to insult her and her daughter. House wasn't.

Teasing her, he wasn't making any attempt to hurt her. Which was why she had no intention of calling attention to his behavior now, even if some part of her was hurt by it. Especially considering what had happened last night, at this moment, what he needed was someone to support him, to put him at ease.

"Oh, I don't know," she said good-naturedly, though she was just as sarcastic as he had been. "I guess the whole wanting to be a mother thing was kind of short sighted."

The stubble along his chin scratched her forehead lightly as he pulled back in mock surprise. "You wanted to be a mother?" He blinked. "I always just assumed you got really drunk and thought Rachel was a turkey sandwich."

She snorted loudly at the comment, and he smiled widely. His teeth bright, he asked, "That didn't make any sense, did it?"

"Not at all."

But she kissed him anyway.

His mouth opened to hers instantly, and he tasted of liquor gone sour and stale cigarette smoke. What she tasted like, she didn't want to know, and he was unusually kind enough not to tell her. But then, maybe that shouldn't have been so surprising. If she could overlook his slightly chapped lips and hair oiled with alcohol-induced sweat, then certainly he could pretend that she was fine the way she was as well.

It truly was the least he could do.

And yet Cuddy didn't believe he was doing any of this out of reciprocity. An outsider would no doubt think such a thing, but she knew him well enough to know that being kind in order to receive kindness in return was rarely his modus operandi. So if he was being nice now, polite even, it just meant that what he wanted coincidentally lined up with what any decent human being would do

But she didn't get a chance to consider the reason for his actions much. She wanted to, but before she could, House pulled away from her. His gaze on the verge of being critical, he told her, "Making out with you is a lot less fun when you're not paying attention."

Though she didn't feel guilty, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment of their own volition. And knowing that he wouldn't miss such a tell, she felt compelled to say, though she didn't really mean it, "Sorry."

"For someone complaining about the lack of time we have to ourselves -"

"I know," she muttered bitterly. If she hadn't felt guilty before, she really didn't now - not when he was throwing her words back in her face.

"I'm just saying -"

"Shut up, House."

"Oh yeah," he said dryly, reaching for her with his free hand. His fingers brushing a tangled strand of hair away from her forehead, he murmured, "Keep sweet talking me, baby."

She sighed then. He hadn't done anything wrong, but she'd been acting peevish nonetheless. There was no denying it.

"This is what I'm talking about," she said quietly. "We barely have any time alone, and when we do, we're snapping at one another."

He continued to card through her hair as he pointed out, "That's not new."

"You know what I mean." But before he had a chance to respond, Cuddy seemed to change her mind about that. "Or maybe you don't. I just feel like -"

"We're fine," he told her firmly.

She remained unconvinced. "You really believe that?" she asked doubtfully.

House didn't answer right away. As much as he wanted to summarily dismiss her point, he knew he couldn't. She wouldn't believe him if he spoke at that instant, but more than that, he actually wanted the chance to mull the question over in his mind.

Were they really okay? She certainly seemed to believe they weren't. Last night she'd been telling him over and over that they would be okay, but in the hours they'd been sleeping, she'd clearly changed her mind. And since he'd been relying on her certainty to bolster his own, he couldn't help but pause and wonder:

What had made her change her mind?

He asked her. "Last night… you made it seem like -"

"I don't mean that," she interrupted quickly.

He blinked. "Then what the hell are you talking about?"

At that she smiled a little. Apparently, his confusion was amusing.

"This has nothing to do with Rachel or…." She paused and sighed once more. But when she spoke once more, she didn't bother to finish her previous thought. "I still believe - completely - that you are absolutely what she needs, that you can be." She looked at him pointedly. "Don't get the two things confused. I'm not talking about that."

He rolled his eyes in irritation. "Then again, what -"

"I mean this," she said, gesturing between them. But thinking that that too might give him the wrong impression, Cuddy explained, "And, just so we're clear, I'm not upset with you. I just wish we could spend more time together."

"So…." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't… do something to make you -"

"Change my mind?" she offered, the very idea making the question a sad one.

"Yes."

"Of course not." She tried to sound as honest as she could. "You haven't done anything wrong."

She didn't say any more until he nodded his head in understanding. And then, only then, did she allow herself the privilege of joking, "Unless you count wasting the past five minutes on questions when we could have, in fact, been having sex."

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's my fault entirely."

"Well, you're wrong," she said casually, the mood lightening - thankfully.

House offered her a smile before pulling her close to him. "Then I guess I have to make it up to you."

"That would be a reasonable conclusion, yes."

He pretended (at least she assumed so) to hesitate, acted as though he wasn't sure he wanted to atone for his mistake. "If I must…."

Perhaps sensing how irritated she would be if he kept this up, he stopped. As though he'd suddenly capitulated, he no longer pretended to resist what he very clearly wanted.

His mouth instantly covered hers, his lips pressing against hers firmly. It had been only mere minutes since they had last found themselves like this, but she greedily welcomed the contact anyway. And though part of her was tempted to ask how he could ever think that she'd changed her mind about their relationship, she didn't. Bringing that up now would only further shatter the peace they were both trying to find in this moment.

Of lesser consideration was the fact that it would make her seem petulant and petty. But that too amounted to the same concern in the end: it would ruin the mood. So she forced herself to ignore the snotty question in her mind and focus on House. And frankly, that wasn't hard to do - not when he continued to kiss her with such sweetness, not when he was doing all he could to pull her further into this little bit of peace before the day truly began.

His fingers gripped her hipbone with bruising intensity as he tried to bring her closer to him. She went to him easily, just as desperate as he seemed to be in her need to touch him.

Her breasts against his chest, she could hear the noise of approval that he made. It caught in the back of his throat, but the sound seemed to carry over their breathing anyway. And that made her smile against his parted mouth.

Sometimes it was easy to believe that she was the only one in the relationship who was so affected by his mere presence. As demonstrative as House had always been about his feelings for her, there were times where her love for him was so… consuming that it seemed impossible for him to reciprocate. But here was, at least in some small part, proof that he was equally helpless to resist the magnetic pull between them.

After all, they were just kissing, just as clothed as they'd been five minutes ago. Yet that was enough to arouse him. Which might not have seemed that impressive, but to Cuddy, it sort of was when you considered the fact that she'd first kissed him nearly thirty years ago. And it definitely was when you factored in how much sex they'd had in the last day or so.

But apparently those things meant nothing to either of them, she thought as his fingers snuck into her shorts once more. The years they'd spent together and the amount of sex they'd had during them seemed completely irrelevant to her at that moment, and why she'd ever expected any differently from him… she didn't know. The whole idea seemed idiotic now, when she was being reminded of just how good they were together in bed.

Then again, thinking about anything other than the way his thumb was teasing her opening seemed incredibly pointless. So she simply forced herself not to consider anything other than precisely what he was doing.

And that wasn't hard.

The pad of his thumb ran along the outside of her pussy. The digit circling her hole, he didn't dare enter her; a promise of things to come though, he didn't exactly need to. Which wasn't to say that she appreciated being teased, because she obviously would have preferred to have his fingers inside of her. But this had its appeal as well.

His thumb moved in oblong circles, the path made harder by the fact that her thighs were pressed together. But as he lazily spread her juices along her body, every now and then, he would come very close to pushing the tip of his finger inside of her. And when that would happen, when he was so near that penetration seemed unavoidable, Cuddy would feel her internal muscles clench in anticipation.

Her stomach became laden with heavy desire, her vagina tightening hotly at the very thought of what he might do next.

She knew there was no way he could miss her tensing, no way he could fail to understand what it meant. But, clutching at his bare forearms (he'd taken his smoke-scented t-shirt off before they'd fallen asleep last night), she also knew that she didn't care.

What did it matter anyway for him to know just how badly she wanted him? Why should she, she asked herself, bother trying to hide this from him?

He would know the truth anyway. And when it seemed like she had to keep so much from him - her meeting with John, most specifically - to be honest, she welcomed this moment in time where she could keep nothing from her boyfriend. So much so that, when House abruptly shifted his hand and stroked her clit, she didn't bother to stifle her reaction.

Breaking their kiss, she leaned her head back away from him. Panting, she cried out her approval. "Oh!"

The noise was loud, loud enough that it would have given her pause under normal circumstances, loud enough that, if she were in her right mind, she would have worried about waking Rachel. As it was though, Rachel was the last thing Cuddy was thinking about.

Thankfully House didn't seem to be any different. Because rather than admonish her for her lack of control, he said nothing at all. He'd heard her (it would have been impossible for him not to), but he didn't care. He just began to press wet kisses into the length of her neck.

She swallowed hard, one of her hands burying encouragingly into his hair. But she suspected he didn't need the extra incentive. He was careful to avoid the agitated skin he'd broken open the previous night, but he was so eager regardless she barely noticed it. His mouth roaming from her jaw to her clavicle to her shoulder and back up, he let his lips touch and his tongue glide over every inch of skin he could.

His breath was hot against her skin. And when he finally pushed a finger inside of her wet opening, she felt like the heat within her body had ignited her into a full blaze.

Twisting into his body, Cuddy pressed her face into his shoulder. His skin was damp with sweat and already flushed pink as though he had a sunburn. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth as she panted for air; the desire to lick his heated flesh was strong and one she ultimately couldn't resist.

Her tongue ran along the upper ridge of his shoulder, and she vaguely thought that he seemed vaguely salty against her taste buds.

But she didn't have a chance to think about the matter much, because he chose that moment to slip another finger inside of her.

Her thighs clenched his hand tightly, and he felt like laughing at her immediate response. She was trying to keep him there, to trap him into fingering her until she came. But honestly he thought that was kind of stupid. Doing that made sense in a way, but at the same time, her actions were making it harder for him to bury himself knuckle deep in her sweet, tight, hungry pussy.

He did his best though.

Thrusting his fingers back and forth, he tried his hardest to coax her closer to orgasm. And he could tell immediately that his actions were having their intended effect. Her face was buried into his shoulder, but he knew.

He could feel her breath along his skin, could hear the way air seemed to hitch in the back of her throat with each inhale and exhale. He could see the way her nipples, stiffened with desire, poked at the thin material of her tank top. And when he craned his head to press a gentle kiss to the pale swell of one of her breasts, he swore he could hear her heartbeat even though he was sure that wasn't even physically possible.

But even without all of that, he knew just how much she was enjoying this. The way her hips had begun to rock against the heel of his hand was proof alone.

As he pumped into her, her wetness coated his fingers liberally. Without exaggeration, he could feel it seeping into all the crevices in the skin that surrounded his knuckles.

In the back of his mind, he debated whether or not it would be worth trying to taste her. Without a doubt, he definitely wanted to. To find himself buried face first in between her soft thighs, to be tongue deep in her and nestled between her slick lips when she came… yeah, he definitely wanted that.

Nevertheless, he hesitated - not because he thought she would tell him no (she wouldn't), but because he selfishly wanted to get himself a little more action.

As though she intuited that thought, at that moment, Cuddy slid her hand into the waistband of his pajama pants.

He was warm to the touch, she thought, as her fingers brushed against his length. The light thatch of coarse hair tickled the palm of her hand, and she smiled as her fingers curled around the base of his straining erection.

He grunted before saying hoarsely, "That's perfect. Good girl." She pumped him a few times, relishing the way he felt beneath her. But she didn't get a chance to do much more before he suddenly pulled his fingers out of her.

"What are you -"

He abruptly cut her off by pushing her hand away from his cock.

"The door," he told her immediately before she could finish her question.

But she didn't understand. "What?"

He replied shortly, "The door. Don't you think we should, I don't know, lock it?"

Cuddy nodded her head dimly.

Yes, that sounded about right. True, she didn't believe that Rachel would walk in. Again, what were the chances of that happening two days in a row? Very slim, Cuddy thought. But at the same time, she wasn't going to risk it. If avoiding that humiliation again was as simple as locking a door, she absolutely was going to do it.

"Right."

But he made no move to get up.

Well, of course, he wouldn't, she thought bitterly.

"Fine. I'll do it," she told him as she pushed the sheets off of her body.

"I would," he said in a way that made it absolutely clear that he was lying. "But my leg and all…."

Scrambling out of the bed, she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

"Come on. A guy with a limp and an erection… that's just pathetic." After a moment, when she was locking the door, he added, "Besides, by the time I got over there and back, we would have wasted so much time. Rachel would probably have woken up, and we'd be hard up, and who wins then?"

She turned around to head back to him and was met with the sight of his naked body lounging on the bed. Apparently, he'd taken the time to strip while she'd been locking the door.

It was a welcome sight, of course. His erection jutting proudly in the air, his arms folded underneath his head - he looked equal parts amazing and arrogant.

Smirking, she commented, "Looks like it didn't take you very long to take off your pants."

"I was motivated."

Not even at face value did that make any sense. If he were so motivated, why hadn't he taken the initiative to get up and lock the door himself? Well, of course, it didn't make much sense; House was unusually smart under normal circumstances, but he wanted sex right now, which meant his reasoning abilities and I.Q. were about a fourth of what they should have been.

As if to prove that point, he asked her, "Like what you see?"

"Lucky for you that the answer to that is a resounding yes," she replied harshly. But even through her irritation, there was no attempt at hiding her very obvious attraction to him. Her eyes fixated on his dick, her thighs clenched together with desire, yeah, there was no point in trying to pretend that she didn't find him incredibly attractive. Because at that point, even if she'd wanted to hide it, he would have known better.

Indeed, he saw where her gaze was cast, saw how she licked her lips. She wanted him - badly. And who was he to deny his lady love what she wanted? "Ask Daddy nicely, and he'll give you a ride," he told her, his tone as lascivious as he could make it.

But that just made her grit her teeth. "Very lucky."

He shrugged. He would never deny that being with her made him consider himself an incredibly lucky man. He'd never expected her to want him; certainly, what had the chances been of her wanting him as much as he had her? But she had - did - and he'd become accustomed to that as being just another part of his life. Yet, he never thought himself as anything other than fortunate in this regard.

House knew that he was.

So he didn't bother to fight what she was saying. She was right, and even if she weren't, in the end, what good would fighting do him now?

None at all, he knew. Because disagreeing with her would inevitably lead to them wasting time squabbling over the matter, and then they'd have sex, but it would be quick and hasty and not very friendly. And any sex was better than no sex, admittedly, but it wouldn't be the same, so he ignored her words and instead said, "Take off your clothes."

Part of him expected her to resist, though he couldn't explain why. But she didn't. Doing precisely what he wanted, she unceremoniously dropped the flimsy shorts she'd been wearing and yanked off her top.

"Better?" she asked.

His mouth was too dry to allow him to speak. His gaze roving over her entire form, he didn't even know where to start. Unlike him, Cuddy didn't have a body with only a few nice places. Clothed or not, from head to toe, her form was absolutely…

Perfect.

He would admit that he was biased, but at the same time, he would challenge any straight man, lesbian, or bisexual to find fault with the woman before him. If there were any flaws, he didn't see them. All he saw was pristinely pale flesh pulled taut over the most delectable curves he'd ever witnessed; perfectly sized breasts he could easily cup, pinch, fuck; nicely curved hips and a flat stomach that was muscular but not in a freakish sort of way (unlike the ones on Wilson's last girlfriend). What wasn't there to like?

No doubt, she would have plenty of answers for that question - especially right now. Vaguely, he could tell that her hair was a little matted from sleeping and that her stomach had an odd imprint on it from the lace on her tank top. But none of that actually mattered to him, so he was honest when he answered their question with one of his own. "Do I really need to say?"

She grinned. "Good."

As she stalked towards him, he asked her curiously, "You expected me to say otherwise?"

Crawling back on the bed, her breasts swaying back and forth, she didn't say. And at that point, he didn't really care, because he was too interested in her boobs.

Unfolding one of his arms, he reached over to cop a feel. Not surprisingly she let him. His thumb running over her nipple, House told her appreciatively, "You've got the best tits."

Her response was to push her chest further into his grasp. At first, he assumed she was doing this, because she liked what he was doing.

But then she started leaning over him, as though she were trying to grab something off of the night stand, and he realized that her actions had nothing to do with him.

To be honest, he would have been annoyed if not for the fact that either way, regardless of her actions, he was cupping one of her breasts in his hand.

And when she grabbed what she wanted and sat back, he definitely couldn't be irritated. Because what she had in her hands was the bottle of lube he'd tossed there the night before.

Still, he couldn't help but ask, "You really need that? You seem wet enough to me."

She smirked at the question, and his stomach leapt with excitement at the implication of her behavior. "Not for what I have in mind," she practically purred.

"Oh really?"

Given that they had a time limit, he'd just assumed that anal was off the table. Which he guessed was stupid, because he knew that it wouldn't take any longer for either of them to come in that position. If anything, history had demonstrated that the opposite was true, so it seemed in his estimation shortsighted to assume that anal hadn't been on the menu.

Perhaps sensing his surprise, Cuddy glanced briefly at his erection. "I assume you're up for it."

"For the record, that's always the correct assumption." Letting go of her breast, he reached for the lubricant. But she didn't give it to him. "The day I tell you no is the day you need to check me over for a brain aneurysm."

"All right." He gestured once more for her to give him the plastic bottle, but she shook her head firmly. "I'll do it. I know how you don't like to get your hands dirty."

"When it comes to your ass, I'm more than willing to do what it takes."

He meant it as a joke, but it was hard to be funny given the circumstances. But watching her squirt some of the lubricant in her hand, he decided he didn't really care about his lack of comedic talent.

"It's okay. I know you'd rather watch."

And that he couldn't argue with.

Nodding his head shakily, he murmured, "Okay."

From there, she took control. First slicking his erection, it definitely wasn't how he would have done it; he would have prepped her first and then himself. But given the fact that she gave him a few encouraging strokes and that she was going to be the one taking it in the ass, he figured it would be in poor form to complain.

Which wasn't to say he wasn't tempted. Because he was - at least he when she let go of his dick and turned away from him. But that was only because he didn't understand what she was doing at first.

And then she straddled him.

She was still facing away from him, as she hovered above his stomach. But he understood she was doing precisely what she thought he wanted: to watch.

The bottle of lubricant hissed a little as she squeezed more of the liquid onto her fingertips. But before she reached around to prepare her body for him, she asked, "Are you paying attention?"

The answer he gave her was a plaintive whine, which made her smile.

"Just checking," she teased, shifting her knees on the bed, so that she could spread her legs further apart.

It was clear, however, that he wasn't amused by the question or the way she seemed to be taking her time. "Hurry up," he said childishly.

"Shhh," she replied quietly, gingerly pushing her index finger into her own body. It didn't hurt, not by any means. But given the way she was currently positioned, it wasn't all that comfortable, and she had to rest her free hand on one of House's knees to balance herself. "It won't take long."

And it wouldn't. She was experienced enough to know how to relax her muscles, to know when her body could accept more. This wasn't her first time, and it wouldn't be her last, which was why she recognized that, if she paid any attention to House's insistence, it would take longer.

"But if you push me…" she started to say, the threat remaining unsaid.

"You're right," he said almost immediately, one of his warm hands patting her ass gently.

It was enough of a reassurance, enough of a relaxing motion that she was able to slip her index finger past her sphincter.

"Hmm," House hummed in approval.

She obviously couldn't see what she was doing, but she could imagine just how much he enjoyed the sight of her hand splayed across her ass as she fingered herself. Even if she couldn't though, he was happy to tell her. "That's perfect… so hot."

Closing her eyes, she slowly began to move her finger. Which House loudly approved of with a groan. And though part of her knew she should tell him to keep it down, the majority of her being welcomed all of the sounds and gestures he was making. It was too encouraging, too much of a distraction for her to tell him to be quiet.

As she began the less than comfortable task of inserting another finger, he rubbed her lower back. "You're doing great."

The oddness of the comment was lost on her. Under any other circumstance, she would have found it incredibly strange. But at that particular moment, all she could think of was that she didn't think she was doing great - not when she had to stop and pour more lube onto her fingers. Granted, she knew it was an inevitability, understood that it was simply part of what she had to do in order to have sex with him. But in any case, she hated having to stop. Not because it interrupted the show she was putting on for him (though House did give a small sniff in protest), she thought. She didn't like that her behavior had that effect, but more than anything, she didn't want to stop, because it was at that moment that she was beginning to enjoy what she was doing.

The discomfort she'd felt had melted away, the sting of her own intrusion softening into a slow burn of pleasure. And she hadn't wanted to pause, because the desire to keep going was strong. But there was no avoiding it.

And in the end, once she'd reapplied the lube to herself, she could see that the wait was worth it. As House voiced his approval, she pressed the slick pads of her fingertips against her asshole, and unlike before, this time, her fingers slipped inside of her body with relative ease.

She gave herself a few tentative thrusts, just to see if she was ready. The surprising thing about that though was that she was. More so than she thought actually, because the second she felt her fingers moving inside of her, she gasped in pleasure. All of her muscles clenched together in an attempt to stop herself from withdrawing, and none of this went unnoticed by House.

"You like that?" he asked in a low voice. She started to nod her head, but he didn't want that, apparently. "No," he told her gruffly. "You say it."

"Yes." The word was pinched by her sudden intake in air.

"Good," he responded. Not for a second though did she believe he was saying that for any reason other than for the fact that he approved of her ability to follow his instructions. "You know how much better it's going to feel when I'm the one inside you?"

Cuddy couldn't answer the question. She knew she should, knew that he would wait impatiently for her response. But physically, she couldn't do it.

The very idea of what he was saying completely incapacitated her with desire. She fumbled with her fingers inside of her. Her clit throbbed in long pulses, and she whimpered when he kept talking.

"Of course you do," he said knowingly, his hand rubbing along the curve of her ass. "I'm betting it's all you can think about right now - the way it's going to feel to have me in your tight little asshole." He noticed her fingers begin to move faster, and he smiled. "That's it. That's my girl. Get yourself all nice and ready for me. I want you nice and open. You understand?" he asked patronizingly.

This time she replied with another "Yes" cried out.

"Good. Because as soon as I get my dick into you, I'm not letting you go until I've come inside you. I don't care how many times you come or how much it hurts."

When it came to the latter, he realized that that wasn't true at all; if it hurt her, he would absolutely stop. But knowing his girlfriend as well as he did, he knew that she would get off on hearing differently. "You can cry all you want, but I'll force you to stay right where you are, with my big, hard cock in your ass until I've given you exactly what you -"

"Oh God now," she interrupted loudly. She was shaking as she said the words, her entire body wracked with desire, even as she pulled her fingers out.

But he pretended not to notice what she meant. "You mean you're ready?" Like that was even a question right now.

It wasn't, which was why it wasn't all that surprising that her answer to that useless query was for her to sit up on her knees. She scooted down on the bed, so she could line herself up. One of her hands reaching behind her, she grabbed his erection. And this time, he was the one to whimper. How could he not though? Here he was with the woman he loved, about to have sex with her... Why shouldn't he be allowed to make noise?

In the end though, it didn't matter. If there were some invisible rule about being stoic during sex, he violated it multiple times over. But again, how could he not? She had her hand curled around his dick, holding it steady as she slowly - so slowly - sank down on top of it.

Her tiny little asshole stretching over the head of his cock, he watched as his member slowly slid into her tight heat. And there was no stifling his admiration for her in that moment. "Oh, that's good, so good, yeah. Keep going."

She did. Thank God, she did. Letting go of his dick, she used his knees to balance her body and forced herself down onto the rest of his cock. Pushing him into her with one slow, long downward stroke, she didn't stop until her ass was pressed against his thighs and he was fully sheathed by her beautiful body.

And when that happened, she told him, "Feels amazing…." She tilted her head back, dark curls tickling the space between her shoulder blades, and panted. "Just need a minute though…."

Part of him welcomed the pause. Feeling her muscles clench him tightly, after having watched her take all of his penis in her ass, he was completely on edge himself. Hell, he was past the edge - way past, because he was so ready to come right then and there.

Every cell of his body cried out for release. But he knew that if he did, knew that if he gave into his desire to thrust into her, it would be over immediately. And pride aside, he didn't want to leave her wanting, not when she was giving him everything he could possibly wish for.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from offering, "Want me to take over?"

He could feel her resulting laugh all the way in his balls.

"So impatient," she said in a singsong voice.

Scoffing, House replied through gritted teeth, "You would be too if you knew what this felt like."

She didn't doubt that was true. From her point of view, she hadn't even moved, but it was already pretty mind blowing. And she didn't think that it would be any different for him.

"Just relax," she told him calmly.

He bristled underneath her in response. Clearly, he wanted her to move... and they weren't so different in that regard either. She wanted to rock back and forth, up and down on top of him until they both came too. But she wasn't going to rush it, even if part of her body was screaming at her to.

Patting his knee with one of her hands instead, she explained, "You think I don't want this?"

"Of course not," he replied with what she thought was a touch of sincerity.

"Good. Because I want this just as much as you do."

He echoed her words. "Good."

"But..." she said slowly, hoping her voice would tear his attention from the way their bodies melded together hot and heavy.

"But?" he asked eventually.

It was her turn to pause then. She wanted to make him understand, which she suspected would be difficult; under any other circumstances, would it really be all that difficult for him to understand that they needed to take things slowly? She doubted it. But his inability to reason and/or remember all of those hours he'd spent in the clinic removing all sorts of bizarre objects from people's rectums was obvious to her now - as was the cause for that behavior. Simply put, it was hard to take things slowly (or to want to anyway) when he was testicle deep in her ass.

Again, she could understand that. If he was eager, she was just as interested in moving things forward. He'd been right to say that she couldn't possibly understand what it felt like for him; she would never know how wonderful it felt from his position. But then the same could be said about the reverse: he would never comprehend how amazing it was for her to force her own body into accepting him in her ass. He would never know what it was like for her to have her entire body clenched around him, full of him. He would never get that, out of the two of them, she was the one who probably benefited more from this (and she certainly wasn't going to tell him).

But what she would force him to see, what she needed him to see was that speed - at least in the very beginning - would only take away from the experience. How she would convince him of that though...

She wasn't entirely sure at first. And then, abruptly realizing that it would be quite easy to maintain his attention, she told him in a husky voice, "Nothing. It's just that my asshole is so tight..." She clenched her muscles to prove her point (and smiled when he groaned helplessly). "And you're so big that -"

"Stop talking," he interrupted immediately.

Her smile widened. "Are you that close?"

She couldn't see him shake his head, but he must have; she could feel him shift beneath her. "No. But if you keep talking like that, I'm going to blow my -"

"All right," she told him quietly, sympathetically.

That wasn't what she wanted - not yet anyway. Not until she'd had plenty of time to get herself off, she told herself, though admittedly that would hardly take any time at all; in the scant minutes since he'd penetrated her, her body had relaxed, her anus used to the stretch of his thick, hardened member, and she thought that, even if he were close, it wouldn't bother her.

She was ready as well for that.

That knowledge firmly planted in her mind, she finally began to move. His hands moved to her hips to help her rise up. His dick slowly dragging out of her body, she moaned at the sensation and paused. When only the first couple of inches were inside of her, she forced herself back down onto his slicked cock.

No, this wasn't going to take long.

Rocking against him, Cuddy quickly built up to a faster pace. Her ass bounced against his thighs with each downward thrust, and in the back of her mind, she was aware that they would both be feeling the aftermath of this act for the rest of the day easily. But at that point, she didn't care. He felt so good sliding in and out of her, the lubricant enough to make the act fluid without being so slippery that there was no traction at all.

Her entire body tingled, burned with the heat they were creating together. Sweat trickled down her back; her juices mingled with the lube around her hole.

It felt amazing.

And he agreed - so loudly that she was sure that the neighbors heard him. "Fuck!" He thrust upward, matching her own movement with such intensity that she had to grip his knees tightly to avoid being thrown off.

"Oh God!" she practically screamed, as he pushed into her further than he had been. "Touch me."

It wasn't an order.

Cuddy would have liked to claim that it was, but her words weren't said with any sense of authority.

Not at all.

She was begging.

And it was obvious to anyone who heard her... though she silently hoped that her audience consisted solely of the man doing this to her.

Actually that wasn't true. Part of her hoped that even House hadn't heard her. Because as much as she wanted his touch, she wasn't sure that that was worth hearing him brag about it indefinitely.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) though, he had heard her. And in response, he asked her, "You want me to touch you?"

"Yes." Her voice was throaty, the word strained with desire.

"Where?" She was too busy trying to time her downward movements with his thrusts to answer. But House wouldn't let the comment go that easily. "Where?" he asked with a well-delivered smack to her ass cheek.

She didn't even know how to answer. Her mouth was dry from panting. English seemed like a foreign concept to her at that moment, and when she did speak, her sentences were confused, rambling. "I - I don't know - anywhere, my pussy, my clit, anywhere, please. Please!"

Immediately the one hand he'd left gripping her hip shifted. Sliding around her waist and downwards, his fingers quickly spread her lips coated in her desire. "So wet for me," he murmured in long, dragged out syllables.

"Yes," she agreed. She was - wet and hot and ready to fall apart. She hoped he was ready to come, because she definitely was.

"Such a good girl," he nearly cooed. "Taking it in the ass for me. So good and naughty all at the same time."

He slipped two fingers inside of her, and she screamed at the new sensation. "Oh God, oh God, oh, God..."

She said it, cried it over and over. And the thing that House liked about it best was that she hadn't even come yet. She was close, very close, teetering on the precipice even. But she hadn't gone over yet, and still, he could make her shout like she was.

He could make her scream God.

Pride surged inside of him as he violently thrust his dick and fingers up into her accommodating body. "Please!" she repeated. "More!"

He could feel his own desire begin to coil in his belly. He could give and take more, but it wouldn't be long before he emptied himself of all he had.

That was okay though. The second he let his thumb run along her clit, she came.

Loudly.

So loudly that he didn't even hear himself scream as he surged within her one last time. Her pussy clenched tightly around his fingers, he pushed himself into her as far as he could go. And then, coming in several thrusts, he felt as though her ass was milking every last drop out of him, robbing him of every bit of semen he possessed.

Their bodies melded together so completely, it took her a minute or two to gain enough control of her muscles that she could slide off of him. And even then, she simply collapsed onto the bed next to him, a girlish laugh catching in the back of her throat.

Comfortable silence descending over them, it took them a while before either one of them had enough breath to speak.

His gaze cast towards the ceiling, he said calmly, "Well, that was fun."

"Hmm" was all she said in agreement.

"So…." He looked over at her. She was still flushed along her cheeks and nose, looking almost as though she were cold. But he, of course, knew better, and that made him smile. So much so that he was still grinning when he asked her, "What's for breakfast?"

To be Continued