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  Firsts 
 by snark_bait and phineyj  

 House

You've been screwing for about two months. And that really is the most
accurate description of what you've been doing. 

It starts off as one throwaway remark over dinner. Restaurants bore you.
She says she'll blow you off in the men's room if you can make it one hour
without insulting the waiter. 

One hour later, she's on her knees in the men's room of one of the most
exclusive restaurants in Princeton.

It took her a month to get on the guest list here.

Your hands are gripping either side of the stall as she milks your cock
with her mouth.

You're aware that you're making sounds you've never made before as she
drags her nails along your ball sac, while sliding her tongue up and down
your erection.

A quiet `fuck' squeezes between the gaps of your clenched teeth in a hiss,
as the headline `Lisa Cuddy Swallows' flashes with the colors behind your
eyes as you come.

You sit down on the lid of the toilet, exhausted, and you hand her some
tissue as you put yourself back into your boxers.

She wipes the corners of her mouth, smiles and then leaves the stall.

It's the dirtiest thing you've ever seen her do and you honestly cannot
believe she just did that to you. 

In here.

Apparently it's your turn next, and you wish straight away you hadn't
dared her to do this, on the basis you'd return the favor anytime,
anywhere in exchange.

Cuddy

It's taking less time than you remembered, but that's mainly due to the
insane speeds House does on the freeway. You're on Route 29 now, heading
north along the river, and he's slowed down, because the penny's probably
dropped that the sooner you get there, the sooner he's got to...perform.

Not that he knows where you're going, although after an hour and a half,
he's probably figured out it's not Princeton. He's tapping the fingers of
his left hand nervously on the wheel of the Corvette, and looking over at
you discreetly when he thinks you won't notice.

"Here," you say, as you see the sign for the Bull's Island recreation area
up ahead, and he pulls off the highway, following the narrow lane down to
the riverbank. 

You get to the little bluff overlooking the river, and you tell him to
stop. It's two in the morning and the crescent moon is illuminating the
water, leaving silvery trails where the breeze catches it. 

All the happy campers are safely tucked up in their tents over in the
trees; not that there are many of them - September is the end of the
season.

You undo your seatbelt and House looks at you quizzically, "I thought
you'd enjoy the view," you say, trying not to laugh, and add, "Put your
seat back." He complies, but he just sits there, gazing at the river. 

You turn towards him and settle yourself very carefully across his lap,
undoing his zipper at the same time as you kiss him. He runs his hands up
your thighs under your skirt, notes the lack of underwear, and mumbles
against your mouth, "You really were a Girl Scout, weren't you?"

"Yep," you reply, reaching into his jeans for his cock, "I'm always
prepared."

He's hard already; you've been thinking about this all the way here - you
wonder absently if you've left a damp patch on the passenger seat - and
it's unlikely you're going to be disturbed, but you see no reason to tempt
fate, so you lower yourself onto him, and he inhales sharply, and closes
his eyes. 

He opens them again as you begin to move, and he kisses you this time, one
hand on the side of your face, the other warm on the small of your back.
This is just a stupid dare, prompted by his drunken late night admission
the other week that he'd never done it outside, but the quiet sounds of
the river lapping at the bank behind you, and the wide comforting arch of
the night sky overhead conspire to give you a feeling of peace you haven't
had in a long time.

You pull yourself up a little on the seat so you can slip a hand inside
his shirt to touch his nipple, and he gives a stifled moan, and moves his
own hands down, over the curve of your ass inside your skirt and pulls you
closer to him. 

The altered angle feels so good, and he's sucking gently on your neck now,
and what with his tongue, and the burn of his stubble and the way he's
looking fiercely at you, you find you're hurtling towards your climax. And
your yell probably wakes up every single person on the damn campsite. 

---

You doze for a few hours until his leg starts to bother him and you begin
to worry about needing to be back in Princeton. 

"Why that place?" he asks, after a long silent drive back up the empty
freeway.

You look over at him.

"Lost my virginity there," you inform him.

"Ah, but did he have a '65 Corvette?" House asks, sounding cheerful. 

"No, but he did have a waterproof tent." You catch sight of his
expression, "All right, my standards were a bit lower then."

By the time he drops you off at home, he's lost in thought.

And you shudder to think what ideas you've put in his head for next time. 

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