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Breaking and entering
by snark_bait
House
You've been screwing her for about seven months now, although that is no longer the most accurate description of what you've been doing. It's become something far more complex but neither of you has the balls to admit that yet.
Sometimes you fuck and sometimes you make love, sometimes you start a fight with her because you like to see her angry and sometimes you get annoyed with her and can't stand to be in the same room. The harsh words she throws at you in those situations seem to sting a lot more than they used to.
You skipped the formalities that usually apply when starting a relationship and headed straight for the sex. You think maybe it's because dating Cuddy would have been an awkward and pointless exercise. She would have cringed at your poor attempts to woo her as much as you would have gritted your teeth at trying, but even though you bypassed the usual rituals she has still ended up as your girlfriend. You hate the word because it seems like an extremely adolescent description of who she is to you now, but `partner' is worse still so it will have to do.
No one else knows - miraculously - and you're proud you've both managed to keep it a secret for this long.
"Whose idea was this?" you grunt; you're currently screwing your boss in your best friend's office and you're definitely screwing right now. You're anxious, excited and nervous all at the same time. Even though you know Wilson has gone home for the evening, even though you know the door is locked, you're excitedly apprehensive someone might catch you.
And that's the whole point.
"Yours, I think," Cuddy answers you breathlessly with a `like it matters' look on her face. She then closes her eyes and blows air out slowly like she might do while working out at the gym, probably because she's getting a fair workout bobbing up and down on your dick.
You wanted to screw her over the desk in her office, you've wanted to do it for a while but she's denied you every time you've asked. You tried again last night because she'd been drinking and that smirk had appeared, that dirty grin she only ever wears out of hours when she's feeling horny.
"We can do it in my office after we do it in yours," she challenged you. You rolled your eyes at her and found a sincere look of disappointment. Yeah right, what a brilliant idea that would be. With that much glass hiding you no one would suspect a thing.
You'll break her down eventually.
Then an idea had popped into your head, one so wrong it was almost right. You'd suggested it quickly before you lost your nerve and she had laughed before screwing up her face in disgust.
She shook her head and dismissed you, "No way House," showing you a look that was meant to be one of distaste, but it was bogus. She's fucked you in the hydro pool and you've screwed her on the roof, then there was the blow job in the men's room of that highly overrated restaurant she drags you to from time to time.
Cuddy didn't find your idea inappropriate, more than likely it wasn't adventurous enough for her, too boring.
You'd forgotten all about it until about ten minutes ago when she stopped by your office.
"Has Wilson gone home?" she asked, tossing your oversized tennis ball up and down a few times before meeting your curious gaze. You leant back in your chair and she raised a suggestive eyebrow before showing you that filthy smirk.
It took you all of five seconds to decide and then you were out on your balcony, hopping the wall that separates yours from Wilson's. Now you're in his office, your pants are down and her skirt is up. Her red thong is safely tucked into your jacket pocket.
You'd agreed it needed to be a covert operation: in and out so to speak. But this isn't really about getting off any more; this is about how far you can push things before someone finds out. It gets you hard and it makes her wet, you're one and the same in that respect.
Risky sex turns you both on.
Over Wilson's desk just wasn't logistically possible. You tried but your leg dictates most things these days and it gave you a sharp quick warning that it was going to get very pissed off if you didn't drastically modify your plans. You've already had two Vicodin so the forewarning of intense discomfort needed to be headed off.
You couldn't meet her gaze when you had to stop, mumbling an apology and aiming to zip up and go home to hide your bruised ego. But one way or another Cuddy was getting laid.
"That wasn't all that comfortable for me actually," she assured you as she grabbed your hand and pulled you over to Wilson's chair.
Now you're sitting at Wilson's desk; his chair is tilted back as far as it will go and your hands are under Cuddy's blouse, one on Bambi and one on Thumper and you're giving them a good massage while she lifts herself up and down. She's riding you with such force it makes the chair squeak and bump into the wall behind you, she's holding onto the handles either side so she can support herself.
You drive your hips up a few times because she's doing most of the work and you feel you should contribute a bit, but as you do you notice your ass is starting to stick to Wilson's leather seat.
You decide before you leave here, you really need to do him the courtesy of giving the seat a quick wipe down.
"It's not the sex you get off on is it? It's the location," you pant, fixing her with a challenging stare as you drive yourself upwards the best you can.
"It's not the location or the sex, I get off on screwing you House," she offers back neutrally. "It's the only time I know for sure what's going on inside your head."
"Pretty much focused on the task at hand," you reply, and then you bite your lip aiming three sharp thrusts upwards.
"Exactly," she says, smiling. "Now shut up and lick my nipples."
The throaty order turns your balls rock hard.
"Yes boss," you say before ripping open her white blouse. She pretends it's only you that has a fixation on her breasts but you know she likes this part as much as you do.
She slows down then stops; you're painfully stiff and stay all the way in for a moment. You get rid of her bra and then tease her nipples with your tongue until they're as solid as the length of you inside her
You take your time, licking, sucking and manipulating her nipples until she closes her eyes and tilts her head back.
Then she begins to ride you again, slower this time, the position helping her to grip you tightly inside. The sensation is agonizingly good and it isn't going to last, you can feel a familiar prickle in the pit of your stomach and your balls tense.
You're on the verge on shooting your load, when the handle to the office door rattles and then you hear Wilson's voice on the other side of it.
"Fuck," you practically yelp, looking around Cuddy at the door.
"Oh yeah," Cuddy responds, and then leans down to kiss you.
"No, oh fuck, oh fuck Wilson's here," you say worriedly against her lips while trying to disentangle yourself from her before Wilson walks in and finds you both having a casual fuck at his desk. Her head wrenches around and she looks at the door; you watch her eyes widen in horror.
Cuddy is out of the room and onto the balcony before you've even sat up. Escape is a lot harder for a cripple with a stiff dick and a limp. Cuddy aims to jump back over the wall but you grab her and press her against the building just as Wilson enters his office.
"He'll see you," you spit as loud as you dare, the blinds on the other side of the glass just about hiding you both.
You peek in through a split in the blinds and your heart skips a beat when you notice Cuddy's red thong in the middle of the floor. Wilson is chatting to someone outside his office; he then turns around, takes one step into the room then stops dead in his tracks.
His head quirks to the side and his eyes lock onto the underwear on his floor. He crosses the room and scoops them up, letting them hang off his index finger as he looks at them. His eyebrows fuse together with confusion.
"Oh my god, I hope you don't have your name stitched into those," you mumble.
"Yeah," Cuddy drawls, "I have to stitch my name into all my underwear so I know which ones are mine when I raid your collection to get them back."
You try but fail to not look sheepish at that remark.
"What do you think would be worse, Wilson catching us or Wilson sniffing them before he puts them in his pocket?" you ask, you're both whispering now.
"Yuck," she hisses before punching your arm at the very suggestion.
You close your eyes and press yourself against the wall, you still have an erection and it doesn't seem to be going away.
"Cuddy, it hurts, finish what you started," you plead.
"Shut up House."
"But it's painful, do it," you demand. "I can't pleasure myself with my best friend standing right there, but you could finish me off, then I'm just an innocent bystander."
"No way," Cuddy says shaking her head and easing from the wall so she can see what Wilson is doing.
"Where have they come from James?" a harsh demanding female voice asks from the door.
"I have no idea," Wilson replies, bewildered. Then you recognize the cute brunette nurse from reception as she strides in and slaps his face hard. This would be funny if it wasn't so fucking painful.
"You said you weren't seeing anybody else," she spits, already fighting tears.
"I'm not," he insists.
You laugh despite yourself. "Wow, we've got him into all kinds of trouble, this is great," you whisper from the corner of your mouth.
The brunette storms from the office and Wilson flicks the underwear at the trash can before rushing right back out again.
When you hear the lock click you look at Cuddy then look at your stiff cock before pointing at it.
"You've started so you may as well finish," you say enthusiastically.
Cuddy rolls her eyes at you. "We nearly got caught Einstein, let's go."
You don't move, and cross your arms. Cuddy places her hands on her hips in exasperation.
"He isn't coming back now. Well, not for the next ten minutes at least," you reason. He'd at least chase his latest conquest down to the lobby before he lost interest.
Cuddy doesn't seem all that convinced but after a few seconds you grin as she eases down onto the floor and takes you into her mouth anyway.
"Don't worry, this won't take long," you assure her.
And goddamn she's expert enough at this to make sure you stay true to your word.
The End...unless we have any more bright ideas...
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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