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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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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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