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A Fate Worse Than Clinic Duty.
by Medic_girl
"You know this ranks in the top five of your worst ideas ever, right?" James Wilson asked his best friend, crouching behind the protective cover of the balcony wall.
House, however, being unable to crouch, was standing in clear view to anyone who happened to look up. And people would soon look up, Wilson feared, because the Super Soaker Greg was holding at port arms would draw attention as soon as House pulled the trigger. This could not end well. "You wound me, Jimmy!" he said, dramatically putting his free hand over his heart. "This isn't even in the top ten. If I had tinted the water red and tried to pass it off as blood when people got hit, then it would move up to at least four, but just plain ol' water? Nah." He looked over the balcony, looking for a target. Ah, an obese woman in a white shirt. Perfect! "Ready." He drew the water gun to his shoulder, and Wilson put a hand over his eyes. How did he get himself into House's madness? "Aim." Wilson took a deep breath and reminded himself that no one could see behind the brick wall. Everyone would assume House was alone. "Fire!"
House let out a stream of water, soaking the woman's back. "Got her!" he exclaimed with a maniacal grin, jumping back out of sight. "Completely drenched!" Wilson couldn't help but smile, his friend's exuberance was contagious. There was so little in life that gave Greg House true pleasure, and if his childish form of terrorism was one of them, he was perfectly willing to go to the gallows with him. Or the clinic, as it happens.
House sat down beside him, and they laughed like little boys. It was good to just relax. They just sat there for maybe ten minutes, waiting for the fallout. Suddenly, both their pagers went off simultaneously. HOUSE AND WILSON, MY OFFICE NOW!!!. "Uh-oh," House said. "Looks like we're in trouble."
"Now, how did she know I was involved?" Wilson grumbled. "It's like she's psychic!"
"Or maybe because I was on your side of the balcony?"
He shrugged. Had to give him that one. "Oh, well. What's the worst she'll do? Clinic duty?" House shuddered. "Sucks for you. I, for one, don't mind the clinic. What's he gonna do to me?"
They walked side by side to the elevator. "Maybe she'll spank you. Or make you clean up the bathrooms in the geriatric ward. I hear they have a C. Diff. outbreak!"
Wilson turned slightly green at the prospect of having to clean up after thirty elderly patients with that particular intestinal bug. As an oncologist, he had a pretty strong stomach, but the diarrhea caused by that smelled bad enough to make a garbage man gag. "How about we don't give her any nifty ideas, and I don't tell her where you hid your spare Game Boy in the clinic?"
House looked shocked. "You wouldn't!"
"If I have to scrub green shit because of you, you'll suffer too!"
They had arrived at Cuddy's door. "Time to face the executioner," House quipped, then opened the door. Wilson followed him inside, hoping he looked satisfactorily contrite.
Cuddy met them at the door, ushered them inside. Then she did something that made House raise an eyebrow, and Wilson swallow nervously: She locked the door.
She was smiling, which had the effect of making Wilson even more nervous than he had been. She walked purposefully between them, and guided House to a chair. Wilson hid a smile. So he was just there to watch while she gave House a little bit of crap. Maybe she wouldn't even acknowledge him...
She rubbed House's shoulder for just a moment, getting a strange look from the older doctor. Wilson assumed she was just trying to relax him so she could get the most effect out of the ass-chewing he was about to receive. He smiled, grateful he wasn't in House's position right now. Suddenly, she stopped rubbing his shoulders, and grabbed both his hands. Before House could blink, let alone fight, his hands were tied together and bound to the back of the chair. "What the f-" House cut off abruptly as a scarf was stuffed in his mouth. He looked at Wilson in shock.
Wilson's eyes widened. What the Hell was this?! Well, it was certainly more interesting than clinic duty. He knew Cuddy wouldn't really hurt House, but he also knew the terror the older doctor had of being restrained. "What are you doing?" he demanded, sincerely hoping House hadn't finally pushed her over the deep end.
She glared menacingly at Wilson. "Not a word!" He abruptly shut his mouth, always obedient, even though he was sure he had just entered the Twilight Zone. Cuddy picked up the phone. "Yes," she said to her assistant. He must have just gotten back. He hadn't been there moments ago when House and Wilson had come in. "I'm taking my lunch now. I have a migraine, and I'm going to try to take a nap. Please hold all my calls. Thank you dear." She hung up, then looked from House to Wilson. House was still struggling against the bandana she had used to tie his hands, and glaring at Cuddy with uncertainty. Wilson was simply standing there, frozen, and the random thought entered his mind that nobody knew where they were. But that was crazy! That was a thought for when you were lost or kidnapped. And their boss certainly wasn't holding them hostage. Was she?
"Dr. Wilson," she began, walking towards him. "Please remove your clothes."
Her tone had been so conversational that he thought he had to have misunderstood. "Huh?"
She grabbed him forcefully by the jaw, and said, "Strip. NOW!" Good thing she knew these two well enough to know they would never file a sexual harassment suit. She knew there was no one else she could get away with this with.
Certain that this was just a very weird dream that he would wake up from soon, he shed his lab coat and stripped down to his boxers. She then took him by the arm and led him to the couch, and pushed him down with gentle pressure on his shoulder. "Lie down," she said, still very conversationally.
"What is this?" Wilson asked, totally bewildered. However, she didn't seem to be in the mood to repeat herself this time, as she simply planted her hands on his chest and shoved him flat, turning him so he was laying lengthwise on the piece of furniture. He was too startled to resist. He did struggle a little when she grabbed his wrists, and she stopped to face him.
"Settle down, or it'll be that much worse," she warned sternly. "On you and him!" she nodded to House. Knowing that this was light-years beyond insane, that it was a very bad idea, he submitted. It still felt like a dream from Thai food too late at night, but without that hazy feel. No, definitely not a dream. For whatever reason, his boss DID actually have House tied to a chair. That part almost made sense, as much as anything involving House made sense. But then you factor in that he was currently tied to a couch in his underwear, and...well, he had no idea what to think about this. Or at least, didn't until Cuddy slipped into her bathroom and came out in a very short leather skirt and a leather halter-top.
House couldn't make a verbal reply with the scarf in his mouth, but his eyes just about bugged out of his head when he saw her, and suddenly Wilson's mind was engaged somewhere besides his wrists. She was stunning in whatever she wore, but this -could it even be called an outfit?- was above and beyond. It was obvious that it was for no purpose other than sexual escapades. Blood surged from the rest of his body to gather in one particular spot, and Wilson was suddenly very aware that he was almost naked.
She smiled, seeing the noticeable reaction from House, and the suddenly very noticeable one from Wilson, realized it was time to begin her plan. She would teach Princeton-Plainsborough's two oldest adolescents a lesson. "So, boys, Here's the thing. Mrs. Stanton came into my office, dripping wet. Said it was like a blast of rain suddenly hit her. With the pressure of a fire hose." She walked slowly over to when House was tied, and addressed him directly. "I'm going to take this out of your mouth now. First smart-ass comment, and it goes back. If it has to go back, I'm holding it in there with duct tape. And since you don't shave very well..." She ran a hand sensuously down his cheek, feeling the stubble rough against her hand, then pulled the scarf from his mouth.
He swallowed twice, trying to get some moisture back in his mouth, then finally spoke up. "What the hell is going on here?! You can't do this!"
She smiled knowingly. "Duct tape is in my drawer, House. Should I get it?" He shut up immediately.
"Anyway. Since threatening you two with clinic duty doesn't seem to work anymore, I had to more up with something else. Something a little more creative. Something a little bit more evil." Her grin darkened. "Something a little more...physical."
Wilson drew in a breath. "Mother of God, you are going to spank us!"
She chuckled. Trailing her fingernails down his bare chest, pausing a moment to tease an excitable nipple, she reached the waistband of his boxers. "Raise up!" she commanded, pulling them down as far as she could with his behind still on the couch. He looked at her apprehensively, even though he was still hard and what she had done already had exposed his not inconsiderable manhood. Then he shook his head. "Don't make me be more cruel than I already intend to be!" She licked her thumb, and grasped his cock tightly and circled her moistened thumb over the head. He gasped, and his hips bucked involuntarily, and she used her other hand to pull his underwear free, leaving him completely naked, and vulnerable to whatever she had in mind.
He blushed furiously at his body's betrayal, even though he had been sure there was no blood left above his waist. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched him there, with the exception of his own left hand. He wasn't used to going this long, and his entire body was extremely responsive.
Wilson's breathing returned to normal, though Cuddy was pleased to see that his arousal wasn't so fleeting. She imagined it had been a long time for him, since he had always been a prominent feature in the hospital's gossip circuit, but not lately. She liked to think she would have heard if he was getting any. "So, we've been friends a long time, haven't we, guys? Long enough to know each other's strengths. And in some cases our weaknesses." She grinned cruelly at House, and knelt between his legs. She scratched lightly at the crotch of his too-tight jeans, which were suddenly beyond too tight into uncomfortable. And getting worse every time she scratched him. It sent unbelievable shockwaves straight through his central nervous system, and exploded in his groin. He groaned when she got up. "For instance, I know that House has been fantasizing for years about this kind of thing, me having him tied up, doing the whole `dominatrix' bit. I know how hot it's making him now. And I know those pants are so tight he wished he'd changed into scrubs."
She turned back to Wilson, who was squirming against his bonds. His hands were tied over the arm of the chair, and it wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world. When he saw she was looking at him, he froze. Watching her carefully, he saw her put on a rubber glove and rub a generous amount of lotion on it. It felt like an electric shock as she again wrapped her hand around his shaft and leisurely slid it up and down. Without pausing, she smiled up at the head of her oncology department, breathing like a teenage boy peeking in the girls' locker room. "No, Wilson, I'm not going to spank you. I thought about it, and you know why I decided against it?" He shook his head, not entirely sure he could make himself form words. Her hand felt so good, and even though the glove reduced the friction he so desperately needed. "Because," she said, "I know you would rather take any kind of physical pain than endure the kind of teasing I'm going to put `Little Jimmy' here through." She laughed at the terrified look on his face, and rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock again.
It got the same response, and he writhed against the couch, trying to wiggle free from her hand. She was right. He could take pain, could handle whatever you threw at him, but what she was talking about...he understood the glove now. Keep the friction down, make it slower. Shit. This wasn't mere punishment, this was torture! "How long?" he managed to gasp out.
She glanced at the watch on her free hand, never once breaking the rhythm, and seemed to consider it. "Well, my next appointment isn't for two hours. But that's a budget committee meeting, and I don't really have to be there. So I'm not really sure. Until I think you've learned your lesson."
Oh, God! Two hours of this? At least! He'd never survive! Everyone who knew his reputation as a panty-chaser knew that sex was his weakness. He would do most anything to please a woman, but the one thing he couldn't tolerate was being denied release once he was started. It was simply unbearable to go from sensory overload, to have his body ready for such pleasure, and simply be teased. Okay, maybe it was time to turn on House. After all, all that was happening to him was he was being forced to watch his best friend tortured. Worse than torture for most people, not so bad for House. Wonderful, horrible sensations filled him. He was getting closer and closer. Maybe she would underestimate how long it had been, how closer to the edge he was, and just keep- Dammit!
He let out a pained whimper as she drew her hand back and took off the glove. The cold air hit `Little Jimmy', and made his keeper shiver, but it was too desperate for a mere chill to knock it down. Definitely time to beg for mercy. "Please!" he gasped. "I had nothing to do with it! I'm completely innocent!" She knelt on the floor beside him, and began trailing feather-light kisses and tiny nips along his chest, neck, and shoulders. "Why me? Torment House! I can't take this!" It felt so good, but to know it was going to go on like this indefinitely with no hope of release, no hope that that pressure in his groin would be relieved... He shuddered as she sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, then moaned as she bit sown on the same spot. Good thing he wore dress shirts and ties. She'd have to explain a mark like that on House.
He looked over at House, pleadingly, and realized there would be no help there. The older man's eyes were glazed over with lust, and Wilson realized that from his angle, the short skirt gave him a perfect shot of Cuddy's ass, and he had a feeling she wasn't wearing panties. He was unprepared for her hushed voice by his ear. "And if I go upstairs, who's office am I going to find the water gun in?" she asked knowingly. Wilson cursed inwardly. "Besides," she said, barely above a whisper, "I am tormenting House. If you behave, you'll get what you want eventually. He only gets to watch." She raised her voice to include House in the conversation. "For most people, watching their best friend be tortured for their crime is punishment enough. However, in this case, I think the bigger issue is going to be watching what I do to his friend and not being able to touch himself." They both turned to watch him wriggling in his chair. "Bet you really wish you'd worn something else today, huh, House? Maybe some soft dress slacks like Wilson's?" She turned back to the task at hand, so to speak.
She very lightly licked his nipple, and felt his entire body tremble as she took it in her mouth and sucked hard. He made a sound that he couldn't classify as she continued to work it over with her lips and teeth. Reaching under the couch, she pulled out a pan of warm water she had placed there prior to paging them, and rang out the washcloth floating in it. Releasing his nipple, she suppressed her grin as he fought to breathe normally again. Once all the excess water was squeezed out of the cloth, she raised it to his groin. The water had cooled slightly, and he hadn't been watching her right hand, so he yelped when it touched his sensitized shaft. She clamped a hand over his mouth quickly. "Quiet!" she hissed. "I don't want to have to gag you. It's too much fun to hear you beg. But if I do, I may just have to keep you here until after everyone's gone to finish this." Her voice was soft as honey, but there was cayenne pepper in her words, and Wilson quickly lowered his voice as she gently wiped the lotion from his erect penis. "I'm sorry, but I can't help it! You can't put something cold in a place like that and not expect me to react!"
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" She drew back from him, and walked to her desk. The desk was completely out of his line of sight, so he was left to wonder what she was up to. His eyes drifted over to House, who met his gaze with an expression somewhere between embarrassment, lust, and discomfort. He knew he was cursing himself for sharing this particular fantasy with Cuddy all those years ago. He also noticed that House was actually, physically, hurting, and it had nothing to do with his leg. Wilson had been so hard it hurt before, in the last few minutes even, but when it was still confined in his jeans...ouch!
"Cuddy?" he asked, still unable to see her. She didn't answer, but a moment later, she was back beside him, a cup in her hand. Oh, hell, he didn't think he would like where this was going! "Look, I understand the need to punish him, but come on! You can see it's hurting him! Open his jeans."
She sat the cup down, and turned an analytical gaze to House. "Does it hurt?" she asked sympathetically.
"Yes," he replied, not a trace of smugness or sarcasm. "Badly."
Cuddy looked from one man to the other, then relented, kneeling between House's knees and slowly lowering the zipper and toying with the button for a moment before releasing it. The pain eased from House's face as his erection, still covered with the soft cloth of his briefs, sprang free. He gave a sigh of relief, and she smirked. With the jeans no longer in the way, she ran her fingers along it, teasing him through the thin cotton. His breath hitched, and she stood back, taking her hand with her. He groaned in frustration, his head falling back against the chair.
She returned to Wilson, smiling slightly, and leaned back over his groin. Without warning, she took him completely into her mouth. He choked back the sound that tried to escape his throat, resulting in nothing more than a strangled gasp. The threat of prolonging this was enough for him to censor himself. She swallowed three times rapidly, and Wilson's eyes almost rolled back in his head. He had never been with a woman who could do that, and it left him weak and trembling. Just as suddenly, she pulled back, and he whimpered.
Enjoying that needy sound, she picked up the cup, and made a point of showing him the ice cube she had in her hand. Couldn't have him screaming and alerting the whole hospital to what was going on! "Please," he begged. "Please don't!" She ignored his pitiful pleading, and held it tightly in her hand, letting it melt slightly and allowing freezing cold droplets fall randomly onto his chest. He flinched, and squirmed around trying to avoid the tiny icicles falling on his vulnerable torso. Some of them rolled down his sides, and he tried not to show how much that tickled, but he was pretty sure he failed at it.
Cuddy looked at both men, and got a truly evil thought. As the first ice cube melted, she got another one, and placed it directly below Wilson's belly button. He shivered deliciously, and she moved it a hairs-breadth lower. The poor oncologist squirmed, knowing where this was headed and begged again. "Please. I can't handle that!"
She seemed to consider that. "Can't handle it?"
Thinking he may have gotten a reprieve, he answered. "No. That's too much. It's cruel!"
"Okay," she said. "What's it worth to you?"
"Anything!"
She glanced over to House, who was watching silently but had a sympathetic wince on his face. With a smile, she realized she had an opportunity to see just how much these two would do for the other. "So you won't mind answering some questions?"
He shook his head. "Anything!" A drop of water melted from the ice cube and trailed down into his pubic hair, producing a shiver.
Glancing once more at House, she began to question his friend. "How fast is House going through his prescriptions now?"
"What?!"
"You heard me," she said calmly, easing the ice lower. He tried not to squirm, tried not to shiver, and tried to resist. But when she got closer to where every nerve in his body was currently centered, he had to give in. "They last about a week and a half."
She moved it to less than an inch above his dick. "You're lying to me!" she said in a sing-song voice, and made as if to move it lower.
"Come on!" House protested, actually uncomfortable watching Wilson go through that. "Don't do this."
Cuddy looked over at him. "Worried about what I'm doing to him, or that he'll turn on you?" She moved it close enough that the cold had to be radiating to his very core.
He couldn't take it. "Okay, okay!" he gasped. "They last a week! Stop, please!"
She grinned and moved it back to just below his belly button, leaving to there to melt, and picked up another one. This one she started at the center of his left thigh. He had to fight very hard not to shiver, as too much movement of his body would dislodge the stationary one. It would slide down right where he didn't want it. He glanced at House, who seemed unmoved by the fact that Wilson had just ratted him out, in fact he still looked sympathetic.
Moving the ice cube in slow circles, drawing closer to the most sensitive part of his anatomy, she thought carefully about the next question. "Did House have anything to do with the snakes getting loose in the lab?" Wilson tensed, not wanting to answer. Three people had quit over that, and especially after this who knew what Cuddy would do to him over that. A little moan escaped him as a drop escaped and slid down the inside of his leg. Closer and closer to his erection, she slid the ice around, waiting for an answer.
Finally, when she was almost there, he spit out quickly. "Yeah, it was him!" She moved it away, only to bring it back when she needed to know more.
"Alone?"
Yikes! He gritted his teeth, but there was no resisting. No wonder confessions acquired like this were inadmissible in court. He'd confess to anything right now. "No, I helped him."
She smiled, but didn't move the ice cube back. "And?"
He was through being a tough guy. The ice on his stomach was melting and running in rivers into the dark hair on his groin, and he was ready to give up anybody he was questioned on. "Chase got the snakes. He didn't know what we were going to do though! Please stop," he whimpered.
She took the ice off his leg and moved lower. Content to give him a break from the sexual torture for the moment and move on to something simply physically unbearable, she kissed away the clod spot on his thigh and reached for his right foot. His feet were not tied, and he jerked it back quickly, once again trying not to let her see he was ticklish. She seemed to have enough things of her own to do to him without him inspiring her. She simply glanced at her watch, reminding him that she could keep them here as long as she wanted. It also served to remind him that there were no clocks in the room and he had no way to tell the passage of time. She could have been doing this to him for an hour, or it could only have been ten minutes. Shit! He reluctantly gave her back his foot.
She patted his foot. "Good job. Now, you have to hold very still. If you kick me, I will be very upset, do you understand?" He nodded quickly, and she plucked another piece of ice from the cup. Wilson thought he had been through hell so far, but her intentions were clear here. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth when he felt the ice touch the sole of his foot. He whined pitifully and his toes twitched involuntarily. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to jerk his foot back and sit on it, and the fact that he actually had to restrain himself made it worse.
She took her time, sliding it from his heel, up his arch (where he thought it would be the worst) to the balls of his feet and finally in between his toes (where it actually was the worst). He was wiggling and twisting, as trying to lie still was out of the question. Thankfully the ice on his stomach had melted so he had nothing to lose by moving around as much as he could. Finally, just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, she moved to the other foot and did the same to it.
By the time she was done giving it the same slow treatment as his right one, he was making a near heart-breaking noise halfway between a moan and a laugh, and even House was ready to plead for mercy on his behalf. He knew exactly how ticklish Wilson was, and where the worst places were. But it would take the same kind of interrogation his friend currently enduring to get that out of him. It had to be excruciating.
Wilson panted for breath when she finally stopped what she was doing to his feet. But it was too much to hope that she hadn't noticed his other sensitive spots earlier. She rubbed his foot lightly to make sure it was circulating well again, then slid her hands up his body. The cold had sent "Little Jimmy" hiding, but her hands trailing up the inside of his legs got its attention again. Climbing up on the couch, she straddled him, balanced on her knees with her weight on his stomach, effectively pinning him completely. "So," she said, looking right in his eyes. "I take it you're ticklish?"
He squirmed beneath her. "No," he said quickly, knowing it was foolish to lie, knowing he had to try anyway. Her smirk showed she knew he was lying, and without hesitation, she placed one hand over his mouth and buried the other in his arm pit.
An undignified squeal escaped from between her fingers as he writhed, trying in vain to get away from her fingers. House cringed, sincerely wishing he had never told Cuddy how much tickling someone turned him on. He never thought she'd use it against his best friend. What she didn't know was that he had been wrestling with Wilson years ago when he realized it, had pinned him and tickled the shit out of him until he almost pissed his pants.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Wilson, she paused to let him catch his breath. He gasped for the air he had not been able to draw in moments ago. When he was able to form words, he spoke up. "No! Please! No more!"
Cuddy ran a hand innocently down his side, teasing the abused flesh she had attacked. "One more question."
"Anything," he said breathlessly. "Just don't do that again!"
"How does House always have a game in the clinic when I check him for toys when he goes in?"
Wilson paused for a moment. Sending House into the clinic without something to play with was like putting an ADD kid in a blank, empty room. If he told her that... "I don't know. Maybe you should frisk him better."
This answer didn't satisfy her, and she dug under his arm with one hand and into his belly button with the other, letting his mouth free to squeal if he needed to. Her assistant would be on his lunch break, and there was no one else was close enough to hear. She enjoyed the sounds he made, somewhere between laughing, begging, and gasping for air. He twisted violently, trying to escape, but she had him pinned under her weight, and with his hands tied he was helpless. After a few minutes, he could no longer get enough air to laugh or plead, and was only gasping, but she refused to give him a reprieve.
Finally, House couldn't take it. "For the love of God, Jimmy, just tell her!" That was a good idea. The problem was that talking required air, which he was a little short on at the moment. After another minute, she paused, giving him the chance. "He has a second Game Boy. Back of the bottom drawer of the last filing cabinet. Please stop!"
She climbed off of him with a smile, and he laid bonelessly on the couch, wheezing, trying to get control over his breathing. He rotated his neck to allow him to look at House. "Sorry," he managed. "I couldn't-"
House shook his head. "You held out longer than I could."
The break was short-lived, as her fingers began drawing little circles on his hip bones and he remembered what he was in for. It wasn't as bad as being tickled, but it was still bad. She lowered her mouth to his erection again, and licked slowly from the base to the tip and back down the other side. His hips twitched and his back arched into her touch, begging for more. It was completely hard again already, and she smiled against his skin as she continued her light ministrations.
She was enjoying this way too much, having the attractive doctor completely at her mercy. He was so attractive on normal days, and like this, with all inhibition gone and not above begging, he was beyond what she had imagined. As she continued to lick him delicately, he tried to thrust at her, to no avail. Chuckling, she took the head in her mouth, sucked hard, and then released it, blowing a stream of air across the sensitive tip. He groaned and threw his head back against the cushions.
He had no way to judge time, so he had no idea how long he endured that sweet agony. It was amazing, but it wasn't enough. He wanted -he NEEDED- more, but he didn't know how to get it. Begging didn't seem to work, the pitiful noises that were coming from him, unbidden, didn't seem to help. Squirming and writhing didn't help, but they were involuntary so he couldn't help that. All he could do was lay there and take it. Then he heard a sound that didn't come from him, or Cuddy. Glancing back to House, he saw his friend fighting to get free, twisting in the seat, trying to get even the slightest stimulation on his own untouched dick. Wilson was aware that as long as it had been for him, it had probably been just as long for House. Even without the constant physical teasing, he had to be painfully hard just watching the scene before him.
After bringing him to the brink of sanity, she roamed his body some more, caressing his scrotum, pinching his nipples, nibbling on his ribs and collarbones. He was a mess of nerves, and wasn't sure how much he could take without coming completely unglued. He was so hard it was aching, every touch absolute torture. Trying again to beg, as she seemed to like hearing him say "please", he was too far gone to be embarrassed that all he could manage was a pained whimper.
Satisfied that he had been effectively tormented, she stood up and ran her fingers through his soft brown hair. "Poor baby," she muttered soothingly. "Think you've been through enough?" He nodded obediently and, he hoped, looked suitably pitiful. She patted his head and walked over to her desk.
"You okay?" a husky voice asked from a few feet away, and it took him a second to realize it was House.
Taking in a deep breath, he replied. "Yeah. You?"
House smirked. "I will be when I can go take care of this!" He nodded toward his groin, his hard-on very prominent.
Cuddy suddenly reappeared in his line of sight condom wrapper in her hand. She played with Wilson's hair again. "Okay, you've been a good boy. Time for your reward." Slowly opening the package with a deliberation obviously meant to draw it out a little longer, she rolled it onto his aching cock. Then she slid the tiny thong Wilson had mistaken for nothing off and straddled him again.
"Oh fuck!" he gasped as she ever so slowly lowered herself onto him. After being teased so long, it was pure sensory overload. He honestly didn't think he would last until he was all the way in, but once he was, he realized that something wasn't right. She started to move, slowly at first but picking up speed, and he realized that he was feeling it like he should. It should have been intense enough to send him over the edge, but it felt like he was barely being touched.
The fear and bewilderment must have shown on his face, because she grinned at him. "The wonders of lidocaine, huh Dr. Wilson?"
Oh, shit. He had heard of lidocaine condoms, of course. They were often used to help delay orgasm if a man had a problem with premature ejaculation. They didn't decrease the need, they just numbed surface nerves, making a person have to work even harder to reach completion. He had never had a problem with controlling himself, so between her deliberately slow movements and the lidocaine, even with his extreme level of arousal, this could go on for a very long time.
He thrust upward, trying to get even a little more friction, and she continued to explore his body with her fingers. She brushed her fingers over his lips, his ears, his neck, and his chest. The pressure built very slowly, edging him toward release at a snail's pace, and his cock went from a steady ache to deep throbbing with each heartbeat. He panted and moaned, with an occasional whimper thrown in. Finally, he was getting close, closer than he had been allowed to get today. He was afraid to meet her eyes, afraid she would see it and stop, and he didn't think he could take that. So he tried to resist when she put a hand on his cheek to turn his face toward her. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "It's over. You get what you want now." Tears were in his eyes when she met them, feeling slightly guilty for being so mean to him. Maybe the lidocaine condom was too much. Never loosing eye contact with him, she released his hands.
With his hands free, Wilson realized he had the freedom to move. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he thrust fiercely into her, trying not to hurt her just because he was a nice person, but he was too desperate with need to be too gentle. She fell forward onto him from the force of his efforts, and he caught her mouth in a rough, demanding kiss. His hands roamed her body, with more force and determination than hers had but in a similar manner.
He felt the familiar tightening low in his belly, and grabbed her around the middle so she couldn't try to stop him, and she kissed his neck and shoulders. When he finally came, he actually blacked out for a moment, long enough for her to get up and get some warm water in the pan from earlier. When he began to come around, she was already cleaning him up gently. He looked up at her, his eyes still hazy, and she brushed the hair back from his eyes. She smiled, her true smile, not the evil parody of it he had seen the whole time, and helped him sit up. "Thank God. I thought I killed you!"
Looking at her unsteadily, he replied. "So did I."
Looking like a mother asking for forgiveness after punishing a child, she gestured for his clothes. "Get dressed. You can go." As he was buttoning his short, she remembered he was staying with House. "Do you have your own key, or do you need his?"
Both sets of eyes widened. "What are you going to do to him?" Wilson asked warily.
"Come on! After watching him go through that, you're still going to keep me?" House sounded worried and still painfully hard. "Is that what you're going to do to me??"
Cuddy ignored House and smiled at Wilson. "I promise I'll return him in no worse shape than he is now. Well, except his hand may be cramping for a few days!" The evil smile was back, and House swallowed loudly.
Wilson looked first at House, then at his boss, then back to his friend, and thought about what he had just been through. At the time, it had been unbearable, but now in hindsight it seemed almost...pleasurable. Like something out of a really kinky porn. Like something House would make him watch. He returned Cuddy's evil smile. "I've got my own key." House looked like he was going to say something, so Wilson cut him off. "But would you mind if I stayed and watched? After all, he got to watch!"
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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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