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First Steps
by GlacierRat
House felt a niggle of doubt and pulled back from the sanctuary of Cuddys lips reluctantly. He met her blue eyes with an anxious gaze, and asked awkwardly, "How do I know Im not hallucinating?" Even as he asked, he knew in his rational mind, that a hallucination would answer exactly as he wished.
A soft, knowing smile touched her lips and calmed him from her eyes. She asked him, "Did you take the Vicodin?"
Checking his hand to make sure that the pills were still there, House answered succinctly, "Nope." He met her eyes again, and felt the warmth of her recently admitted love wash through him, dulling the pain of the last few hours that had been tapping insistently from the inside of his head, and throbbing increasingly from his ruined right leg.
"Then, I think were okay," she told him softly, confidently.
"Yeah," he thought, hardly knowing that he had said the word aloud. He dropped the pills to the floor, and lost himself in the shine of her smile, dipping his head to taste it again and hoping he could draw enough energy from her to keep standing there. But the pain of his leg, the loss of blood from his new injury, and the sorrow of the last few hours had joined forces to sap him of any remaining strength. He couldnt even work up enough life to care that he was showing Cuddy his desperate weakness.
House let his forehead fall to Cuddys shoulder, and he shuddered with the power of the emotions coursing through him at the realization that she was standing there holding him, very nearly holding him up. Her hand gripped his with an intensity that told him his feelings were noticed, respected, and returned.
Cuddy let her hand slide up the front of Houses motorcycle jacket to cup the back of his neck. She felt a thrill as her fingers touched the silky, warm skin of his nape; she couldnt remember the number of times she had had to stop herself from touching this part of him that aroused her irrationally. Fantasies of giving in completely to the impulse to lean over him as he sat at his desk, and to start placing wet tongue kisses below his hairline sometimes took her violently by surprise, and she had to walk away from him. There was just something about the mans nape that was such an intensely attractive combination of vulnerability and strength. In fact, between those fantasies, and the ones where she imagined just what he might be able to do with his large, gifted hands, she was often compelled to move away from him. But now, she simply let herself enjoy the reality.
Almost hypnotized by the soft movement of her thumb behind his ear, he relaxed into her and admitted in a hoarse whisper, "Im so tired."
"I know. Me, too."
That she was willing to admit to this weakness before him had him believing that maybe this really wasnt a hallucination. She held him for a moment longer, or perhaps it was several days. Time had changed somehow, within the circle of their embrace, and he had lost the will to move.
"You should lie down, and let me re-bandage your shoulder," he heard dimly over the loud crashing of his heart.
Somehow, then, time skipped, and he was lying on his bed, his shirt had vanished, and Cuddy was perched on the chair next to him, washing the dried blood from his chest with gentle strokes of a soft, warm cloth. The freedom to touch him at will instilled a new energy in her. She worked the cloth up his neck and face to remove the dust, debris, and blood he had collected there during the course of the long, stressful day, and watched as his eyelids drifted down to hide the intensity of the blue, blue eyes. He let her baby him, thinking vaguely that he would definitely protest, later. Her touch was tender and loving, as she put a new bandage over the cut above his collarbone.
"Sleep," she told him, with a faint echo of the administrator voice she used on him at work.
"Cant," he insisted groggily, "leg hurts." But he was powerless to defy her, and slipped off into a never-land somewhere between waking and sleeping, where there was a dreamy awareness of her joining him on the bed. He felt her position herself under his right arm, felt her hair tickle his jaw, felt her small hand settle possessively over his heart. The warm weight of her body insinuated itself into him and tendrils grew right into his leg to make the pain vanish like smoke. Cuddy could feel him relax into sleep, even as his hand gripped her desperately closer to his side. She pulled the comforter over them both, and they slept.
*****
Shadowy snapshots of awareness drifted into Houses awakening brain. Bright sunlight pried at his eyelids from the wrong side of the bed. A complete lack of fatigue registered. Soft even breaths touched his ears from the other side of the bed. A small, soft hand was clutched in his own. Warm toes rested against the instep of his right foot. The faint scent of a fruity shampoo teased his nostrils with mislaid memories.
Opening his eyes slowly, hopefully, wishing with all of his heart that he hadnt hallucinated the scenes crashing into his mind from the night before, he saw his and Cuddys entwined hands inches from his sleep-hazed gaze. Focusing further away, he found her face, relaxed and softened in sleep. He let his eyes roam, cataloguing each precious feature frantically, as if they would shortly disappear. He noted the fine lines around her eyes and between her brows with a sense of guilt, knowing that he was responsible for most of them. Wanting to kiss her, but unwilling to break the spell, House closed his eyes and imagined their kisses from the night before. Had she really told him that she loved him? Would she regret it this morning?
House laid there, eyes closed, absorbing every priceless feeling, sound and scent that surrounded him, as certain as he had ever been that this was the one and only perfect moment that life had ever given him, or was ever likely to give him. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered immediately that he was to be given two such moments, for Cuddy was watching him with sleep-drugged eyes and a faint curve to her perfect lips. She briefly squeezed his hand, before moving hers to stroke the stubble on his cheek, and to rub her thumb sensually across his lower lip. Blue gazes locked as years of denied feelings poured from her to him and back again, until the electricity between them drew them inexorably together.
The first kiss was a sort of acknowledgement of their love, soft and undemanding, and House melted completely, the impossible sweetness of the kiss drawing an involuntary groan from deep within him. The visceral sound fueled Cuddys next kiss and turned it into flame and fury. Her fingers slid into his hair and dragged him closer. Her lips opened willingly to him, and the touch of her sweet tongue stripped every pretense of control from him.
Reaching for her, he was stunned to find that she was wearing nothing at all. He let his hand slide down to grip the ass that had kept him well-supplied with wet dreams for the past twenty five years, and fingered the cleft between the firm globes. Her gasp gave him the permission he needed to reach out for the waiting wetness of her, and he plunged his fingers into her depths.
Cuddy cried out and clenched around him eagerly, as she clutched desperately at his arms and mauled his mouth with her own. The roughness of the stubble on his face sensitized every nerve ending in her body, and she rubbed her cheeks against it willingly. She began to push onto his fingers rhythmically, frantically increasing her pace to keep time with her gasps for air. House ungrudgingly searched for the spot inside that would take her over the edge. Finding it released her, and she came with a hoarse cry. He continued to work at the spot until she finally bit his lip to make him stop.
The taste of his own blood catalyzed him. Rolling her suddenly onto the hard length of his body, he gave in to the frenzied storm, matching her intense passion move for move. He burying his face between her fragrant breasts, and inhaled deeply. Insane to be closer to him, Cuddy groped for the button of the jeans she hadnt removed from him the night before, but he was there first, ripping urgently at it until it finally let go. Cuddy was already pulling the jeans and boxer briefs downward with burning intent, and sliding down with them as she dropped wet, sucking kisses onto the trail of hair that arrowed towards his groin. Deranged with desire, House could only thread his hands helplessly into her hair as she went.
As Cuddys mouth closed wetly on his engorged penis, House groaned again, reaching madly for the self-control to keep from coming immediately in her mouth.
"Ghah! Cuddy, stop!"
"I thought the safe word was sweet sauce," she said, grinning as she lifted her head, mouth glistening with her efforts.
"Sweet sauce, sweet sauce, sweet sauce!" House pleaded in a deep raw voice, as he grasped her shoulders to drag her back up his body. She came willingly, and, lifting her hips with his strong hands, House impatiently positioned her wet, swollen body over the tip of his over-sensitized penis and met her eyes. God, she was gorgeous; her lips were swollen and shining with moisture, and her eyes were blurred with desire and darkened to a midnight blue. Her breath came in uncontrolled puffs. Without warning, he thrust into her, holding her gaze intently, until the potency of the moment dragged her lids down and made her shudder. Grasping her to hold her still, he fought for control, but the lingering convulsions of her first orgasm were too much for the years of denial, and he lost it completely.
House began thrusting powerfully into her warm wetness, and the barely controlled strokes dragged her over the edge again, taking him with her. Another animal moan ripped from House, joined by the rough tones of Cuddys cry. Cuddy fell against his wide chest in a boneless heap. The musky scent of their coupling was strong in their nostrils as they both gulped great gasping breaths.
"More," insisted Cuddy, through numb, trembling lips.
"Uh," House agreed. "Reincarnation first." And they drifted back to sleep in satiated exhaustion.
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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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