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Chips
by flying cat
Preface
In so many ways it was one of life's great tragedies, getting no sleep and having
absolutely no fun. Upon seeing her dozing at her desk around mid-morning her
personal assistant was kind enough to wake her with a particularly pungent cup of
coffee.
"Big night Doctor Cuddy?" He grinned placing the cup down on her desk just to the
right of the stack of billing notices she was using as a pillow.
"Uh." Cuddy stirred, regarding her PA groggily. The scent of freshly roasted coffee
beans drifted into her personal space. "Mmm." Another sound; not yet capable of
speech she slowly reached for the cup, purposefully inhaling its contents. "Thankyou
so much" She murmured, gingerly sipping the scalding beverage.
"So," Her PA raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Sorry, what?" Cuddy frowned at him, somewhat aghast.
"Oh, I'm sorry." The PA was politely apologetic. "It's just that you've come in
looking totally exhausted every morning for the last week or so. I just figured that
you'd met someone"
"Hmpf!" Cuddy stifled a laugh, desperately trying not to shoot coffee out of her nose.
"I wish." She composed herself. "But thanks for the coffee."
"Hey, it's my job." He smiled at her sweetly. "Did you need anything else?"
"Yes," Cuddy shifted, sitting up straight, steel returning to her gaze. "I know this isn't
part of your job description, but could you take that suit there to the dry cleaners?"
She gestured toward the frosted pink suit that was neatly laid out on the couch to his
right. "I'll buy you lunch?"
"Sure." The PA gathered up the suit from the couch. "And you don't have to buy me
lunch Doctor Cuddy."
Cuddy watched him stride from her office; he was a good kid, cute too. She sighed,
slumping down into her chair. The last week had been nothing short of hellish. A
group of investors were scheduled to visit the hospital in two days time. Under
ordinary circumstances this would have been a perfectly welcome occurrence, but this
particular group of investors had 'requested' (more a demand from the member of the
consortium that happened to be an accountant) she provide a detailed and accurate
summary of current hospital operations and some recent financials. The latter was
easily solved by way of a quick phone call to accounting, but the former was more
time consuming. Cuddy had quite literally spent the last week sifting over memos
and contacting various department heads regarding patient statistics, research and a
host of other topics that the consortium of potential investors had earmarked for
discussion. The only time she had left the hospital in the last eight days involved a
quick sojourn around the corner to a budget department store to purchase some clean
underwear, as she didn't have the time to drive home.
Today would be no different. She would spend office hours ploughing through
research proposals and contacting department heads in the hope of ensuring that there
were no nasty surprises in store for her when she met with the investors on Friday.
To this point she had discovered that the IVF clinic had been expensing champagne
purchased for celebrating successful pregnancies under 'Review Consultation
Expenses' and were storing it in their sample fridges inside boxes marked 'biohazard'
to deter theft. The Obstetrics Department had listed a golf day as a 'Symposium on
new Delivery Techniques,' and House. Well, House had ordered an x-ray of the left
upper thigh of every patient in the psych ward under the pretence that he was
attempting to ascertain whether the statement, 'the hip bone's connected to the thigh
bone' held true over a broad sample. Not exactly the sort of research that would
impress a consortium of potential investors. Gifted musician or not, the sight of
House singing 'Dem Bones' didn't really constitute a compelling case for additional
funding for the Department of Diagnostic Medicine.
* * *
The scalding water did little to soothe her aching body or quell the pounding inside
her skull as she stood beneath the shower in the female staff locker room. Cuddy
turned to face the torrent of water, closing her eyes as she shifted her face into the
path of the shower. She rolled her head from side to side in the hope of shocking
herself back to full consciousness. Bracing both her palms and forearms flat against
the tiles below the shower head, she leant forward; the heat of the water beating
against the back of her neck in stark contrast to the chill of the tiles against her skin.
Sighing, she stood up, quickly shifting her arms into the path of the shower before
shutting the water off. She paused momentarily, relishing the sensation as her
glowing skin cooled rapidly in the chill air of the locker room. Cuddy reached for her
towel and began to slowly dry herself before pulling on a set of loose surgical scrubs
and wandering back to her office.
Gripping one final cup of coffee tightly, Cuddy settled down on the couch in her
office with a particularly lengthy research proposal from the Haematology
Department and began to read, feet tucked up beneath her. She rationalised that as
soon as she had appeased the consortium of investors she'd take a few days off and
treat herself to something, she had no idea what though. It occurred to her that what
she wanted at that moment more than anything was simply someone to lavish
attention on her poor, tired body. However, people weren't exactly queuing up to fill
that position. Cuddy closed her eyes; she could almost feel strong fingers deftly
seeking out the tender spots down the length of her aching back. She placed her
coffee on the floor; sensory hallucinations were an unfamiliar yet welcome aspect of
sleep deprivation. With a degree of reluctance, she slumped down onto the couch,
allowing her mind to wander as she lapsed into unconsciousness.
* * *
Cuddy blinked; once, twice, clearing the sleep from her eyes. He was there, looming
above her, filling almost her entire field of vision.
"When was the last time you slept in your own bed?" He asked gently, blue eyes dark
with concern.
"Am I dreaming?" Cuddy whispered, gazing up at him. She slowly lifted a hand up
to touch his cheek, fingers lightly drifting over three or more day's worth of stubble.
"I don't know." He mused, pressing his cheek to her hand. "What happens in your
dream?" She ran her thumb across the seal of his lips.
"It's been so long," She sighed as he lightly kissed the pad of her thumb. "I'm not
sure, but I think it ends with you inside me."
"Ooo." He tilted his head, lightly nipping at the fleshy underside of her thumb. "That
sort of dream is it?"
"God I hope so." Cuddy shifted her hand away from his mouth, grabbing him
roughly by the collar of his shirt.
"I like this side of you." He purred, lips brushing hers as he spoke. "I'm also liking
the fact you 86ed the bra when you put on these scrubs. Generally you're not wearing
scrubs in my dreams though"
"Hey." Cuddy growled in a mock scold. "This is my dream. Could you stop teasing
and just get on with it?"
"Okay, okay" He rolled his eyes in faux-exasperation; thumb circling a hard nipple
through the thin green crepe of her scrubs. He leant down, gently nibbling at her lips
in a frustratingly non-committal tease.
"Come here, dammit." Cuddy growled, gripping the lapels of his jacket and pulling
him forcefully toward her. He gently lowered himself down on top of her, shifting his
weight until he was stretched out comfortably, hips resting between her thighs. He
opened his mouth against hers, tongue skating across her lips, daring her to respond,
and she did. Lips parting beneath his, she dragged him into an intensely deep kiss,
hands hastily tearing at his clothing, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and
flinging it away as he shrugged it off. She bit his bottom lip, teeth piercing skin. His
eyes flicked open in utter astonishment; with the knowledge she had his undivided
attention, Cuddy slipped her hands into the gap between the middle buttons on his
shirt and pulled sharply, buttons popping and material tearing as she sought out his
flesh.
"Oh, so you wanna play?" He growled against her ear as her hands slid up
underneath his t-shirt.
"Yeah." Cuddy bit his ear, fingernails lightly scraping against the skin on his back.
He sat up, kneeling between her thighs as he regarded her momentarily before
gripping either side of the v-neck of her scrubs, fists clenched beneath her chin.
Flashing her a quick grin, he tore the scrubs open in a single movement.
"Don't make em like they used to." He raised an eyebrow at her, taking in the lean
lines of her torso. He grabbed the waistband of her pants and gave another sharp tug,
satisfaction permeating his expression as the material tore beneath him. "No panties.
Are you sure this isn't my dream?"
"Less talking, more fucking." Cuddy growled at him, pulling him back down onto
her.
"You really want this over and done with that fast?" He asked, gently kissing his way
down the side of her neck.
"Yes." Cuddy stifled a moan as he found a particularly sensitive spot. "Just get me
off then go and do your clinic hours, or watch your soap or something." He began to
nip and suck at a nipple, Cuddy's hands raked through his hair and she found herself
shivering at the sheer pleasure of the sensation.
"So you don't want me to keep doing this then?" His tongue flicked across her
nipple, she held his head firmly in place.
"No. I mean yeah." Cuddy groaned as he sucked just marginally harder before
pulling away to blow cold air over her nipple. She gasped. "Just fuck me."
"You sure?" He asked, gently rocking his hips into hers. "Because I can think of a
few other places I'd like to kiss you" Cuddy reached down between them to unzip
his trousers, pushing them along with his boxers down over his ass. She gripped his
cock firmly.
"Just get on with it."
"Okay." He pushed into her. Cuddy gasped, shifting beneath him as she adjusted to
his size. Slowly he began to move above her, intent on calming her down somewhat
with his long smooth strokes. Cuddy bucked her hips against him impatiently, he
responded with a quick swivel of his, momentarily changing his angle in a manner
that left her gasping. He continued at the same tortuous pace, adding the occasional
swivel that left her begging for release until he felt nails cutting into his back.
"Fuck me harder!" A single hoarse demand, who was he to refuse? He drove into her
mercilessly, his wordless grunts in symphony with her equally desperate moaning
until they both came tangled in a sweaty heap of torn clothing and shouted
obscenities.
* * *
Cuddy blinked, she could hear crunching. Propping herself up on one elbow she
caught sight of House seated a few metres from where she lay sprawled on the couch,
barbeque chips snapping between his molars.
"How long have you been here?" She asked blearily.
"Oh, long enough." He grinned wickedly, licking his fingers before diving into the
packet for another chip.
"No no no no. Shit." Cuddy mumbled, blinking the sleep from her eyes in an attempt
to avoid his gaze.
"I feel like I should tip you or something after that. I'm packing more wood here than
just the cane." House nodded toward his crotch, continuing to crunch as he spoke.
"So who's the lucky guy?" Cuddy glared at him. "Or girl? Actually, that's sooo
much hotter"
"Don't you have a soap to watch, or patients to offend or something?" Cuddy
growled, rubbing her neck as she sat up.
"Avoidance" House ceased to crunch momentarily, eyes flickering skyward in a
second of contemplation. "Hang on" A wild grin cut across his features. "Was I
the guest star in your sex dream?"
"What?" Cuddy stared at him, embarrassment combining with shock and anger.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"You came too, didn't you?" House licked his fingers suggestively. "Man I'm
good."
"Don't be ridiculous." Cuddy shook her head dismissively.
"Oh, your mouth says no, but your nipples say yes." House began to crunch again.
Cuddy wrapped her arms around her chest in self-conscious shock, eyes wild with
anger.
"Chip?" House extended the bag in her direction.
"Out!" Cuddy snarled.
"Okay," House stood, somewhat reluctantly. He dropped the bag of chips down onto
Cuddy's desk and fished inside his jacket for his wallet, extracting a $20 note before
limping over to where Cuddy sat on the couch, arms still wrapped tight around her
chest. He held the note in front of her face, slowly folding it lengthways. House leant
down, pressing a single rough, greasy barbeque kiss against her lips whilst
simultaneously jamming the $20 into the waistband of her scrubs.
"Thanks for the show." House grinned, eyebrows bouncing suggestively as he
grabbed his chips and ambled out.
* * *
More?
Chapter two
"I can't believe you did that." Wilson yanked House's Ipod from the speaker dock,
killing the strains of Verdi's La Traviata that had been drifting luxuriously through his
office.
"Okay, you're going to have to be more specific." House offered nonchalantly as he
span around in his chair to face Wilson. Mildly irritated by the interruption, he
caressed the large green and red tennis ball he engaged so often to keep his hands
occupied.
"Cuddy." Wilson continued sternly, unsuccessfully attempting to snatch the tennis
ball away from him.
"Oh, sex dream?" Light flashed through House's eyes. "I didn't actually do her
though."
"Oh god." Wilson sighed, dropping into the chair across from his friend. "Apart
from the fact you were sick enough to sit there and watch her" He shook his head in
undisguised disgust. "What did you think you were doing?"
"Eating chips?" House looked at him nonplussed.
"You tipped her!" Wilson shouted.
"Oh, that?" House recoiled in the face of his friend's anger. "She knows it was a
joke."
"It's not a joke!" Wilson stood, driving his fist down onto House's desk sending a
stack of medical journals to the floor. "It's quite possibly the single most demeaning
thing you could have done. You know how busy Cuddy's been preparing everything
for the meeting on Friday, she hasn't left this place since last week. That poor woman
puts up with enough of your shit as it is."
"Geez." House slid down in his chair. Wilson loosened his tie, breathing heavily.
"Go and apologise." Wilson concluded, composure returning.
"Chip?" House grabbed the packet of barbeque chips from next to his computer
monitor, extending it in Wilson's direction.
"Apologise!" Wilson snapped before reaching toward the chip packet.
"No chips for you." House quickly shifted the chips out of his reach, popping one
into his mouth.
"Go and apologise you asshole." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck as he wandered
out, shaking his head in disbelief as House continued to crunch.
* * *
After lunch, it occurred to House that there was no harm in swinging by Cuddy's
office, not to apologise, but more to ensure she'd taken his actions in the manner he
had intended. He got as far as the clinic reception before the he found his passage
blocked by Rachel, the rotund Head Nurse. Nurse Rachel stood, hands on hips
between House and Cuddy's office, visibly unimpressed. House stepped awkwardly
to the left. Nurse Rachel mimicked his movement. House stepped with greater
difficulty to the right only to have Nurse Rachel continue to block his path.
"Oh please." House gazed skyward in exasperation. "What are you, the gatekeeper?"
"You asshole." Nurse Rachel growled at him, eyes narrowed. "There's no way in
hell I'm letting you go anywhere near her."
"Okay, hearing a lot of that today." House sighed. "Top secret doctor stuff, let me
through."
Nurse Rachel glared at him, unmoving.
"Fine." House rolled his eyes, turning and ambling back toward the elevator.
* * *
At 3.30pm House managed to sneak past Nurse Rachel and through the first set of
double doors leading to Cuddy's office. Still checking behind him to ensure she
wasn't following, he walked headlong into the static form of Cuddy's PA.
"Oh," House stepped backward in light of the contact. "Didn't see you there."
The PA remained stationary, arms folded across his chest.
"You're an asshole." He glared at House.
"Yes, we've been through this." Once again House found himself looking at the
ceiling. "Okay, you've made your point, move."
"What, so you can go in and insult Doctor Cuddy again?" The PA remained defiant.
House shifted, attempting to look over the PA and into Cuddy's office.
"Yes, so I can go and insult her again." House sighed in exasperation, hand
tightening around his cane.
"No." The PA glared at House.
"Move!" House barked at the PA.
"No!" The PA snapped back.
"Fine." House lifted his cane, jamming the butt down into the PA's foot.
"Hey!" The PA yelped in surprise, before grabbing the nearest medical file and
swinging it spine-first in a chopping motion against House's right thigh.
"Ahhh FUCK!" House shouted, legs buckling beneath him. He caught the edge of the
PA's desk on the way down, wincing as he struggled to stay on his feet.
"Shit" The PA began to back away toward the clinic. "I didn't know that was "
"My bad leg?" House hissed at him through clenched teeth, gripping the PA's desk
white knuckled.
"I'll just go and get" The PA garbled, waving his arms ineffectively as he stumbled
out into the clinic. House painfully hauled himself back to his feet, retrieving his pill
bottle and desperately shaking out three Vicodin. He pushed through the door into
Cuddy's office.
"Out!" Cuddy glared at him, wild-eyed. House stood silent, somewhat stunned.
"Out!" She repeated, rising to her feet behind her desk.
"Cuddy" House began, walking gingerly toward her desk.
"OUT!" Cuddy grabbed the empty coffee mug to her right, turned, pointed and
threw.
"Oomph!" Was the only sound House could manage as the coffee cup struck him in
the groin before clattering to the floor. House retreated, bent over at the waist, left
hand nursing his balls while his right arm struggled to keep him upright.
Cuddy sank back into her chair as she watched him stagger out, utterly pathetic in
comparison to the brash manner in which he had exited earlier this morning. A pang
of guilt shot through her as she watched him leaning against the wall outside her
office, eyes squeezed shut fighting yet another surge of pain. Cuddy's eyes travelled
from the somewhat broken figure of the tall lean man outside her office to the neatly
folded $20 note on her desk. Anger once again rose inside her, and it occurred to her
that perhaps she should have thrown a chair.
* * *
The remainder of the week passed without incidence. Fearful for the safety of his
testicles, House completed his clinic hours without a single word of complaint. With
a wealth of impressive information, Cuddy entertained the consortium of investors on
Friday and was quietly confident of obtaining some manner of funding as a result.
The final meeting finished at 4.30pm, at which point, Cuddy gathered her things and
left, looking forward to a long soak in a hot bath, and a good night's sleep in her own
bed for the first time in ten days.
Light snow began to fall as Cuddy stepped out of her car, retrieving a week or more
of mail before heading inside. She dumped the mail along with her things onto her
kitchen table before heading to her fridge, swinging the door open only to be met by
the distinct aroma of rotting vegetables. Cursing her work ethic, Cuddy snatched a
Thai take away menu from beneath a magnet on her fridge door, grabbed her phone
and headed off to run a bath.
After a long luxurious soak in her tub and a mild Thai green chicken curry washed
down with a glass of crisp New Zealand sauvignon blanc, Cuddy settled down on her
couch with a glass of scotch and a copy of Architectural Digest. After a few minutes
of flicking absently through the magazine, it became painfully obvious to Cuddy that
she was thoroughly sick of reading. Tossing the magazine onto the coffee table she
fumbled around in search of the television remote. Cuddy drained her scotch and
began to restlessly cycle through television channels. Bored, over-tired and
increasingly agitated by the fact that the hot bath she had been looking forward to for
the best part of a week had done little to soothe her tired body, she glared at the
television, desperately hoping to find some manner of vicious contact sport to watch
for the time being. A knock at her door prevented her from throwing the remote at
her television in frustration. Cuddy sighed; the knocking persisted. She rose and
slowly padded across the room to her front door, gazing through the peep hole on
tiptoe. She saw no one, yet the knocking continued. Cuddy opened the door, peering
cautiously around the side.
House lent on the door jam, head resting on his bicep, hand braced against the top of
the jam cane roughly at eye level, the handle crooked toward the door. Snowflakes
peppering his unruly hair, he gazed down at her; Cuddy tried desperately to avoid his
eyes.
"What do you want?" She mumbled, clinging to the door.
House leant his cane against the door jam before reaching inside his coat, eyes never
shifting from hers. He finished fishing around inside his coat, producing a single
daisy. House bisected the space between them with the little flower.
"I'm sorry." He tilted the head of the daisy toward her, breath leaving his mouth in a
thin stream of steam.
Cuddy looked from the daisy to the man wondering where he managed to find such a
flower in the middle of winter, the sincerity in his terrific blue eyes threatening to
break her resolve. She reached out, warm fingers sliding over his cold hand to take
the little flower. Reluctantly, Cuddy allowed herself to meet his gaze; the sadness in
his eyes was heartbreaking, he meant it. She stepped back from the door, retreating to
the kitchen to find water for her flower. House retrieved his cane and slowly ambled
inside, rubbing his left hand through his hair in an attempt to shake out the snow that
peppered his coiffure. Cuddy returned holding a glass of water containing the lone
daisy. House's eyes travelled the length of her figure, clad in a dressing gown and
sensible pyjamas House limped over to her. Grabbing the loose ends of the tie that
fastened her dressing gown, he towed her behind him as he ambled down the hall to
her bedroom.
Standing next to Cuddy's bed in relative darkness, House took the glass from her,
placing it down on the nightstand before pushing her dressing gown off her shoulders,
letting it fall to the fall to the floor.
"House" Cuddy began, staring at the floor.
"Greg." House lifted her chin until her eyes met his.
"Greg" Cuddy tried again. House lifted a single finger to her lips, silencing her.
"If you talk, I'll talk, and you don't want me to talk." House paused, running his
finger across the seam of her lips. "I don't want to spend the next six months
apologising. Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."
Cuddy nodded, House smiled faintly, turning away momentarily to hook his cane
over the edge of the nightstand. He gripped Cuddy's hips firmly, marvelling at how
neatly the bones fit into his palms. In a single fluid movement he lifted Cuddy,
throwing her backward and onto the bed. Cuddy bounced as she hit the mattress,
desperately trying to stifle a giggle as House shrugged his coat and dropped onto the
bed, leaning forward to untie his shoes. He sat up, kicking off his shoes and toeing
off his socks. Cuddy slid in behind him, reaching over his shoulders to unbutton his
shirt. House watched her over his shoulder, fighting the urge to offer a snappy one
liner, shrugging obligingly as Cuddy pulled his shirt down and threw it over the edge
of the bed. He physically lifted his right leg up onto the bed, stretching out briefly
before rolling onto his side to face her, head propped in his hand. Cuddy unfolded her
legs and lay down next to him, slightly nervous due to the unfamiliarity of the
situation given her present company. House twirled a hand in her direction in the
hope it was some manner of universally acknowledged non-verbal gesture meaning
roll over. Either way Cuddy drew some degree of meaning from it, rolling onto her
stomach, arms folded across the pillow beneath her chin, not entirely sure what to
expect.
House shifted closer, draping his good leg over Cuddy's effectively pinning her there.
Sighing quietly to himself, he began to lightly trail his fingers down the length of
Cuddy's spine, the silk of her pyjamas reducing his touch to little more than a
feathery caress. House watched her intently as he repeated the simple motion,
enjoying the notion of proximity as Cuddy slowly relaxed beneath his fingertips. She
sighed, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but House's surprisingly soothing
caress was ultimately having the desired effect. Cuddy felt his fingers skate along her
skin just above the waistband of her pants, still cool from time spent outside. House
slid his hand up under her pyjamas and along the side furthest from him. Leading
with his middle finger in a teasing caress, his fingers trailing over ribs before ever so
lightly grazing the swell of her breast. With Cuddy humming in approval, he repeated
the movement, fingers lingering just fractionally longer as they grazed her breast with
each stroke. Cuddy felt the tension in her body slowly dissipating beneath House's
fingers, mildly surprised that he was capable of such tenderness.
Sensing the time was right House gripped her side firmly, pulling her toward him.
Obligingly, Cuddy rolled over onto her back, her side pressed against House's body.
He lent down, gently nuzzling at her ear, seizing the opportunity, Cuddy grabbed the
bottom of his t-shirt in the hope of pulling it off. House sat up, removing the
offending garment and tossing it aside. He caught Cuddy's wrists, swiftly pinning
them behind her head before returning to his previous position. House adjusted his
posture so that his right arm folded neatly around Cuddy's head, ensuring her arms
remained where he wanted them. Cuddy sighed as House's lips traversed the
sensitive skin of her neck, his free hand gripping her side possessively as he worked
his way down along her collarbone. He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat,
eliciting a soft, contented moan from the woman beneath him. With her arms pinned
above her head and House lightly dragging his nose down her sternum Cuddy relaxed,
thoroughly content with the deliciously slow pace he had elected to set. She felt his
hand shift from her side; silk sliding across her chest, the rough graze of stubble
across her skin; contrasting sensations culminating in the heat of his mouth on her
nipple. House gently suckled; Cuddy groaned, wriggling in an attempt to free her
arms, desperate to weave her fingers through his hair and keep his head where she
wanted it. House responded, firmly pressing her arms back behind her head and
shifting to the other nipple. She groaned, generally not the type to lie back
submissively and let any man assume control, especially not this man, but who was
she to fight it.
Lips breaking contact with her skin, House sat up, fingers skating under the waistband
of her pants. He gently patted her hip; Cuddy obligingly lifted her pelvis. Finally
forced to release her arms, House shifted down to slide her pyjama pants down her
legs, ensuring his fingers travelled the full length of her perfectly toned limbs in the
process. No panties; House desperately fought the urge to comment, instead grabbing
her hips, shifting her until he was lying comfortably between her thighs, eyeballing
the prize, determined to continue at the same leisurely pace. No teasing, no time
invested in building tension; he knew it would only serve to frustrate her, and with
Cuddy's arms free, House feared for his testicular safety. Spreading her lips, he
began to gently lap at the growing heat between her thighs. Above him Cuddy
offered a deeply satisfied moan, arching her back slightly and relaxing into the
deliberate flicker of his tongue across the throbbing nub between her thighs. Oh god
this was exactly what she needed. Desperate for a quick taste, House dipped down,
slipping his tongue inside her before she grabbed a handful of his hair, shifting his
tongue back to its previous location. House continued; her breathing began to
quicken; he paused, planting a single kiss on her screaming flesh before shifting back
up to lie on his side next to her.
Cuddy wrapped her leg around him; House drew her close, lips millimetres from hers.
Then finally a kiss; deep, languid, his lips and tongue awash with the taste of her. His
hand shifted to the back of her neck, grip firm, controlling as they continued to kiss.
Cuddy moaned into his mouth, shifting her hips against his as his tongue continued to
probe hers. Ultimately in the mood to kiss and in absolutely no hurry, House trailed
his fingers along the length of her spine beneath her partially unbuttoned pyjama top,
slowly rocking his hips against her.
Already hot from his previous efforts and becoming increasingly impatient Cuddy
reached down between them, frantically working at House's belt. She unzipped his
jeans, slipping a hand into his shorts to grip him. She felt the corners of his mouth
twist upward into a smile as they kissed.
"Please." She whispered, squeezing him. House dropped a kiss onto her forehead,
before rolling onto his back, lifting his hips and discarding his jeans and shorts.
Cuddy hopped under the covers, House smiled inwardly at her modesty before joining
her. She sought him out, lips meeting his again with more desperation now.
"Roll over." He broke their kiss. She did as requested. House rolled onto his side,
pulling her to him, one arm snaking beneath her to cup her breast. He slid his left leg
between hers, pushing into her in one smooth stroke.
"Ohh." Cuddy groaned, breath escaping from between her lips with a hiss as House
eased into a steady rhythm behind her, nudging that magical region with every
deliberate thrust. He shifted his other hand around to tease her as he worked, his
mouth pressed to the back of her shoulder.
Cuddy moved with him, breathing heavily. He was good, oh so good. She would
have been more than happy with a quick fuck, but this Certainly not quick,
definitely not fucking; too considerate, too tender Her breathing quickened, she
was close. House slowed down, ceasing to caress the hard nub at the apex of her
thighs.
"Geez, House!" Cuddy growled, pushing back against him.
"Shhh." House bit her neck. "Just a little longer." He quickened his pace, gripping
her tightly, hand shifting back down to tease her as he worked. His leg burned
beneath him, he didn't care, pushing harder determined to come with her in spite of
the fact he would have gladly prolonged proceedings. Cuddy's arm snaked up behind
his head, gripping his neck, pushing back against him as she neared the edge. He felt
her tighten around him, pushing harder, deeper. Cuddy's breath caught in her throat,
fingers tightening around the back of his neck, a wave of pleasure sweeping down
through her. Between the sheer size and skill of the man inside her and his teasing
fingers she was finished, writhing in his grasp as she came. And god, she couldn't
remember the last time she came that hard, a week's worth of tension dissolving;
afterward though she'd swear she didn't scream. House groaned, the sound she made
when she came was too much, and with one final thrust he game, gripping her tightly
with both hands.
* * *
House stirred, eyes opening wide in a peculiar ocular stretch before blinking away
sleep. He propped himself up, regarding the empty space in the bed next to him
thoughtfully before catching sight of a crisp $50 note on the pillow.
"Fifty bucks?" House shouted. "Is that all?" Seconds later, Cuddy appeared in the
doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest. She leant against the door jam.
"Do you seriously think you're worth more?" She asked flatly.
"Not really," House paused. "But my performance last night was at least worth $60."
"It was a mercy fuck." Cuddy sighed, lying through her teeth.
"You came." House countered, "and I didn't say a word all night- that's gotta be
worth a few extra dollars"
"It was part of an extended apology." Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "And what you did
was really low, even for you."
"So the monetary value of genuine remorse is $50?" House inquired.
"Remorse?" Cuddy was somewhat taken aback by his admission, but recalling the
sadness in his eyes, the tenderness of his caress, it made perfect sense.
"Got any chips?"
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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 Fox Television, 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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