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Fic: There Will Be No Divorce Chapter 3/15, Rating NC17
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: Jumped up to NC17.
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Everything up to Wilson's Heart, we're going to have to ignore s5 though, sorry!
Disclaimer: not-not-mine, House et al belong to David Shore, Fox etc. The song lyrics of the Mountain Goats belong to them, and if I could write like John Darnielle, I'd die happy.
Summary: The sequel to ‘No Children’, which you can read in its entirety here. How will House and Cuddy cope with pregnancy, therapy and the world getting in their way? Big and scary events in their lives threaten to screw everything up.
With eternal thanks to my wonderful beta
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lucyvanflick who makes sense of madness on a frequent basis. On the couch in the living room all day long Music on the television playing our song And I'm in the mood The mood for you “Game Shows Touch Our Lives”, The Mountain Goats Cuddy stepped back and surveyed her gleaming kitchen, the warm glow of satisfaction sweeping over her. Now that the sickness had finally abated, the energy was zipping through her body like a particularly great caffeine buzz. Which she tried not to think about because, God, she missed coffee. Suddenly she was back to her superwoman self, the hours in the day as elastic as the waistbands on her new clothes. How had she survived those weeks of getting next to nothing done? This part of the pregnancy she was actively enjoying, the steadily growing bump being big enough to fascinate but not so much that it was getting in her way.
Her home was practically vibrating to the Aretha Franklin album she’d been blasting out as she cleaned. Cuddy indulged herself by singing along at the top of her lungs, foraging in the fridge for cold water as she did. That was the moment that she heard a deep voice by her ear and shrieked loud enough to shatter glass.
Whirling around in anger at having been frightened half to death, she wasn’t surprised to see House standing there wincing.
“You didn’t hear me come in, Ms. Franklin?”
“You bastard! I could have gone into early labor! Or at least knocked myself out on the door! Anyway, why are you here? It’s supposed to be boys’ night at the bowling alley.”
His expression clouded over at her words, and all she got was a muttered response about “Not feeling it” before he turned away from her and sought out the comfort of a chair. Her heart rate returned to normal and curiosity piqued, Cuddy slipped across the room in bare feet to stand over him.
“Did somebody have a bad day?”
House refused to meet her eyes, but leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh. She reached out and slipped a hand under the cold leather of his jacket. His bad mood was a mystery to her; she hadn’t seen him all day and he wasn’t in his office when she had sought him out. This dark and haunted House had become less familiar in the last few months, though she couldn’t say he’d been entirely happy.
“Do you need cheering up?”
His head snapped forward and his frown instantly gave way to an extremely interested grin.
“Yes mistress, I’m very, very sad.”
She swatted playfully at his head, glad he seemed to be coming around to her way of thinking. Too impatient and too horny for the gentle approach, she grabbed roughly at his shoulders and pulled him into a deep kiss, his mouth opening to her instantly. Without breaking contact, she tugged at him, beseeching him to stand and follow her to a more comfortable setting. He was the one to pull away.
“You realize you smell of cleaning… stuff?”
“Wow, still pretty good at self-sabotage, huh?”
The flash of panic in his eyes was as endearing as it was unnecessary.
“Let me clean myself up a little, meet me in the bedroom.”
House stood with customary difficulty, leaning heavily on his cane as he left the room. Cuddy moved briskly to the sink, washing her hands with the far more enticing handwash, removing all traces of bleach from her pale skin.
Making her way to the bedroom, Cuddy stripped off her baggy shirt and shorts as she went. By the time she was able to lean against the bedroom door, she was completely naked and pleased to see that House was already sprawled across her bed in just his boxers. She approached him with her customary confidence, secure in his attraction to her, the straining cotton over his crotch giving him away.
In a matter of seconds, she had her body pressed against his, their lips meeting with a ferocity that still took the breath from her. It didn’t seem relevant that their last kiss had been a few short minutes ago. House always kissed her as though years had elapsed, as though this might be his last opportunity, and it turned her on instantly.
When she moved to straddle his hips, she felt his hands grip her ass firmly and push her gently upwards. With an excited “Oh”, she accepted his invitation and positioned her legs on either side of his head. Anticipation and kissing had done enough to make her wet, and House’s guttural moan as his mouth made contact with her folds told her that it was appreciated. Gripping the headboard tightly, she felt her eyes closing as the sensation of his mouth on her began to drive her slowly insane.
Before too long, her brain was approaching some form of critical mass, each attempt at a thought fragmented by the expert touch of his tongue against her clit. A momentary surge of panic evaporated as he brought her closer to the edge. She remembered the long night of discovering she was pregnant. After the initial shock had been the paralyzing fear that he wouldn’t want her this way any more. The memory blasted apart as the telltale pressure kept building, and she twisted slightly, almost scared to give in to the intensity of the orgasm but unable to stop herself.
Nor could she censor the moaning and profanities House was drawing from her with every stroke. Where once she had simply admired his stubbornness, his close-minded devotion to the task at hand, now she positively reveled in it.
Her clit began to twitch furiously and her climax was anything but quiet. It seemed a very long time before the dancing lights left the blackness of her closed eyes, even longer for her breathing to regulate and the jolts of endorphins to stop firing off in every direction. His hands were still firmly gripping her thighs, and as she felt sensation returning to her limbs, he helped her move off him and eased her on to the mattress beside him.
When she had fully recovered, Cuddy made to reciprocate and was shocked when House’s hand interrupted her progress across his abdomen.
Sitting bolt upright, she took firm hold of his jaw and forced him to look her in the eye.
“You don’t want me to do anything for you? Seemed to me you were in the mood a little while ago.”
Panic was coursing through her veins. House refusing sex was probably one of the first signs of the apocalypse. She didn’t have a Bible handy, but it seemed momentous enough to make the list.
“Can’t a guy go down on a woman without getting the third degree? I don’t recall you complaining.”
“It’s just unlike you to… “
“I can’t.”
His voice was barely above a whisper and he wouldn’t look at her despite their close proximity.
“Bad pain day. Can’t seem to concentrate, never mind, well…”
Cuddy understood in an instant, and leant forward to press a kiss to his temple. For him to admit it was a pretty big deal, and it knocked back her wave of insecurity at the same time. It was sweet that he had been so focused on getting her off, despite the fact of his pain. Sure enough, the first pangs of guilt hit her on that realization.
“You’re sure a nice burst of endorphins wouldn’t help?”
He shook his head firmly, and she could have sworn she saw him blink away a tear. For a moment she was completely overwhelmed with love for him, not that they ever talked about such crazy notions, except for the odd accidental declaration in the heat of the moment. Cuddy resumed her position pressed against his side, pulling the sheets over them for warmth. No sooner had she settled than he was pushing her aside, leaving their bed in search of his clothes and no doubt his Vicodin.
She caught herself referring to it as their bed, mentally amending it to ‘her bed’. There had been no discussion of living arrangements, nothing at all since a few days ago when House had mentioned sticking around forever. It was exhausting at times, to feel this deeply and confess almost none of it.
Eventually he came back to bed, a lot more relaxed after his encounter with the pill bottle. Cuddy toyed with mentioning how proud she was of his progress with the reduced dosage, but knew it would probably sound patronizing. Before she could speak however, he opened the conversation.
“Why did you buy a single-story house?”
She’d gotten used to his left-field style of questioning over the years, and experience had taught her it was usually quicker to answer than to wonder why he was asking.
“Because this was the house I liked the best.”
Of course, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
“You moved house a couple of months after the infarction. You don’t think it’s weird you bought a place without stairs?”
Cuddy sighed into his bicep, sure this was heading somewhere ridiculous.
“Clearly, my crushing guilt meant I had to deny myself the pleasure of a second floor. I’ve been punishing myself all these years.”
He grunted at her sarcasm; clearly he had an idea in his head that wasn’t going anywhere soon.
“I just wondered if you were subconsciously picking somewhere that would feel welcoming to me.”
“You certainly felt welcome enough to break in every few months.”
“Whatever. Anyway, do you think your living room is big enough for a piano?”
Cuddy smiled at the question, it seemed they were moving forward after all.
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<3
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Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to comment. Gorgeous Cuddy pic in your icon!
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thanks! its selfmade and my best icon evereverever.