damelola

Title: There Will Be No Divorce Chapter 6/15
Author: Lola Lauriestein
Rating: 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? Now House is being reminded that addiction is not easily defeated and pain doesn't just go away. Instead of talking about it, our favourite couple get a little distracted.

Beta bylucyvanflick who's already imposing discipline where my writing needs it most, thank you honey!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

‘The stage is set

Someone’s going to do something someone else will regret

I speak in smoke signals and you answer in code

The fuse will have to run out sometime

Something here will eventually have to explode”

“Have To Explode”, The Mountain Goats

Cuddy arrived home, tired and stressed, to what she had assumed was an empty house. It was certainly a reasonable assumption, since not a single light was on. She dropped her purse and briefcase by the door, kicking off the heels that were becoming a little too dramatic for her slightly swollen ankles and hanging her coat as she reflexively checked the answering machine’s blinking light. No calls; no change there.

Without the need for a light, she padded barefoot into her living room, the sharp blue glare of the stereo’s display catching her attention instantly. The dim light from the street weakly shining through her curtains illuminated the distinctive lanky form of House dripping off the couch. A step closer to investigate revealed the headphones that were connecting him to his least harmful passion, and she felt a fresh surge of love for him as she watched the half-smile forming on his face. He was clearly listening to something he loved.

Of course, he had to spoil the moment somehow.

“You know, it’s a little creepy to just stare at someone, Cuddy. I feel violated.”

She turned to leave with a dismissive wave of her hand, but before she could take a step, his hand was on her knee, fingers stroking gently on bare skin.

“Not so fast, woman. I’ve been patiently waiting for you to stop assaulting innocent pieces of paper and come home to me.”

“Come home to you? You’re June Cleaver all of a sudden? If you were so bored you could have whiled away those long, lonely hours charting.”

“Aha! You broke the work talk rule. Ten bucks to me, please.”

“I’ll write you a check.”

His fingers began to make subtle progress north, a seemingly innocent expansion of their route to include her thigh.

“If you find a way to distract me, I’ll let the charges slide.”

“Are you suggesting I pimp myself to avoid paying a ten-dollar fine?”

She could see his face more clearly now, her eyes fully adjusted to the near darkness. He was looking at her in the way that made her feel perilously close to melting. It was still breathtaking to be the centre of that intense attention.

“Or you could just have sex with me for the hell of it. That way I still get the money, so even better.”

Cuddy had to agree with his thinking and moved carefully on top of him, shifting her weight away from his bad leg, but he managed to make room for her without pressing on her bump.

Face to face for the first time that day, Cuddy let her forehead press against his, the stresses of the day evaporating at least temporarily. The quiet moment didn’t last, House with an idea in his head was like a force of nature, and before she could gather her thoughts, he was kissing her.

It irritated her to be so girly about the whole thing, but she really did love kissing. Although it was what she missed most in her many periods of being single, kissing House was another experience altogether. Too often lately she had found herself distracted by the thought of it, hoping every knock on her office door was him so that they could steal a few kisses. All too frequently disappointed as well. He still managed to avoid her pretty successfully within the hospital, his concession to maintaining normalcy between them.

Tonight was apparently not about gentle exploration. His kisses started out passionate and upgraded quickly to fierce, leaving it hard for her to breathe and even harder to think straight.

The last remaining scraps of doubt about his agenda scattered as he took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining out of habit. Having squeezed her hand possessively, he then guided it to his crotch, a soft growl forming in his throat as she rubbed against his hard-on through the faded denim.

She tried to talk to him, dodging his kisses as often as she allowed herself to get caught up in them. Cuddy was quite sure she had wanted to discuss something important, but damn she was horny and he felt incredibly good pressed up against her. Why fight it?

“House, God, House. Stop for a second. Oh…”

“Stop talking and fuck me, Cuddy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hardly eloquent, but she liked it when he talked to her that way, all raw need and taking charge. It was such a relief to not always have to be in charge.

With that she felt her skirt being yanked down roughly over her hips, her blouse pulled open with at least one button becoming a casualty. His hands--those beautiful hands that she placed so much trust in every day--were all over her skin, every inch of her reacting to his touch, unable to restrain herself.

“Not here, House.”

Talking was easier for her when his mouth was occupied with kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin of her neck.

With an exasperated sigh, he nudged her to stand and she complied. He got off the couch with minimal difficulty, pulling his t-shirt frantically over his head and abandoning it on the floor.

Cuddy stood there, disheveled and grinning at his enthusiasm, but he responded by smacking her lightly on the ass and gesturing towards the bedroom. Progress was slow, since every couple of steps was punctuated by another kiss, House pressing her against the wall to ease the strain on his leg and let his hands run over her again. By the time they reached the bedroom, underwear and House’s jeans were strewn across the hardwood floor.

She crawled on to the bed, but before she could make any decision about position, the idea of her on her hands and knees had clearly caught House’s attention. Cuddy felt his hands taking hold of her hips as he knelt behind her on the mattress. Kneeling worked well for him, took the strain off his thighs and allowed him to do pretty much whatever he wanted to. That was a plan Cuddy could certainly go along with.

He leaned forward to press a few errant kisses over the sensitive skin of her back, the fingers of his right hand slipping around to seek out her already sensitive clit. The frantic making out and groping already had her wet and his fingers felt fantastic as they made contact. Once he had her moaning, he let one finger and then two push inside her, seeking out her G-spot with devastating precision. House kept the pressure light, teasing her even as she felt the urgency of his erection pressed against her thigh.

Her hips were thrusting back gently, intent on intensifying the contact. House’s free hand came down sharply on her ass, causing Cuddy to bite down on her bottom lip at the jolt it sent through her, a twisting wave of pain mixed with pleasure. She’d always liked it just a little bit rough, and House being the observant son of a bitch that he was had picked up on it instantly.

He teased her a little longer with his fingers, alternating between almost tender circling of her clit and slow thrusts that left her craving more. His own impatience won out quicker than normal, and Cuddy could have cried with relief when she felt the exquisite pressure of his cock slipping inside her, stretching her in just the right way.

It didn’t take long for them to pick up the pace, his thrusts met by fervent bucking of her hips, willing him to fuck her as hard and as deep as he could. The angle was perfection, her muscles tightening as she surrendered to the oncoming orgasm, feeling him follow her over the edge seconds later.

When she had caught her breath, Cuddy extricated herself from the mess of limbs and sheets that they had collapsed into, making a quick dash to the bathroom to clean up. As quickly as she could, she made her way back to the bed with a warm washcloth for House. He managed to arrange him body into a more comfortable position, making good use of her countless pillows. Although it was wonderful to seem him all post-sex rumpled in their bed, Cuddy knew she wouldn’t be able to relax into the cuddling if she didn’t take care of one little task first.

“I’m just going to pick up the clothes. I can’t sleep knowing there’s mess all over the place.”

“Anal retentive.”

“Slob.”

“When I live here full-time, there’s gonna be some relaxing of the cleaning rules, or I won’t survive until Hanukkah.”

Cuddy’s heart did that irritating little flip-flop that she liked to blame on heartburn, but there was little use in denying that it was anything other than a reaction to House’s words. He was committing to her. Even with all the scary, out of-their-depth shenanigans that the world had thrown at them recently, he was still there and being the man she’d always told him he could be. Feeling the pathetic surge of tears careening towards her eyeballs, she beat a hasty retreat from the bed.

“Although, if all housework is done naked you might be able to persuade me to supervise you.”

His voice echoed strangely as she set off down the hallway in pursuit of their discarded clothes.

When she picked up House’s jacket, the customary gentle rattle signified the presence of a pill bottle. But hadn’t he just taken a Vicodin from the nightstand?

A sudden cold fear took hold of Cuddy, her conversation with Wilson that morning coming flooding back to her. She had intended to broach the subject as soon as she saw House, but the need for hot, dirty sex had drowned out all rational thought the second she laid eyes on him.

Silence from the bedroom.

If he had heard the rattle too, he must be lying there holding his breath, praying I don’t work it out, she thought to herself. With a sinking feeling, she reached inside the pocket of his jacket, her fingers at first only making contact with crumpled pieces of paper and what felt a lot like a child’s bouncy ball. All too quickly her fingertips brushed a familiar texture and she slowly pulled out the bottle to examine in the dim light of her hallway.

Though she’d been expecting the Vicodin, though she knew it wasn’t the end of the world for him to be supplementing his dose, she still felt it like a punch to the gut when she saw the name of the prescribing doctor.

A. Cameron

Going to Wilson was to be expected; that was the logical order of their lives. In their strange lopsided way, they eventually shared everything between the three of them, a network of gossip and confidences that kept them all sane. Going to Cameron, of all people, was something else entirely. It didn’t take a psychic to see the way she still looked at House, to see quite plainly that the crush on her former boss was far from over. Not to mention the frequently adversarial relationship she’d had with Cuddy over the years, a passive-aggressive battle of wills over who had House’s best intentions at heart.

It might sound petty, but damn, Cuddy had been so sure she’d won this one. The pointed glances from Cameron in the direction of Cuddy’s midriff left her in little doubt that her secret had been guessed. Now she had to wonder if House had confided in his little protégé. What had been Cameron’s price for prescribing drugs, something she hadn’t done even at the height of her infatuation with House?

It was jealousy, simply the green-eyed monster roaring in her head, and the rational part of Cuddy’s brain knew she had turned a simple favor into a massive plot. Unfortunately the rational part of her brain was being dunked in a vat of hormonal insanity like churros in hot chocolate, and there was nothing she could do to quell the panic and anger that came flooding over her.

Stomping back to the bedroom, pills in hand, she sat gingerly on the end of the bed. Reaching for a sheet to cover herself, she threw the bottle at her reclining lover.

“House, I think we need to talk.”

Chapter 7 -->