Work Text:
Fertility treatments don't always neatly follow the work-week, which was why House found himself at Cuddy's home on a Saturday morning. He rang the doorbell, and before he even had time to start fidgeting, she was there to welcome him in.
"Thanks for making a… House call."
"Yeah, no one has ever made that joke before."
"I wouldn't have thought anyone would have had the opportunity. Since when do you give your patients that extra personal touch?" With a too-gracious smile, Cuddy ushered him into the living room, and leaned against an overstuffed sofa. He set his bag down on the end-table and withdrew the alcohol wipes and loaded syringe.
If anything, House thought as he ripped open the package of wipes, Cuddy's clothes were even more ridiculously provocative on her days off. Her skirt was short enough to leave nothing to the imagination, and she definitely wasn't wearing a bra under that flimsy tank top. What was the point? It wasn't as though she was expecting a hot date at this time of day.
"All right, assume the position," he ordered. She obliged with no more than a slightly annoyed grimace – after all, he was doing her a favour. Bending over the couch's well-padded arm, she hiked up her skirt and waited.
House spent a long moment admiring her ass as it pointed up towards him. Smooth, round, cleft like a peach by the thin thread of red butt-floss she was wearing. An eminently spankable ass. His palm itched to smack her, hard. It would have been incredibly satisfying, especially the look he imagined she'd have on her face as she told him off afterwards. Somehow he managed to restrain himself to giving her left cheek a few leisurely seconds with the alcohol swab.
"What's taking so long?" Cuddy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, impatient.
House's hand lingered on her backside longer than was strictly necessary, feeling the muscles tensing as she moved. And why the hell was she wearing high heels, at home, on the weekend, anyway? "Just getting the shot," he said, reaching over for the syringe but keeping his eyes glued to her posterior. His hand closed around a small plastic cylinder on the end-table, but it wasn't the needle. Perplexed, he glanced down. It was a slender shaft with a line of buttons. A remote control. Intrigued, he pressed the lowest button with his thumb.
Cuddy craned her neck and looked over her shoulder at him. "Where did you find—oh!" An almost imperceptible hum was emanating from the vicinity of her crotch. She stood abruptly, her skirt still lifted about her hips, and whirled to face him, face flushed. "Put that down!"
House could see the subtle trembling under the sheer fabric that covered her mound. Already there was a spot of wetness soaking through her panties, just a trickle, but enough that the scent of her moisture wafted up to him. "No," he heard himself saying, "I don't think I will."
"House, I swear to God, if you don't stop—mmm…" The humming grew louder as he pushed another of the buttons. Cuddy bit her lip and sank back onto the couch. She glared at him, but her hand was under her shirt, pinching her nipple. House settled into the facing armchair, remote in hand. This looked like it would be better entertainment than he'd had in quite some time.
"So," he asked in his best clinical tone, "do you ever wear these to work, or is it more of a weekend thing?" Before she could answer, he turned the toy up another notch.
Cuddy writhed, head tossed back. "Oh, yes! Yes!" Her words devolved into an incoherent squeal and she tensed her legs, spreading them wide with abandon.
"It was a multiple choice question, actually, but I'll take your answer under consideration." He wondered if she had noticed the tent he was currently pitching, or if she was too distracted. He ran his thumb over the last button, waiting for just the right moment. Her breath was coming in little whimpers now, and the red panties were entirely soaked. No time like the present. He pushed the last button and watched her come to pieces, twisting and arching and screaming.
Afterwards, she met his gaze, gasping. "If you ever, ever tell…"
"Don't worry," House said. "Your secret is safe with me. And so is this." He tucked the remote into his pocket with a smirk.