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Cuddy closed her eyes, it felt good— too good. House’s hands were rough in all the right ways, his calloused fingers knowing exactly where to touch while she fully surrendered to his calloused fingers and his weight above her was grounding, and anchoring her to this moment, this man. Cuddy tried to widen her legs to accommodate House more, so he could be deep inside her. At first, it was working, but there was something that was lacking.
She tilted her hips up slightly, instinctively, trying to give him more of her. Her legs widened, thighs parting further, trying to accommodate the rhythm of his thrusts and the burning ache of needing him deeper. At first, it worked. There was friction, pressure, pleasure—but something was missing. It felt like there was a space between them, something just out of reach .
“House,” She moaned, with a plea that he give her what she needed. She needed House to close that distance, those maddening millimeters gap between them. She wanted to be inside him the way that he was inside her— she wanted to drown in his scent, his heat, and everything about him.
“What?” A male voice asked her, making her open her eyes.
Shit.
Lucas stopped his movement, his brows furrowed as he searched Cuddy’s eyes. He tried to make sense of what he’d just heard, has she really called out for someone’s name while having sex with her boyfriend? The room shifted, maybe too many times as Cuddy felt like she was going to vomit, the temperature probably had dropped several degrees as she was shivering from his stare.
“You said House,” Lucas said, quieter this time. It wasn’t angry. It wasn't jealous. It was something worse. Wounded.
Cuddy swallowed hard, how she hates herself so much. What she and Lucas had is actually good—okay, maybe tolerable—but he’s so… He’s okay. He’s good with Rachel and keeps her bed warm, but he’s not House. She could feel it slipping away— the moment, the illusion, the lie.
Lucas pulled back slowly, sitting up on the edge of the bed, running a hand down his face. “Are you even here with me right now?” he asked, not looking at her.
She wrapped the sheet around herself, and suddenly it felt so cold. “I—I don’t know,” she whispered. And that was the truth. She didn’t know. But part of her feared she did —and that the part of her that had moaned House’s name... had never really left him.
Lucas sat there at the moment, so many thoughts and questions inside his head. He looked like he was trying to piece it together, as if maybe he had misheard her. He finally turned his head to look at her. “So, just to be clear— you weren’t moaning my name.” He said, voice low and flat.
Cuddy clutched the sheet tighter around her chest. “Lucas, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t mean to?” he interrupted, giving a short, bitter laugh. “That’s comforting.”
She exhaled shakily, the air thick between them now, heavy and awkward. “It was just—”
“Just what?” he said, finally standing up and pulling his boxers back on. “A slip of the tongue? A moment of confusion? Jesus, Lisa. This is low, even for you.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, eyes stinging. She does not want to do this now, she feels so vulnerable— naked and all.
“Look, I always knew there was history between you and House. I just didn’t think I was... competing with it in real time.” Pacing now after he had put his boxers on, one hand running through his hair and the other on his hip.
“It’s not like that,” she said, a knee-jerk defense. But the second the words left her mouth, she didn’t believe them either.
Lucas turned back to her, this time his voice quieter. “Then what is it like?”
Cuddy didn’t answer. She couldn’t. And the silence that followed said enough.
Lucas stared at her for a second longer, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slowly—more to himself than to her.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Thanks for the clarity.”
And with that, he gathered the rest of his clothes and walked out, leaving her alone in the dim room, tangled in sheets and guilt.
Cuddy lay down on her bed, the sheets wrinkled from a moment that easily shifted from heat to heartbreak. The room felt colder now, like the walls themselves were judging her. She buried her face in her hands, exhaling sharply.
God, Lisa. What the hell is wrong with you? You had a good man. Kind. Steady. And you ruined it.
She was actually so upset with herself that she almost cried. She chose this; she decided to be with Lucas, knowing House wanted to take a chance with them.
Why did you say his name? Why now? You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep sabotaging everything just because you can’t let go of Gregory House.
The name stung as she thought of it. Not because it was untrue, but because it was too true. As far as she knew, she was over him, she was moving on, and choosing Lucas because he was normal. She had hurt Lucas even though he didn’t deserve it—he gave her unconditional love and treated her so well, and yet she couldn’t give it back just because he isn’t House. Cuddy took a deep breath as her realization sank inside her core. She is still not over House, and she doesn’t think that she will ever be.
A minute later, someone opened her door. It was Lucas. His jaw was tight, face unreadable, but his eyes— Oh good Lord, his eyes were burning.
“Lucas…” she started, but he held up a hand.
“No. Let me talk.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. What was he doing here? He shouldn’t be here, after everything she had done to her.
“I left because I didn’t want to say something I’d regret. I thought maybe I needed air. Maybe I needed time.” He laughed bitterly. “Turns out, what I really needed was clarity.”
She opened her mouth again, but he kept going, voice calm but cold.
“I love you, Lisa. I always have. I forgave a lot of things when I shouldn’t have. I overlooked a lot of signs. But tonight?” He shook his head. “Tonight, you said his name while I was inside you. His name.”
Cuddy closed her eyes, flinching as if the words had landed like a slap. Her body trembled—not from the cold, but from the unbearable weight of it all. This man had been inside her just moments ago, his hands on her skin, his breath against her neck, still thinking she was his. Still believing she wanted him. She had let him into her life. She tried . God, she really tried. They had a few good runs—moments where it felt easy, almost real. She let herself believe the comfort might be enough. Oh God, she thought, I’m so cruel.
“So here it is. Simple.” He stepped closer. “You want me? You want a life with someone who’s stable, who shows up, who doesn’t break you every time he’s bored or scared or hurting?”
She didn’t respond. Her silence was a scream, and she wondered where he was going with this.
“Then fire him. House. Fire him. Cut him out. He’s toxic. For your hospital. For your mind. For your heart.” He paused, letting the weight of it land. “You do that, and I’ll stay. I’ll try. We’ll try again. Clean slate.”
Cuddy stared at him, her stomach twisting into knots, her heart pounding out of rhythm. Does she really want Lucas? Could she really try again after what happened tonight? That’s why she feels so disconnected during that sex, she feels so hollow— she feels something is lacking, something is missing. No, someone was missing. Lucas wasn’t House. It wasn’t just about chemistry or comfort. It was House. Her body knew it before her mind did—reaching for him in the middle of something that should’ve felt intimate. Her subconscious called out his name because deep down, she didn’t want just anyone to fill the void.
She wanted House.
“And if I don’t?” she asked quietly, afraid of the answer.
Lucas gave her a look that was strangely gentle, as if he already knew.
“Then you’ve already made your choice.” He took one last look at her—one of love, and loss, and deep disappointment—then turned toward the door again. “Sleep on it. But you don’t get to have both.”
And just like that, he was gone. Again.
Leaving Cuddy alone in her bedroom, in the echo of his ultimatum, with nothing but the mark of House’s name still faintly inked on her heart.
Striding towards the polished floors of Princeton’s lobby, Cuddy moved with a purpose, her heels clicking sharply with every step. She is in ‘police mode’ again as the clinics are short-staffed and patients are piling up, she doesn’t have the time for drama. Not today. Opening the doors to access the clinic, Cuddy’s eyes landed on House and he surprisingly, picked up a file from the clinic’s reception and walked towards one of the clinic rooms, which she is thankful for because she doesn’t need to find him and force him to do his job.
But that flicker of relief vanished as quickly as it came.
She hadn’t seen him since last night.
Since that night.
She hasn’t talked to him, but could she really tell him? Uhm hey, I moaned your name last night when Lucas was fucking me because my subconscious was thinking about you. Absolutely not. But then again, Lucas might beat her to it. He could walk in any minute and tell House everything—maybe as a warning, maybe as revenge, maybe just to make things worse. Knowing Lucas, there was a storm coming, and she didn’t know if she had time to prepare for it.
So to take her mind off it, Cuddy reached the patient log on the reception desk, scanning the name like it was a routine—just another task to ground her. But then her eyes froze. Her stomach clenched, twisting hard like something inside her revolted. Her heartbeat thundered against her ribcage, so loud and erratic it felt like it might burst through her chest and spill her secret out onto the clinic floor.
Lucas Douglas. She read.
The name stared back at her, cold and clinical in printed ink— but all she could see was last night. His voice. His accusation. His ultimatum. Her mistake.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk tightly. Of course, he came here. Of course, he’s not done.
Turning towards House, he stands still as he reads the patient’s file. His face focused as he shifted his weight on his cane, and Cuddy wished that that was not Lucas’ file.
“House,” She called him, almost running towards him. “You’re off clinic duty, go—go solve a case,” She dismissed him, getting the folder from his hand. But House easily shifted his weight and lifted the charts out of her reach, holding them above his head like a cruel brother keeping a toy away. Even though she’s in her heels, the height difference between them is massive.
A crooked smile tugged at his lips as his eyes knitted slightly, “Hmm, freeing me from clinic duties even if the clinic is short-staffed, interesting,” His voice dipped into that familiar sarcastic drawl as he turned on his heel and casually strolled toward the exam room, the one assigned to the patient whose file he now held hostage.
“House,” Cuddy pleaded. Cuddy’s pulse spiked. No, no, no. It was Lucas. It had to be.
“Relax, Cuddy.” After arriving in front of the designated room, House said, “Don’t think I can’t handle checking up on your boyfriend?” He asks her, now twisting the doorknob open, “I promise to bring him back to you in one piece,” He said, winking at her with exaggerated charm before disappearing inside the room.
Boyfriend . Cuddy groaned at herself, this isn’t happening. Not here, not now, not like this.
She feels like she is spiraling down, the word echoed in her head like a taunt. It feels like her personal life had turned into a soap opera about a love triangle starring Gregory House and a man she wasn’t sure she ever wanted.
And now they were in the same room. Alone. Unsupervised
Thump!
Clang!
Those sounds echoed around the clinic, it wasn’t loud enough for the whole clinic to hear, but loud enough for her who was standing in front of the room to hear. Metal clattering. Something—or someone—had hit the ground.
Cuddy didn’t hesitate. She shoved the door open and charged inside the clinic room, the rush of adrenaline already hitting her bloodstream. Her eyes scanned the scene: House, sprawled on the floor amidst a tipped-over medical tray, gauze packets, and a blood pressure cuff scattered around him. A stool was knocked over. Instruments gleaming under the harsh clinic light.
“Lucas,” she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding—Dean of Medicine mode fully activated. There was no trace of warmth or confusion, just fury. “You don’t get to come into my hospital and assault my staff.” She sees, in her peripheral vision, that House is standing up with the help of his cane.
“Oh your staff?” Lucas bites back, flexing his knuckles. “You’re here to rescue him? He's the victim now?”
“The hell?” House is about to charge towards him, dropping his cane on the floor with a soft thump.
Cuddy instinctively moved, slipping between them, placing her hands against House’s chest like a barrier, like she could absorb the brunt of his rage if it meant keeping things from escalating. She looked up at him, chest rising and falling as her breath hitched. He ran his tongue across his lips, tasting the metallic blood that resulted from Lucas’s punch.
“It’s not worth it,” she said quietly but firmly, her face inches from his. And for a second, just a second, she saw him falter. The muscle in his jaw twitched. His eyes, once sharp with anger, softened ever so slightly at her touch, at her voice.
She’s right, one thing he learned about rehab is restraint. Not everything needs to be a war. There was a time when he would have swung his cane without thinking, and he’d have taken Lucas down even though Cuddy had stopped him. But now? Now he just let it burn inside him like a slow flame—controlled, measured. And not with Cuddy standing in front of him like this.
Lucas scoffed at the sight in front of him, he cannot believe it. His posture puffed up with bitterness and eyes locked on House with contempt.
“Yeah, because what else can you do? You can barely stand without that cane, you’re pathetic.” He sneered, with venom in every word.
House’s fingers tightened around the cane’s handle until his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked like he might actually lunge at him, leg or not, and Cuddy knows that he could take him, but Lucas is really pushing him. And before he could actually react, it was Cuddy who moved, the crack of her hand against Lucas’ cheek cut through the room like a whip.
Lucas reeled slightly from the force, blinking in shock as his hand instinctively went to his face.
Cuddy’s hand trembled at her side, the sting still fresh in her palm. “Don’t you ever speak about him like that,” she seethed, her voice shaking with anger. “You don’t get to walk into my hospital, attack my staff, and insult a man who is ten times the person you are.”
Lucas looked at her, eyes wide, stunned into silence.
“You know what’s more pathetic? That you let a cripple like him get under your skin. You want to know what happened, House?” Lucas said with provocation, like he was daring him to react.
Cuddy’s stomach dropped. Here it is.
Lucas kept going. “She moaned your name, yeah. But not because it meant anything. It was just a mistake—a glitch. Muscle memory. A ghost in the system.” He chuckled darkly. “She didn’t even know she did it until I called her out and she looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
House didn’t move. He just stared, silent, a muscle twitching in his cheek. His hand clenched tighter around the handle of his cane.
Lucas leaned in further, voice dropping low and vicious. “You weren’t in that room, House. I was.”
“Maybe you were fucking her into the boredom that’s why or the thought of me turns her more than the fact that you were fucking her,” House told him. He hadn’t expected this from Cuddy. She's so controlled, so measured—moaning his name during sex with someone else? That wasn’t like her. Maybe he could believe she was imagining him, that part wasn’t a stretch. But to actually let it slip, to do something so reckless it shattered her relationship? That was another story.
“Tell me, were you two having an affair?” Lucas asks, finally putting it together as to why Lisa had moaned House’s name. “You whore, you cheated on me yet you settled for a cripple? Pathetic. What a whore,You’ll spread your legs for anyone with a pulse and a dick, won’t you?” Lucas said with a scoff to mask his hurt and make his derogatory meaner.
“We did not have an—” And before she can finish, House is now lunging towards Lucas, his fist connecting with Lucas’ nose with a crunch making him drop on the floor, blood trickling from his broken nose.
“House,” She shouted, her voice a mix of anger and frustration she might cry. She rushed forward, placing herself between the two men, her hands on his chest to stop him from advancing further.
House was panting, his chest heaving with adrenaline. “He’s asking for it,” he snapped, glaring at Lucas, who was still sprawled on the floor, trying to recover from the sudden blow. He can take it when Lucas was insulting him, maybe it’s true; that he is pathetic. But him insulting her? That’s beyond the line that he had established and he will not let anyone talk bad mouth about Cuddy any time now, that’s why he got a taste of House’s knuckles.
“Enough!” Cuddy snapped, her hands now firmly gripping House’s shirt, pulling him back. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Lucas, leave. Before I call the security to escort you out,” She said with a tone that is cold and sharp like a glass, she never wants to see this man again after what happened today. He had humiliated her and insulted her and House, that was so unacceptable.
House got his cane as Lucas finally left the room, he is dumbstruck and actually doesn't know what to do, luckily enough, Cuddy instructed him to sit on the clinic bed while she gathered gauze antiseptic from a nearby cabinet.
When Cuddy finished aiding his lip wound, trying to move in an efficient way and trying to focus on the task at hand while there’s a storm churning in her chest, she dropped the equipment she used on the tray and took off her gloves.
“So,” House said, trying to take control of the circumstance with a smirk even though he doesn’t know what to say.
“Shut up,” Cuddy said, turning around to walk towards the door. She twisted the knob with her hand and swung it to be finally free from the room that felt so claustrophobic. She can’t deal with this right now, she feels like she’s so overstimulated that she might explode if she hears House make a joke and gloat about what happened.
House was quite thankful that Cuddy stormed out and left him alone—because truth to be told, he had no idea how to handle this situation without sarcasm, and he knows that’s the last thing she needs right now. The room still echoed with tension, the air thick with things unspoken. He sat there, lips still stinging, realizing that jokes and jabs wouldn’t cut through this mess. Not this time.
House barged into his best friend’s office without so much of a knock, the door slamming open hard enough to rattle a picture frame on the wall. Wilson looked up mid-sentence, already bracing himself, only to find House striding inside with his usual disregard for professional boundaries— or basic human decency.
A startled cancer patient sat across from Wilson was clearly confused by the intrusion. As usual, House didn’t offer an apology or explanation, and made them feel that they are the one intruding his peace. He simply collapsed onto the couch like he owned the place, threw his legs up with shoes and all, the soles digging into the armrest.
Wilson concluded the appointment with his patient; giving encouraging words, reassuring smiles, reminding him of his medications and telling him that he will see him again in their next appointment, just the usual Wilson-Patient thing. Then finally, the patient walked out of the office. Wilson waited for the soft click, then slowly turned to House with crossed arms and a tight-lipped expression.
“Let me guess,” Wilson said, walking back to his desk. “This couldn’t wait five more minutes and one vulnerable cancer patient?”
House didn’t respond right away. He just stretched, grunted, and casually reached for the stress ball on Wilson’s side table. He gave it a half-hearted squeeze.
“You really need to get better furniture,” House finally said. “This couch does nothing for my lumbar support.”
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. “House.”
“What?”
Wilson gave him the look. The one that said you have exactly five seconds to say something worthwhile or I’m shoving that cane somewhere creative.
“So… Cuddy moaned my name,” House said, fidgeting with the ball, eyes fixed anywhere but Wilson. He needs to know what does that mean—why did she moan his name?, it’s just bothering the hell out of him. It wasn’t a coincidence, it wasn’t just some slip of the tongue like saying “get me my coffee,” but actually meaning to say ‘tea.’ This was during sex, for God sake. A moment where names mean everything, where two people are vulnerable with each other. Having sex with your partner is being vulnerable with each other, and her vulnerability… said his name, called out for him.
He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s clawing at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t reach. Every time he closes his eyes, he hears it—his name, from her lips, tangled in breath and heat that wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for Lucas, Lucas who she chose over him. And somehow, that makes it worse. The fact that it wasn’t his moment. That someone else was there, touching her, and still… she said his name.
“So let me get this straight,” Wilson said, leaning back in his chair, making it creak from the weight. “You interrupted a cancer consult so you could tell me that Cuddy moaned your name while sleeping with Lucas?”
House tilted his head, lips twitching slightly like he was trying not to look smug, “It’s a data point, I’m trying to analyze it and the psychology there.”
Wilson scoffed at him, there he was, his best-friend. “Please. You are not analyzing, you’re having a one-man victory parade.”
“Oh no, please,” House said, dramatically waving his cane in the air. “I’m so worried that Cuddy is sleeping with someone who isn’t me. I’m deeply troubled by the fact that someone else is seeing her naked body and making her moan my name. What a tragedy.” He rolled his eyes so hard it looked like he might sprain something. “Next thing you know, I’ll be journaling about my feelings and signing up for a pottery class. But the sarcasm came out too sharp, too fast, though he tried his best to sound like it. Like he needed to outrun the thought before it turned into something heavier.“Honestly, my performance was just that good,” he added, quieter but with a smirk. “Thirty years later and she’s still thinking about me while she’s getting freaky with someone else.” House felt that Wilson was seeing right through him so he needed to add that statement.
Wilson gave House an amused smile, like he had figured something out from House that wasn’t so obvious.
“What are you smiling about?” House asked him, he is starting to get annoyed. He is telling Wilson something important yet here he is smiling like a stupid teenager in front of him.
“And by that,” Wilson said gently, pausing to give a dramatic effect. “... you mean: ‘Yes, it’s actually bothering you.” Wilson watched him for a beat longer, House didn’t respond, which was unusual. “That’s it, you’re not actually gloating about this, are you? This actually bothered you.”
House shifted slightly, jaw tight. “No. I mean—she’s allowed to sleep with whoever she wants. She’s an adult. It’s fine.” House sat up, fidgeting with his cane, gaze avoiding Wilson’s. “I just don’t get it. Why say my name? She rejected me, she chose Lucas to be with. She’s moved on. I thought I had too.”
Wilson leaned back, watching his friend unravel in real time. “You thought it’d feel good. Like proof she’s not over you. But instead, it just reminded you she’s with someone else. That she might be trying to forget you... and failing.
House didn’t say anything, which said everything.
“Just talk to her,” Wilson said carefully.
House scoffed. “Oh yeah, that always works out great. I’ll just knock on her office door, ignore the fact that she probably has a real boyfriend now, and say, ‘Hey, remember that time you accidentally moaned my name while doing the horizontal mambo with someone else? Want to unpack that over coffee?’”
Wilson gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Not what I meant, but go ahead, make it weird.”
“I specialize in weird things.”
“No, you specialize in avoidance and deflection. You always say the worst possible thing and then wonder why people don’t magically know what’s going on in that dark, twisty head of yours.”
House didn’t respond. His silence wasn’t defensive—it was just… tired.
Wilson leaned forward. “Look, if it really didn’t mean anything to you, you wouldn’t be here, talking about it. You wouldn’t be pissed that someone else got to be with her. You wouldn’t be sitting on my couch like a kicked puppy pretending you’re above it all.”
House turned to glare at him, but the fire wasn’t really there.
“Just… talk to her,” Wilson said, softer now. “Not about sex. Not about who she’s seeing. Talk to her about how you feel. About what you want. You’re not seventeen anymore, House. You don’t need to play games to protect yourself. You love her. Maybe it’s time you stopped punishing both of you for it. That the souvenir he left you?” He asks, only noticing the wound on his lip now after House finally turned to him.
“Wait till you hear the one I left him. A busted nose and Cuddy’s handprint on his cheek, now that’s a keepsake,” Now this is the one that he will gloat about.
“A broken nose and a woman’s handprint on your cheek? Damn that’s a hell of a souvenir to get from your ex-girlfriend and someone she moaned for while he was inside her,” Wilson said, now going along the House. “Man, that’s one hell of a parting gift. Bet that’ll sting more than the nose.” He added before he and House bursted out laughing.
After thinking about what happened earlier at the clinic and his talk with Wilson, House finally decided that it’s time to talk with her. Ask her about what she is feeling and what she wants to do about it, he thought to himself as he drove his bike towards her house after knowing that she had gotten home. He should turn off his deflection and sarcasm because if he really wants a chance with her, this is the start. If there was even the slightest chance for something real between them, it had to start with honesty—and for once, he had to be the one to offer it first.
House took a deep breath before knocking at her door and luckily, she opened the door. She was wearing a silk robe that was slightly opened, revealing her lace nightgown, it almost took his breath away.
“Do you make a habit of moaning other men’s names or thinking about Greg junior gets you there?” House asks with a big ass mischief grin across his face. Of course this gives him a big ego boost, it’s Cuddy we’re talking about here. He pursued her, he wanted her but she rejected him. She rejected him with that loser of a detective only to find out that she’s thinking about House while having sex with him. Yeah, it gave him a boost. But more than that—it cracked the door open. This wasn't just about pride; it was about a shot. A real one.
“Yes, I think about you while my dull and predictable boyfriend fuck the boredom out of me. And now he’s given me an ultimatum—fire you if I want a future with him . And when I had the chance to fix it, I still chose to save the hospital and chose you. Are you happy? You get to keep your job while I lose my chance for a normal life?” she spat, her chest heaving. “Is that what you wanted? Is your ego fed now? Are you happy ?”. She wants nothing more than to slam this door on his face and go back to her bed.
Shit.
Not even a full one minute outside her house, he already violated what he said he wouldn’t do. He blew it. Again. He went lunge inside only to grab the knob of Cuddy’s door only to swing it with a sharp motion, closing it in front of him, leaving Cuddy inside—completely blindsided and confused as hell.
In front of her doorway, Cuddy stood frozen, while she tightened her robe on her body. Her brows knit in disbelief as she stared at the door House had just slammed shut. What the hell was that? He came in with purpose, looking like he actually had something to say—and then he just bailed? Again?
On the other side of the door, House leaned his forehead on the wall, jaw clenched, mentally kicking himself. Idiot. He had marched in there, fully intending to talk to her like a grown-up— no sarcasm, no games. Just honesty. And yet, the second he opened his mouth, he defaulted to the same deflective, infuriating behavior that always sabotaged any chance he had with her. He was so close to something real, and now he could feel it slipping through his fingers again.
But no, he is not going to ruin this chance. So he knocked again.
The door opened slowly this time. House stepped in, not with bravado or smugness, but with something almost foreign on his face: hesitation.
“I screwed that up,” he said quietly, eyes not quite meeting hers. “Again.”
Cuddy didn’t say anything, just crossed her arms and waited.
He limped a few steps forward, then stopped. “I came here to talk to you. Really talk. No jokes. No deflection. Just… you and me. And I lasted what? Thirty seconds before bolting like a coward?”
She exhaled through her nose, still silent.
“I’m trying,” he added, voice lower now. “And I know trying doesn’t count for much when all I do is disappoint you. But I’m here. And I’m not walking out again unless you tell me to.”
Cuddy stared at him for a long beat. Then, finally, she invited him inside. Asking him if he wants something to drink and he refuses it, wanting only to get this heavyweight he is feeling over his chest.
House hesitated for a second, before stepping inside. Hell, he is sure that there are still remnants of Lucas’ things that are probably scattered around her house— he is awful, he knows but he will not sit through this knowing that he has a chance. The door clicked chut behind him, the sound oddly final, like the end of a chapter or mauve start of the other one— that he knows that he will step outside of this house with her being his girlfriend, if he played his cards right.
“Sit,” she said. “And this time—just talk.”
“It’s just that… About what happened. It was supposed to feel good on my side because…” He trailed off, remembering what Wilson said that made him understand why it bothered him. “I thought it would feel good because it's proof that you are not over me, but instead, it just reminded me that you are with someone else. That you didn’t choose me and chose him.” House said, focusing his attention on his cane as he fiddled with it.
Cuddy looked at him for a moment, eyes wandering everywhere except hers, legs shaking out of nervousness and fingers that can't stop fiddling with his cane. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but steady. “I didn’t choose him over you,” she said, her eyes locking onto him. “I chose what felt safer. What seemed easier. You… you were always the wild card, House. And I was tired. I tried with Lucas because it was simple. Predictable. But it was never going to work.”
Her voice cracked a little as she added, “Because it wasn’t you.”
Maybe something in the wind shifted, Cuddy doesn’t know but as the wind shifted from something charged and heavy, it now felt hot and passionate. She didn’t know when it started but all she knows is, House is a goddamn good kisser.
It felt good, the kiss itself, along with his tight grips along her body, Cuddy thought it could take her somewhere. Maybe Lucas was right, this is pathetic. Not because House is a cripple and that she’s ‘settling’ for him but because Lucas didn’t stand a chance over him yet she chooses him over House. The way he just gets her in times where she doesn’t even get herself— he brings out the best in her— he sees past the polished exterior, the hospital administrator, the composed, pragmatic woman everyone expects her to be, he sees right through her. He pushes her—challenges her—pulls out the sharpest, most alive parts of her she thought she’d buried long ago.
And maybe that’s what scares her. Or maybe… it’s what she’s been chasing all along.
She had tried her best not to break down and cry at the absurdity of everything that had happened. Cuddy was trying really hard but the longer she thinks about it— that she is grateful that she had moaned House’ name while with Lucas, resulting their break up and the longer she realizes that she wants House to fuck her, the more she felt her emotional wall to start to break down.
Cuddy let out an ugly sob the moment House broke their kiss, making House startle and express a confused and concerned look.
“Hey, Jesus, don’t cry,” He told her, placing his hands on her shoulder to find her face as she buried it into her hands. “Did I do something wrong?” He asks her, silently cursing himself for making her cry.
But that’s it, he’s doing everything exactly right — okay maybe his introductory aside, he’s done everything right; coming in here and talking about what it made him feel and—miraculously— listening to what she has to say.
“No, no. It’s just that, a lot has happened today,” Cuddy admitted. She is all but a normal stimulated person— she is like a bundle of nerves that can’t be untangled and very very overstimulated.
House released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding, tugged her against his chest before chuckling and kissing her head. “Yeah, it was a lot,”
Cuddy’s breath shuddered as he shifted them to be face to face, she was looking up to meet his eyes as he was looking down to meet hers. She licked her lips, unconsciously to invite him to where he had just swiped her tongue. He gazed down at the brunette haired woman in front of him, she’s beautiful.
As much as his primitive instinct made him want to yank, rip her nightgown and take her there, the small portion of softer, something he rarely and refuses to acknowledge, held him back. Maybe it’s the way that she looks at him, eyes wide with raw and unguarded vulnerability, like she was handling him her heart without saying a word.
She led him through the quiet of her home, their footsteps light against the floor. Neither of them spoke as they passed the familiar spaces—the living room, the kitchen—until they reached the bedroom. Then, gently, she pulled him into the room.
No pretense. No sarcasm. Just them.
Eyes filled with lust, House breathed her in— her coconut conditioned hair and vanilla scented skin, it’s making him intoxicated. “Waited for this for so long,” House whispered, as he peel off her clothing. As much as he wants to take his time, he feels his balls tightening under his boxers, begging to be let out.
“Yeah,” Cuddy said with a shaky breath, her body tingling at his touch.
With Cuddy fully naked in front of him, House let his gaze trail over her with something more than lust—something reverent. Slowly, he reached out, letting his fingers graze her collarbone, the touch feather-light. From there, he traced a line downward, gliding over the curve of her breast, then following the dip between her ribs to the softness of her silky stomach as he pushed the both of them towards the bed.
Her skin shivered from his touch as she was slowly being laid down the bed, propping herself on her elbows as she watched House discard his clothing. Cuddy’s body is rising in goosebumps, not because of the chill of being naked, but because of the weight of the moment—of being seen, touched, wanted by him .
After he let his cock out of his boxers and pants, greeting her hi with a sprung, House’s eyes stayed locked on hers, watching every flicker breath that she took. He limped toward her, climbed to her bed and crawled towards her with a packet of condom she didn’t realize he had between his teeth, settling on her widened legs, shifting most of his weight to his good leg. She took the condom from his mouth, making him kneel in front of her and between her legs as she pushed herself to sit up. She tears the package and slips the condom on his fully erect cock, making him groan at the contact.
He kissed her again, pushing her down to the bed, now hungrier than their last kiss a few minutes ago. His erection hard against them, making Cuddy wild at being it not inside her.
“Need you,” Cuddy moaned after he tugged her lower lip with his teeth. She needs him to fill the void she had been feeling ever since she dated Lucas, ever since he told her that he wants her yet she chose normalcy with Lucas.
“You’re not going to mention any other man’s name, are you?” He teasingly asks her. She should be offended by this remark, but the way his lips brushes her neck, she took this opportunity to challenge.
“Unless you fuck me out of my boredom,” She responded cleverly, challenging him to fuck her like she has never been before.
House smirks at her. He ran his hands to her side, taking a hold of his painfully hard cock and lining it with her entrance, making them both sigh as he pushed in. As much as he is a sucker for a good and long foreplay— tasting her delicious cunt, prepping her silky and warm pussy, House wants nothing but to be inside her at this moment.
He glanced up at her when she hissed at the feeling— it felt good but she can’t deny the stretch. So House gave her a minute to adjust at his size, his girth stretching her clenched walls and his length nudging her g-spot a bit. When he saw the lines on her face were gone, his hips immediately moved. Slowly pulling his cock out of her, but stopping only to leave the tip of his head inside her before thrusting inside her in one swift hard motion, making her scream.
“Oh, God!” She screamed. Her polished nails digging on his biceps as she arched her back, she needed more. This, this is what she has been craving for.
“You like that?” He asks, doing it again, holding onto her both shoulders for leverage. His pupils dilated and her grip on his biceps sting a little bit. She feels so tight around him, but he fits in just as perfectly, like they were manufactured to be together.
She doesn’t know if he’s an exceptionally good of a lover—if the way his hips move against hers, the way he reads her body like it’s a language only he’s ever spoken, is just that good— or if it was something deeper. That it felt this good because of her yearning towards him.
At another roll of his hips toward her, he gently moved the strands of her hair that were stuck on her face— he wanted to see her. Her brows bunched up out of pleasure, her lips slightly open as she whispered her encouragement. She is close, he knows it. So he captured her lips with his, his one hand traveling down to play with her breast, pinching her nipples with his thumb and index finger.
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me,” Encouraging her until she is a moaning mess beneath him, writhing in pleasure and arching as she rides out her orgasm. And as she did, House raised a knee to tuck her leg below it and did it to the other side so he’s straddling her closed and stretched out legs while still being inside her. Now it’s time to chase his release, so he leaned towards her chest. Cuddy’s boobs in front of him and not fighting the urge to put one in his mouth.
He doesn’t need to work as he did in chasing his release, fucking her into the rapid— yet passionate speed as he sucked her breast, leaving a mark near her nipple. House had pushed her into another orgasm, before he finally let go and came inside her. Almost whimpering at the feeling so he buried his face on her sternum instead as he let go.
When he is finally out of the frenzy feeling, he pulls out of her and discards the condom to throw it in the trash.
“Hey, come. You need to wash,” He said to Cuddy who is now probably asleep, she lazily turned to face him and cupped his cheek.
“Tomorrow,” she muttered, but he almost didn’t understand her.
“Nuh uh,” He said, pulling her to the edge of the bed.
After he had finally convinced her to wash, they were now lying on her bed with sheets tangled on their bodies, still warm from the aftermath. Cuddy lay on his chest, her breath syncing with the steady rise and fall of his. His arm was wrapped securely around her, fingers tracing idle patterns along her bare back. Both content on what this day has stored in them because they are not kidding when they said that it has been a lot. Cuddy felt like for a moment, she was starring in a ridiculous soap opera— complete with dramatic confrontations, forbidden desires and unexpected violence. She chuckled under breath and sighs at the thought.
How did her life come to this? One minute she was the composed, respected Dean of Medicine, and next, she was tangled in bed with the very man she swore she would never let back in. Maybe she and him are destined to be with each other— as childish as that may sound, she felt that it was true. This painfully satisfying twist of faith is the proof of it. But all in all, she is very happy and content with the result of this soap opera happening in her life. Messy, complicated, but real and in the end, that was all she ever wanted.