[ that old college try ]
by kHo

Everybody lies. All the time. Even House. Sometimes, especially House.

He tries not to lie to himself though, even if he does lie to others. That's why it's not a surprise to find himself staring down at Cuddy's ass and getting hard. If he'd been lying to himself he would have been surprised, because he never would have acknowledged that he's fantasized about a moment like this for years.

Of course, not this moment. Not this exact moment. Cuddy bent over her desk, skirt pulled up over her ass, smooth and perfect tanned skin, that moment, sure. The fact that he was holding a needle in his hand had never entered the picture before. The fact that he was injecting her with a hormone treatment had never been there either.

That's okay though, because he's allowed to touch. She's expecting him to touch. It's easy to ignore the cool alcohol wipe between his fingers and her skin, especially when he uses three fingers and lets the third slip off the edge of the cloth. Her skin is hot and smooth and creamy and he's so hard it's starting to affect his ability to be sarcastic. Only slightly, but enough.

“So you don't think you should just give this the good old college try then,’ he asks, and if his voice is low, if it's a little gruff, it's just his Doctor voice. It's just his Quiet and Polite voice. Nevermind the fact that previously his Doctor voice had always sounded much like his You're An Idiot voice. Nevermind the fact that House had never been polite, and was hardly what you'd call a quiet person.

At least, that's what he'd tell Cuddy, if she asked. Because if he told himself that, he'd be lying. And well. We've covered that.

“What, get drunk at a frat party and not even remember the face of the guy you slept with the next morning,’ Cuddy says, amusement rich in her voice. “How is that better than picking a random doner?’

“The fact that that's what you call the old college try speaks a lot about your personality in college,’ he says, and he tries to keep the sneer in his voice. He's pretty sure it's still at about eighty percent, which is better than he thought it would be. “I don't know about your college, but everyone at mine was involved in a deep, meaningful relationship. One filled with Sunday mornings reading the news paper and quiet nights spent making sweet, sweet love…’

Cuddy laughed and her ass shook under his hand and he fought the urge to shift his hand and palm it, feel the vibrations up his whole arm. “Right, House.’ She looks back at him, smile crooked and dirty, and god, does she really not know how this looks to him? “Are you done back there? I think you could eat finger food off my ass at this point.’

And yes, thank you Cuddy, for saying all those words in the same sentence. Ass and eat and finger echoes in his head and he adds tongue, lick, bite, suck, fuck. He takes a deep breath and tries to remind himself that he's really not all that fond of Cuddy anyway, except that's a lie because Cuddy might not operate the same way he does and Cuddy might be too much of an optimist for him, but he still respects the hell out of her.

It's their third day of twice daily shots and he's starting to come apart, and that's annoying the hell out of him. House has never been good at restraint, he's never been good at patience, he's too smart for it. He knows things, more things that most people anyway, and he's good at diagnosing the problem, good at knowing how to fix it, and this equation is simple. This case is easy, he could solve this case in his sleep.

House hard, Cuddy there, insert tab a into slot b, and voila. Disease cured.

“You know, I have pretty nice genes,’ he mutters, dropping the alcohol wipe into the trash can and getting out the needle.

“In your closet?’

“Ha ha,’ he deadpans, flicking his eyes up to look at her. “I have pretty eyes. I'm brilliant.’

“You're sarcastic, you're a liability, you're caustic, and sometimes you're just plain mean.’

He arches an eyebrow. “Nature versus nurture?’

She snorts. “Right.’

“Plus, it has the added benefit of me actually being here,’ he says, his hand resting on her hip, needle poised over her skin. His thumb runs absentmindedly over the line of her hip and she shivers slightly. “You actually knowing me. You don't have to read through the lies about how much I adore Mozart.’

“Yes, thank God, my kid will prefer Miles Davis to Mozart. Well that's it. The search is over.’

He knows he's overstepping the bounds, his hand palming her hip, his thumb rubbing in a slow caress, him standing so close he can feel her skirt bunching up against his pants. The thing is, she's not moving away, and her words are just as sarcastic but her tone's missing something. Something like conviction.

He lowers his voice and leans closer to her, mouth near her neck. “And the benefit of an orgasm. You may not know this, but they're actually very healthy for you, orgasms. Most effective form of relaxation. It might have been a while for you though, you might have forgotten.’

She sucks in a breath and he knows he almost has her. Her eyes are closed and her hands are gripping the desk and he knows, right down to his bones just like he knows everything else, that if he reached his hand down she'd be wet. “Are you actually propositioning me?’

“It might actually help our relationship,’ he says, transferring the needle to the hand on her hip and reaching up to brush her hair to the side. “Bring us closer, make us more relaxed. Or, at the very least, they say angry sex is the best.’

Her head bends forward and he lowers his mouth to her neck, breathing on it. He's almost there, he can already feel her underneath him. “House. You've got to be kidding me. I'm your boss.’

He smiles because it's just a front now. Just more lies. An excuse. “Oh come on,’ he whispers, tongue dipping out to touch her neck. His cock jumps when she exhales loudly and her hand slips on the desk. “Like you have any control over me anyway.’

She breathes deeply and he can feel it, mouthing her neck and curling his fingers through her hair. “When were you last tested,’ she asks in a rush, and he closes his eyes because yes, yes, he's in.

“Mmm,’ he hums against her throat. “I love it when you talk dirty.’

She huffs out a laugh. “House.’

“Cameron,’ he mutters against her neck, tossing the needle across the room, not even paying attention. His hand comes back and grips her hip hard.

“You…’ She jerks back against him and now her ass is right against him, fitting into him and they both inhale. “You slept with Cameron?’

His smirk curves against her neck. “Jealous?’

“House,’ she yells, jerking her head away when he tries to kiss her neck. No lust in her tone this time, just outrage, and he laughs. “It's not funny, she is your subordinate, and unlike how you feel about me, she actually worships you!’

“I might learn to worship you,’ he mutters, smoothing his hand over her hip, inching it forward and down over her leg. “Or at least your body.’

“To take advantage of that--’

“Oh relax,’ he says, rolling his eyes. “I didn't sleep with Cameron. I got tested when she did though. I'd be willing to lay bets that all of us did.’

“Oh,’ Cuddy says, and she doesn't pull away again when he starts kissing her neck. “When she was exposed.’

“Yes,’ he whispers. “One of those life affirming things. One of us might be sick, and so of course we worry about ourselves. We could call it team solidarity, but really it's just self preservation.’

“This is probably a really bad idea,’ she says, her head leaning back against his shoulder as he slides his fingers between her underwear and skin, skims them over her curls. “House, this is a bad idea, we shouldn't be doing this… House, we have to stop… do you hear me?’

“I hear you,’ he says, stilling his hand. “I just don't believe you.’

“We should stop. It's a bad idea.’

He smirks. “Then push me away. I won't resist.’ She doesn't make a move, doesn't move a muscle, and actually relaxes into him and he breathes out a laugh. “Didn't think so.’

She lets out a moan as he runs his fingers along her clit, bucking into his hand once before her hands land on his hips. “Well like you said… it's been a while.’

“Don't worry, it's like riding a bike,’ he says. “Actually, it is. Sweating. Thighs burning. Endorphin rush.’

“What about your leg,’ she asks, breath catching as he slowly rubs her.

He frowns. “What about my leg?’

“If you think I haven't noticed that it's been hurting you more recently…’

“Exercise helps it,’ he says, pressing against her, moaning at the contact.

Her laugh is breathy and more of an answering moan than anything. “Plus there's the post-orgasmic endorphin rush.’

“See, now you're catching on,’ he says, slipping his fingers under her panties and pulling them down slowly, running his hands down over her thighs.

“Oh god,’ she moans as he pushes her down over the desk again, pulling her skirt back up over her ass. “This is insane.’

“Yes,’ he says, pulling back to unzip his jeans, looking down at her ass, and he's been wanting this pretty much nonstop for three days now and it's finally going to happen. “One question.’

“Oh, House, don't question, stop with the questions, if you question me I'm going to come to my senses, and I don't want to right now.’ She's practically panting, hands flat on the desk, papers wrinkling underneath her. “Please, just… do it.’

“It's important,’ he says, stepping forward and resting his hands on her hips, shifting her around just because he can. “Condom or no?’

She freezes, her eyes shutting. “Shit.’

“Quite the quandry,’ he says, smiling and tilting his head. “Condoms are safe, and yet… with them? No fetus.’

“God,’ she says, exhaling loudly. “I am… I swear to God House, if you have something.’

“I'm clean.’

She snorts. “As I was saying, if you have something, I will kill you. You hear me? Dead. Kill you with my bare hands.’

He grins and reaches down to stroke himself, which isn't actually needed because he's so hard he's already close to coming. “So that would be a no to the condom then?’

“House!’

“This is as close to curteous as you're ever gonna get me, Cuddy, take advantage of it.’

She moans and buries her head in her hands. “I'm so stupid, I am just so stupid, I'm the stupidest--’

“Yes, no, maybe, what?’

“No,’ she yells, hitting her hand against the desk. “God, House, come on, please, just fuck me!’

He pushes inside her, slow and steady, and holds still because it's too much, he's been thinking about this for three days, more than that even, if he's still sticking to that no lying to yourself thing, and it's almost too good, the wet tight heat of her surrounding him. “No backing out now.’

He bends over, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding himself up with a hand by her side, sliding his teeth along her neck. “Oh god,’ she hisses her hand coming up and latching onto his head, sliding into his hair and pulling him closer. “Harder, I'm already so close, just… come on…’

He laughs, a wild and uncontrolled laugh, because he's so far gone he can't even begin to control it. “Aye aye,’ he huffs into her neck, squeezing his eyes shut. “Your wish is my command.’

She laughs. “I see, as your boss I can't get you to do shit, but let you fuck me and you're suddenly subservient.’

“Controlling from the bottom is much more appealing than controlling through memos,’ he grunts into her skin. “And shut up, I can't concentrate.’

They slide into a rough and fast rhythm and his leg is starting to burn and he's going to pay for this later but it's worth it for the sounds she makes, the way she moans his name, the way she gasps. He could live off this memory for a lifetime, even if this is the only time he gets to have this, just for the way she writhes beneath him and reaches back to clamp down on his thigh, nails digging in as she tells him harder, faster.

She comes first and he's not far behind, and they try to keep their moans quiet, because this is a hospital and there actually are people out there sick and dying and grieving and rejoicing. He slumps against her back as he comes down and slides his hand down over her sweater and tells himself that next time, if there is a next time, he's going to do this to her face because he's been thinking about her breasts since the first time he met her and like hell he's going to miss out on that.

He pulls out of her and pulls the chair behind him closer and slumps into it, laying his head back and breathing deeply. When he opens his eyes she's leaning against the desk, skirt settled back around her knees, the only evidence that any of this happened being her panties on the floor next to her feet. He grins at her. “So. We could still call this an injection if it makes you feel better.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Oh god. I'm a cliché.’

He frowns. “How?’

She looks at him, wide eyes and lips pursed in an annoyed scowl. “Are you kidding me? woman in power, feeling powerless, wants baby, sleeps with subordinate to regain control?’

He laughs. “I thought you slept with me cause you were hot for my body.’

She rolls her eyes again. “Please.’

“Oh come on, I know you came,’ he says, leaning forward and leering at her. “Don't even try to say--’

“Oh no, I did,’ she says, meeting his eyes and smirking. “I just didn't know people still said 'hot for your body' these days.’

He shrugs. “I do.’

“I'm a cliché,’ she says, bending her head forward and putting in her hands.

He frowns again. “I'll have you know that I will never be part of a cliché. And therefore, by extension, you having slept with me can't be considered cliché.’

She looks at him through the slits between her fingers. “Yeah?’

He nods. “Yeah.’

She frowns and lowers her hands, crossing them over her chest, nodding slowly. “Okay.’

“You gave in easily,’ he says suspiciously, reaching down and zipping back up his jeans, tugging on his shirt as he stands.

She grins wryly. “Self-delusion is a wonderful tool.’

“Ah.’

She nods. “Yep.’

He smoothes his shirt and bends down, picking up her underwear. He watches her eyeing it and grins. “So we're doing this again right?’

She holds out her hand for the underwear. “House? Get out.’

“Right,’ he says, slipping the underwear into his pocket and grinning at the way her mouth drops open. “So twice daily, right? Same schedule?’

He slips out before the stapler hits the door, and it's a very good thing that the glass is so very thick, but just before he closes the door he sees her smile.

There are worst ways to spend an afternoon.