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escapingreality2008-07-24 08:25 pm
scruffyduck.livejournal.com) wrote in escapingreality2008-07-24 08:25 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Comfort Zone (5/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: NC-17/Adult/MA
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Up to House's Head.
Warnings: Sex.
Summery: Cuddy wasn't someone he expected to turn up on his doorstep.
Notes: There is sex in this one. And I mostly know where I'm going with this. 2656 words.
i.Hot And Bothered
ii.Hesitations
iii.Weird
iv.Practical Application
He walked into her office early the next day (early for him) with the dvds in his hand. She didn't know what to say at first, but if things were back to normal she tried, "you're up early. Wet the bed?"
"Good one," he replied, with a twist of his lips. "I haven't been to bed yet. I was having wild sex with Thirteen all night on my conference table."
"Good one," she echoed.
"Foreman?"
"Try Kutner and I might believe you," she said. He gave her a half grin again and limped to her desk, leaning heavily on his cane.
"You forgot these yesterday," he told her, dropping them onto her desk, on top of the files she had been reading. "You will enjoy them," he said, face serious. His eyes were dark, and she could see the tremors in his face as he tried not to wince or grimace, "I'm not just trying to torment you."
"But you are trying to torment me?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Always." She couldn't help the smile she gave him back and he nodded and walked away.
"Greg?" she said, stopping him at the door. "Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked.
"A bit," he answered honestly, "even Kunter's got to rest." She frowned.
"Go home Greg," she said, "call Ingrid, get a massage, or a blow job, or something, get some rest."
"I have clinic."
"I'll get Kutner to cover. Seeing as he kept you up all night."
"Good one," he said with a nod, "thanks."
zzzzz
Cuddy was the last person he expected to see at his door, with take-out and beers, in jeans and a top cut low enough to rival a hooker.
"It's a little early for Halloween costumes Wilson," he said. Cuddy just smiled.
"I know you eat like the teenager you are on the inside, and you were in pain, so I brought food," she said, "I brought beer to sweeten the deal."
"The low cut top and the Chinese food was enough." He grabbed the six pack and walked back to his safe, hoping she'd note the sightlier easier walk. The jeans were more than enough to get her through his door, always had been, even if she wore 'fuck-me' heels and tight, tight skirts the rest of the time.
He sat down and she went to his kitchen, listening as she opened and shut cupboards looking for plates and cutlery. He smiled to himself and got back up again, limping in after her. Without a word he pulled out two plates and found a draw with some chopsticks.
"You seem a little better," Cuddy said, voice quiet.
"Ingrid is very good with her hands." She raised an eyebrow. "And I had some morphine."
"Oh God," she sighed, "at least you're feeling better." He grunted and grabbed a plate of food, limping back into the lounge. She followed with her own food, sitting down next to him on the sofa, perching awkwardly on the edge.
"What are we watching?" she asked. She was out of her comfort zone, he knew that, out of the hospital or her house (there was a reason she took her dates home).
"When animals attack," he informed her around his food.
This was the Cuddy of old. The nervous, almost shy Cuddy that cared about him as much as her hospital. The Cuddy without personal direction (she'd always had professional direction, since she was twelve). This was Lisa. If it weren't for the persistent throb, throb, stab of his leg, he could almost imagine the two of them in his apartment in Michigan, watching television, Lisa perching on the edge of his sofa like she would run at any second. She'd been unsure of the relationship at first, then wanted nothing more than to be with him. It had surprised him when she'd ended things.
It had hurt him.
If they had been in his apartment in Michigan he would urge her to relax softly, put his arm around her and pull her close.
The throb, throb, stab made him say, "relax Cuddy," in a harsh voice instead. She jumped, but steeled back into his sofa. He didn't know why she was here, and didn't know why he had let her stay instead of sending her away either. He had a suspicion that Cuddy didn't know what she was doing either.
"So the basic premise of this programme is animals taking chunks out of humans," Cuddy said.
"It's research," he said, making her smile, wondering what it would take to make her laugh again. "I'm learning about different bite marks, and teeth patterns."
"Just in case someone comes into the clinic with a cougar bite," she said, and he huffed out some laughter.
"It could happen."
"Around you, anything is possible," she said, her grin widening.
"Did you watch the films?" he asked.
"Just 'Seven Days'. It was very good," she said, "you were right."
"Always am."
*****
Dinner was mostly finished and abandoned on his coffee table where his left leg threatened to knock the plates off. They hadn't bothered to move anything away. House didn't care and he knew Cuddy would clean up before she left. She had become more anal since college, not less.
It was weird thought. Except for the throb, throb, stab it was nice, they were just watching television, she was sitting next to him, relaxed, as they watched programmes about people getting hurt and large explosions. He was enjoying himself, some of the same verbal sparring, jokes about morons and wild animals, it was weird but good and it confused the hell out of him. Because Cuddy was the devil. Who looked really hot in jeans.
"I should go," she said, in the middle of his thoughts about her ass. "Some of us have work in the morning."
"I'll be there."
"When?" she asked with a grin.
"Anytime between ten and three."
"You have clinic hours at two," she said, but was smiling, which again was weird and he watched her stand and start tidying away the remains of dinner into his kitchen. He followed her and watched her clean up, quietly, just listening to the 'chink, clink' of plates. When she finished and turned around, she walked straight into him, not expecting him to be there.
"Dammit House," she hissed. He smiled at her, then kissed her on the lips, one hand holding onto his cane, the other threading into her dark hair. The earlier kiss had just reminded him he much he missed simple things about her. Like her hair. He was still kissing her gently, and thinking about her hair when he realised she was kissing him back. And not out of shock, like a couple of days before, but with want and enthusiasm, pushing back against him a little.
"Cuddy," he mumbled against her lips.
"Lisa," she told him, "I hate that you call me Cuddy all the time."
"Oh," was all he could say before capturing her lips again and pushing her back against the nearest surface, his fridge. His cane fell to floor, forgotten with the wonderful familiarity of kissing Lisa Cuddy. He rested his hands on her hips, holding tight as she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss back, harder. She tasted of beer and honey, and he really liked it, liked this.
She pulled at the edges of his t-shirt, sliding cool hands up and over his skin, nipping at his bottom lip. He smirked at her little moan when his own hand slipped beneath her top and pulled her closer to him. He circled his hips against hers, trying to suppress the groan of pleasure from the friction.
"Greg," she moaned, "we can't do this."
"Deja vu," he groaned, pulling back. They were both breathing hard, Cuddy's face flushed, hair wild.
Fucking gorgeous.
"No, I really have to be early, I can't stay."
"Then we'll have a quickie on the sofa before you go home."
"House," she said and he sighed,back to House again so soon. "It's not that I don't want to," she said kissing him again, slow and sweet, "because god I do," she continued, with a moan, "but not tonight."
From Lisa Cuddy, he'd heard it all before, and in his twenties it had been frustrating but understandable. In his forties it was down right annoying. He grabbed his cane from the floor.
"Wait there," he said, walking quickly from the kitchen.
He returned with a small foot stool and dropped down onto it, running his hands up her jean clad thighs.
"Making me come has never changed my mind before, Greg," she sighed. He ignored her and popped the button on her jeans. She sighed as his fingers brushed over her skin, before he leaned forward to kiss her abdomen, the rasp of his stubble making her moan. He smirked against her skin, licking and nipping as he pulled her jeans down. He ran a finger over her thong, feeling a little wetness seeping through the sheer material.
"You really do want me, don't you Lisa?" he said, running his finger over the other side of the material, his knuckles brushing over her centre. She thrust her hips out with a whimper and he couldn't get rid of the smirk. He'd learned how to get Lisa Cuddy off years ago, figured that can't have changed much.
"Acquire any fetishes over the past twenty years Lisa?" he asked, pulling her thong down to pool around her ankles with her jeans. "Aside from thongs?"
"Greg," she moaned, his fingers dancing up the inside her of thighs, causing her to spread them a little wider for him. He looked up at her, the blush had spread down and under her top and he smiled. He kissed the thatch of dark hair and she whimpered in frustration.
"Come on Cuddy, you can tell me," he said, the words washing over her clit. He was so close, and she wanted him to touch her so badly but she held still, trembling with the effort. "Please tell me you like a little BDSM. Maybe spanking. Do you want to spank me Lisa?"
"I want you to touch me," she whispered.
"Do you want me to spank you?" he asked, licking a long line over her, up to her clit, flicking his tongue over it. "Maybe you're an exhibitionist now?"
"House," her voice was half warning still and he chuckled, flicking his tongue over her clit gain, lapping at some of the wetness with the flat of his tongue.
"Or you like role play. I know I have this fantasy about you dressed up as a naughty school girl."
"Oh God," she whimpered, feeling his fingers tracing soft lines over her flesh.
The last time he had done this, they had been in his apartment, and he'd been on his knees, and he hadn't been trying to convince her to stay the night. He'd just wanted to make her come, if only to hear her choke his name out on a gasp like she had done a few days before when he had fingered her in her dorm room.
The last time he had done this, she had sank to his bedroom floor, flushed, sweaty and smiling. Then she'd given him a blow job full of innocence and hesitation, making the whole thing hotter than it really should've been.
She'd probably be much better at it now, he mused, sliding a long finger into her body. Her reactions were similar, but she was more confident now, her movements more defined, voice louder. She was more sure of what she wanted, of her own pleasure and, damn, if it wasn't as hot as all hell.
She was moving her hips in time with his hand, little movements, and held on to the fridge behind her.
"More," she moaned and he complied, sliding another finger home, as deep as he could. "Better," she told him with a smile and he was winning her over in some way, even if she didn't stay. He picked up the rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of her body, flicking his tongue over her clit a couple of times before he sucked the little nub hard into his mouth.
"Oh fuck," she cried, her body jolting back into the fridge in response.
"Which sailor gave you that dirty mouth Lisa?" he asked with a grin, sucking hard again. She jerked away from him again, then pushed her hips further into his face. He looked up at her face, eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth, cheeks bright red. And her hair, her hair was wild and beautiful.
"Fuck you House," she panted.
"That's the goal."
"I'm not sleeping with you. Not tonight."
"Tomorrow?" he asked, nipping at her flesh. She squeaked.
"Maybe."
"I'll do all my clinic hours," he said, making her squeak again. That was new. Unless he'd never done that with his teeth before. Couldn't be sure.
"No you won't," she moaned.
"No I won't," he agreed. He could see her knuckles turning white from gripping onto the fridge. She was getting close, her breath hitching, a little 'hah' noise escaping her throat with every exhale and her hips moving in a perfect rhythm with his hand, pulling him in deeper, her muscles tightening around him. If he stopped, he wondered how many clinic hours she'd let him have off to make her come, and considered it for a moment, before finding the spot inside her body that made her melt, sucking on her clit as he pressed down hard and deep inside her.
"Greg!" she cried, her whole body going taut, back arching towards him, wanting more, more, more. He lapped her clit as she came, pulling her through her orgasm, moving his fingers slowly when he felt his hand coated with heat. He watched her face carefully and smiled, she still looked...sweet...when she came, face scrunched up. He had expected her to revert to House again and it had been a welcome surprise to hear her cry out Greg.
When her body calmed, he pulled away, sucking on his fingers, rubbing his bad leg with his other hand. She still had her eyes closed, lungs working hard, and he wanted to strip her completely. Take her to bed and exert a little dominance over her. Or submit, as long as her breasts were involved. He wanted her to stay so he could tire her out completely so she would walk into the hospital the next day looking thoroughly fucked.
He stood awkwardly, trying to pull up her jeans and thong up with him, but failed and finally she opened her eyes to look at him. She smiled, then kissed him quickly, before bending to redress herself.
"I can't stay," she said, kissing him again, and he knew she could taste herself on his tongue. He didn't reply, simply standing back to let her pass and she gave him a guilty look.
"Another time maybe," he said gruffly, looking away from her and rearranging his jeans.
"House, I, I'm, Greg," she paused, "I want to."
"I know." She forced his head back to face her, and kissed him. "By time you get home, get changed, get into bed, we could already be in bed," he said."
"I know."
"It's not about work though."
"No."
"Good night Lisa," he limped off, his walk heavier than usual. It was hard to walk with a bad leg and an erection. He closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed, waiting for Cuddy to gather up her things and leave.
When he heard his front door close a few minutes later, he flopped onto his back, palming his erection through his jeans, wondering what on earth was going through Cuddy's head.
And his own.
Author:
rollesonFandom: House
Rating: NC-17/Adult/MA
Character/Pairing: House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Up to House's Head.
Warnings: Sex.
Summery: Cuddy wasn't someone he expected to turn up on his doorstep.
Notes: There is sex in this one. And I mostly know where I'm going with this. 2656 words.
i.Hot And Bothered
ii.Hesitations
iii.Weird
iv.Practical Application
He walked into her office early the next day (early for him) with the dvds in his hand. She didn't know what to say at first, but if things were back to normal she tried, "you're up early. Wet the bed?"
"Good one," he replied, with a twist of his lips. "I haven't been to bed yet. I was having wild sex with Thirteen all night on my conference table."
"Good one," she echoed.
"Foreman?"
"Try Kutner and I might believe you," she said. He gave her a half grin again and limped to her desk, leaning heavily on his cane.
"You forgot these yesterday," he told her, dropping them onto her desk, on top of the files she had been reading. "You will enjoy them," he said, face serious. His eyes were dark, and she could see the tremors in his face as he tried not to wince or grimace, "I'm not just trying to torment you."
"But you are trying to torment me?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Always." She couldn't help the smile she gave him back and he nodded and walked away.
"Greg?" she said, stopping him at the door. "Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked.
"A bit," he answered honestly, "even Kunter's got to rest." She frowned.
"Go home Greg," she said, "call Ingrid, get a massage, or a blow job, or something, get some rest."
"I have clinic."
"I'll get Kutner to cover. Seeing as he kept you up all night."
"Good one," he said with a nod, "thanks."
Cuddy was the last person he expected to see at his door, with take-out and beers, in jeans and a top cut low enough to rival a hooker.
"It's a little early for Halloween costumes Wilson," he said. Cuddy just smiled.
"I know you eat like the teenager you are on the inside, and you were in pain, so I brought food," she said, "I brought beer to sweeten the deal."
"The low cut top and the Chinese food was enough." He grabbed the six pack and walked back to his safe, hoping she'd note the sightlier easier walk. The jeans were more than enough to get her through his door, always had been, even if she wore 'fuck-me' heels and tight, tight skirts the rest of the time.
He sat down and she went to his kitchen, listening as she opened and shut cupboards looking for plates and cutlery. He smiled to himself and got back up again, limping in after her. Without a word he pulled out two plates and found a draw with some chopsticks.
"You seem a little better," Cuddy said, voice quiet.
"Ingrid is very good with her hands." She raised an eyebrow. "And I had some morphine."
"Oh God," she sighed, "at least you're feeling better." He grunted and grabbed a plate of food, limping back into the lounge. She followed with her own food, sitting down next to him on the sofa, perching awkwardly on the edge.
"What are we watching?" she asked. She was out of her comfort zone, he knew that, out of the hospital or her house (there was a reason she took her dates home).
"When animals attack," he informed her around his food.
This was the Cuddy of old. The nervous, almost shy Cuddy that cared about him as much as her hospital. The Cuddy without personal direction (she'd always had professional direction, since she was twelve). This was Lisa. If it weren't for the persistent throb, throb, stab of his leg, he could almost imagine the two of them in his apartment in Michigan, watching television, Lisa perching on the edge of his sofa like she would run at any second. She'd been unsure of the relationship at first, then wanted nothing more than to be with him. It had surprised him when she'd ended things.
It had hurt him.
If they had been in his apartment in Michigan he would urge her to relax softly, put his arm around her and pull her close.
The throb, throb, stab made him say, "relax Cuddy," in a harsh voice instead. She jumped, but steeled back into his sofa. He didn't know why she was here, and didn't know why he had let her stay instead of sending her away either. He had a suspicion that Cuddy didn't know what she was doing either.
"So the basic premise of this programme is animals taking chunks out of humans," Cuddy said.
"It's research," he said, making her smile, wondering what it would take to make her laugh again. "I'm learning about different bite marks, and teeth patterns."
"Just in case someone comes into the clinic with a cougar bite," she said, and he huffed out some laughter.
"It could happen."
"Around you, anything is possible," she said, her grin widening.
"Did you watch the films?" he asked.
"Just 'Seven Days'. It was very good," she said, "you were right."
"Always am."
Dinner was mostly finished and abandoned on his coffee table where his left leg threatened to knock the plates off. They hadn't bothered to move anything away. House didn't care and he knew Cuddy would clean up before she left. She had become more anal since college, not less.
It was weird thought. Except for the throb, throb, stab it was nice, they were just watching television, she was sitting next to him, relaxed, as they watched programmes about people getting hurt and large explosions. He was enjoying himself, some of the same verbal sparring, jokes about morons and wild animals, it was weird but good and it confused the hell out of him. Because Cuddy was the devil. Who looked really hot in jeans.
"I should go," she said, in the middle of his thoughts about her ass. "Some of us have work in the morning."
"I'll be there."
"When?" she asked with a grin.
"Anytime between ten and three."
"You have clinic hours at two," she said, but was smiling, which again was weird and he watched her stand and start tidying away the remains of dinner into his kitchen. He followed her and watched her clean up, quietly, just listening to the 'chink, clink' of plates. When she finished and turned around, she walked straight into him, not expecting him to be there.
"Dammit House," she hissed. He smiled at her, then kissed her on the lips, one hand holding onto his cane, the other threading into her dark hair. The earlier kiss had just reminded him he much he missed simple things about her. Like her hair. He was still kissing her gently, and thinking about her hair when he realised she was kissing him back. And not out of shock, like a couple of days before, but with want and enthusiasm, pushing back against him a little.
"Cuddy," he mumbled against her lips.
"Lisa," she told him, "I hate that you call me Cuddy all the time."
"Oh," was all he could say before capturing her lips again and pushing her back against the nearest surface, his fridge. His cane fell to floor, forgotten with the wonderful familiarity of kissing Lisa Cuddy. He rested his hands on her hips, holding tight as she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss back, harder. She tasted of beer and honey, and he really liked it, liked this.
She pulled at the edges of his t-shirt, sliding cool hands up and over his skin, nipping at his bottom lip. He smirked at her little moan when his own hand slipped beneath her top and pulled her closer to him. He circled his hips against hers, trying to suppress the groan of pleasure from the friction.
"Greg," she moaned, "we can't do this."
"Deja vu," he groaned, pulling back. They were both breathing hard, Cuddy's face flushed, hair wild.
Fucking gorgeous.
"No, I really have to be early, I can't stay."
"Then we'll have a quickie on the sofa before you go home."
"House," she said and he sighed,back to House again so soon. "It's not that I don't want to," she said kissing him again, slow and sweet, "because god I do," she continued, with a moan, "but not tonight."
From Lisa Cuddy, he'd heard it all before, and in his twenties it had been frustrating but understandable. In his forties it was down right annoying. He grabbed his cane from the floor.
"Wait there," he said, walking quickly from the kitchen.
He returned with a small foot stool and dropped down onto it, running his hands up her jean clad thighs.
"Making me come has never changed my mind before, Greg," she sighed. He ignored her and popped the button on her jeans. She sighed as his fingers brushed over her skin, before he leaned forward to kiss her abdomen, the rasp of his stubble making her moan. He smirked against her skin, licking and nipping as he pulled her jeans down. He ran a finger over her thong, feeling a little wetness seeping through the sheer material.
"You really do want me, don't you Lisa?" he said, running his finger over the other side of the material, his knuckles brushing over her centre. She thrust her hips out with a whimper and he couldn't get rid of the smirk. He'd learned how to get Lisa Cuddy off years ago, figured that can't have changed much.
"Acquire any fetishes over the past twenty years Lisa?" he asked, pulling her thong down to pool around her ankles with her jeans. "Aside from thongs?"
"Greg," she moaned, his fingers dancing up the inside her of thighs, causing her to spread them a little wider for him. He looked up at her, the blush had spread down and under her top and he smiled. He kissed the thatch of dark hair and she whimpered in frustration.
"Come on Cuddy, you can tell me," he said, the words washing over her clit. He was so close, and she wanted him to touch her so badly but she held still, trembling with the effort. "Please tell me you like a little BDSM. Maybe spanking. Do you want to spank me Lisa?"
"I want you to touch me," she whispered.
"Do you want me to spank you?" he asked, licking a long line over her, up to her clit, flicking his tongue over it. "Maybe you're an exhibitionist now?"
"House," her voice was half warning still and he chuckled, flicking his tongue over her clit gain, lapping at some of the wetness with the flat of his tongue.
"Or you like role play. I know I have this fantasy about you dressed up as a naughty school girl."
"Oh God," she whimpered, feeling his fingers tracing soft lines over her flesh.
The last time he had done this, they had been in his apartment, and he'd been on his knees, and he hadn't been trying to convince her to stay the night. He'd just wanted to make her come, if only to hear her choke his name out on a gasp like she had done a few days before when he had fingered her in her dorm room.
The last time he had done this, she had sank to his bedroom floor, flushed, sweaty and smiling. Then she'd given him a blow job full of innocence and hesitation, making the whole thing hotter than it really should've been.
She'd probably be much better at it now, he mused, sliding a long finger into her body. Her reactions were similar, but she was more confident now, her movements more defined, voice louder. She was more sure of what she wanted, of her own pleasure and, damn, if it wasn't as hot as all hell.
She was moving her hips in time with his hand, little movements, and held on to the fridge behind her.
"More," she moaned and he complied, sliding another finger home, as deep as he could. "Better," she told him with a smile and he was winning her over in some way, even if she didn't stay. He picked up the rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of her body, flicking his tongue over her clit a couple of times before he sucked the little nub hard into his mouth.
"Oh fuck," she cried, her body jolting back into the fridge in response.
"Which sailor gave you that dirty mouth Lisa?" he asked with a grin, sucking hard again. She jerked away from him again, then pushed her hips further into his face. He looked up at her face, eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth, cheeks bright red. And her hair, her hair was wild and beautiful.
"Fuck you House," she panted.
"That's the goal."
"I'm not sleeping with you. Not tonight."
"Tomorrow?" he asked, nipping at her flesh. She squeaked.
"Maybe."
"I'll do all my clinic hours," he said, making her squeak again. That was new. Unless he'd never done that with his teeth before. Couldn't be sure.
"No you won't," she moaned.
"No I won't," he agreed. He could see her knuckles turning white from gripping onto the fridge. She was getting close, her breath hitching, a little 'hah' noise escaping her throat with every exhale and her hips moving in a perfect rhythm with his hand, pulling him in deeper, her muscles tightening around him. If he stopped, he wondered how many clinic hours she'd let him have off to make her come, and considered it for a moment, before finding the spot inside her body that made her melt, sucking on her clit as he pressed down hard and deep inside her.
"Greg!" she cried, her whole body going taut, back arching towards him, wanting more, more, more. He lapped her clit as she came, pulling her through her orgasm, moving his fingers slowly when he felt his hand coated with heat. He watched her face carefully and smiled, she still looked...sweet...when she came, face scrunched up. He had expected her to revert to House again and it had been a welcome surprise to hear her cry out Greg.
When her body calmed, he pulled away, sucking on his fingers, rubbing his bad leg with his other hand. She still had her eyes closed, lungs working hard, and he wanted to strip her completely. Take her to bed and exert a little dominance over her. Or submit, as long as her breasts were involved. He wanted her to stay so he could tire her out completely so she would walk into the hospital the next day looking thoroughly fucked.
He stood awkwardly, trying to pull up her jeans and thong up with him, but failed and finally she opened her eyes to look at him. She smiled, then kissed him quickly, before bending to redress herself.
"I can't stay," she said, kissing him again, and he knew she could taste herself on his tongue. He didn't reply, simply standing back to let her pass and she gave him a guilty look.
"Another time maybe," he said gruffly, looking away from her and rearranging his jeans.
"House, I, I'm, Greg," she paused, "I want to."
"I know." She forced his head back to face her, and kissed him. "By time you get home, get changed, get into bed, we could already be in bed," he said."
"I know."
"It's not about work though."
"No."
"Good night Lisa," he limped off, his walk heavier than usual. It was hard to walk with a bad leg and an erection. He closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed, waiting for Cuddy to gather up her things and leave.
When he heard his front door close a few minutes later, he flopped onto his back, palming his erection through his jeans, wondering what on earth was going through Cuddy's head.
And his own.