The Lust Whammy //
Put it on meAccording to the aim of the game: House has been hit with a wave of Lust, which means he's more or less without inhibition (when isn't he, lol). If he's ever had a dirty thought about your character - now is the time to find out. (If you want it to be within a certain 'verse, say so in the subject line of your
I prefer show and tell.
ooc: moved it here because the CAPTCHA thing gets on my nerves.
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When Cuddy pulls his mouth back to hers, he returns the kiss passionately, setting aside his cane and wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulls her flush against him, hands pressed firmly to her back. As she tells him they can't go back to that night, he sucks on her bottom lip, eager to do more kissing and less talking now that he's got her in his arms.
He doesn't reply but the way he deepens the kiss further so his mouth is crushing against hers says everything he wants to say, anyway. Sliding his hands down and under the hem of her shirt, he starts shoving it up, pulling away from her for just a moment to rip the shirt off her. Then he's got her back in his arms, kissing and breathing heavily, stumbling a couple of steps with her before pushing her up against the wall.
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She lets out a shaky, soft moan as his finger penetrates her. She's repressed but not forgotten how good he can make her feel. A surge of heat low in her belly makes her crazy, makes her want more, makes her want to remember every bit of how good he can make her feel. She wraps her hand around his penis, sliding her hand along it just this side of too rough.
She kisses him sloppily, lips sliding wetly and getting caught between clashing teeth. She feels his cock throb in her hand and she breaks away from the kiss. "Fuck me."
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She shudders when he bites at her nipple. It's good but not enough. Now that she's given into the pure, physical lust between them, she wants more. And she wants it now.
She keeps one arm around his neck as she tries to reach for him. She manages to get her hand under her ass and grab hold of him but the position is just too awkward. She can can just barely get the head of his penis inside her but she can't get him any deeper. And any real movement is out of the question, assuming his leg could even manage it.
After a moment, she gives a frustrated laugh. "Not going to work," she says, letting her legs slide back to the floor. She's not about to put a stop to the whole encounter, though. Instead, she presses against him, guiding him back toward a chair.
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"Damn it," he mutters, then snorts, half amused, half frustrated. At her first nudge for him to head backwards, he steps back and glances over his shoulder. Immediately he gets the same idea she seems to have and, letting her go, he takes her hands in his and pulls her with him.
Reaching the chair, he sits and lifts his hands to her hips as she stands over him and straddles his thighs. With a shaky breath, he tilts his chin up to meet her lips, sliding his tongue deep along hers. At the same time, he moves his hands to her bra and without undoing it he shoves it up over her breasts.
"I've wanted you for so long," he admits, a breathless murmur into her mouth.
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She stands over him, thighs spread as she straddles his legs. She lowers her head to kiss him and clutches his head between her hands, holding him still so she can send her tongue deep in his mouth.
"But you never did anything about it," she reminds him, her voice husky. She's not really accusing him, just stating a fact. She captures his mouth again and while she's sharing a deep, hungry kiss with him, she reaches down to grasp the base of his penis.
"God," she murmurs as she lowers herself onto him, pushing all the way down until she's seated flush against his pelvis. She contracts her pelvic muscles, squeezing tightly around him. "God," she moans again.
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But with their past lying unspoken between them for years, not knowing if Cuddy was hurt by him never calling, not wanting to know if she was hurt, not knowing if she'd reject him, he'd been too afraid to do anything about it. After all, some things are best left in the past, especially if the opportunity has long gone ( ... )
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Eventually, though, she has to move. She lets her head drop back, her back slightly arched as she rolls her hips, twisting as she does. She hums in pleasure as she feels him rubbing deep inside her, stimulating areas that have, sadly, gone too long without any attention.
"Twenty damn years of frustration and foreplay," she murmurs. She releases her hold on him and pulls off her unfastened bra. Free of restraint, her breasts sway with the movement of her hips. She gives him a taunting look and pulls his mouth to one nipple, saying, "Time to start making up for lost time."
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"Shut up," she murmurs. She gives his lower lip a little nip just to reinforce the point. He's right--he should've called if only to tell her he was leaving. He didn't, though, and nothing was going to change that. She has no interest to dwell on woulda/coulda/shoulda. She's far more interested in what he's going to do this time ( ... )
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