Sensory
by Ticcy

She's everything House remembers her to be.

Hard kisses, gentle touches, demanding mouth, knowing smiles against his lips. It's almost too perfect, he thinks as he runs his hands up her stomach to her breasts. This. Them. He cranes his neck up from the pillow as Cuddy grasps his head, and he latches his mouth on her nipple. She lets out a sharp gasp, throws her head back, slides her clit along his penis. She's wet and warm and he rocks his hips back up against her, moving across to her other nipple. When he pulls back with an audible suck, he looks up at her and sees her looking right back down at him, her hair falling down around her face. He smiles at the smile she gives him. Too perfect, he thinks. Definitely too perfect.

But that doesn't stop him from shifting up onto his elbows, arching his chin up to meet her lips. Cuddy meets him halfway, all tongue and teeth and sucks until he's almost dizzy from the intense kiss. She pushes him back down and he runs his hands up her thighs as she kneels up to guide him into her. Slow and sweet and tight. She utters a helpless groan, followed by a gasped, "God, that feels good."

She doesn't waste any time. With her hands braced on his chest, she starts moving, sliding up and down him in short, steady motions. The room is dark save for the faint glow of the streetlights outside, but he can see her staring down at him, watching him. He touches her everywhere he can - her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and he closes his eyes when her hands cup his face. Too perfect. Almost surreal. And yet exactly what he's wanted for so long. Cuddy. Her. Them.

She starts moving faster, a little harder, obscenely wet noises coming from where their bodies are joined. Her hands find his and their fingers lace together, Cuddy pushing against him while he pushes back, providing a counterbalance while she rocks her hips more frantically. He sees strands of her hair stick to her forehead and feels a trickle of sweat pooling on his chest. "House," she groans, tipping her head back. Harder, faster, skin slapping against skin. Soon, she's coming, gasping aloud with every pulse of her orgasm. He watches in awe until she's bent over him, forehead pressed to his.

He falls into a desperate kiss, rolling with Cuddy until he's on top, buried deep inside and moving in long, powerful strokes. Cuddy hitches her legs up around his waist and cries out with her head arched against the pillows. He feels her hands on his ass, urging him to go deeper and harder until he can't hold back anymore, muffling her name into the side of her neck while he comes. He slows to a stop, sweaty and trembling, and Cuddy presses kisses to his cheek and his temple before soothingly stroking her hands up his back and into his hair. "I love you," he hears her whisper.

He answers by finding her mouth with his and kissing her hard. He keeps kissing her and kissing her until he needs space to breathe. He rolls to his back with a satisfied moan and smiles to himself as Cuddy cuddles up to his side. "I'm glad you stayed," he tells her.

"Shh," is all she says. "It's time to sleep now." And for once, he does as he's told, his eyes sliding shut as sleep quickly takes over.

She's gone when he wakes up the next morning. He's surprised at first, confused, a little disappointed. It's as though she was never here. He should've known it was too perfect. But that's okay - he can live with that. He's a free man now - detoxed, clean, loved. He enters the bathroom and spies the lipstick on his cheek in the reflection of the mirror; a smudge from one of Cuddy's many passionate kisses. He traces his fingers down over his lips, then looks down and sees her lipstick standing on the counter.

He picks it up and smiles.

end