A Prank Too Far

Another short chapter for this one but there is smut and funnies so I thought you’d all like that. I’ve updated, I know, shock horror.

Get over it.

Somebody did comment that this is marked as complete in one of my other older fictions when I talk about it in the author’s note but that was back when it was the original.

THIS IS THE REWRITE.

And since I lost the original when my computer suffered from a Vulcan mindwipe I’m now remaking this one up as I go along but I am a better writer and Tawny is no longer a Mary Sue so all is well and I should be safe from the flames…if not I have flames of my own…you have been warned.

Review me!!

Ciaoooooooo.

Chapter 16: Unconventional Diagnosis


House stared at it. What the hell was wrong with her?

“House?”

House started at her voice calling to him from the other room. He stuffed the mail together and crammed it back into the drawer of the desk before canting it back onto a reasonable angle that may or may not have resulted in it falling all over the place again. He gripped his cane and hauled himself to his feet, ignoring the throbbing twinge in his thigh, he went to find her. Limping along the corridor to her bedroom he popped his head around the door and affected an apathetic air.

“Yeah?” He spoke slowly and let his eyes wander over her. Any thoughts of differential diagnosis were abruptly halted as she sat up and smiled almost shyly at him. It was beyond him how she could be shy after the incident in the hallway last night, or the one on the dining room table, or over the back of the couch or even here in the queen size bed that was still too small for his ranging frame.

“I thought you’d…” She looked away. “Never mind.”

“Gone?” He smirked and ambled into the room, limping around the foot of the bed to stand between her and the sunlight streaming in through the window. “Not likely, I’m waiting for you to cook me breakfast.”

“You slept in my bed and you want me to cook for you too?” She asked archly and shifted the sheet at her chest so that she could tuck it under her arms. House did not approve. He’d spent last night ogling her whenever he had pleased, he wasn’t impressed with the idea of chastity at all.

“Don’t recall doing much sleeping.” He smirked at her and crawled onto the bed, looming over her. He was in his jeans and tee shirt but she was still handily naked. He watched her reactions, timing them, let the diagnosis begin. Her cheeks flushed first, the stain travelling down her throat and chest a little, her pupils dilated at his nearness, her breath caught and her heart rate skipped higher. He measured that by the thrumming pulse in the hollow of her throat. She licked her lips, tilting her head back for him as he dropped a kiss on her lips. She moaned and kissed him back harder. Was this aggression a symptom from the drugs she was on, her mystery illness or did she just think he was a stud?

Her arms looped around his neck and she pulled him down on top of her, reclining amongst the pillows on a sigh and undulating her body up against his through the thin silk of her sheet. His hands slid over her skin, pulling the sheet down and out of the way. He stroked his fingers over her, noting the way her skin prickled at the sensations he elicited from her in time with her gasps and mewls of pleasure. He kissed his way along her jaw line, down over her throat and biting choice areas, causing her to twitch and gasp. Reflexes were fine too it seemed.

“House…” She gripped his tee shirt in both hands and House jerked when her fingers pulled and the material split under her hold. She literally ripped the shirt from his back and chuckled low in her throat in satisfaction when she peeled it from him and smoothed her hands over his chest. “You’re taking too damn long.” She told him breathlessly and House tried to measure her respiration while keeping a thin control over his own.

“What? Now we don’t like foreplay?” He asked her. She couldn’t stand the stimulation? That could be a symptom of…of…oh God why was she doing that thing with her tongue now? House’s brain shuddered to a halt and his hips bucked against hers before he could help himself.

“Foreplay’s fine, but I want you naked and inside me right now.” House moaned in surrender, forgetting his differential, when she shoved at his shoulders and rolled her hips, expertly flipping him under her. Her thighs clenched over his hips and she wriggled down against him with a wicked smirk tugging her kiss swollen lips. Her hands made short work of his belt buckle, whipping the leather away to clank against her dresser and knock something to floor, the snap of his jeans was next and his zipper snarled weakly under her onslaught. Her little hand delved inside the denim and wrapped around him, he hadn’t bothered with his shorts and, as a result, he was more than ready to buck his hips up under her hand.

“Cuddy…” He warned her on a growl.

“I thought you liked foreplay.” She grinned down at him and stroked her fist down with a twist of her wrist that had him squirming. “Besides, that’s not my name.” She leant forward, stroking him slowly up and down, her thumb swirling over the dripping tip of his cock. House gasped under her even as she spoke with a teasing lilt to her throaty voice. “Say my name, Greg.”

“You’re asking for it, Lisa.” He gasped back to her and she just chuckled down at him. Confidant in her control.

“I am, but can you deliver?” She brought her finger to her lips, a droplet of his pre-cum glistening on the tip. She lapped it away slowly and hummed in the back of her throat like she’d just been given an exquisite treat to taste.

It was House’s undoing.

He pounced on her, shoving her backwards and flipping her around so she was splayed under him, her back to his chest. She wriggled under him, not happy at not being able to see him, but he didn’t care. Snagging a pillow, he stuffed it under her twisting hips and kicked his way out of his jeans. Flicking the denim of the side of the bed with a contemptuous movement from one foot. He buried his hand in her hair and turned her head to an angle that forced her to arch her back, her ass pressing up and back against his throbbing cock.

He hissed in pleasure and rotated his hips against the lush curves of her backside. She moaned when his cock trailed lower, brushing over her creamy sex. Slipping just inside her in a torturous teasing that she loved almost as much as the act that followed. His free hand directed hers to wrap around the wrought iron bed frame and anchor herself there. He nudged her legs apart and used another pillow to raise her hips to the perfect height for his fucking. He turned her head a little more, looming over her, and took her mouth at exactly the same time as he thrust into her with his cock. He swallowed her scream and took the bite she delivered to his lip in good humour.

Taking a woman from behind was never easy with his leg and he usually refrained, but with Cuddy he just couldn’t resist being able to see her fantastic ass while he rammed himself deep inside her. Besides, any pain from his throbbing leg was just blending from the pleasure of being buried inside her and twisting him up towards a higher level of nirvana. He released her hair in favour of gripping her hips and hauling her backwards every time he thrust forward.

She was close, he could tell by the twisting arch of her spine, the mewling gasping noises she was making and by the way his moaned name was leaking from her lips. Her knuckles had whitened on the bed frame and she was pushing back to meet every one of his thrusts. Her ass sliding against his hips and her inner muscles clamping down on him like molten velvet.

God, he couldn’t last much longer.

His hand slid around her hip and between her thighs. A gentleman never came first and the bedroom was the one place where House endeavoured to be better mannered than everyone else. His fingers slid over where they were joined and she keened her approval at that. He circled her clit in the way he knew she loved and watched her back bow. She thrashed under him so hard that she caused the bed frame to rattle under her hold. Another swirl of his fingers, another buck of his hips and nip of his teeth and they were in it.

She screamed and twisted under him, he bellowed against her shoulder and exploded inside her. Her spasms milked his twitching cock and he rested his forehead against the plane of one of her shoulders. His breath gusting hot and dry against her sweat slicked skin.

“So,” he panted, “was it good for you?”

She groaned and shivered with a small chuckle under his weight. He rolled them both to the side and wrapped his arm around her waist. They quieted together and House let various facts roll through his head. Like the fact that he had forgotten all about his diagnosis in the heat of the moment (or woman as the case was), that he had forgotten to use a condom again (and House never forgot) and the fact that he was quite content to just lie here for the rest of the day. Even if his leg was getting stiff and in need of a little vicodin. He decided that he could deal with the first and the last items on his list but the contraception shouldn’t be too much of a problem since she shouldn’t be ovulating yet and the contentment would probably disappear on its own if given enough time.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, taking on his first task once more. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked her over. She was relaxed and sated, a little dazed, the best time to get answers from her.

“Post coital.” She murmured into the arm that she was using as a pillow. “Don’t ruin it for me.”

“You don’t feel any…light headedness? Nausea? Disorientation?” Neurological symptoms were a good start he felt.

“House, you’re not that good or even that bad.” She mumbled again.

“No, joint pain, muscle spasms or cramps?” He couldn’t drop it.

“House, the only muscle spasms I’ve recently suffered have been my keagals shaking hands with your cock and what the hell is with the twenty questions?!” She braced herself up on one arm and rolled over to glare at him.

“You’re sick.” He told her bluntly.

“No, I’m drugged and horny, slight difference.” She snapped at him and sat up.

“No, you have a medical information pack in your mail. From one of the more expensive clinics on the upper east side. Some place that only your medical insurance would cover. Care to share?” He levelled himself up on his elbows, completely uncaring that he was naked even when she was pulling on her silky dressing gown. It covered her from neck to ankle and House couldn’t really bring himself to feel pleased about that. She whirled on him, anger evident on every line of her face.

“You went through my mail?!”

“No…”

“I don’t even want to hear it!” She cut him off sharply. “I don’t care what stupid justification you’ve given yourself, House.” She stooped and grabbed up his jeans, tossing them at him so hard that the belt buckle smacked him hard enough on the nose to raise a welt. “You’ve gone too far. That was private. Remember ‘privacy’, House?” She was yelling now, really pissed at him and House was too busy trying to figure out why she was so upset to realise that she had effectively chased him from the bed and was backing him down the corridor, throwing his clothes at him as she went.

“That’s it. I was an idiot to think that I could trust you. This is over.” His blazer flopped over his head and he scrabbled to hold it along with the growing pile of clothing in his arms as he hobbled backwards. His back hit the front door. “No more late night visits, no more sex, no more nothing!” She spat at him.

“Cuddy, I didn’t even…”

“One more word and you’ll be in clinic until you collect social security!” She levelled a threatening finger at him and then shoved him out the way, yanking open the front door. House had a sudden bad feeling about where this was headed.

“Cuddy, be reasonable…”

“REASONABLE?!” She shrieked at him. “Let’s see how fucking reasonable you feel after you’ve been drugged, fucked and snooped on by the worst employee in your hospital. Let’s see how reasonable things seem then, huh?” She shoved hard at his chest and House went sprawling on her porch. “And DON’T come back!”

The door slammed hard enough to echo down the street.

House lay there, dumbfounded at having being thrown out of a house by a woman that weighed about half of what he did, and naked at that. He gathered himself and hauled himself to his feet before hammering on her door. She’d come to her senses. So, she was a little pissed, hormonal was to be expected with the nympho cocktail she’d been given. He rapped hard on the door with his fist and tried to hide behind the ivy surrounding her front door. The evening air was a little drafty in his undressed state to say the least.

“Come on, Lisa, I don’t even have my cane!” He shouted after the third round of knocking and looking plant like.

The door opened and he smiled, he knew that…

WHACK!

“Ow!” House rubbed at his head where his cane had walloped him as it had been thrown out the door. A small orange bottle whistled through the air and struck him square on the chest before falling into his palm.

The door slammed shut once more and House was left there wearing nothing but a cane, a vicodin bottle and a rather confused expression.

This could be problematic.


TBC...