Dec. 17th, 2007

alex_kingston: (smileeeee)
Title: Near You Always
Chapter: Oneshot. Songfic.
Word Count: 2,071
Pairings: House/Cuddy
Rating: R (for language, mentions of the horizontal tango and just general adult themes)
Disclaimer: If House or Cuddy belonged to me this songfic would be reality. Jewel's  "Near You Always" is not mine. If it were, i'd be going on a world tour. HEHEHE!

Summary: Cuddy pushes him away every single time but truly she doesn't want to let go. She's more afraid when he actually wants her.

Author's Note: I've been slowly making a Huddy! playlist for my ipod. I call it HuddyGasm. hehe. and i always thought this song was perfect Cuddy POV. while on the bus yesterday it came on my ipod and bam! INSPIRATION! the rest as they say it is HERstory. Hope you guys enjoy and feedback is GREATLY WANTED!



Please don't say I love you

Those words touch me much too deeply
And they make my core tremble
Don’t think you realize the effect you have over me



“You have a great rack,” he says and you smile not offended by his candor. You know it’s his way of telling you that he enjoys having sex with you.


“Tonight was good,” you say it softly, a confession you don’t really want to express.


“GOOD?!” he rises from his place and looks down at you, disbelieving, as you lie there beside him nonchalantly, “Just GOOD?! Come on, Cuddy. That was EXCEPTIONAL and considering I’m a cripple that was FUCKING AMAZING!”


You laugh slightly at his outburst. You slip your fingers behind his neck and pull him closer to you.


“It was fucking amazing. Okay?”


“Now that’s more like it.” He dips in and kisses you softly and you feel the sudden change in your dynamics with him and you start to panic. He looks at you now, not saying a word and you feel your own voice caught in your throat.


The sex was really fucking amazing. You kept it random where your trysts with him always began with too much alcohol by yourself and then calling him in the middle of the night to come over. He would come and the both of you wouldn’t bother to make small talk. He would grab you and kiss you even before you could close the door. There were nights when you felt like screaming his name at the top of your lungs as he makes you come with his tongue and then later he fucks you with a hunger that surpasses anything you’ve ever felt and the soreness you feel in your thighs the next day makes you crave him even more. But you don’t scream his name. You never could allow yourself that because the thing that frightens you the most is that you don’t even have to have sex with him. You just crave his presence.


He was the first man you ever fell in love with. He was probably going to be the last. But that didn’t mean you had to admit it to anyone else, especially him. He had caught you in a tango; a dance he and you perfected over twenty years that secretly the two of you never wanted to end. For the dance to continue, you knew you had to move forward a little, glide across the dance floor with him but then move so far back, he had to come and chase after you all over again.


But you feel it tonight. The thing you dread the most – change. You don’t know anything else but the tango you dance and you don’t want to learn new moves. But his stare burns on your skin. You see the affection glazing over his eyes and you see his mouth open to speak but he shuts it almost immediately. But you know what he wants to say. You know.


The emotional, feminine side of you is jumping up for joy, doing a celebratory dance but the pragmatic side of you is crying in fear, fear that you’ll lose him. You know how he feels for you. Hoorah! But you also know the only reason he’s allowed himself to love you is because you never show him that you need him. You are his current puzzle and you don’t know how long it’ll last before you break the spell you have on him and he’ll realize that you need him so much that your heart clenches at the mere mention of his name.


So, you slide your fingers away from the soft hairs at the back of his neck and you move to get up, grabbing your robe from the floor and you head to the living room. You hear him fumbling for his boxers and his crumpled t-shirt. A couple of minutes later he plops down beside you on the couch.


“House, don’t. I think you should just go,” you say with as much strength as you can muster but your voice trembles in a whisper. This should be the happiest day of your life but you feel like someone has punched you hard in the stomach.


“What?” he looks at you, puzzled.


“I know what you’re trying to say. Don’t say it. Don’t even hint at it.”




And please don't look at me like that
It just makes me want to make you near me
Always...


For a moment, you see a wounded expression cross over his face. But it immediately disappears and he looks at you, analyzing every aspect of your face, the sleek stubborn lines of your jaw, the arrogant, high cheekbones and the way your eyes avert downwards. You wait for his comeback, the cover up he needs to use to dodge from looking like a fool. But it doesn’t come. He just looks at you.


You feel so many emotions palpitating in your chest as you feel his warm arms shrouding around you like a cape. You let him pull you closer just then but jerk his hands off before you could melt into the embrace.



And please don't kiss me so sweet
It makes me crave a thousand kisses to follow
And please don't touch me like that
Makes every other embrace seem pale and shallow
And please don't come so close
It just makes me want to make you near me
Always...


You have tried for twenty years to keep him at arm’s length. You failed the first year you knew him. He was entangled with everything around you. He was your drug. But you ended it before he could break your heart. You don’t see him again for a long time and you feel better for it though a part of you would always feel empty.


The next time you see him, he has Stacy draped beside him and you thank the powers that be. But you curse yourself every night because you know that had you stayed he could love you more than he could ever love Stacy. The two of you hid behind the façade that he was with Stacy and you could never be with someone who was already taken. But then Stacy left and it was only natural that you would end up in his bed. That morning as you left his apartment smiling, you realize the dance you started with him was starting again. Your smile has faded by the time you’re home and you end up taking a sick day, choosing to curl up in bed, wallowing in thoughts of the past and what the future may hold.


But now everything is much more than what you had expected. The pace of the dance is too fast and the music is deafening. He puts his arm around you again and pulls you closer, his grip tighter this time. He takes in the scent of your hair and kisses your forehead and the moment you tilt your head up to look at him, he swoops down in one move and captures your lips in a tingling kiss; a different kiss from what the two of you have shared before. You try to resist but you can’t stop yourself from kissing him back - tongues, lips, everything – and you kid yourself that the two of you were fucking on the couch. But you know that the dance is no longer technical lust. It’s passion over and over again.




And please don't bring me flowers
They only whisper the sweet things you’d say
And don't try to understand me
Your hands already know too much anyway
It makes me want to make you near me
Always...


“What’s this?” you ask him as he storms into your office uninvited, pointing to the large bouquet of flowers on the coffee table.


“Ummm… if I’m not wrong Doctor Cuddy these are what the peasants call flowers,” he answers in his typical manner.


“And why are you giving them to me?” you ask again.


“What makes you think they’re from me?” he asks stubbornly.


“Whatever it is, I hope the person will stop because he’s not getting anything for it.”


“I know your game. You need me to stay as far away from you as possible so you won’t go insane. But at night you need me beside you because sex with me is fun and that’s the only time you allow yourself to let go. I’ll definitely get something out of it but I’m not sure which one I’ll get – Cuddy or Lisa.” With that he turns around and leaves you stumped and infuriated.


He loves psychoanalyzing you because you’re strong, opinionated and yet reserved and shy. You try so hard to be distant, never showing any sign of emotion, but he breaks it down every single time. He knows almost everything about you and you try to erase whatever else he can find out. But there is this little part of you that can’t help but want to give yourself to him wholly. Your nagging fear stops you from jumping off the cliff every time.




And when you look in my eyes
Please know my heart is in your hands
It’s nothing that I understand


You see the rose lying on your bed. No card, no note, nothing but you grasp what it means and the redness of it’s stark against the pale sheets. His scent lingers around your room and you just lay yourself on the bed, not bothering to change first. You shed a tear because you can’t fight it anymore. It exhausts you so much that you just feel like taking the plunge.


You don’t even understand why you’re crying. Women crave to fall in love, to have someone love them back. You have that now. You know it. It dawns on you that if you don’t take this now, you’ll end up seeing him after ten years, someone else draped beside him.


You pick up the phone beside your bed and make a quick work of his numbers. The dial tone resonates through your ears as the tension builds up within you. You hear his gruff voice picking up the phone with disdain and you almost slam yours down. But you muster up as much courage as you can and you speak gently into the phone because that’s the best you can do without bursting into tears.


“It’s me. Lisa…”



But when in your arms you have complete power over me
So be gentle if you please
Cause your hands are in my hair but my heart is in your teeth baby
It makes me want to make you near me
Always..


You remember this dance clearly in your mind. It happened once twenty years ago and you never forget the steps. The moves, the twirls, the way his hand stays firm on your hips, pulling you in closer for that one exquisite dip. You trust him completely this time and you let him lead. He keeps your skin on his at all time. His brazen lips shower you with kisses up your neck and you wish time could stop for the both of you. He anchors his hand through your hair and draws you in, his lips meeting yours unabashedly. Lingeringly he maneuvers his lips over yours and you respond with everything you have burning inside of you.


Your fear creeps up on you again as you feel the dance shifting tempo. He senses this. Maybe you have a worried expression on your face. He looks at you just then and whispers something in a language you can’t understand. But his tone is captivating, assuring you that he wasn’t going anywhere. Before it was a scripted dance, and his only possession was your body. You gave him everything somewhere along the line and you didn’t even realize it. He has you now, all of you and the new moves you never wanted to learn come to you so naturally.


You know it would be cheesy to scream your love for him as you feel the orgasm hit you hard. But then you recognize you never had to in the first place. He already knew. So instead you lie on his chest and allow him to pull you closer. The tango is almost complete.


Tenderly, he breathes, “Lisa.”


That’s all he has to say.


- Fin. -

THANK YOU FOR READING! Comments? Thoughts? Or just lots of love to share?  Clickety  Click!

August 2009

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