Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: I have no idea. Gave this a try. First time writing anything House.
Summary: Perfect is almost what this feels like. Post Wilson's Heart; Cuddy/Thirteen
Naturally, We Fall Together
Perfect is almost what this feels like, which is silly because you don't believe in perfect. You never have. Nothing is ever perfect, but . . .perfect is almost what this feels like. It's almost perfect.
Almost; she's your superior. Almost; you weren't really friends before this. Almost; there's no turning back now.
She's much more patient than you expected. She doesn't demonstrate much patience with House, or at the clinic, or with House, but she's the shining example of resignation here. She allows you to map out her body, catalog every detail. You wonder if this surrender of control is out of pity; to grant you some sort of power over this world and the fates. You wonder why you care.
Her touch is floating, barely there, yet it leaves you yearning inside. You want more, but you don't need more. You need this; you need her to be gentle and soothing. You want her to pour her absolute self into the act, even if she has no viable right to do so.
You want to be loved and she's doing that. You do feel loved, but is your thirst so great that it clouds your judgement? Lisa Cuddy can't love you. She doesn't know you. You still don't know why she kissed you first.
You fall back to earth; sweat the only barrier between your bodies. She gazes down at you; patience. You don't have any. You force her to kiss you; kiss with a mania and rage you weren't aware existed within you until now.
You don't have to force it, though. She does kiss you. She matches that inner turmoil. Hell, she exceeds it. You have been a fool, no? You thought you were using her for release. She's been using you too.
Amber Coma Wilson Huntington's House
Lisa Cuddy can't love you; you can't love her. Perfect.
Perfect is almost what this feels like.