Summary: After House accidentally finds out his girlfriend doesn't know how to do cowgirl, he won't give up that easily until he teaches her the right way.
Pairing: Gregory House / OC
Tags: dirty talk, cowgirl, fluff, humour, Gregory-House-the-best-teacher, unusual tutoring mechanisms, House sings!! (don't ask just read the fic)
Word count: ~1,9k
my masterlist
For anon who dropped this HUGE ask in my box: I decided to go against my usual rules and do House first, Wilson is upcoming <3
The sheets were already twisted halfway off the bed, his T-shirt discarded on the floor, and her hair messy from the way he kept tugging her down to kiss him. She giggled against his mouth, pulling back just enough to breathe.
“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along his stubble.
House grunted. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Including on top of me.” He flopped back against the pillows, exhaling dramatically. “Leg’s killing me. Too tired to do all the work tonight. Ride me.”
Her smile faltered. “W–what?”
“You heard me.” His blue eyes glinted under the lamplight, lazy but sharp. “Cowgirl. You on top. Bounce a little. Easy cardio.”
She bit her lip hard enough he noticed. “Uh… no. Sorry. Can we just… do something else?”
His eyebrows climbed. “Something else? Missionary again? What a thrilling variation. Maybe if we’re feeling adventurous we could throw in… holding hands.”
She swatted at his chest, blushing furiously. “Shut up.”
But his radar for the unusual was always humming. He narrowed his gaze, tilting his head. “Why don’t you want it?”
Her throat bobbed. “I just… don’t like it. I can’t feel anything that way.”
House let out a dry laugh. “Half the world’s women would like a word with you. Last I checked, gravity and friction worked universally.”
He hooked an arm around her waist, tugging her down until she was straddling his hips without warning. Her startled yelp made him smirk. “See? Already halfway there.”
“House—” she started, but he leaned up, teeth catching her earlobe.
“Tell me the real reason,” he murmured against her skin, voice low and taunting. “Because last time I checked…” his hand slid up under her shirt, thumb brushing her nipple until it peaked, “…you were perfectly sensitive in all the right places.”
She squirmed, trying to pull back, but his grip tightened at her back. The other hand found her already damp folds, teasing slickness over his fingers before pressing one inside.
Her breath hitched. “House…”
“Uh-uh. No running away. You’re on top of me now, sweetheart. Start talking.” He curled his finger just right, and her whimper broke halfway into a moan.
Finally, she blurted it out in a rush: “I can’t do cowgirl! I don’t know how! I feel stupid and useless and clumsy and I don’t know what to do with my hips and it’s—”
“Oh.” He froze for a second. Then he laughed, incredulous. “Oh my god. That’s it? That’s the big terrifying secret?”
Her face burned. “Don’t laugh at me—”
“You’re ridiculous,” he said, and kissed her hard before pulling back with a grin. “You silly girl. That’s all? Christ, I thought you were gonna confess to some trauma or a fetish for tax accountants.”
Her shoulders sagged, mortified. “…So you’re not mad?”
“Mad? I’m turned on.” His hand slid down to grip her ass firmly, pressing her down against the thickness hardening between them. “You think I’m gonna complain about teaching you how to fuck me properly?”
She let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Really?”
“Really. Get me fully hard first.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting.
She hesitated only a moment before sliding off, tugging his boxers down. His cock sprang free, already half-erect, and she ducked her head, shy but determined.
House propped himself on his elbows, watching. “God, look at you blushing. You’re adorable. But don’t think that gets you out of doing the actual work.”
She licked him tentatively, then took him into her mouth, slow but earnest, until he groaned and let his head fall back.
“Yeah,” he muttered, voice rough. “Just like that. You keep this up, you’re gonna make me forget my lesson plan.”
When he was fully hard and throbbing against her tongue, she pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, cheeks pink. “There. Ready.”
House smirked, patting his thigh. “Congratulations. Time for Sex Ed, taught by Dr. House. Climb aboard.”
He tugged her back onto his lap with a firm hand at her waist, settling her astride him. “Relax. I don’t bite. Well, I do, but that’s not on tonight’s syllabus.”
She laughed nervously, knees pressing into the mattress, and he adjusted her thighs with surprising care. “Comfortable? Knees okay? Don’t want you suing me for joint damage.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes.
“Mm-mm.” He caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up until their gazes locked. “No hiding. If you’re gonna learn this, you’re gonna look at me while you do it.”
Her cheeks burned, but she nodded.
“Good girl,” he said, and kissed her, slow and firm, before guiding her hand down. “Take me. Line me up.”
She swallowed hard, wrapped her fingers around his cock, and positioned him at her entrance. Then, gathering her courage, she tried to sink down in one motion.
“A–ah! Ow! Ouch!” Her face pinched, and she froze.
House yanked her up immediately, hands gripping her waist. “Jesus Christ. What is this, amateur rodeo night? You trying to impale yourself and collect the insurance money?”
She buried her face in his shoulder, groaning. “Sorry! I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” He smirked, rubbing soothing circles on her hip. “Damn, silly, you really have no experience riding dick, huh? You wanna hurt yourself, keep slamming down like that.”
She gave a muffled laugh against his skin. “I told you I don’t know how…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He leaned back against the headboard, grin wicked. “Lucky for you, I’m a patient teacher. Slow this time. Like a good girl.”
She lifted herself again, trembling, and with his steady hands at her waist she sank down carefully, inch by inch. The stretch made her whimper, but when he bottomed out deep inside her, pressing against that perfect spot, she let out a sharp, shocked sound—something halfway between a sob and a moan.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my god. Did I just—”
He cut her off with a kiss, chuckling into her mouth. “Yeah, you did. And it was hot as hell.” His lips brushed her ear. “See? Feels incredible, doesn’t it?”
She nodded frantically, embarrassed, clutching at his shoulders.
“That’s it. Breathe. Now—just move up a little, then back down. Small. Easy.” His hands guided her hips in a rhythm, coaxing.
She tried, awkward at first, her pace stuttering. He grinned. “Okay, plan B. I’ll sing. You follow the rhythm.”
Her head snapped up. “No, absolutely not, you’re not—”
“Too late.” He cleared his throat dramatically and broke into an old 80s pop tune, obnoxiously steady, totally inappropriate. “Every breath you take—every move you make—”
She burst into laughter, half-mortified, half-delighted. “House, stop it—”
“Every bond you break—every step you take—I’ll be watching you,” he crooned, bouncing her gently in time with the beat, his hands pumping her hips like she was the world’s sexiest metronome.
“God, you’re insane,” she gasped, but the steady pace actually helped, her body starting to catch the groove. The friction built, slick and hot, her thighs burning but her pleasure climbing.
At some point she realized he wasn’t even holding her anymore—his hands had dropped away, resting casually on the sheets while he kept right on singing. She was moving on her own, hips rising and falling in a rhythm that made her whole body shiver.
When she whimpered, clinging tighter to his shoulders, he cut the song with a sharp smack to her ass. “Atta girl,” he growled. “Look at you. Riding me like you’ve been doing this all your life.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, mortified and overwhelmed, but he tilted her chin again. “Eyes on me. Come on, sweetheart. Let me see how good you look falling apart on my cock.”
She tried to hold his gaze, sweating, trembling, but the sensations were too much.
House smirked, voice dropping low. “So which was it, huh? You really need my help—or did you just want my undivided attention?”
Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t answer—her hips were grinding down hard, chasing that deep press that made her vision blur.
He chuckled, dirty and affectionate. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Greedy little thing.”
And then he pulled her down into another kiss, swallowing her cries as she moved faster, finally losing herself completely in the rhythm he’d set.
Her thighs trembled as she tried to keep the rhythm. Each rise felt like fire in her muscles, each drop brought that dizzying stretch, that deep, unbearable pressure that made her gasp every time he bottomed out.
House’s hands found her hips again, steadying her, but not taking control. He tilted his head back against the pillows, eyes locked on her flushed face. “That’s it. Christ, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”
She whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders for balance.
“Keep going,” he urged, voice sharp and low. “Don’t you dare stop now. You’ve got me right where you want me. Use it.”
Her pace faltered, breath catching. “I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” He grinned, wicked and soft at once. “You’re riding me like a natural. You feel that? That sweet spot? Keep hitting it.” He shifted his hips just enough, angling himself so that every drop down rubbed her exactly there.
Her cry was loud, raw, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified.
House laughed, catching her wrist and dragging it away. “Nope. None of that. Let me hear you. That noise—” he snapped his hips up once, hard, making her choke on another sound, “—that’s the best part.”
She was trembling, sweat dampening her hairline, but she kept moving, driven by his dirty encouragement.
“That’s my girl,” he rasped, slapping her ass again, gentler this time. “Thought you were useless? Look at you. Making yourself come on my cock. Fucking incredible.”
Her head fell back, a broken moan spilling from her lips as she bounced harder, desperate. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, murmuring filth between every touch.
“Take what you need. Don’t stop till you break for me. I’ve got you.”
The tight coil inside her snapped all at once, and she cried out, shuddering violently as her orgasm rolled through her. Her hips jerked and faltered, but House held her steady, riding out every tremor, kissing her fiercely while she collapsed against him.
He groaned into her mouth as he followed, spilling hot inside her, gripping her back hard enough to bruise. His rhythm stuttered, then stilled, both of them panting into the quiet.
She slumped onto his chest, boneless, her hair sticking to his skin. For once, he didn’t say anything right away—just stroked her back, pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
When her breathing finally slowed, he muttered, deadpan, “Congratulations. You’ve officially unlocked a new skill.”
She laughed weakly, hiding her face against him. “Don’t make fun of me…”
“Fun? I’m serious.” He smirked, carding his fingers through her hair. “Proper consolidation’s key to learning anything new. Which means…” He kissed the top of her head again. “…cowgirl is the only way we’re having sex for the next week. Minimum.”
Her muffled groan against his chest made him chuckle. “Hey, don’t pout. Think of it as physical therapy. Doctor’s orders.”
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