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He thinks about everything that's wrong with what he's doing, but he doesn't care. He can hear his friends on the streets razzing him about white pussy and he can hear the snobs in medical school who gave him shit telling him that fucking is the only way his black ass is going to be on top and he can hear House jeering in his ears that he should have more respect for himself, but while he's at it, can he get them all a good shot of Cuddy to use against her when it comes to clinic hours. He thinks about those things, but not when he's pushing inside her, her skin paler than normal against the darkness of his skin. He watches her watch him slide into her as she bites her lip to keep from saying a word. What he doesn't know is how they ended up here with her high heels digging into his ass and his lab coat floating around them as he fucks her on the table in exam room two, consults and bitching about House forgotten as he fucks her hard and fast and hungry. She tastes like power and he likes the taste of it, which is why he fucks her, and she tastes like humanity which is why hates himself afterwards. They've been doing this for a month now since the night of the Christmas party when they kissed under the mistletoe and crushed the holly that wreathed the edge of her desk - once or twice a week at least - and he sees the look in her eyes and he wonders why she's doing it as well. He has a feeling he knows deep down, and he wants it to hurt as he fingers her clit, blocking her view of his cock and thrusting harder to make up for it. She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and he knows she's close. She grabs his tie and pulls him down on her and licks the sweat off his upper lip before thrusting her tongue in his mouth. His groan is lost in her kiss and he can taste the triumph as they both come, though he's not sure whose is bitter and whose is sweet. But that's another reason why he fucks her.
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