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  Appetites and incentives 
 by snark_bait and phineyj  

 Cuddy

House and I didn't go to Baltimore today, because they rang and cancelled.
If they hadn't called it off themselves, I would have had to anyway. One
of our supplies people got caught by audit with his fingers in the
register earlier this week, and it's been all I can do to deal with the
fall out. I had no idea there was so much profit to be made in knocking
off antibacterial soap and bulk toilet tissue deliveries, I muse, as I
check over the figures audit have sent me. 

I'm tired, grouchy and hungry. I've been here since six this morning. It's
now nearly 9pm, and the sum total of what I've eaten is a chicken sandwich
my secretary dropped off for me around midday, and a half packet of
chocolate chip cookies I remembered I had in my desk drawer about an hour
ago.

Things have been awkward with House since last weekend. Neither of us were
quite ready for that, it seems. I think he's probably forgiven me for
giving him a shave; I was astounded to notice this morning that he'd
shaved again. I'm not so sure he's forgiven me for putting him in a
vulnerable position. He likes to pretend he doesn't trust anybody, but you
know, he does trust me, but he doesn't like that I know it. 

Since we've been sleeping together, I find I'm thinking more and more of
the Greg House I knew before the infarction. He was witty, cynical and
could be challenging company, but he wasn't bitter. The facial scruff may
only be the surface manifestation of the cobwebs he's allowed to grow over
some of the vital aspects of his personality, but it was a place to start.
I don't want to change him. I just think he's forgotten who he used to be,
and there's no-one around but me who remembers. Well, maybe Wilson, but I
don't think he's got the energy right now to take House on.

My thoughts are interrupted by the insistent bleeping of my pager. It's
shift change time, and I assume it's going to be some medical issue
someone wants me to sort out. But it's not; the message just says, "Meet
me on the roof, G."

I think about ignoring it, but in spite of myself, I'm intrigued. I didn't
know he still went up there. The elevator only reaches as far as the floor
below, so he'd have to really want to do it to climb the dozen stairs or
so up there. 

When I open the door to the roof, I can't immediately see him, and for a
second I enjoy the remnants of a vividly-colored sunset. I haven't been up
to the roof for years, and I'd forgotten how attractive Princeton looks
from up here. I go over to the balustrade, and I'm just looking to see if
I can recognize my road, when I hear familiar footsteps behind me. 

"You look like you're planning world domination," he comments, and moves
up behind me, putting his arms around me and hooking his chin over my
shoulder. This affection is new. 

"I don't think," I reply, "Running this hospital is stressful enough."

"You shaved," I say, turning so I can run a hand over the smooth surface
of his chin. 

"Yeah," he says, "I'm trying to confuse my team. Do you know they think
I've got a girlfriend?"

I look at him and smile.

"Do you think they're right?"

"I don't know," he says, an expression of deep thought on his face, "I
keep having these insistent sexual fantasies about my boss."

"Ah, okay. Do they involve trains? Or is it still desks?"

He looks at me, and shakes his head, "Turns out the logistics are a bit
complicated. Roofs are way more sexy; it's the moody lighting. And all
this fresh air's supposed to be healthy."

"Oh, well, if it's good for us..." 

I move in so I can kiss him. He responds instantly and enthusiastically,
and I think that maybe I'm not the only one who's started to need this. He
drops his head down so he can kiss my neck, and I reflect that it's going
to make a change not to have stubble burn tomorrow. Meanwhile, his warm
hands are moving up under my top, where they pause for a second, while he
figures out that this bra undoes at the front. 

At the back of my mind, I'm worrying a little about the fact that anyone
could wander up here and see us, but as the fingers of his left hand start
to work at my nipples, while his right starts to wander up under my skirt,
I find it's quite easy just to focus on sensation and let the rest go.

Then, both his hands are on my hips, and he moves back from me, braces
himself against the wall and hoists me onto the smooth stone surface of
the balustrade, so I'm suddenly on his eye level. 

"Just so you know, no-one's going to be on their knees tonight," he says,
warningly, "That was a strictly one-time only deal."

"Okay," I say, laughing, "I'm going to bear that in mind next time we find
ourselves in a fancy restaurant," and I lean in and kiss him again,
wrapping my legs around him. He reaches up under my skirt, and grabs hold
of my panties, grunting in approval, presumably because they're soaking
wet. I lift myself up off the wall enough that he can remove them, and he
dumps them unceremoniously next to me. 

I get him out of his jeans; he's already hard, so I slide to the front of
the wall, and he enters me, wrapping his arms around me as he does. The
wall is scratchy and cold under my ass, and I'm trying not to think about
the sheer drop behind me to the parking lot. We lock eyes as he starts to
move, and I know, which I always have done, that this isn't just screwing.
It never has been. On the surface, it's kind of a game, to see how far the
other one will go - neither one of us is known for backing down in the
face of a challenge - but it's also a statement of something; something
which neither of us knows how to put into words. 

So here we are, me and Greg, fucking outside on the roof of my hospital,
in fall temperatures, and it feels good. And when he increases his speed
and says, "Come on, let's see if there's an echo," I feel the first
stirrings of my climax, and it's like a race to see who can get there
first. I win, by a matter of seconds, and for a few moments, we're quiet,
him still inside me, while our breathing calms down and we both realize
that we're going to have to move before we stick to the spot.

I jump down off the wall, my legs still slightly wobbly and House scoops
up my panties with the end of his cane, and hands them to me. What a
gentleman. He's leaning back against the balustrade, still breathing
heavily, and rubbing his right thigh with his hand. I feel briefly guilty,
but then, it was his idea in the first place. He pops a Vicodin and
glances at his watch, and a flash of annoyance goes through me, because
where else does he have to be?

Suddenly, the fire escape door bangs open, and I feel overwhelmingly
relieved that I'm basically fully dressed, even if I'm completely sweaty
and crumpled. House gets to his feet, not surprised in the slightest, and
limps over to meet the visitor. Who turns out to be the delivery boy from
the Golden Palace Chinese takeaway down the road; he's out of breath from
climbing the stairs. The boy hands a carrier bag over to House. He reaches
into to his pocket and hands some bills over, while I wonder how much
extra he had to pay to get the poor guy all the way up here.

"I thought I should feed all your appetites," House says, with a smirk, as
the door closes behind the delivery guy.

I say nothing, because I'm too busy tearing into the packages to find the
Kung Po chicken which I hope will be in there. It is, and I marvel at the
fact House actually remembers my takeaway food preferences so many years
on. And as we sit on two old plastic chairs eating our food with
disposable forks, night-time Princeton spread out below us and the velvety
sky above, it feels just like we're students again.

------

House

"This is your fault," I spit angrily at Cuddy as I pass her on the way to
the locker room.

She gives me a quick, bewildered, once over but doesn't say anything.

I don't wait for a reply, and I don't get one.

I'm angry because a forty year old drunk who sprained his ankle while out
- being drunk - just puked up all over me.

I am not amused.

More fool me for helping Cuddy out and covering for some other doctor, who
had he been here, would have caught the Technicolor yawn fest instead of
me.

This is the only favor I ever do her; bribery will not work, regardless of
the fact that the blowjob she gave me before we left this morning in
exchange for my compliance, was very nice.

Just not worth getting puked on.

Or was it? Damn, it's actually too close to call; she's pretty good at it,
and she only seems to go down on me when she wants something these days. I
may have to finalize this decision later.

It is her fault though, and the drunken bastard passed out before I could
yell at him, so I needed to vent at someone.

It stinks bad enough that I'm struggling to hold onto my lunch.

I slam the locker room door and lock it. Strip my blue slash barf colored
shirt off and launch it angrily at the trash can.

It misses, hits Foreman's locker and leaves a spattering of vomit on the
door before sliding to the floor.

Well, I'm certainly not cleaning that off there.

I look down and I'm glad my jeans seem to have escaped unscathed and barf
free, so I sit down and take them off, along with the rest of my clothes
and then get into the shower.

I turn the temperature right up, grab the shower gel, and empty about half
of it onto my hand and rub it where any potential puke may have gone.

I don't hear the lock to the door click open, I don't hear the hinges
creak when the door opens and closes, and I'm not aware of Cuddy's
presence in the room until she says "Hey," towards my back as I'm washing
my hair.

Jesus Christ - I nearly have a heart attack.

I spin around in fright and open my eyes, which of course, become clogged
up instantly with soap, so now I'm blinded.

"What the hell Cuddy - how did you get in here?" I curse at her; while
simultaneously trying to wipe the soap from my eyes.

"I have a key to every room in the hospital, you moron, what the hell is
wrong with you? It's a bit of vomit, get over it," she says glibly. 

"No, it's gross and it wasn't destined to be on me, it was destined to go
to Dr...whoever was supposed to be on clinic duty instead of me."

"You took the bribe, so don't bitch about it now," she replies calmly.

I hate that tone of voice she uses, like I'm a teenage troublemaker. I
didn't ask to get puked on, nor did I go out of my way to achieve it. 

"Well consider it the last favor I ever do for you," I inform her
grumpily. 

"Fine," she says resignedly. I finally manage to clear the soap out of my
eyes so I can scowl at her.

"Consider that the last blowjob you get from me then," she says with a
smirk, probably because I'm pouting and she finds it amusing.

"You're sadistic, you get pleasure out of seeing me unhappy," I say, and
then turn my naked ass towards her, with the suggestion that she can kiss
it.

"Right, I find nothing more enjoyable that watching you suffer, it brings
me endless joy and happiness," she drawls sarcastically. "Grow up," she
adds.

Well I'm not taking that, I turn around, grab the shower head quickly and
flick it forward so water gets her all down her back as she attempts to
retreat. 

It's amazing how much better this makes me feel. She stops and places her
hands on her hips.

"You are a complete child, I cannot believe you just did that," she says.
She gives a little pissed off head shake and then turns around, just as I
do it again and get her all down her front.

I laugh at her and shake my head. 

"And I can't believe you turned around so I could so it again," I say
happily, as I replace the shower head and make sure all of the shampoo is
out of my hair. 

A look crosses into her features, like she's pissed off but like she's
also trying not to laugh. She nods her head very slowly and her eyes slide
to the corner of the room and become narrowed. She smirks at me. I can't
quite see what she's looking at. Then, she disappears and I hear her open
one of the lockers.

I crane my neck around the shower door and see it's mine; she has my fresh
set of jeans in one hand and the ones I just took off in the other. She
casually walks over to the sink and drops them in.

"Cuddy," I warn, but she turns the water on and drenches both sets.

"See, I can be a child too, fun isn't it?"

"You are a genius, I don't have another set," I inform her angrily.

"Too bad, there's a set of scrubs over there; you'll have to dress up like
a doctor for the rest of the day, what will people think?" she says.

"You don't want to play this game Cuddy, I will win," I say, dangerously.

"What game?" she replies incredulously as she comes back over to the door.
"You do something to piss me off and I go one better and make you look
stupid, what are you going to do now?"

I'm standing in the shower with no clothes on...she raises a good point.
But she's ambled confidently over and come a bit too close - I do have one
option for revenge. I nod slowly and then reach out fast and grab her arm.
She tries to wriggle free from my grip but I yank her into the shower.

Then pull her underneath it. 

"House," she screams. 

Now she's wet too.

"You were saying," I say, raising my eyebrows.

She breathes out loudly and gives me an angry stare, but I have a broad
smile on my face, and it's only a matter of seconds before she bursts out
laughing and I close the door to the shower and start working on the
buttons of her soaking blouse as I invite my tongue into her mouth and
kiss her.

Water tries to squeeze into the gaps between our bodies as she pushes me
against the wall and my butt presses hard against the glass.

I'm about to remove her blouse completely when I stop suddenly. "Wait, did
you lock the door?" I ask, worriedly.

"Yeah," she replies. I nod briefly, and then continue to divest her of her
clothes. 

Her drenched blouse falls to the shower floor with a wet plop.

Between us we get her naked very quickly and I rub some shower gel into my
hands; I rub the lather all over her body, paying very special care and
attention to her breasts.

I remove the soap from my hands by sliding them up and down her back and
over her ass, then my right arm comes to the front of her body and I slip
two fingers inside her; driving them in and out as I push forward and back
her up against the opposite end of the shower. 

I lower my head to her shoulders and taste the water on her skin with my
tongue. I lick carefully up towards her neck, then pause when I get there
so I can bite then suck quickly.

I aim to leave a mark on her neck, so when she has to don her own set of
scrubs it will be highly noticeable.

She pulls away and gives my arm a wet slap.

"You shit," she says breathlessly, rubbing her neck.

It's funny how these sorts of arguments turn into sex these days.

I'm still working my fingers in and out of her and her hips come away from
the wall so she can ride my hand a little better. 

I grab her free hand with mine and encourage her to return the favor by
shaking hands with my manhood, which is already semi erect because she's
wet inside and out, and the sight of her as her breath catches and her
eyes half close in pleasure is seriously turning me on.

"I think you should blow me in the shower," I suggest confidently, as I
lean in and run my tongue behind her ear. Her hand then closes around my
cock and she shuffles her hand forwards and backwards quickly. 

"Twice in one day, I don't think so," she returns breathlessly into my
ear. I slow my rhythm down slightly and thumb her clitoris hard.

Steam rises in front of our faces and a drop of water wobbles uncertainly
on the end of her nose as she squirms happily against my hand; I can tell
that last action hit a sensitive area, so I do it again.

I lean back slightly and the water runs down my face. She closes her eyes
and places her head back against the tiles as my fingers keep up the good
work between her legs.

There's only one way I'm changing her mind about that blowjob.

I carefully ease myself down - although I'm not allowing myself to get
used to this position - and see if I can encourage her to think again.

I slide my fingers out, then position myself in front of her and part her
entrance with my fingers so I can take her clitoris into my mouth; I suck
it a few times but it's tricky because rivers of water stream down my face
and into my mouth.

I squint up at her and notice it's probably because she's come forward
slightly; I push her back gently and hold her hips against the wall. I
then spit out the water and run my tongue up inside of her; working myself
in and out, making sure the base of my tongue rubs her bud hard. 

She places her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, because I'm
putting enough effort into this that she's practically on her tiptoes.

I ease my tongue out temporarily and rub my nose against her clit; I can't
resist rubbing my chin there too. This causes her to draw her breath in
quickly.

"Oh my god," she hisses as I slip my tongue back in. I hear the glass
squeak underneath her hand as it slides down the side of the shower.

I work her until I feel like I've pulled something in my tongue. It feels
like I'm taking most of her weight as she shudders gently above me.

I can make out a blur of pink pressed hard against the bright blue tiles
as the warm water runs down my face.

The water hits the floor with the familiar patter of rain, and I hope we
get caught in a thunderstorm some time. 

This could be even more fun outside.  
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the
ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of
Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House
(and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property
of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I
am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive
no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement
nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the
show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.