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  Chips 
 by flying cat	

 Preface

In so many ways it was one of life's great tragedies, getting no sleep and
having absolutely no fun. Upon seeing her dozing at her desk around
mid-morning her personal assistant was kind enough to wake her with a
particularly pungent cup of coffee.

"Big night Doctor Cuddy?" He grinned placing the cup down on her desk just
to the right of the stack of billing notices she was using as a pillow.

"Uh." Cuddy stirred, regarding her PA groggily. The scent of freshly
roasted coffee beans drifted into her personal space. "Mmm." Another
sound; not yet capable of speech she slowly reached for the cup,
purposefully inhaling its contents. "Thankyou so much" She murmured,
gingerly sipping the scalding beverage. 

"So," Her PA raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Sorry, what?" Cuddy frowned at him, somewhat aghast.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The PA was politely apologetic. "It's just that you've
come in looking totally exhausted every morning for the last week or so. I
just figured that you'd met someone"

"Hmpf!" Cuddy stifled a laugh, desperately trying not to shoot coffee out
of her nose. "I wish." She composed herself. "But thanks for the coffee."

"Hey, it's my job." He smiled at her sweetly. "Did you need anything
else?"

"Yes," Cuddy shifted, sitting up straight, steel returning to her gaze. "I
know this isn't part of your job description, but could you take that suit
there to the dry cleaners?" She gestured toward the frosted pink suit that
was neatly laid out on the couch to his right. "I'll buy you lunch?"

"Sure." The PA gathered up the suit from the couch. "And you don't have to
buy me lunch Doctor Cuddy."

Cuddy watched him stride from her office; he was a good kid, cute too. She
sighed, slumping down into her chair. The last week had been nothing short
of hellish. A group of investors were scheduled to visit the hospital in
two days time. Under ordinary circumstances this would have been a
perfectly welcome occurrence, but this particular group of investors had
'requested' (more a demand from the member of the consortium that happened
to be an accountant) she provide a detailed and accurate summary of
current hospital operations and some recent financials. The latter was
easily solved by way of a quick phone call to accounting, but the former
was more time consuming. Cuddy had quite literally spent the last week
sifting over memos and contacting various department heads regarding
patient statistics, research and a host of other topics that the
consortium of potential investors had earmarked for discussion. The only
time she had left the hospital in the last eight days involved a quick
sojourn around the corner to a budget department store to purchase some
clean underwear, as she didn't have the time to drive home. 

Today would be no different. She would spend office hours ploughing
through research proposals and contacting department heads in the hope of
ensuring that there were no nasty surprises in store for her when she met
with the investors on Friday. To this point she had discovered that the
IVF clinic had been expensing champagne purchased for celebrating
successful pregnancies under 'Review Consultation Expenses' and were
storing it in their sample fridges inside boxes marked 'biohazard' to
deter theft. The Obstetrics Department had listed a golf day as a
'Symposium on new Delivery Techniques,' and House. Well, House had ordered
an x-ray of the left upper thigh of every patient in the psych ward under
the pretence that he was attempting to ascertain whether the statement,
'the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone' held true over a broad
sample. Not exactly the sort of research that would impress a consortium
of potential investors. Gifted musician or not, the sight of House singing
'Dem Bones' didn't really constitute a compelling case for additional
funding for the Department of Diagnostic Medicine. 

* * *

The scalding water did little to soothe her aching body or quell the
pounding inside her skull as she stood beneath the shower in the female
staff locker room. Cuddy turned to face the torrent of water, closing her
eyes as she shifted her face into the path of the shower. She rolled her
head from side to side in the hope of shocking herself back to full
consciousness. Bracing both her palms and forearms flat against the tiles
below the shower head, she leant forward; the heat of the water beating
against the back of her neck in stark contrast to the chill of the tiles
against her skin. Sighing, she stood up, quickly shifting her arms into
the path of the shower before shutting the water off. She paused
momentarily, relishing the sensation as her glowing skin cooled rapidly in
the chill air of the locker room. Cuddy reached for her towel and began to
slowly dry herself before pulling on a set of loose surgical scrubs and
wandering back to her office. 

Gripping one final cup of coffee tightly, Cuddy settled down on the couch
in her office with a particularly lengthy research proposal from the
Haematology Department and began to read, feet tucked up beneath her. She
rationalised that as soon as she had appeased the consortium of investors
she'd take a few days off and treat herself to something, she had no idea
what though. It occurred to her that what she wanted at that moment more
than anything was simply someone to lavish attention on her poor, tired
body. However, people weren't exactly queuing up to fill that position.
Cuddy closed her eyes; she could almost feel strong fingers deftly seeking
out the tender spots down the length of her aching back. She placed her
coffee on the floor; sensory hallucinations were an unfamiliar yet welcome
aspect of sleep deprivation. With a degree of reluctance, she slumped down
onto the couch, allowing her mind to wander as she lapsed into
unconsciousness. 

* * *

Cuddy blinked; once, twice, clearing the sleep from her eyes. He was
there, looming above her, filling almost her entire field of vision.

"When was the last time you slept in your own bed?" He asked gently, blue
eyes dark with concern.

"Am I dreaming?" Cuddy whispered, gazing up at him. She slowly lifted a
hand up to touch his cheek, fingers lightly drifting over three or more
day's worth of stubble.

"I don't know." He mused, pressing his cheek to her hand. "What happens in
your dream?" She ran her thumb across the seal of his lips.

"It's been so long," She sighed as he lightly kissed the pad of her thumb.
"I'm not sure, but I think it ends with you inside me."

"Ooo." He tilted his head, lightly nipping at the fleshy underside of her
thumb. "That sort of dream is it?"

"God I hope so." Cuddy shifted her hand away from his mouth, grabbing him
roughly by the collar of his shirt. 

"I like this side of you." He purred, lips brushing hers as he spoke. "I'm
also liking the fact you 86ed the bra when you put on these scrubs.
Generally you're not wearing scrubs in my dreams though"

"Hey." Cuddy growled in a mock scold. "This is my dream. Could you stop
teasing and just get on with it?"

"Okay, okay" He rolled his eyes in faux-exasperation; thumb circling a
hard nipple through the thin green crepe of her scrubs. He leant down,
gently nibbling at her lips in a frustratingly non-committal tease.

"Come here, dammit." Cuddy growled, gripping the lapels of his jacket and
pulling him forcefully toward her. He gently lowered himself down on top
of her, shifting his weight until he was stretched out comfortably, hips
resting between her thighs. He opened his mouth against hers, tongue
skating across her lips, daring her to respond, and she did. Lips parting
beneath his, she dragged him into an intensely deep kiss, hands hastily
tearing at his clothing, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and
flinging it away as he shrugged it off. She bit his bottom lip, teeth
piercing skin. His eyes flicked open in utter astonishment; with the
knowledge she had his undivided attention, Cuddy slipped her hands into
the gap between the middle buttons on his shirt and pulled sharply,
buttons popping and material tearing as she sought out his flesh.

"Oh, so you wanna play?" He growled against her ear as her hands slid up
underneath his t-shirt.

"Yeah." Cuddy bit his ear, fingernails lightly scraping against the skin
on his back. He sat up, kneeling between her thighs as he regarded her
momentarily before gripping either side of the v-neck of her scrubs, fists
clenched beneath her chin. Flashing her a quick grin, he tore the scrubs
open in a single movement.

"Don't make em like they used to." He raised an eyebrow at her, taking in
the lean lines of her torso. He grabbed the waistband of her pants and
gave another sharp tug, satisfaction permeating his expression as the
material tore beneath him. "No panties. Are you sure this isn't my dream?"

"Less talking, more fucking." Cuddy growled at him, pulling him back down
onto her.

"You really want this over and done with that fast?" He asked, gently
kissing his way down the side of her neck.

"Yes." Cuddy stifled a moan as he found a particularly sensitive spot.
"Just get me off then go and do your clinic hours, or watch your soap or
something." He began to nip and suck at a nipple, Cuddy's hands raked
through his hair and she found herself shivering at the sheer pleasure of
the sensation.

"So you don't want me to keep doing this then?" His tongue flicked across
her nipple, she held his head firmly in place.

"No. I mean yeah." Cuddy groaned as he sucked just marginally harder
before pulling away to blow cold air over her nipple. She gasped. "Just
fuck me."

"You sure?" He asked, gently rocking his hips into hers. "Because I can
think of a few other places I'd like to kiss you" Cuddy reached down
between them to unzip his trousers, pushing them along with his boxers
down over his ass. She gripped his cock firmly.

"Just get on with it."

"Okay." He pushed into her. Cuddy gasped, shifting beneath him as she
adjusted to his size. Slowly he began to move above her, intent on calming
her down somewhat with his long smooth strokes. Cuddy bucked her hips
against him impatiently, he responded with a quick swivel of his,
momentarily changing his angle in a manner that left her gasping. He
continued at the same tortuous pace, adding the occasional swivel that
left her begging for release until he felt nails cutting into his back.

"Fuck me harder!" A single hoarse demand, who was he to refuse? He drove
into her mercilessly, his wordless grunts in symphony with her equally
desperate moaning until they both came tangled in a sweaty heap of torn
clothing and shouted obscenities.

* * *

Cuddy blinked, she could hear crunching. Propping herself up on one elbow
she caught sight of House seated a few metres from where she lay sprawled
on the couch, barbeque chips snapping between his molars.

"How long have you been here?" She asked blearily.

"Oh, long enough." He grinned wickedly, licking his fingers before diving
into the packet for another chip.

"No no no no. Shit." Cuddy mumbled, blinking the sleep from her eyes in an
attempt to avoid his gaze.

"I feel like I should tip you or something after that. I'm packing more
wood here than just the cane." House nodded toward his crotch, continuing
to crunch as he spoke. "So who's the lucky guy?" Cuddy glared at him. "Or
girl? Actually, that's sooo much hotter"

"Don't you have a soap to watch, or patients to offend or something?"
Cuddy growled, rubbing her neck as she sat up.

"Avoidance" House ceased to crunch momentarily, eyes flickering skyward in
a second of contemplation. "Hang on" A wild grin cut across his features.
"Was I the guest star in your sex dream?"

"What?" Cuddy stared at him, embarrassment combining with shock and anger.
"Don't flatter yourself."

"You came too, didn't you?" House licked his fingers suggestively. "Man
I'm good."

"Don't be ridiculous." Cuddy shook her head dismissively.

"Oh, your mouth says no, but your nipples say yes." House began to crunch
again. Cuddy wrapped her arms around her chest in self-conscious shock,
eyes wild with anger. 

"Chip?" House extended the bag in her direction.

"Out!" Cuddy snarled.

"Okay," House stood, somewhat reluctantly. He dropped the bag of chips
down onto Cuddy's desk and fished inside his jacket for his wallet,
extracting a $20 note before limping over to where Cuddy sat on the couch,
arms still wrapped tight around her chest. He held the note in front of
her face, slowly folding it lengthways. House leant down, pressing a
single rough, greasy barbeque kiss against her lips whilst simultaneously
jamming the $20 into the waistband of her scrubs. 

"Thanks for the show." House grinned, eyebrows bouncing suggestively as he
grabbed his chips and ambled out. 

* * *

More?

Chapter two

"I can't believe you did that." Wilson yanked House's Ipod from the
speaker dock, killing the strains of Verdi's La Traviata that had been
drifting luxuriously through his office.

"Okay, you're going to have to be more specific." House offered
nonchalantly as he span around in his chair to face Wilson. Mildly
irritated by the interruption, he caressed the large green and red tennis
ball he engaged so often to keep his hands occupied.

"Cuddy." Wilson continued sternly, unsuccessfully attempting to snatch the
tennis ball away from him.

"Oh, sex dream?" Light flashed through House's eyes. "I didn't actually do
her though."

"Oh god." Wilson sighed, dropping into the chair across from his friend.
"Apart from the fact you were sick enough to sit there and watch her" He
shook his head in undisguised disgust. "What did you think you were
doing?"

"Eating chips?" House looked at him nonplussed.

"You tipped her!" Wilson shouted.

"Oh, that?" House recoiled in the face of his friend's anger. "She knows
it was a joke."

"It's not a joke!" Wilson stood, driving his fist down onto House's desk
sending a stack of medical journals to the floor. "It's quite possibly the
single most demeaning thing you could have done. You know how busy Cuddy's
been preparing everything for the meeting on Friday, she hasn't left this
place since last week. That poor woman puts up with enough of your shit as
it is."

"Geez." House slid down in his chair. Wilson loosened his tie, breathing
heavily.

"Go and apologise." Wilson concluded, composure returning.

"Chip?" House grabbed the packet of barbeque chips from next to his
computer monitor, extending it in Wilson's direction.

"Apologise!" Wilson snapped before reaching toward the chip packet.

"No chips for you." House quickly shifted the chips out of his reach,
popping one into his mouth.

"Go and apologise you asshole." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck as he
wandered out, shaking his head in disbelief as House continued to crunch.

* * *

After lunch, it occurred to House that there was no harm in swinging by
Cuddy's office, not to apologise, but more to ensure she'd taken his
actions in the manner he had intended. He got as far as the clinic
reception before the he found his passage blocked by Rachel, the rotund
Head Nurse. Nurse Rachel stood, hands on hips between House and Cuddy's
office, visibly unimpressed. House stepped awkwardly to the left. Nurse
Rachel mimicked his movement. House stepped with greater difficulty to the
right only to have Nurse Rachel continue to block his path.

"Oh please." House gazed skyward in exasperation. "What are you, the
gatekeeper?"

"You asshole." Nurse Rachel growled at him, eyes narrowed. "There's no way
in hell I'm letting you go anywhere near her."

"Okay, hearing a lot of that today." House sighed. "Top secret doctor
stuff, let me through."

Nurse Rachel glared at him, unmoving.

"Fine." House rolled his eyes, turning and ambling back toward the
elevator.

* * *

At 3.30pm House managed to sneak past Nurse Rachel and through the first
set of double doors leading to Cuddy's office. Still checking behind him
to ensure she wasn't following, he walked headlong into the static form of
Cuddy's PA.

"Oh," House stepped backward in light of the contact. "Didn't see you
there."

The PA remained stationary, arms folded across his chest.

"You're an asshole." He glared at House. 

"Yes, we've been through this." Once again House found himself looking at
the ceiling. "Okay, you've made your point, move."

"What, so you can go in and insult Doctor Cuddy again?" The PA remained
defiant. House shifted, attempting to look over the PA and into Cuddy's
office.

"Yes, so I can go and insult her again." House sighed in exasperation,
hand tightening around his cane.

"No." The PA glared at House.

"Move!" House barked at the PA.

"No!" The PA snapped back.

"Fine." House lifted his cane, jamming the butt down into the PA's foot.

"Hey!" The PA yelped in surprise, before grabbing the nearest medical file
and swinging it spine-first in a chopping motion against House's right
thigh.

"Ahhh FUCK!" House shouted, legs buckling beneath him. He caught the edge
of the PA's desk on the way down, wincing as he struggled to stay on his
feet.

"Shit" The PA began to back away toward the clinic. "I didn't know that
was "

"My bad leg?" House hissed at him through clenched teeth, gripping the
PA's desk white knuckled. 

"I'll just go and get" The PA garbled, waving his arms ineffectively as he
stumbled out into the clinic. House painfully hauled himself back to his
feet, retrieving his pill bottle and desperately shaking out three
Vicodin. He pushed through the door into Cuddy's office.

"Out!" Cuddy glared at him, wild-eyed. House stood silent, somewhat
stunned. "Out!" She repeated, rising to her feet behind her desk. 

"Cuddy" House began, walking gingerly toward her desk.

"OUT!" Cuddy grabbed the empty coffee mug to her right, turned, pointed
and threw.

"Oomph!" Was the only sound House could manage as the coffee cup struck
him in the groin before clattering to the floor. House retreated, bent
over at the waist, left hand nursing his balls while his right arm
struggled to keep him upright.

Cuddy sank back into her chair as she watched him stagger out, utterly
pathetic in comparison to the brash manner in which he had exited earlier
this morning. A pang of guilt shot through her as she watched him leaning
against the wall outside her office, eyes squeezed shut fighting yet
another surge of pain. Cuddy's eyes travelled from the somewhat broken
figure of the tall lean man outside her office to the neatly folded $20
note on her desk. Anger once again rose inside her, and it occurred to her
that perhaps she should have thrown a chair.

* * *

The remainder of the week passed without incidence. Fearful for the safety
of his testicles, House completed his clinic hours without a single word
of complaint. With a wealth of impressive information, Cuddy entertained
the consortium of investors on Friday and was quietly confident of
obtaining some manner of funding as a result. The final meeting finished
at 4.30pm, at which point, Cuddy gathered her things and left, looking
forward to a long soak in a hot bath, and a good night's sleep in her own
bed for the first time in ten days.

Light snow began to fall as Cuddy stepped out of her car, retrieving a
week or more of mail before heading inside. She dumped the mail along with
her things onto her kitchen table before heading to her fridge, swinging
the door open only to be met by the distinct aroma of rotting vegetables.
Cursing her work ethic, Cuddy snatched a Thai take away menu from beneath
a magnet on her fridge door, grabbed her phone and headed off to run a
bath. 

After a long luxurious soak in her tub and a mild Thai green chicken curry
washed down with a glass of crisp New Zealand sauvignon blanc, Cuddy
settled down on her couch with a glass of scotch and a copy of
Architectural Digest. After a few minutes of flicking absently through the
magazine, it became painfully obvious to Cuddy that she was thoroughly
sick of reading. Tossing the magazine onto the coffee table she fumbled
around in search of the television remote. Cuddy drained her scotch and
began to restlessly cycle through television channels. Bored, over-tired
and increasingly agitated by the fact that the hot bath she had been
looking forward to for the best part of a week had done little to soothe
her tired body, she glared at the television, desperately hoping to find
some manner of vicious contact sport to watch for the time being. A knock
at her door prevented her from throwing the remote at her television in
frustration. Cuddy sighed; the knocking persisted. She rose and slowly
padded across the room to her front door, gazing through the peep hole on
tiptoe. She saw no one, yet the knocking continued. Cuddy opened the door,
peering cautiously around the side.

House lent on the door jam, head resting on his bicep, hand braced against
the top of the jam cane roughly at eye level, the handle crooked toward
the door. Snowflakes peppering his unruly hair, he gazed down at her;
Cuddy tried desperately to avoid his eyes.

"What do you want?" She mumbled, clinging to the door.

House leant his cane against the door jam before reaching inside his coat,
eyes never shifting from hers. He finished fishing around inside his coat,
producing a single daisy. House bisected the space between them with the
little flower.

"I'm sorry." He tilted the head of the daisy toward her, breath leaving
his mouth in a thin stream of steam. 

Cuddy looked from the daisy to the man wondering where he managed to find
such a flower in the middle of winter, the sincerity in his terrific blue
eyes threatening to break her resolve. She reached out, warm fingers
sliding over his cold hand to take the little flower. Reluctantly, Cuddy
allowed herself to meet his gaze; the sadness in his eyes was
heartbreaking, he meant it. She stepped back from the door, retreating to
the kitchen to find water for her flower. House retrieved his cane and
slowly ambled inside, rubbing his left hand through his hair in an attempt
to shake out the snow that peppered his coiffure. Cuddy returned holding a
glass of water containing the lone daisy. House's eyes travelled the
length of her figure, clad in a dressing gown and sensible pyjamas House
limped over to her. Grabbing the loose ends of the tie that fastened her
dressing gown, he towed her behind him as he ambled down the hall to her
bedroom.

Standing next to Cuddy's bed in relative darkness, House took the glass
from her, placing it down on the nightstand before pushing her dressing
gown off her shoulders, letting it fall to the fall to the floor.

"House" Cuddy began, staring at the floor.

"Greg." House lifted her chin until her eyes met his. 

"Greg" Cuddy tried again. House lifted a single finger to her lips,
silencing her.

"If you talk, I'll talk, and you don't want me to talk." House paused,
running his finger across the seam of her lips. "I don't want to spend the
next six months apologising. Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Cuddy nodded, House smiled faintly, turning away momentarily to hook his
cane over the edge of the nightstand. He gripped Cuddy's hips firmly,
marvelling at how neatly the bones fit into his palms. In a single fluid
movement he lifted Cuddy, throwing her backward and onto the bed. Cuddy
bounced as she hit the mattress, desperately trying to stifle a giggle as
House shrugged his coat and dropped onto the bed, leaning forward to untie
his shoes. He sat up, kicking off his shoes and toeing off his socks.
Cuddy slid in behind him, reaching over his shoulders to unbutton his
shirt. House watched her over his shoulder, fighting the urge to offer a
snappy one liner, shrugging obligingly as Cuddy pulled his shirt down and
threw it over the edge of the bed. He physically lifted his right leg up
onto the bed, stretching out briefly before rolling onto his side to face
her, head propped in his hand. Cuddy unfolded her legs and lay down next
to him, slightly nervous due to the unfamiliarity of the situation given
her present company. House twirled a hand in her direction in the hope it
was some manner of universally acknowledged non-verbal gesture meaning
roll over. Either way Cuddy drew some degree of meaning from it, rolling
onto her stomach, arms folded across the pillow beneath her chin, not
entirely sure what to expect.

House shifted closer, draping his good leg over Cuddy's effectively
pinning her there. Sighing quietly to himself, he began to lightly trail
his fingers down the length of Cuddy's spine, the silk of her pyjamas
reducing his touch to little more than a feathery caress. House watched
her intently as he repeated the simple motion, enjoying the notion of
proximity as Cuddy slowly relaxed beneath his fingertips. She sighed, this
wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but House's surprisingly soothing
caress was ultimately having the desired effect. Cuddy felt his fingers
skate along her skin just above the waistband of her pants, still cool
from time spent outside. House slid his hand up under her pyjamas and
along the side furthest from him. Leading with his middle finger in a
teasing caress, his fingers trailing over ribs before ever so lightly
grazing the swell of her breast. With Cuddy humming in approval, he
repeated the movement, fingers lingering just fractionally longer as they
grazed her breast with each stroke. Cuddy felt the tension in her body
slowly dissipating beneath House's fingers, mildly surprised that he was
capable of such tenderness.

Sensing the time was right House gripped her side firmly, pulling her
toward him. Obligingly, Cuddy rolled over onto her back, her side pressed
against House's body. He lent down, gently nuzzling at her ear, seizing
the opportunity, Cuddy grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt in the hope of
pulling it off. House sat up, removing the offending garment and tossing
it aside. He caught Cuddy's wrists, swiftly pinning them behind her head
before returning to his previous position. House adjusted his posture so
that his right arm folded neatly around Cuddy's head, ensuring her arms
remained where he wanted them. Cuddy sighed as House's lips traversed the
sensitive skin of her neck, his free hand gripping her side possessively
as he worked his way down along her collarbone. He kissed the hollow at
the base of her throat, eliciting a soft, contented moan from the woman
beneath him. With her arms pinned above her head and House lightly
dragging his nose down her sternum Cuddy relaxed, thoroughly content with
the deliciously slow pace he had elected to set. She felt his hand shift
from her side; silk sliding across her chest, the rough graze of stubble
across her skin; contrasting sensations culminating in the heat of his
mouth on her nipple. House gently suckled; Cuddy groaned, wriggling in an
attempt to free her arms, desperate to weave her fingers through his hair
and keep his head where she wanted it. House responded, firmly pressing
her arms back behind her head and shifting to the other nipple. She
groaned, generally not the type to lie back submissively and let any man
assume control, especially not this man, but who was she to fight it. 

Lips breaking contact with her skin, House sat up, fingers skating under
the waistband of her pants. He gently patted her hip; Cuddy obligingly
lifted her pelvis. Finally forced to release her arms, House shifted down
to slide her pyjama pants down her legs, ensuring his fingers travelled
the full length of her perfectly toned limbs in the process. No panties;
House desperately fought the urge to comment, instead grabbing her hips,
shifting her until he was lying comfortably between her thighs, eyeballing
the prize, determined to continue at the same leisurely pace. No teasing,
no time invested in building tension; he knew it would only serve to
frustrate her, and with Cuddy's arms free, House feared for his testicular
safety. Spreading her lips, he began to gently lap at the growing heat
between her thighs. Above him Cuddy offered a deeply satisfied moan,
arching her back slightly and relaxing into the deliberate flicker of his
tongue across the throbbing nub between her thighs. Oh god this was
exactly what she needed. Desperate for a quick taste, House dipped down,
slipping his tongue inside her before she grabbed a handful of his hair,
shifting his tongue back to its previous location. House continued; her
breathing began to quicken; he paused, planting a single kiss on her
screaming flesh before shifting back up to lie on his side next to her. 

Cuddy wrapped her leg around him; House drew her close, lips millimetres
from hers. Then finally a kiss; deep, languid, his lips and tongue awash
with the taste of her. His hand shifted to the back of her neck, grip
firm, controlling as they continued to kiss. Cuddy moaned into his mouth,
shifting her hips against his as his tongue continued to probe hers.
Ultimately in the mood to kiss and in absolutely no hurry, House trailed
his fingers along the length of her spine beneath her partially unbuttoned
pyjama top, slowly rocking his hips against her. 

Already hot from his previous efforts and becoming increasingly impatient
Cuddy reached down between them, frantically working at House's belt. She
unzipped his jeans, slipping a hand into his shorts to grip him. She felt
the corners of his mouth twist upward into a smile as they kissed.

"Please." She whispered, squeezing him. House dropped a kiss onto her
forehead, before rolling onto his back, lifting his hips and discarding
his jeans and shorts. Cuddy hopped under the covers, House smiled inwardly
at her modesty before joining her. She sought him out, lips meeting his
again with more desperation now.

"Roll over." He broke their kiss. She did as requested. House rolled onto
his side, pulling her to him, one arm snaking beneath her to cup her
breast. He slid his left leg between hers, pushing into her in one smooth
stroke.

"Ohh." Cuddy groaned, breath escaping from between her lips with a hiss as
House eased into a steady rhythm behind her, nudging that magical region
with every deliberate thrust. He shifted his other hand around to tease
her as he worked, his mouth pressed to the back of her shoulder. 

Cuddy moved with him, breathing heavily. He was good, oh so good. She
would have been more than happy with a quick fuck, but this Certainly not
quick, definitely not fucking; too considerate, too tender Her breathing
quickened, she was close. House slowed down, ceasing to caress the hard
nub at the apex of her thighs.

"Geez, House!" Cuddy growled, pushing back against him.

"Shhh." House bit her neck. "Just a little longer." He quickened his pace,
gripping her tightly, hand shifting back down to tease her as he worked.
His leg burned beneath him, he didn't care, pushing harder determined to
come with her in spite of the fact he would have gladly prolonged
proceedings. Cuddy's arm snaked up behind his head, gripping his neck,
pushing back against him as she neared the edge. He felt her tighten
around him, pushing harder, deeper. Cuddy's breath caught in her throat,
fingers tightening around the back of his neck, a wave of pleasure
sweeping down through her. Between the sheer size and skill of the man
inside her and his teasing fingers she was finished, writhing in his grasp
as she came. And god, she couldn't remember the last time she came that
hard, a week's worth of tension dissolving; afterward though she'd swear
she didn't scream. House groaned, the sound she made when she came was too
much, and with one final thrust he game, gripping her tightly with both
hands.

* * *

House stirred, eyes opening wide in a peculiar ocular stretch before
blinking away sleep. He propped himself up, regarding the empty space in
the bed next to him thoughtfully before catching sight of a crisp $50 note
on the pillow.

"Fifty bucks?" House shouted. "Is that all?" Seconds later, Cuddy appeared
in the doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest. She leant against
the door jam.

"Do you seriously think you're worth more?" She asked flatly.

"Not really," House paused. "But my performance last night was at least
worth $60."

"It was a mercy fuck." Cuddy sighed, lying through her teeth.

"You came." House countered, "and I didn't say a word all night- that's
gotta be worth a few extra dollars"

"It was part of an extended apology." Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "And what you
did was really low, even for you."

"So the monetary value of genuine remorse is $50?" House inquired.

"Remorse?" Cuddy was somewhat taken aback by his admission, but recalling
the sadness in his eyes, the tenderness of his caress, it made perfect
sense. 

"Got any chips?" 

  
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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 Fox Television, 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.  


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