"It's valentines day," House said, sidling up to Cuddy in the clinic, taking a lolly from the jar on the reception counter. She frowned, eyes glued to the file resting flat in front of them. "Hearts on your thong?" he asked.

"That's none of your business."

"It's no one else's business, so I might as well make it mine," he said, throwing the wrapper from the lolly into the bin hidden behind the counter, popping the red sweet into his mouth.

"No hearts."

"But it's red," she closed the file, glaring at him, "I've been through your underwear drawer remember."

"I know," she was angry, but then she was always angry with him. He liked it. He leaned into her personal space, and looked down her top.

"The bra is red, so it must match downstairs."

"Very astute House, exam room one," she said handing him the file. He smiled, taking it from her, and turning around, "and if you wanted to know what underwear I'd put on this morning, youshould've gotten up earlier." He didn't reply for a moment, limping across the clinic.

"But it does match?"

"Of course."

"You lied to me," he said, an eyebrow raised, his hands linked behind his head. Lying on her bed, stripped down to his boxers. She frowned at him from the doorway of her bedroom, wearing just a red thong and bra; the gauzy material dotted with white hearts.

"I didn't want the entire hospital talking about my underwear for once."

"This is for me?"

"For once, yes." He smiled, his lips quirking at the corners. She sauntered over to the bed, crawling over him and kissing him on the lips.

"Wait 'til I tell Wilson," House said, running a finger under on of the red straps of her bra as she straddled his legs, trying to ignore the pang of guilt that bubbled up when she felt the harsh skin of his scarred leg under her.

"Oh God, please don't," she muttered.

"Wilson never put the moves on you?" he asked, pulling down the straps, kissing the skin of her shoulders.

"No," she sighed, listening to the rasp of his stubble against her neck, the sound was as good as the feel of it.

"Not even when you two went out?"


"You lying to me?"

"Yes." She pulled away to see his reaction, not at all worried.

"Just as long as I know," he said, with that little grin that she loved so much. "I can't wait for Christmas," he added, sucking on a heart covered nipple. She gasped, arching into him.

"I don't..."

"Red with little green Christmas trees?" She chuckled then sighed as the bra came off and he covered her breasts with his hands, warm and rough.

"I'll see what I can do."

"I only ask that you try," he said, bending to take a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and making her cry out.

"No, you only demand that I deliver," she mumbled, her breathing quickening. She shifted on top of him, rubbing against the erection she could feel building beneath her.

"You always deliver Lisa," he drawled, with a grin, thrusting his hips up into hers just a fraction, making her moan. He ran one hand down her stomach and into her thong, brushing over her centre once before pulling his hand out again, making her growl with frustration. AngryCuddy, so, so sexy, he thought.

He kissed her again, hard, and demanding, because he demanded that everyone relent to him, and what he wanted. Especially Cuddy. She ran her hands into his hair, moving her hips in tiny circles, making little 'hmmmm' noises when his tongue flicked over hers, when his erection pushed against her clit when she shifted forward.

"House," she murmured. She pulled at his boxers and with a little shifting they were down his legs, he kicked them off the bed and thrust up against her with a grunt. He nibbled on her lower lip, his hands on her hips, moving her hips, her centre, against his erection.

"Wanna skip some of the foreplay?" he asked, pulling her thong aside and sliding a finger over her wet centre, and pressing down on her clit, making her jump into his hand.

"Never," she said.

"Damn." She grinned at him.

"Say please and you can fuck me."


"You won't say ple-ease!" she cried as he slid a finger into her body, "oh God."

"No. I can get you off quicker."

"Damn you," she mumbled, shifting her hips against his hand, urging him to move.

"Say please."

"Please House," she hissed. He grinned, smug, and she would've hit him but he pressed down on her clit. He added another finger, moving them in and out of her hot body, bending down to nip at her nipple again. He loved her breasts, really did, being an ass was the greatest excuse to stare at them whenever he wanted. And her ass. And her legs. And her breasts. Oh wait, he'd been over those already, though they were...nice didn't seem sufficient but whenCuddy made those little noises like she was saying ' fuck me' without the words, it was hard to concentrate on anything but the warmth surrounding his fingers and the throb of his cock and his thigh.

He could never forget about his leg.

"Want more?" he asked, trying to sound cool but the words came out a little forced as she ground down onto his hand, his knuckles brushing his cock.

"Please." Cuddy never had any qualms about saying please to get what she wanted. She rocked her hips and listened to the quiet sound of foil torn and the condom wrapper discarded. He pulled his fingers from her body, pressing down on herclit hard. She made a keening noise and he grabbed the base of his cock and tried to push into her.

"Move," he said and she did, eyes closed, letting him pull and push her around and into position. It frustrated her that he did the same in bed as he did in the hospital, but the results, the results were usually worth it.

He slid into her body slowly, gripping her hips and biting his lip. Cuddy opened her eyes to watch, to watch the only time House really looked like he was enjoying himself, like he enjoyed something. Vicodin, scotch and the puzzles his patients presented him were only distractions, this, this she was sure he enjoyed, because she had seen him look...happy, so many times before.The guilt bubbled up again at the thought.

She could never forget about his leg.

She sighed when he was fully inside her, shifting her weight from his leg a little, and groaned at the slight change in angle. She got to be on top more often now, which was great, because he hated to give her the control, even if he did enjoy it. She leaned over and rested her hands flat on his chest, moving her hips slowly. She could torture him like this if she wanted to, had done, on those days when he had nearly killed someone. He was muttering quietly to himself as she moved, cursing her, she thought, because she was strong and squeezing him tight, and he couldn't make her move faster at this point.

She smiled at him, his own smug grin on her face.

"I hate you," he told her.

"I know," she sped up her pace a little, concentrating on the heat of him moving in and out of her, the feel of his hands holding onto her, like h might fall if he let go. She concentrated on the look of pleasure on his face.

He soon got bored of her slow pace, and only House could be bored during sex, she knew, and was probably one of the few people who knew him well enough not to be insulted by that. And she assumed he wasn't having sex with Wilson. The hold on her hips tightened momentarily and he started to thrust up into her body, murmuring again, about the heat and the wet and the soft and other random words about her body that made her blush even in the middle of sex. He may hate her, and there may be a great wall of China between love and hate, but she was pretty sure that there were Mongolians battling to break the wall down too.

And only during sex with House could her brain come up with such insane metaphors.

He took control, and she relinquished it, because she felt the reward coming. Felt the build up of something insanely good, and every thrust felt that little bit harder, and her head started to feel fuzzy. In, out, pressing against that -oh god- spot that made her whole body spasm and he didn't falter or hesitate and when his name, his first name, started to tumble from her lips she knew -they both knew- she was close. She barely registered his hand leaving her hip, but felt every nerve ending fire when he pressed down on herclit, rubbing it in time with his hard thrusts and then, then, it was just Greg and Lisa and she was really, really happy.

When he came she smiled, because he looked happy too, for a few moments. Looked happy with her, and hoped that it would last until morning, until his leg started throbbing more than his cock and he was miserable again. He'd always been miserable, for reasons she hadn't quite gotten out of him yet, but he hadn't always been in pain.

There was that bubble of guilt again, that she quashed as his whole body jerked beneath her and he sighed out her name, her first name.

"You sure you hate me?" she whispered, falling from him, and lying on his side.

"Yep," he smiled though, his eyes shining, and love or hate, or whatever, he enjoyed sex with her. He always lied to her, they lied to each other, so it didn't matter what he did or didn't say. She knew him well enough to know better.

"It's my birthday," House said, sidling up to Cuddy in the clinic, taking a lolly from the jar on the reception counter. She frowned, eyes glued to the file resting flat in front of them. "What's on the thong today?"

"None of your business House," she said, she closed the file and hit him with it.

"Is it red? You know that's my favourite."

"You snooze you lose," she said, trying to hide her grin. He grinned at her.

"Come on Cuddy, I don't mind if you ruin the surprise."

"No surprise," she said, "no special favours just because it's your birthday."

"Not even a blow job!" he yelled, making Cuddy duck her head and blush.

"House," she hissed.

"Not even a blow job?" he asked, popping the lolly into his mouth and sucking on it for emphasis.

"Not even underwear," she told him walking away. He frowned, confused, then looked at her ass, his head cocked to one side. She dropped a file and bent over to pick it up and the lolly almost dropped from his mouth. A skirt that tight hid no secrets.

"Damn Mongolians," he muttered to himself.