Dr. House looked at the vicodin on the desk. It was cold and sad, just like his heart. And yet he loved it so. That was all he loved, in the world.
Well...
Once he had loved a woman. She was gorgeous and beautiful, with hair of deepest ebony that curled in the everlasting wind. She was unsurpassed in the pantheon of heavenly greatness, a sparkling testament to the perfection of womankind.
BUT, that was a long time ago...
"Dr. House, you have work to do!" came a voice from behind him. It was Dr. Cuddy, of course, and she looked like she was mad. She was always the hottest when she was mad.
"Don't make me do stuff!" said Dr. House, not so much because he didn't want to do work as because he was too cool for the rules. Cuddy just looked at him with those fiery Harvard Crimson eyes that burned brighter than the fires in his soul.
And then she was on him in a rush of bestial passion, their previous conversation long forgotten in their passionate embrace.
They did it on the desk. They did it on the floor. They did it fucking everywhere, and then they did it more. Hours and hours passed, and yet they were still doing it, with their appropriate organs performing the necessary functions. But I'm sure you all understand the mechanics, and as an operation it proceeded as ordinary. Performance by both participants was highly satisfactory.
However, one ominous shade loomed over this scene of resplendent ecstasy. A dark shadow, imprinted with sinister malevolence on the door's surface hinted at the perilous and haunted history that loomed betwixt our sexulted lovers.