A/N-Thank you to everyone who left a review: OldSFFan, IHeartHouseCuddy, jkarr, housebound, KiwiClare, JLCH, TheHouseWitch, lenasti16, jaybe61, Zaydasky, givemekevinbacon, Abby, HuddyGirl, ikissedtheLaurie, Alex, MsStevieCooper, Sam, LoveMyHouse, LittleGreg, newdayz, dmarchl21, Kraw, Suzieqlondon, BJAllen815, ClareBear14, LapizSilkwood, Mon Fogel, BabalooBlue and huddy-marie. Thank you so much for your comments. And to those Twitter buddies who offered their thoughts and support…you guys are awesome!

OK, I decided to just finish this one up before going back to Preservation. Sorry to those waiting for the next installment on that one. It will be up right after this one is done. I'm a bit sick and my feeble brain is having trouble trying to do both stories.

-The Conference-

Cuddy had to admit to an enthusiastic clenching in her heart when she saw him in the distance. All of the disappointment that he didn't sneak into her home, or accompany her to the airport, or call before she left, was quickly forgotten when she realized that he somehow managed to get on a flight and travel over 20 hours to join her. She was just getting ready to call his name, to wave to get his attention, when she was startled by a loud scream. House hadn't seen Cuddy, he was looking through books when he heard the same disturbance, and he trudged down the alley to a spot where several men had gathered.

Unlike the touristy area she was standing in just a few steps earlier, the places around the back alleys were dirtier, seedier, and seemed almost a distant world from most of what she had seen until that point. The men at the end of the alley, who mostly looked like wealthy Westerners, were watching while less refined men brought out a group of young women. An older woman, well-wrinkled and completely callous, collected money while the men selected their partners.

House's eyes were trained on the one woman who was crying and protesting loudly. Cuddy couldn't understand what was being said, but she knew the woman was not a willing participant or employee, and she definitely didn't want to be prostituted. What Cuddy saw next, swiftly ended her happiness. House dug in his jeans for money and limped right up to the older woman, asking her a question. They spoke, perhaps negotiating. Cuddy felt like she was going to vomit. This entire scenario could not be happening. She knew certain things about House, the man she had so recently shared a bed with, and she was convinced that he was not capable of doing what it clearly looked like he may do. There were constant rumors about House and prostitutes, that alone was a difficult thought for her to consider at that moment, but she certainly never suspected that he'd seek out a woman so unwilling. Cuddy's posture was frozen in place, her eyes glued to the events before her while she held confidence that the one person who seemed to understand her pain wouldn't break her heart.

House looked between the old woman and the crying woman, and looked through his pile of cash, slowly counting out a sum of money. The old woman nodded, and the man who was holding the crying woman in place, let her go.

The woman jumped, animated, excited, and charged at House, not with fear or anger, but sheer joy. She flung her arms as high as she could around the significantly taller man's neck. He was instantly pushing the woman away, completely uninterested in her apparent gratitude. She was rapidly saying something to him and he nodded and gruffly offered some advice. He fished around in his other pocket, finding a few bills that he pushed toward her, and saying one final thing in parting, he fled the situation as quickly as he could. While the woman, suddenly understanding her freedom, ran down the street and away from that place like a woman who feared for her very being.

Cuddy watched while House went about his business, returning to the book vendor in the front of one of the buildings, and looking through several works as if nothing had ever happened. He perused a few of the titles, finally selecting two, and handing them to the old man working there. The old man announced the price, and House looked down at the little bit of money he had left. It was obvious the amount was insufficient, and House shrugged and put the books back down, since he couldn't purchase them. Cuddy slid casually next to House, and held out her own pile of local currency to pay for the purchases. She looked up at House, and her hands insisted that he take the money. He took some of the money, folding the rest and tucking it back into her hand. "Don't wave around your money like that, do you want to get mugged?" he grumbled.

He paid for the items, picking up the books and putting them under his arm, the entire time, avoiding her gaze.

He began to walk, and she followed, finally stepping in front of him, and pulling him off to the side.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, her face practically beaming.

"Isn't it obvious?" he replied.

She started to smirk at what she thought was a blatantly flirtatious remark, and then he added, "I wanted to get a book. And a hooker."

"I see you found the book. Where's the hooker?"

"I was just on my way to find one, and then I remembered that I had a whole lot of really amazing sex just recently for free. I don't really think I need one right now. Ask again in an hour, sometimes those sorts of urges just pop up out of nowhere."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head and meeting his eyes with obvious interest. She took the books from his hand, and looked at the worn texts, her fingers trailing over the covers softened by age and use.

"I'm not screwing hookers right now, so I have some time. I guess we could hang out, since you're already here," he teased, then offered a small grin.

He sighed, shifting nervously.

"What's wrong?" she asked with worry.

"Is it…good that I'm here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…I didn't really give you any options. I'm just here."

"Isn't that…sort of your thing? Showing up when I don't have a choice?" she smirked. "It's practically defined every non-work related meeting we've had for two weeks."

"Want to take me to your hotel? I'll get my own room there."

"You don't have any money," she teased, gently.

"I have credit cards."

Cuddy stepped closer, somehow ignoring the bustling streets around them. She looked up at him with a look that was both tempting and strangely innocent, "If you get your own room, it's going to be so much harder for me to have sex with you."

He responded with a chuckle, "Uh…you…think I flew all this way for sex?"

"I'm really hoping that was at least part of the reason," she flirted.

"I think we're trying to…wait until after the whole experimental procedure thing."

"Don't you want to have sex with me?" she teased, the look on her face and the tone of her voice practically tempting enough to get him to do anything.

"That question is so far beyond stupid."

Cuddy smirked at him, taken aback slightly at his mildly insecure behavior, "Do I make you nervous?" she asked, feeling a slight vindication that her nervousness in front of him a few nights earlier was reciprocated.

House scoffed and looked around, avoiding her, deflecting, doing his best to look like a coolly unflappable and slightly disengaged male.

"I do make you nervous," she added. "You've been doing this to me a lot lately. Talking about my body…making…allusions to the fact that we've been having sex to people around the hospital."

"We have been having sex," House countered.

"Just a couple of days ago, for one day, we had sex. You were talking freely about it long before it happened."

"We had sex before that."

"That was a long time ago. It doesn't count for daily bragging rights now."

"Fine. Well, thank you for sleeping with me recently, so that I may now make those comments in more of a current event-ish way."

"You're welcome."

House shifted, looking around. "Is that what this is? Sex? Someone to get off with until we find someone else?"

Then it was Cuddy who was clearly taken off guard. "We didn't figure that out yet. You said…you wanted to figure it out when you got back."

"I shouldn't be here. I'll go," he said, turning quickly.

"Wait," she said quickly, grabbing his arm. "Why do you want to go?"

"Because, I don't…think this is a good idea."

"Why?" she pressed insistently.

"It just isn't."

"Tell me, please tell me what you're thinking."

House shook his head, trying to seem uncaring.

"Fine," Cuddy said, doing her best to steady herself. "You and I can't just…have sex and have it not mean something. Even if we wanted to."

His eyes shifted up to hers, suddenly settling into his spot a bit more, but saying nothing.

"I guess I shouldn't speak for you…I'll speak for me. I care about you. Isn't that…what we proved? Doesn't the fact that we both hate seeing the other one in pain show that? The fact that we want to…make each other feel better?"

House nodded.

She continued, "I hope I'm not…reading too much into this but…you traveled really, really far…for a hooker and a book."

He replied with a soft smirk.

"Why is this so difficult for us?" she asked.

"I dunno."

"We're both emotionally stunted idiots," she laughed. "But what it comes down to…is we don't want to get hurt. I don't want to just have sex with you. But you said we were waiting to figure it out. I didn't put that topic to rest. You did. Is that what you want from this? You just want someone to sleep with?"

House shook his head.

Cuddy sighed, feeling insecure that she had made a declaration that she did care for him, that what she wanted was more than sex, and he responded with noncommittal nods. "I'm…completely certain that you could find sex in New Jersey…or Germany…if you're here…that says something," she said, forcing a smile.

He watched her, she could see the agreement, but still received no response. She waited, realizing while she looked at him standing there, slightly uncomfortable, exactly how deep her feelings for him ran. She could admit that part of her liked the confident and crude persona he showed everyone, all of her appreciated the brilliant doctor, but the part of him that she really thought maybe she loved, was the person she saw when no one else was around. The vulnerability of someone in pain, the compassion of someone helping a woman in distress, the shyness of someone who wasn't nearly as confident as he let on, the honesty of the man she had dinner with just a few days earlier.

She began to speak, without thinking, "You are so…"

He looked at her with confusion, waiting for her to finish her statement. He nodded, waiting for her response, "I am so…"

Then Cuddy looked uncomfortable. She looked down at the ground, and then met his gaze, more hesitantly than earlier, "You're kinda sweet when you're disarmed…and very…attractive…pretty much all of the time."

She seemed stunned, surprised by the honesty of her own words. "Let's go," she said, shoving his books in one of her bags and grabbing his free forearm.

They walked back to the hotel, and it was obvious that his leg was beginning to bother him by the time they reached the lobby. "You're staying with me…right?" she asked cautiously, clearly ready to be hurt by his response.

"Yea, sure," he nodded.

Cuddy looked around, "My god, you don't have any luggage?"

He held up a ticket and walked over toward the service counter. She followed him, smirking, "So you did know which hotel."

"I know everything," he said while he waited for his luggage.

In the distance, a group of doctors appeared, and approached. Cuddy chatted with a few of them when they came over, House hung back by the counter, uncertain if she even wanted to be seen with him, and completely certain that he didn't feel like talking to any of them. One, very well dressed, bleach-toothed doctor asked Cuddy to join them for the opening dinner that night.

She walked over, grabbed House's arm and pulled him toward the crowd, "You guys know Greg House? He runs the Diagnostics Department that you all spent an evening deriding me about when I said I wanted to start it…"

Two of the four doctors nodded.

"It's our single largest source of directed donations. Single. Largest. Starting that department, is one of the highlights of my career. I can't make it tonight, we have plans…but…just so you know…for the purposes of dinner conversation…I guess we can say that overall, it's a success."

"He's welcomed to join us," the doctor with the pearly smile added.

"Ed, that's so nice of you," Cuddy said with saccharine appreciation, "But I'd hate for you to have to spend an evening with a 'sociopathic waste of genius who's entirely devoid of decency,' isn't that…what you said…during that dinner? The same dinner where you also called me a, 'gal with potential who will never really make it until she stops constantly trying to push the envelope and accepts certain unfair truths as fact'? I am reasonably sure that's what you said."

"Lisa," Ed said with a chuckle, completely unembarrassed or unruffled by what she said, "Always fighting everything. You'll burn out before you're forty."

"I had the balls to do something different, Ed. People are alive, incurable, on-their-deathbed people."

"At a huge expense," Ed said arrogantly, "is it worth it?"

"This is why people are so jaded by doctors," Cuddy laughed. "We're supposed to be saving people, curing diseases, and you can actually ask if it's worth it?"

"I hope one day, you'll learn. You'll get kicked enough times…and you'll see. No matter how much you want things to be different, or how hard you work to make them different…some apples are just rotten. Right, House?"

House stood for a moment and faced Cuddy, looking at her thoughtfully, obviously taking his time. "Sorry, Ed," he said while still looking at Cuddy, then said to her, "I hope that day never comes. I hope life never leads you to the point where you stop trying and fighting…every insane little battle. Because if it does…you'll be gone."

House's words were simple, direct and matter-of-fact, but Cuddy looked stunned for a moment before she turned to Ed, "We have to go. Plans. But thanks for the invite."

Ed nodded, "Now there's a pair, a girl scout and a psycho."

Cuddy elbowed House's forearm, "Ready?"

They walked to the elevator, and once they were out of sight, Cuddy was walking backwards, practically skipping, "God, I hate him," she announced happily before she hit the button on the elevator.

"I think that you claiming to 'have the balls' to do stuff, only lends credence to my claims of your former life as a man."

"Shut up," she chuckled. Then she turned to House, "Did you mean that…that you hope I don't stop trying?"

He smirked, "Absolutely. If you didn't try, where would I be? You would have given up on me ages ago. Like almost everyone else."

She stared at him, "House…I…" and the elevator door dinged open. A flurry of people stepped out, and others crowded on after them as House slipped back to one side and Cuddy moved next to him.

They rode up with a crowd of unknown passengers, Cuddy with her arms tightly crossed, House leaning heavily on his cane. She extended her fingers, reaching out to rest them on his arm. Her touch was light, so feather-light that it was almost unnoticeable. It was strange, an oddly sweet expression of affection that was not solely sexual.

When they reached their floor, they pushed and wormed their way out of the crowded elevator, and went down the hall to their room. "Why did you defend me to those morons?" he asked.

Cuddy opened the door, and pulled him inside, "Because you're worth defending," she said, while she hugged him and reached up to kiss the scratchy skin under his jaw.

He was torn between the feeling of her and his own confusion until he felt his leg seizing, "I gotta sit down," he mumbled.

She smiled, and he didn't find disappointment in her eyes, like he had expected, feeling his own irritation at a body once so fit, reduced to one at the mercy of one piece of one limb. She led him over to the bed and got the door when a bellboy delivered House's luggage to the room. When she turned back to him, she could see the pain in his eyes that he tried to dismiss through will alone.

"Get up a minute," she ordered.

He got up while she moved pillows and removed the duvet, watching her as he stood motionlessly. She pulled off his shirt and told him to kick off his shoes, which he did, and then waited.

"Lie down. Flat," she said.

"Why?"

"Do you honestly think that something bad is going to come from me asking you to do that?"

He got into the bed, his hands lifting his aching leg as he settled down into the mattress.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Isn't it obvious," she teased, "I'm gonna wait until you fall asleep and dress you in women's clothing…and maybe some makeup." She knelt next to him on her own feet. "Stop being so suspicious."

House looked up at her, still a bit apprehensive. "OK," she said, "I do yoga and my instructor showed me some pressure point stuff. Let me try it."

"That stuff is complete crap."

"Humor me. Maybe enough to get you through this week with a little less pain."

"Fine," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes, his hands folded over his stomach.

She took his hands, unfolding them and moving them to his sides, palms down flat on the bed, and she reached down to uncross his legs. She moved one arm out to the side and started feeling the area between his neck and arm, and said, "This might hurt for a second, but…"

"Ow," he yelled loudly, his head lifting up from the pillow as he scowled at her, but she kept steady pressure, and she watched while his eyebrows relaxed, his forehead unwrinkled, his jaw released, and his head drifted back down. When she let go, his eyes went to hers, and he sighed his relief, "Wow."

"I know, right? They do that one on me a lot. For tension. I figured maybe it would help with the muscles a little."

"Yea," he said, his whole voice devoid of strength.

"Probably didn't help your leg much though."

"Sort of," he said with a smile, but he could already feel the sensation of clenching muscle flooding back.

"We'll try some different ones, and see what helps."

She patiently tried different touches and varying degrees of pressure while he watched with both wonder and curiosity. It was both fascinating and a bit disconcerting to have someone spend such time and attention on helping him, a person who wasn't being paid or compensated in any way. She was methodical, making mental notes, attempting to study and learn him with the same attention he often paid to people. "You doing OK over there?" she asked after he was silent for a while.

"Well, you don't have the talents of Candie, the six-toed hooker, but…" he teased, but he could see the momentary hurt in her eye. "I was kidding," he defended.

"Oh, I know," she tried to play off her hurt.

Her reaction, the fact that she could in some way so easily be hurt by him, was completely indicative of how emotionally invested she was, although it was difficult still for him to admit. The reaction, coupled with her desire to care for him, and the overwhelming desire he had to return that, was a thundering indicator that he was far more invested in whatever was developing between them than he wanted to admit.

"That was really intense today, with those prostitutes," she said. "That one woman, why was she crying?"

"She's no prostitute…prostitutes aren't usually trying to avoid making money," House answered, "Her father owed a debt to the lady of the house. Gambling or drugs…or both."

"Oh my god," Cuddy said, covering her mouth.

"Yea. So…her own father handed over his daughter to pay off his debt…figured she could work it off easier than he could."

Cuddy stared at him, "Are you serious?"

"That…is not prostitution…it's indentured servitude."

"So what happened, you bought her for the day and she's running off or…"

"I paid off the debt."

"You paid off his debt?"

"Yea…that's what the girl was there to do. To you or I, it wasn't that much money. So, I paid it off…I told the old woman that it was easier to take the money from me all at once, than to keep an eye on the girl all of the time to make sure she didn't run off. The old woman was happy…she got her money."

"What happens the next time the father racks up a debt?"

"I mentioned that. The woman had an aunt an hour's train ride from here…far away from daddy. I suggested going there. Hopefully, she took my advice."

"That's…so unbelievable."

"Yea," he nodded. "Fucked up, right? You have people who will sell their own kids, neglect them, use them for personal gain…and then you have other people, who would never hurt a kid…who just can't have them…or at least don't have them yet. It's…very fucked up."

He was staring at her, seeking truth, and she nodded, "Yea, it sucks."

"Beyond sucks…but, I guess…it's the way things are."

"So you…saved her."

"No," he said, closing his eyes and pulling her hand back onto his chest.

She smiled down at him, her finger tracing along his ribs. "You did. You always brag about saving lives…why ignore this one?"

"I dunno," he answered. "It's different."

"What you did today…in that alley…was beautiful."

She looked down at him with a look of undeniable affection, and she could feel the easy way it was being returned.

"For some reason, you stopped telling me what was going on with you…with the IVF. You just…decided not to go forward with it, or was it unsuccessful?" he asked.

"House…" she said, shaking her head. "It doesn't really matter."

"It does matter. You matter. You said I matter…why can't you matter?"

"That's very sweet…" she began.

House looked away, suddenly quite irritated, "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not."

"You act like you want me to tell you how I feel, and then when I try to, you disregard what I say."

"I wouldn't."

"You are. You just did. You seem to…want to accept me…but then you can't accept that you mean something to me? You can handle me talking about your amazing ass or your perfect tits but, you can't handle me saying that you matter?"

He was so vehement, it was clear how important this was to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"If you don't trust me enough to talk about it anymore then fine. Just fucking say so."

"It isn't that."

"Then what is it?"

"If we both matter…then we have to figure out what to do with that. And then this whole…thing…gets scary."

"I know," he answered.

"The IVF…" she began, and then trailed off.

"That…packet you left at my place…the envelope. Had my whole medical history. Specifically, it had…scans, information about my infarction, the whole background. You saw what was bothering me, collected the relevant information, and moved forward with a solution. I don't have the advantage of having all of the facts…so…how can I help you?"

"If we let each other in…"

"I know."

House could practically see Cuddy's head swimming with questions. "I don't want to get hurt," she said.

"Me neither."

"I tried…IVF," she said, the declaration bursting out more loudly than she'd intended. "It didn't work. Got close…then didn't. I stopped trying."

House nodded. "Got close?"

"I was pregnant and the pregnancy failed. I'm sure you already know that. Our walls at the hospital…actually do talk."

House smiled, "I wanted to know for sure…from you. So…who took you for the IVF?"

"No one," she asked, confused.

"You went by yourself?"

"Yea, of course."

"When you had the miscarriage…your sister came around?"

"No…why is any of this…relevant? I know how to call a cab when I need one."

"Why does everyone think I'm the crazy loner?"

Cuddy chuckled, "You are a crazy loner."

"You are too. Try to take care of everything yourself. Want to go it alone. You are just a crazy loner who's polite to people. You have them around, function well when surrounded by the masses…but when it's personal…when something really hurts…you're alone."

"I guess."

"Why not…tell people what was happening? Why not tell me?"

"Last time we discussed this you reminded me that I was a failure at motherhood, and that it was for the best. Do you want me to go willingly and give you further proof that you're right? More…ammunition to use against me when you're angry?"

Like so many hurts between them, they often just let them settle into the past, overlooking, ignoring rather than addressing, but it was easy to see the hurt still in her eyes.

"You know what you were putting me through when that happened?" he asked softly. "The pain I was in…"

"I know…yet another way that I failed. You can make a list, you probably have one."

"I'm not trying to make a list. I actually am sorry," he muttered softly, "I wouldn't have hurt you like that if I wasn't in so much pain."

"We keep these fucking lists, House. You and I both. We don't ever say anything. We hold these lists close to our chests and use or grudges to keep us warm. And I don't want to do that anymore."

There were tears in Cuddy's eyes and then he felt nauseous. "Cuddy…" he said, and found no answer. "Cuddy?"

She was shaking her head, desperately trying to keep her cool, but it was as if years of hurts were flowing through her mind. The first tear that dropped stabbed right through his center. These tears weren't superfluous or easy, they were tears hard fought for escape. Tears filled with ages of sadness and loss. "I'm not worth crying over. Ever. I'm just a hurting, angry asshole," he offered, wanting to stop her pain.

"You are worth it. I can't…make myself not care about what you think and what you say. If you are those things, I'm just a cold, rigid bitch," she responded. "Isn't that what you see?"

"No," he argued, hating the sight of her pain once again. "Maybe sometimes," he added as she laughed sadly. "We're both cold and bitter, but, we're that way because…life has taught us to be that way. If we aren't careful and guarded, we're just going to get hurt. Every time we try…it happens."

Cuddy hadn't answered, she was still desperately fighting the tears, and House hated the feeling of his responsibility for them. "Cuddy, say…something."

He had no idea what to do with her sadness, so he kissed her. It was the first time their lips had met since she left his apartment. Since they met up again, they were flirting with playful touches and she'd kissed his jaw, but when their lips met, they both felt a surge that resulted from an event that, on some level, they never thought would happen again. It was on both parts a move to seek better feelings and cure bitter hurts.

She found it suddenly easy to get lost in the precise movements of his lips and the pleasant yet demanding attention of his tongue. She slipped down along the bed so they were on their sides, facing each other. Their pace was slow, with uncertain, tiny steps forward because each was uncertain about how far all of this would go. He tasted her mouth and chin, shoulders and neck, and watched her face when he slipped his fingers under her shirt to her ribs. She sighed with need and approval when his fingers found her nipple through the slick fabric of her bra. She sat up, unsnapping her bra and tossing her shirt to the side.

They were both shirtless, but otherwise clothed, still so uncertain and for some reason, slowly rounding the bases still felt amazing, even if it meant that they wouldn't have sex. It was almost like experiencing a person for the first time, exposed torsos sharing caresses and presses against each other, lips shyly seeking skin and approval. At this pace, their eyes were often locked, and when they parted, they found each other again. So different from their needy encounters from a few days earlier, they were savoring each taste.

Their physical bodies were consumed by desire, but their minds were each refusing to let things clamor to a thunderous end too quickly. She loved the contrast between the softness of the center of his palm with the rougher edges of his fingers and the way the roughness made them hesitate at places on her skin as they passed. She marveled at the way his hands could cover such large sections of her body, his open hand grabbing her tiny waist before sliding up to cover the entirety of her breast beneath his hand. His other arm, was tightly wound around her, trapped between her and the mattress, his hand opening on the small of her back or moving to her shoulders to pull her closer. She could feel how turned on he was, pressing against her with what must have been almost painful hardness, there was no denying his desire for her, but the connections, the reassurance, was more important. That fact was not lost on her.

He almost couldn't have enough of the feeling of her palms traveling his body, the way her one leg easily looped over his hip and her foot wound around, settling under his upper leg. Then there was the way her hand on his back wrapped around his muscles while her fingers dipped down against his spine. She kept looking at him, her tears fading as she enjoyed the connection they were making. Tears turned to little gasps and sometimes giggles, and their focus was on something both giddy and compassionate.

He reached down, his hands firmly grasping down the backs of her thigh to her knee, and then pulling up along the fabric at the front of her leg. His finger and thumb reached for the button of her tight jeans and she nodded her consent, her eyes flaring with desire. He opened her jeans and tugged them down her hips just enough so he could touch her. He pushed her panties to the side, his finger easily finding her opening. She was so wet, so turned on, that she felt as if she hadn't been near an orgasm for years. Two of his fingers pushed slowly into her, without the slightest hesitation, while her arms extended around him, tightly against either side of his neck. He was moving slowly, pulling out until the tips of his fingers barely touched her warmth and then pushing evenly back in, and once his fingers were completely hidden in her, he'd rock his hand, pressing the heel of his palm against her before removing his fingers again. She was noisy, with a higher pitched gasp upon each rock of his hand. The fifth time, when he began reaching into her again, he could feel the rapid pulsing beginning inside her, and he pulled his head back to watch her expression while she came. Her mouth was open, her hands moving to the caps of his shoulders, her short, perfectly manicured fingernails digging into his skin. He moved in and out of her as smoothly as he could, so he wouldn't over stimulate her. He didn't want to stop touching her, and she fought the need for more, and less, while she rode out the winding and releasing of her body.

Her shoulders hugged up tightly, and she wrapped her arms more fully around his neck. She was still rocking her hips toward him, and he confidently and proudly asked, "Do you want more?"

She smiled at him softly and said, "I do…want more."

Her voice lacked the sexually charged tone that he'd expected, clearly suggesting things beyond their current encounter. He nodded, "Me too."

Together they had their remaining clothes off quickly, and she climbed up his body and hovered over him. He could feel the heat and wetness of her body just barely touching him, and part of him felt as if he might just lose all grasp on his sanity if he didn't feel her on him soon. She braced her hands on his hips, teasing him with faint passes of her body over his and he said, almost desperately, "This is not gonna last."

She stopped for a second, her overly concerned mind fearing that for some reason he meant the two of them wouldn't last, until he nodded, clarifying, "This round…this round is not going to last."

She seemed relieved that the mood of affection between them wasn't suddenly lost, and pleased to have his own desire wound so tightly already. She lowered her body down onto his and he groaned his relief, "Oh, thank god."

His foot was bouncing, an attempt to distract the sensation in his body that was centered entirely on the meeting of their bodies. He wanted every ounce of control that remained, but found their foreplay, their mutual tease, had gone on far too long. She leaned forward, with him still heavy and thick inside her and she whispered, "There's always the next round."

He nodded while she lifted up and then steadily pushed back down.

"And maybe tomorrow?" She asked while she repeated her movements.

He nodded again, his hands moving to her ass so he could pull her even more tightly against him, wanting to be totally lost in her in every way. Part of her did realize that she was coming perilously close to a discussion of commitment in the middle of sex, and then he muttered, "I might have some time…next month too."

She smiled as she picked up her pace, his hands on her ass helping her to move more quickly because he was left with nothing at that point except his complete need for her. His orgasm took over his body, everything in him flooding toward her, his body, his heart, and, if such things existed, his soul.

"You are so fucking hot," he mumbled while she slumped down over his body.

"You are," she answered with a wide smile.

"I'm serious, Cuddy, you are…ridiculously hot."

They recovered for a few minutes, and then she said, "A woman shouldn't…hint about a relationship when she's riding a guy."

House grinned, "It is true that my resolve is very weak at moments like those. It's a good time to pounce."

"What about now…what if I asked you now?"

"The answer would be the same. Tomorrow, next month."

"This isn't just…sex…I still don't think it can be…not for me."

"We both knew that already," he answered. "If we thought it could be…we would have been doing this all along."

"I want to come with you," she said as she rested her head against his chest.

"Next round," he answered, yawning.

She laughed, "That's great, but I meant to Germany…for your procedure. Should I have asked you about that back when you were distracted?"

"You don't have to do that," he said, and could see the worry responding in her immediately.

"I want to."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you change your mind, you don't have to."

"I want to," she said, more seriously.

"OK," he agreed, a little hesitantly.

"I need to be there. I want to be there. I mean, I think we are…sort of…dating. Right?"

"I don't want to sit and watch you fall in love with another man…get married, have kids…while I'm sitting there…wishing I was that man. And I don't know if I can just move on with another woman…if there's a chance that you want to be that woman."

Cuddy was scandalously missing from nearly every morning session during the conference, except for the one where she sat on the panel. She missed more opportunities to "grow and network" than House thought she was physically capable of missing.

The final day of the conference, when attendees were just entering the banquet hall for their breakfast buffet, House and Cuddy stood at the front of the hotel, waiting for a taxi that would take them to the airport. Once at the airport, they'd board a plane, and after a brief layover in London, they'd be in Germany, where a representative from the hospital would meet them so that House could begin the experimental procedure designed to eliminate, or at least alleviate, his pain.