I know it took me AGES to write this chapter but it's annoying me too because I seem to have a bit of writers block :( ... but please bear with me. Thankyou all so much for the reviews!! They make me feel happy and really do encourage me a lot!

Still, sorry this is so short.

Chapter 3

The clatter of the cane as it was thrown aside echoed into the night, but the noise fell on passion-deaf ears. Greg allowed himself to grasp, stroke, trail territories that had long been denied but never forgotten. Cuddy was heat and softness in his arms, however she moved with strength and assertiveness, tongue plunging ever deeper to taste the sharp spiciness of the wine he'd kept to himself; hands, one weaving through his hair the other branding him on his neck, over his pulse-point; dragging him down and he met her demanding mouth with equal fervour.

With an unexpected surge for dominance, Greg pulled her around and pressed her back against the wall. She gasped into his mouth, back arching away from the cold concrete and pushing her body flush against his. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest, thinking she must be completely lost in him to not object or show annoyance. Then she bit his lip, smiling all the while, and his need for the insufferable, breath-taking, evil, sexy woman increased ten fold. Greg's fingers flickered flames, soothing the cold of her lower back that her dress exposed and pressed her hips closer to his own. He moved to trail lips, tongue, teeth down her neck, tasting smooth, hot skin, seeking her pulsing rhythm. Her breathing was shallow, gasps and puffs of air against his ear. So much heat.

Her voice came out husky, and the rush of arousal that it caused almost made him miss her words,

" This is insane…We shouldn't…" He had little doubt that she was lacking conviction though.

" Neither one of us believes you." he murmured.

" We make each other miserable." her breathed hitched as he surreptitiously brushed his fingers over a breast.

" Misery loves company." He moved his attentions back up to her mouth in a bid to stop her talking. He had to smile inwardly when she didn't resist and greeted his kisses passionately.

" We fight," Kiss. " All the time

" We'll have fantastic make up sex…. Or angry sex." He said between kisses, "Any sex is fine."

" We can't do this…" Her barely spoken words having even less effect as her hands travelled downwards.

" We've done it before." His body, very much, continued to respond to her touch, whilst, at his words, his mind conjured a momentary memory…

…of a younger, softer Lisa Cuddy, grinning seductively up at him from her position beneath him, arching up; their clothes thrown and scattered around her dorm room; his own throaty chuckles sending vibrations through both of their bodies before she did something incredible with her mouth and his breath caught in his throat as he gasped out her name. Sex had never been so fun, so challenging, so intense…

He had a suspicion that, this time, it would've never been so good.

" Wait," her mouth was gone from his, and Greg literally growled in frustration. She pulled back enough to look at him, but not so much as to break contact completely and leave him standing on his own, in the open, breathing heavily and achingly, obviously hard. He knew she could feel him; why, oh why, did she have to stop?! " Is that what this is? Just a casual thing? Like before? Like…"

She trailed off; didn't voice it but he knew what she was thinking anyway…

Pain. Loneliness. Self-hatred. And he's trying to outrun it mentally because he can't do it physically anymore. And Cuddy straddling him, because he can't even press and drive fast into her the way he wants to, is a blurred image due to alcohol and pain meds. But he can make out the silent tear tracks on her face because her mascara is running and he sees her tongue dart out to catch one of the salty drops. He immediately tries to taste it, kissing her deeply, roughly.

Stacy's gone and he hates her. He hates the world and, yes, right now he hates Cuddy, too. But all he can do is fuck away his hate and pain. And she her guilt.

He thought for a moment he could taste the bittersweet memory, the residue, when it hit him hard once more. And it seemed to have effected him because he found that he couldn't try to silence her or kiss away her doubts, because she was frowning, because she was - they both were - feeling so much.

Greg looked down at her, amazed that, as the silence stretched on, she still had enough trust in him to remain in his arms, wrapped loosely around her waist. Amazed because she was vulnerable, and the fiery strength he'd felt in her before as she pressed her body to his had melted down to the calm, yet apprehensive, blue fire of her eyes. Eyes that he was getting lost in too damn easily. The same feeling that had gripped him earlier under the mistletoe rose as a tightening in his chest…or was he actually getting butterflies in his stomach?! He almost cringed. Because he didn't want this as a casual thing, his mind and body very much assured him of that, scarily so. Stupid that he could ever have tried to disassociate Cuddy with feelings when everything between them screamed nothing but, physical and emotional. He was being overwhelmed, losing control, and Gregory House did not lose control. He couldn't yet define this, them; couldn't be sure of what he wanted never mind her. And so he did the only thing he felt he could do, he turned the pressure back onto her. Let her have the responsibility of preserving their relationship.

" Is that what you want?" he asked, and he knew he was a complete and utter bastard.

TBC