A/N-Sorry again for the wait. I haven't had much time for writing lately. Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter: JLCH, BabalooBlue, OldSFfan, IHeartHouseCuddy, the Guest reviewers, jaybe61, dragonball256, ikissedtheLaurie, jkarr, JM, linda12344, Boo's House, Suzieqlondon, dmarchl21, Abby, lenasti16, HuddyGirl, Alex, grouchysnarky, freeasabird14, Mon Fogel and Jane Q. Doe, and to all of you who've read.

-Destructive Behavior-

They woke to more sex and sleep and a type of lazy morning neither of them frequently had the chance to enjoy. Cuddy's phone interrupted one of their partial, late-morning naps. When she answered it, Wilson proudly announced, "Maybe I should have been a spy, narrowly avoiding certain death by escaping overly elaborate traps rigged to kill me."

"Good morning, Agent Wilson," she answered in a sleepy voice.

"I got them. The pictures."

"You did?"

"Yup. Steven and I arranged the hand-off this morning, and they are currently in my possession."

"You got an early start," she yawned.

After a long pause, Wilson answered, "It's almost noon."

Cuddy lifted her body over House to look at her clock, "Yea, of course…I know that."

"Anyway, I stopped by House's apartment, but his car isn't there," Wilson said, adding with a failed attempt at casualness, "maybe you could…try to give him a call? Or maybe you know where he is?"

"Just come over," she ordered dryly before she hung up the phone.

House yawned, "He has quite the knack for calling us when we're in bed. Maybe he has cameras set up."

"Perhaps. It's also possible that every time he's gone, we end up in bed together and tend to keep ending up there until we have a reason to stop."

Twenty minutes later, Wilson arrived and spread the photos across the dining room table. House's eyes skimmed the evidence for a few moments, and then he announced, "I'm guessing that before you started earning an administrator's paycheck, you probably had a slightly crappier car."

A little over a week later, board members gathered in the conference room, each trying to find out who called an emergency meeting. Malloy entered the room last, tapping the table angrily, "I'm the one who calls emergency meetings." The other members found their seats and sat tentatively as they watched Malloy's angry, ruddy face. "Which one of you set this up?"

The board members looked to one another, waiting for the guilty party to stand up and take responsibility for what he or she had done.

Sandra eventually suggested, "Did Mr. Vogler request the meeting?"

"He isn't directly involved with this hospital anymore," Malloy answered angrily, "so if he had any business here, he would have to go through me."

"Mr. Malloy, regardless of who called this meeting, we are-" Sandra began until the door banged open as a cart was shoved into the room.

House leaned on the cart, announcing, "I called the meeting."

Everyone stared at the rudimentary refreshments on the cart, a far cry from the pricier beverages, snacks and meals they often enjoyed. Then all eyes locked on Wilson, who merely smiled in response.

"Call security," Malloy ordered immediately, fumbling for the phone, "This man isn't even an employee, much less a board member."

"You aren't actually that worried about me, are you? What do you think I'm going to say that's so horrible that you can't give me a few minutes to catch up with my former colleagues," House casually asked.

"You don't have the right to call a meeting."

"We better hurry this along before he calls a SWAT team," House whispered to the board before turning to Malloy. "You fired Cuddy, which was a mistake even if the accusations against her were true, but they weren't. The rest of you let this idiot talk you into believing something over a few pictures, and then you turned into a brainless mob that went after her with pitchforks and torches."

The door opened and Cuddy slowly walked in, leaning against the wall. All of the board members looked away except for Sandra, who smiled sympathetically and with a hint of pride at the disgraced woman's return.

"What is discussed during board meetings is private and confidential," Malloy argued, "we don't owe you any explanations."

House ignored him, "She was fired for stupid reasons, but even those reasons were fabricated. Our friend Malloy found an ally on the board, perhaps someone who was interested in a promotion or healthy bonus check, to give him some inside information. Once he got real information from someone on the inside, he discovered he didn't really have a good way to discredit her. So he made up stuff and manufactured the evidence to back up his claims. He even made up a lawsuit, forged paperwork with some lawyer friends to make it look like I was the reason for yet another lawsuit. I only need five minutes to explain how you were all completely misled."

"Let him talk," Sandra said, "unless we need to put it to a vote."

Several people, even in the absence of a formal vote, raised their hands to show support of Sandra's suggestion. Wilson's agreement wasn't a surprise, but as Steven and every other member except Malloy eventually demonstrated their concurrence, Cuddy's professional confidence surged. Malloy reached for the phone to call security when Wilson disconnected the cord.

House took his laptop from the cart and handed it to Wilson. While Wilson hooked up the projector, House began, "When you try to fake photographs, particularly of outdoor spaces, you have to be really careful. Trees grow, businesses start up or shut down, people's appearances change. The thing is, these weren't even well done. The shadows on some of them are wrong, the ratio from one subject to the next is off…in other words, you fell for really crappy fakes."

Wilson brought up the first picture, a photograph of Cuddy and the former dean, his arm over her shoulder, walking toward a seedy one-hour motel.

"That is Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Ackert," Malloy piped in loudly, rushing to the front of the room and pointing at the image. "I don't think I need to point out the inappropriateness of their location."

"Yea, it is us," Cuddy answered. "That's definitely me. But it's shortly after I got the job, not before. That photo, at least the image of Ackert and me, was taken by his wife."

"See," Malloy said victoriously, "I told you all, his wife hired an investigator."

"His wife physically took that picture at his birthday party, not outside of a hotel. She invited me. I didn't have an affair with Ackert."

"Where's your evidence of that? You expect us to believe your word?"

"We can call his widow, she could confirm," Cuddy answered, "she has a copy of that photo, still hanging in her husband's office. We were there a few days ago. From what she said, a few other board members have a copy of it as well. Should I call her and have her bring it in?"

"She's eighty," House added, "so I'm sure she has nothing better to do with her remaining days than explain to you where that picture came from. But that's not even the interesting part. That motel has been there for a long time, but see the sign to the top right?" Wilson zoomed in to the correct spot on the photo before House continued, "That neon triple-X sign was not there while Ackert was even alive. That belongs to 'Lacy's Erotic Emporium'. It's only been there for a year."

"Are you sure?" Sandra asked.

"I really am sure," he nodded with a knowing glare.

"I called the proprietor," Cuddy added. "She confirmed that a year ago, that place was a fitness studio."

"So this picture is obviously a fake. The next picture is even better. The car on the edge of the frame that Cuddy is leaning against looks like her very new Lexus. The last four digits on the license plate, the four digits that you can actually see, all match her car as well. Now, Cuddy, did you manage to come up with the money for a brand new Lexus before you got the job as dean?"

"No, I didn't."

"Were you able to bend space and time, buy a Lexus in the future, and take it back so you could drive to a rendezvous point for your affair with Ackert?"

"No, I didn't figure out time travel."

"Next we have this picture with Vogler."

Wilson went to the next picture, showing Cuddy and Vogler standing outside of a much nicer, pricier hotel. Steven added, "That B&B to the left has been there for ages, so has the hotel. I don't see anything out of place in this picture."

"You're right," House answered.

"Except," Cuddy interjected, "that I didn't buy that suit until after Vogler was gone. I bought it about a month ago. I called the store, and they can confirm the purchase because I bought it on a credit card, and the designer only recently began to sell that particular suit. That's me in the picture, but Vogler was not with me that day."

"The next picture is even worse. If I put the picture of Cuddy and her new car next to this one, it's the same image of her. They just resized it and turned it around."

Everyone stared at the images side by side, and their astonishment began to nervously show.

"This last photo of Cuddy eating with Vogler is less interesting," House sighed, "because they were actually at this restaurant, eating."

"We were," she explained, "that was the day he told me of his intention to donate to this hospital. Someone from his team took the picture to mark the occasion because we thought it was going to be the start of something great for all of us, professionally speaking. But if that's an indication of an affair, then I'm having affairs with almost everyone here. And I'm not the only one. We took these during the last week."

Wilson began to click through pictures of most of the board members at various restaurants with colleagues. House accused when one of the pictures showed four male board members dining together, "Wow, four of you…must have been a wild night."

"We were having dinner," Steven protested.

"Exactly," Cuddy answered, "eating at a restaurant is proof of nothing."

"Just in case the total absurdity of a picture like that being used as evidence of an affair is lost on any of you, we called in a food ingestion expert," House said.

Cuddy opened the door and sharp breaths could be heard throughout the room. Everyone watched while Vogler stepped in, his intimidating presence filling the room as he looked around with an air of disgust. "Mr. Malloy," Vogler's deep voice rang through the room, "did you tell these people that Dr. Cuddy propositioned me?"

"Sir," Malloy began, "this circus is out of hand."

"Indeed it is. Dr. Cuddy is a poor businessperson, a less than wonderful judge of which employees to hire and keep, and a very talented enabler," Vogler said as he looked at House, "but I never even suggested that she said anything inappropriate to me. Dr. Cuddy never made sexual overtures in my presence. I didn't reject her advances, because there were none, nor was there ever an affair. What you have is a former employee of mine, Joseph Malloy, a once trusted advisor, who was fired for the advice he gave while I attempted to work with this hospital. I have a feeling that Mr. Malloy wanted to throw in my face the proof that he was the better businessman. He wanted to prove to me that he could take over this hospital, remove Dr. Cuddy and thereby Dr. House, and have what some would call…the last laugh."

"You must pay your advisors really well," one board member said suspiciously. "If you weren't involved, who is funding Malloy?"

"He is funding himself, or rather his criminal activities are. When Dr. Cuddy approached me about my participation in this, we did a little research. It seems that someone was selling my pharmaceutical advances to other companies. Lucrative work, corporate spying, isn't it?" Vogler asked Malloy.

"It was almost perfect," House explained, "Malloy could get revenge on me and Cuddy, since he blamed us for the failed venture here, and he could also prove to Vogler that he was the better entrepreneur."

Everyone could see Malloy searching the recesses of his mind for an excuse or escape until a gentle tap came at the door. Cuddy opened it, and several men in suits flashed badges and asked to speak to Malloy. The next few moments were a blur as the men took Malloy from the room, and board members began to stutter apologies.

After things settled, Cuddy walked Vogler into the hall, saying. "I know our business relationship is probably not one you look back favorably upon."

"Even the greatest of business minds won't succeed every time. I won't be making the same mistake again, but Princeton-Plainsboro was a tiny flop in years of achievement…small potatoes. No offense," Vogler commented.

"None taken. I still appreciate that you came here to clear my name."

"I came here because I wanted the rat who was selling my secrets for his own profit to be found. You pointed that out to me, so I owed you."

"I'm appreciative nonetheless."

"This is why you will never be a great business mind. For you, everything is personal. For me…it's not."

"You really think that nagging House about every little thing, manipulating him and his team, playing head games…wasn't personal?"

"Well, that man does know how to push buttons," Vogler flashed a quick smiled before his impersonal business face hardened into tight lips and a honed, powerful stare, "but so do I. It was about control, power. Those things are important in my world. Sometimes you have to break a man before he'll fall in line."

Cuddy nodded, her own smile flickering across her lips, "And sometimes…the harder you try, the more he won't break."

"Neither did you though. I underestimated you…and your alliance with him."

"There was no alliance. House wants to solve his cases, and solve them his way. I want what's best for this hospital and all of those in it. We weren't allies."

"Why didn't you get rid of him?" Vogler whispered. "That is a huge mistake."

"I don't think it's a mistake. And if it is…it's mine to make. This isn't a business…I've tried to explain that you. It's like you can't see things any other way."

"That's because I can't. But, why didn't they just gather proof of an affair with House? That could prove why you lost me and my money. Why make up something with me or anyone else?"

"Because I wasn't having an affair with House! There was nothing to prove. How many times did I try to explain that to you?"

Vogler nodded confidently, "For the first time, I think I actually believe you weren't."

Cuddy extended a hand, "Since you don't want my appreciation, I'll just say…it was a pleasure doing business with you."

"I needed someone to catch my spy, so it was a pleasure doing business with you as well. At least this time."

She watched Vogler leave as she pondered their conversation, brought out of her haze only by House's voice, "They're waiting for you."

Turning and approaching him, she smiled, "Thank you for all of this. I couldn't have done it without you guys."

"Any chance you'll hire me back as a show of your appreciation?"

She looked him over, exaggeratedly pretending to weigh pros and cons, "It'll get you an interview, I can't promise anything else. My office, as soon as these people leave, and don't be late."

Smirking lustily at her, he opened the door so she could return to the board meeting. Wilson announced as she entered, "I'd like to move to reinstate Lisa Cuddy as Dean of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"I second that motion," Sandra added. "Let's put it to vote."

Late that night, Cuddy sat back in the office she'd reclaimed. Wilson had given her a cigar that she pinned, unlit, delicately between her teeth. House came through the door, immediately asking, with a tone of artificial repentance, "I'm not too late for my interview, am I?"

"I told you not to be late and figured that would be enough incentive for you to manage to be late."

"I had a team to reassemble. The kids were pretty amped."

The light in the room was dim, House's face was lit brighter when he struck a match for his own cigar. Her voice stern, she warned, "Do not light that in my office."

He smirked, challenging her as the match burned down toward his fingers, eventually jerking his hand with enough force to extinguish the flame with one determined effort. He bragged, "If I already had the job, I would have lit it."

The distinctive smell of phosphorus from the match filled the room, and she placed her cigar on the desk. "Oh, so I get to see you on good behavior?"

"I'm kinda fuzzy on that whole good behavior-bad behavior thing."

"Have a seat."

Although she gestured to her chairs, he casually rounded her desk and sat on the edge of it, almost in front of her.

"How are we going to do this?" she asked.

"Are you going to tell me that I didn't get the job?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell me that you think we should call the you-and-me thing off?"

"No."

"Good," he nodded, "In that case, I'll go back to working for you just like I used to, except with after work activities and sex in your office when you want to reward me for my me-ness."

"You have a unique interviewing technique."

"I let my irresistibility speak for me."

To his surprise, Cuddy stood, distancing herself and rearranging items that were out of place in the room. After tossing a few of Malloy's photographs into a well-worn box, she walked past the door, engaging the lock as she continued her cursory cleanup.

"Just for future reference," he questioned, "what is the procedure I'm supposed to follow for sexual harassment?"

"You're going to accuse me of sexual harassment? Might put a damper on things."

"No, I want to know how to requisition additional acts of sexual harassment. I'd hate to be under-harassed."

She failed to scowl through her chuckle. Standing in front of him at the desk, her hands on his knees, she answered, "I think I can harass you enough to keep you busy. If I'm going to have to wait for you to complete paperwork, we'll both be retired before we get laid."

"Very true."

She added somberly, "We're going to have to be careful. I lost my job over similar accusations, so I want to try to avoid anything that might cause problems for us professionally."

"This isn't similar. The accusations about Ackert were about getting ahead. You're the boss, at the top of the food chain, so it's not like sleeping with me can get you any higher. And I…have zero desire to be promoted. So who's trying to get ahead?"

"You're looking for a job."

"They already know I'm coming back. And with Vogler, the story was that he turned you down, and I think we both know that the likelihood of me turning you down at this point is pretty much nonexistent."

"I just want to exercise some caution."

"Says the woman who is standing between my knees with her hands all over me. Can you see why this may be confusing?"

"Well, tomorrow this would be inappropriate office behavior."

"But it's not tonight?"

"I'm not officially starting until tomorrow. Tonight, technically, I'm just a woman, standing in an office with a man she's seeing."

"And after tomorrow?"

"I think it all depends how we present it. We need to be careful but…," her hands slid along his chest as she nestled her hips higher between his legs, "I think if we present it like a relationship, not like a fling or an attempt to gain professional favors, that will help."

Her eyes lifted to his, waiting. He answered, gazing over her with equal determination, "Seems like a good plan. So you aren't going for all out denial?"

"Obviously not," she answered, lifting herself higher until her lips could meet his. "Denial isn't my plan. It makes things seem secretive. Technically this started while neither of us had jobs. When I wasn't doing anything wrong, they accused me of doing something wrong, so maybe a small amount of inappropriateness would do me good."

"So my job would involve diagnosing and inappropriateness?"

"Sort of seems that way."

"Are you-" he began, before she carefully braced one knee on the desk, so close to him that he could feel the warmth of her through his jeans.

She pulled herself up on the desk, kneeling on the edge. Her body was against him, her knee pressing against his groin. His hands moved to her thigh, lifting it so she could straddle him. Gripping her hips, he ground slowly against her, letting her feel the effects of her on his body. She unintentionally sighed as she spoke, bragging, "I barely have to do anything to get a reaction."

"You do plenty."

"Are you going to be able to concentrate at work?" she asked as she opened his jeans and grasped his cock between her two warm hands.

Applying the perfect amount of pressure as she pumped along his length, she made sure he was entirely aroused. They were both watching her petite hands as they moved, discovering every inch of him. His mouth hung open slightly while he enjoyed the attention without intervention. The highly electrifying truth was that she was jerking him off as he sat on her desk in her office, minutes after suggesting that they were in a relationship. There was nothing unerotic about the truth in that moment.

Sitting next to him on the desk, she met his eyes, her tongue slipping over her lips to wet them while his breath hitched expectantly. He felt his erection harden further as he watched her slip down. He felt he could come from the anticipation. She kissed the head of his cock, allowing him gradual entrance into her mouth. Her full lips were perfectly formed around him, providing a tight grip on the smooth skin as they slid down. Her tongue laved along the sensitive tip, forcing his hips to lift.

His fingers gripped the edge of the desk as he tried to maintain control while she took him completely in her mouth. He was enclosed in something warm and soft and wet, her teeth occasionally grazing subtly against him, creating a contrast that made nonchalance impossible. His entire conscious mind was trapped in the luxurious attentions of her mouth and fingers. She hummed an appreciative sound that shot through him, his body grasping at the last remaining reserves of control. But before he could fully restrain his racing mind and completely tensed body, she tightened her entire mouth around him and swooped down one final time. It was the perfect short-circuiting of synapses and senses that became his entire world for as long as it lasted until he slipped back against the desk without a single thought occupying his mind.

He eventually felt her fingers trailing against his stomach. "Oh my god," he muttered, looking at her with a slightly awed expression, "I'll do whatever you want."

She chuckled, "You'll take that back in about ten minutes. I have a feeling that immediately post-orgasmic you is probably the most compliant version."

"So your best course of action is to keep me frequently post-orgasmic. I'll be wearing a lab coat in no time."

"That was Vogler's fantasy, not mine. How about completing paperwork?"

"I guess you'll have to give it a try and see what happens," he said as she got down from the desk and started removing Malloy's belongings again.

"Get your perky butt back over here," he ordered. "Why in the hell are you cleaning right now?"

"We can finish up later, back at my place."

"No, the office sex fantasy is really only half fulfilled."

"So much for post-orgasmic compliance."

"This is future-orgasm related, that's different. I completely missed out on the part where you scream 'harder, House, harder!' followed by a series of gasping 'yesses' as you reach ecstasy."

"Clearly you've never entertained that fantasy before," she suggested dryly.

"I have most definitely entertained that fantasy."

She was going through books on the shelves, removing some volumes and retaining others while he fixed his jeans. He approached as he planned exactly what he wanted to do because once she was fully reinstated, he wasn't sure if she'd ever agree to such scandalous behavior within the walls of her office again.

As he stepped behind her, his left hand gripped the shelf next to her left side, the upper part of his arm against her ribs. She shifted uncertainly as she looked back over her shoulder, "I said we can finish up later," she stated in a tone that sounded more like a challenge than an order.

"And I'm saying we can finish up now and later," he answered gruffly as his right hand found the space next to her hip and low on her tummy, just close enough to send a surge of hopeful desire to her sex.

He pulled her against him with that one splayed hand, and she let her body fall slightly back. His teeth pinched her ear before he rumbled, "Lift up your skirt."

"I think I'm the one who's supposed to be giving the orders," she answered lightly, her tone playfully difficult.

"Lift your skirt," he ordered more forcefully, punctuating each word as he pulled her more tightly against him.

She looked over her shoulder again, her look alone sending reminders throughout his body that she could easily turn him on again. "You want to make me come?"

He nodded slowly in response.

"You want me to scream your name when I do?" she asked, her voice sultry and alluring. "Make you come with me?"

His hips pressed forward, his hand angling her to him, an entirely instinctive reaction to her words. That surge of blood and nerves rushed to his pelvis, creating a need-filled weight. He wasn't completely hard yet, but he was pretty sure if she kept talking the way she was and feeling the way she felt, he'd definitely have the chance to be inside her. But, for the moment, there were other things he needed to do. He wanted to remind her that he could make her want him, that he could control her ascent, heighten her pleasure, and he could make her come. While his mind was entertaining these thoughts, she shifted from side to side as she lifted her skirt high up over her hips. "Like this?" she questioned.

His right hand opened over her thigh, moving down to her knee before beginning a tempting rise upward so coolly that she became impatient for the desired pressure. His fingers curled around her sex, feeling the abundant wetness seeping through her panties. Pulsing only lightly at first, he felt her squirming a bit, her head resting back against his chest. As her full ass pressed against his jeans, he groaned in her ear.

The heel of his palm was rocking against her, causing an escalation of desire that made her remove her own thong before he could even ask. He wasted no time, his fingers following the dip between her saturated folds and sinking deeply into her pussy. She gasped loudly at his intrusion in her body, unexpected, but not nearly enough to quench her ample desire. He waited, unmoving, his fingers completely buried in her while her wetness coated his hand. When she started to move, undulating back against him, his cock hardened more fully from the friction she was creating and the unhindered honesty of her appetite.

He allowed his fingers to start fucking her, just to feel the hot, soggy way her body needed him. His palm pressed against her clit each time he was deep inside her. She was pinned between his body and the bookshelf, her hands occasionally reaching for shelves or back around his body in encouragement. Her gasps became more frequent, he was masterfully directing her responses, allowing a gradual but tense climb toward higher arousal. She harnessed patience, trying to stop herself from blatantly riding his hand toward a quicker resolution. Her hands eventually covered his to hold him against her body, her own wetness coating her skin when her fingers would slide against his.

When she started to clench his fingers more rhythmically, he removed them and slid his hand to her hip. He pulled her a few unsteady steps toward the desk, turning around so she was pinned between him and the furniture. At that moment, he finally kissed her, feeling her lifting herself up on the edge of the desk while their tongues mingled. She was already rocking against him, her hips moving in a proposed rhythm. His hands left her body long enough to open his jeans and shove them part way down his legs, just enough to get them out of the way. "I'll help you clear your desk," he offered while they moved up onto the surface, sending various items rushing to the floor.

Before he could even situate himself, she was guiding him toward her. He sunk slowly into her without pause or retreat, just steadily finding his way into her body. It seemed she was always so close to too tight, no matter how wet she was. She held him against her while she appreciated the heavy and persistent presence of his body in hers.

At the same time, they began to move. He plunged more harshly into her the second time, claiming her. They sought a joining of bodies that demonstrated the attraction that existed between them. His own want building to a crescendo in spite of a previous orgasm. She mirrored him with each thrust, her body waving to meet each union. They couldn't even dictate their actions at that point, because their bodies demanded total control without interference from their minds. But their minds loved every minute, loved the sweat, the grunts and gasps and sighs that accompanied the slapping of skin against skin, the scattering office supplies from the desk and the creaking of the furniture beneath them.

When his shoulder met the lamp on the desk, it flung to the ground, the only real light source in the room abruptly extinguished, so the pleasure of sight was momentarily robbed from them. The temporary deprivation of that sense heighted the remaining senses. He felt like he could go on forever until she cried out, "Harder, House. God, fuck me harder."

Her words were loud and unpolished, simultaneously demanding and desperate, and so close to the words he had told her he wanted to hear, with her own additions to the phrase only making it that much hotter. His own reaction had already been set, nothing could stop him from coming at that point. When she gasped out, her unintelligible words were rocked and stuttered by the moments when their bodies slammed together.

All of his remaining power went into their final moments of fucking, pushing into her when he felt the tightening grip of her around him. They were provoking each other's orgasms, each body's natural reactions creating sensations that the other craved. They came together in a rush of desire and feeling until their bodies had no power left to continue. They slowly came down from their highs as they panted, their limbs momentarily powerless.

"They were idiots," House mumbled a few minutes later, "Ackert and Vogler."

"You definitely have your own ideas about pillow talk."

"That's not a pillow…it's a desk blotter."

"Blotter talk is new to me. And thank you for the lesson in office supplies."

"Sure. Anyway, Ackert and Vogler were idiots. If they had any sense, they would have taken the opportunity and given everyone something worth photographing."

"I wasn't really attracted to either of them."

"At least they should have tried. I'm more than willing to give any future detractor ample evidence of an affair."

"Can we wait until our rehire paperwork is done?"

"Yea," he answered, nuzzling against her neck. "In the meantime, I want you to know that I really love the office atmosphere you've created. Getting rid of Malloy's stuff was a good start."

"The lamp was actually mine."

He froze for a moment, trying to judge the degree of her displeasure in the dark, "Small price to pay for fantasy-driven, office-reclaiming desk sex."

"True," she agreed lazily as they stood and began to correct their clothing. "Knowing us, it's probably not the last thing we'll break during sex."

He grabbed two bottles of water from the meeting earlier, giving one to her. "Here's to many, many, many broken objects…and countless incidents of sexually destructive behavior."