A/N Kitty and House continue to get to know each other a little better -- all part of the story -- but more 'plot' returning in the next chapter....

Thanks for your lovely comments!

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Kitty woke up because her bladder was urgently reminding her of the two beers she'd consumed before falling asleep. She squinted at the clock – two am. House was snoring softly next to her, lying slightly on his right side facing away from her. She got up and went into the ensuite bathroom, not turning on any lights and trying to be as quiet as possible. It was strange to have someone else in her apartment – in her bed. It had been a long time, and a first for this apartment.

After she'd relieved herself she stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief at what she'd done. The logic of why it had been such a bad decision clawed at the edges of her brain – he was Andrew's son for God's sake! – but she refused to acknowledge it; knowing from experience that there would be plenty of time for self-recrimination and regret. And as House had said himself the previous evening –the mess would all still be there on Monday. The PRC. House as Chair. House knowing her secrets. Andrew. She could deal with it then. In the meantime, why shouldn't she enjoy a weekend of pleasure? It wasn't like it was something she did all the time. It wasn't like it was something she did, period.

"Hey."

Kitty looked away from herself and saw his shadowy figure, indistinct in the dimness of the bathroom doorway. "Shh, go back to sleep," she said in a whisper.

"Why?"

"Because it's the middle of the night."

"The middle of the night is the perfect time for getting up to no good," he said sleepily, stepping forward and nuzzling his face into her neck.

Kitty giggled at the ticklish sensation of his beard against her skin.

"Why are you up?" he asked, his mouth still against her throat.

"I needed to pee," she said.

"Me too." He gave her one last smacking kiss on the neck and then walked over to the toilet and began to do exactly that. Kitty grimaced – while it had been a long time since a man had been in her apartment, it had been even longer since she'd shared the peculiar intimacy of watching someone else urinate.

House clearly noted the look on her face. "Listen honey, I've been a doctor for twenty years. The fluids I've seen come out of people's bodies? A bit of pee is nothing to worry about."

Kitty shrugged, it wasn't like she was going to make him stop. But now he was awake she wasn't so worried about being quiet. She grabbed her toothbrush and the toothpaste. "My teeth feel fuzzy," she said by way of explanation.

"Mine too." House held out a finger and she squeezed a little toothpaste on it. He began to rub it over his teeth while he peed and Kitty decided not to look. When he was finished he turned on the taps in her shower. "I've got pizza crumbs in my chest hair," he said by way of explanation.

Kitty nodded. "I feel kind of oily too."

"You don't have a bath," House said, as if it were a crime. "How can you not have a bath?" He reached into the shower and adjusted the water temperature.

"I don't really like baths. They make me feel lazy. A shower feels like I'm doing something."

"But that's the whole point." House grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shower cubicle. It wasn't huge, but the two of them fit relatively easily. He positioned Kitty under the shower head and bent her head back, smoothing the water through her hair. "You'll have to come to my place and have a bath with me. I'll teach you how to have a bath."

"I didn't think men liked baths." Kitty said, feeling a little breathless. She didn't really want her hair wet, but couldn't muster the will to resist. She wasn't quite sure why, but having him touch her like this was incredibly erotic. There was nothing particularly sexual about what he was doing, his movements were perfunctory, he squeezed shampoo into his hands and rubbed it into her hair, but Kitty could feel her knees weaken. She put one hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

He snorted. "Don't use me for balance or we'll both go crashing through that plate glass. That's why I like baths," he added and his voice held a touch of bitterness.

"Oh," Kitty said, wondering if she was meant to feel guilty. She moved her hand from his shoulder to the tiled wall, but didn't say anything further. She simply stood there, revelling in being looked after, enjoying the simple pleasure of his hands on her. He kept talking, a meandering, one-sided conversation that roamed from baths to towels and the price women paid for toiletries. She didn't really listen to the words, just let his voice wash over her like the water. It crossed her mind to wonder what was in this for him, but when she took a step closer to let him rinse the conditioner from her, she felt the evidence of his arousal.

Knowing that simply touching her like that was as erotic for him as it was for her gave Kitty a sense of power. She felt some of her usual confidence return and the doubts she'd had looking in the mirror disappeared again. Once he'd rinsed all the conditioner away, Kitty opened her eyes and looked into his. They still hadn't turned any lights on and perhaps that was what was adding to make this moment unlike any other shower she'd ever had. His eyes gleamed with a desire that his light-hearted banter belied.

"Your turn," Kitty said softly.

"Not the hair," he said. He winked. "Takes me hours to get it to look this good."

Kitty laughed at his mussed, thinning bed-head. "Turn around." They switched places and she pushed him under the shower spray, recognising as she put her hands to the chilled skin of his chest that he must be feeling quite cold. He gave a satisfied sigh as the warm water ran over him. She realised that she wasn't going to want this to take too long. Her poor circulation made her feel the cold more quickly than most people and standing in the chilly air, wet, in the middle of the night, wasn't going to be much fun if it took more than a few minutes.

She grabbed the shower gel and squirted a large amount in her hand. Starting with his shoulders she ran her hands down his arms to the elbows and back. He was corded with muscle and could tell that he must do something to keep in shape. She had no idea what that would be, given his leg – and she doubted he'd admit to anything – but his whole body, legs included, gave the impression of a man who was fit and strong.

He bit his lip when she wiggled her fingers under his arms and into his armpits and Kitty made a note of his ticklishness for later. She lathered the hair there and turned him this way and that under the spray to rinse off. His chest was almost as hard as his arms and running her soapy hands over it was one of the more pleasurable things Kitty had done. She knew that the sexy thing to do would be to run her hands over every inch of him until he was begging for her to touch the part of his anatomy that was currently poking into her hip, but she knew she couldn't wait that long.

He swore under his breath as her hand encircled him. She revelled in the feel of him; this was one part of his body that had definitely not become chilled while he'd washed her. His hands reached down and covered hers, stroking himself and tangling his fingers with hers. Kitty wasn't sure what he was doing until he took his hands away and pressed his palms against her breasts, grasping and squeezing before playing with her nipples with his fingertips.

"Just getting soapy," he explained, his voice gravelly and low.

Kitty gasped at his touch and felt the heavy pulse in her groin matching the pinching of his fingers on her breasts. She longed for him to be inside her again, and to press herself against his body, to lose where she ended and he began. She changed the movement of her hand, rolling up his shaft, gripping tighter as she reached the head. With her other hand she cupped his balls, gently weighing them in her palm, rubbing the fragile skin with her thumb and reaching her middle finger behind to stroke his perineum.

She was rewarded by a low, long groan.

"God that's good," he muttered. His hands on her breasts had stilled, too absorbed with his own pleasure to concentrate on touching her. But he continued to hold them and the heat of his hands just resting there was a pleasing torture in itself.

His breathing became more ragged and Kitty deliberately slowed her movements as she felt him begin to tense. He made a strangled noise of protest and thrust himself into her hand, clearly unwilling for her to stop.

Kitty took her hands away.

"What, are you trying to kill me?" he asked, frustrated.

"I don't want it to end yet," Kitty said simply. She put her hands to his chest and pushed him to take a step back so they could both stand under the shower spray. She rinsed him and then herself, shivering against the heat of the water on her chilled skin. Her toes were so cold the water felt as if it was scolding her.

She turned off the taps and they made quick work of getting dry, each attending to themselves to make things faster. House was, by virtue of his leg, slower than she was, and she stood in the bathroom doorway watching him for a moment. His scar was impressive, running almost the length of his thigh. It wasn't so much that the skin was marred, more that the leg itself was shrunken, shrivelled, collapsed in upon itself. It was such a sad contrast to the rest of his fit body.

"What are you thinking?" he said, and Kitty was startled out of her reverie to find him standing there, watching her with the same intent look she guessed she must have had on her face.

"I was thinking how impressive your cock is," she said with a silly grin. Which wasn't a lie, although it might not have been exactly top of her mind at that particular moment, it wasn't far from it. Thanks to her ministrations in the shower he was at full salute, rising hard and solid from a gingery-brown nest of hair. He wasn't difficult to look at.

He snorted. "Yeah, right." He looked down at his thigh and frowned; a flash of pain crossed his features.

Kitty lifted her chin, determined not to let this spoil things. She knew pity or sympathy would only make things worse. "I was," she pouted. Kitty leaned back against the door jam and propped one foot up, twirling a lock of wet hair around her finger. "I can't wait for you to put it in me, baby," she said in a sultry teasing whisper, not quite managing to keep the smile off her face.

He shook his head, and gave her a wry smile that showed he wasn't even slightly convinced. "Way to change the subject, but this time I'll go with you." He took a hobbled step and gripped the doorframe above her head, bending down to press a hot kiss to her lips. His mouth was minty from the toothpaste, his tongue hot and hungry. Kitty parted her legs slightly to let his penis rub against her and she sighed into him when his hardness made the contact she wanted.

"You still want me to put it in you, baby?" he said against her mouth, making a mockery of the endearment.

"Oh yeah," Kitty sighed. She pushed him away from her and took the few steps from the bathroom into the bedroom. He caught her at the edge of the bed and pulled her in for another rough kiss, one hand on the back of her head to press her to him, the other seeking out a nipple and giving it an almost painful twist. Kitty pulled away to gasp in a breath.

He sat down on the bed and curled his hands around her waist, positioning her in front of him. Kitty put a hand on his shoulder and then knelt on the bed straddling his lap, a knee either side of his hips. She rose up, higher than him and looked down. He bent his head slightly forward and took the nipple he'd twisted into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue and sucking lightly. She let him do it for a while, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking back and forward slightly. But the pulse between her legs quickly became an aching throb, a longing, a desperate need to be filled. She repositioned her knees and lowered herself, reaching down to hold him in place, sinking over him slowly, taking him in an inch at a time.

They both groaned.

"So good," Kitty murmured, rising up slightly to sink down over him again, her peaked nipples brushing against the light dusting of his chest hair as she did. She hadn't realised it would come in handy quite this way, but as Kitty rose up again she sent a prayer of thanks to her gym instructor who insisted on all those squats. House put his hands under her ass to help her move and together they forged a rhythm that had them both panting. The friction from him moving inside her was one of the most blissful feelings Kitty had ever experienced.

"Jesus Christ!" House's gasped blasphemy let Kitty knew he was close. She starting moving faster and squeezing her internal muscles around him on every up stroke. It took concentration but she could tell from the way his fingers suddenly dug into her that her efforts were appreciated.

He threw his head back, eyes screwed shut, his hips jerking up into her as he began to lose control. She felt the moment he lost it, his body froze just as she sank down and he jerked up, buried as deep inside her as he could possibly reach. He pushed into her again and again, grunting with effort on each thrust, before falling back on the bed, his chest heaving.

Kitty was close, so close her thighs were already trembling, her breath coming in gasps. He was still solid inside her so she decided to take advantage of that and kept moving on him, reaching down to rub her clit in hard, tight circles that she knew would bring her to the peak fast.

House opened his eyes when he felt her move again and his eyes widened. "Oh, fuck that's hot," he whispered, grasping one of her breasts. He squeezed, hard, matching the rhythm with which she stroked herself.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations assaulting her; his hand on her breast; the hairiness of his thighs along her smooth calves where they pressed against him; the obscene wetness from both his semen and her juices where they were joined. He pushed into her with what little strength he had left, helping her along, and with that Kitty felt her muscles seize. She cried out, unable to keep the noise inside, moving and rubbing to prolong her peak, unaware of anything except the waves of pleasure spreading through her.

Finally she felt the waves turn into ripples, the overwhelming intensity subsided and she went still. She opened her eyes and was immediately dizzy, the room spinning around her head. She reached out a hand blindly to steady herself and House grabbed her around the wrist.

"Dizzy," she muttered.

He sat up and wrapped one arm around her, and with his other he grasped her thigh and pulled her off him. He drew her body close to his and lay down again, pushing her to his side so her head rested flat on the bed.

"Better?"

Kitty nodded. She was sure anyone would have been dizzy after that; her brain was still barely functioning.

After thirty seconds or so of letting her rest, House nudged her. "You conscious?"

"Barely." She felt his body tense.

"Anything we need to be concerned about?"

Kitty was touched; she hadn't considered he might actually be worried about her health. "No, sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I'm fine. I think I'm on the cusp of a 'come coma' but other than that I'm fine."

House chuckled and tightened his arm around her for a moment.

Kitty was warm everywhere her body was in contact with his, but the rest of her was rapidly cooling down and her wet hair was becoming uncomfortable. She sat up with a struggle, her thighs protesting the workout they'd been given. She shuffled up onto the pillows while House got up and limped around to the other side of the bed, grabbing himself a Vicodin as he did so.

He settled down in bed next to her, gathering her up in his arms in a way that Kitty hadn't expected. But she wasn't complaining. He was warm and resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart was unbelievably soothing. She was asleep before she thought much further.