Hi everyone!

At some point between my previous update and this chapter, I may have let it slip (in other online places) that I would throw some completely gratuitous sex in that chapter.
I guess I failed, miserably.
Because it seems nothing is ever completely gratuitous, even less sex between House and Cuddy…

That being said, I still hope you'll like reading that new part.
Let me know what you think!

** Chapter 76 **

"Where are the others?" Foreman said, entering the conference room and realizing that only Thirteen was there.

"And good morning to you too!" she answered sarcastically, getting up. "Taub took the day off, and Kutner's in the E.R," she explained, passing by Foreman and walking out with a determined pace.

He watched her leave the room a little flabbergasted but when she stopped at the threshold and turned around to look at him, he arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"Come!" she commanded assertively.

Instead of abiding by Thirteen's request, Foreman frowned dubiously and shot a glance at the closed blinds of House's office.

"Where's House?"

"In there," Thirteen said with a movement of the chin pointing in the same direction Foreman was looking at. "Now, come on! There's something..."

"What?" Foreman said, irritated. "Problem with the patient?" He hung his overcoat to the coatrack. "If there's something, we should inform him…" he started, taking a step toward House's office.

Thirteen grabbed his arm just in time and yanked him into the hallway with her.

"Who said something happened to the patient? Leave House alone and come. with. me," she repeated for the third time, pronouncing each word slowly and staring intensely at him with her most compelling gaze.

Foreman wriggled his shoulders a bit to set himself free from her grasp and sighed heavily, clearly annoyed to have to comply to a demand he had no idea about.

"So?" Thirteen pushed one last time before she started walking toward the elevator, "Are you coming or what?"

Foreman had no other choice but to follow. They both stepped into the car and Thirteen pressed the button to the second floor. Where the door slid shut, Foreman turned to face her and glared.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell it is about?" he scowled.

Ignoring his inquisitive stare, Thirteen kept her focus straight ahead for a few more seconds and when the elevator reached its destination and stopped, she said, "This is huge."

The door opened and she stepped outside without further comment.

Foreman caught up with her as she walked straight in the lab's direction, her heels clicking on the floor with a high-pitched sound.

"What? What's huge?" Foreman asked, walking alongside her with the same, fast rhythm.

"House has been locked up in his office since eight this morning. And he's grumpy…"

"And? God, Remy! Is that the 'huge' something you're talking about? Because sorry but, when has House being cranky been anything but normal?" he puffed and turned on his heel, ready to head back to the elevator.

Thirteen quickly walked round him and blocked his way, standing in front of him.

"Eight in the morning," she emphasized, with a conspiring smile, "Don't you think it's a little early?"

"Yeah, so? Maybe it is, but that's not a reason to…"

"That's not what I'm talking about anyway," she added, retiring in a corner, to avoid the hallway traffic of hurrying doctors and nurses.

Foreman followed her reluctantly and waited for her explanation, stomping his foot on the floor.

"Ok so," she added, "right now, nothing's totally sure, but I may have put my hand on something really intriguing … So, interested in knowing, or what?"

Exasperated, Foreman rolled his eyes and titled his head to the side, looking at her with quite a look of dismay.

"Hospital gossips, great! That's exactly the kind of things I was dying to know right now," he grumbled disapprovingly. "What is it with you girls always needing to spread those silly rumors about who sleeps with whom anyway?"

"Do I look like a girlie girl to you?" Thirteen cut him off impatiently. "Nobody sleeps with anybody, or more like everybody sleeps with everybody but, who cares? That's not the point."

"Then what is the dammed point?"

"House is doing research."

"Really? Here's some news!" Foreman shook his head, aggravated.

"I saw something on his computer screen this morning-" Thirteen carried on, not paying attention to his snarky remark. "It was about hormones I think, although I just caught a glimpse of it."

"Do you actually have something to say that makes sense, at all?"

"I went to the clinic, after I checked on the patient," Thirteen said, changing strategy.

Foreman's face was conveying nothing but absolute skepticism. Clearly, he did not understand one word of what Thirteen was saying and he was becoming tired of trying.

"Cuddy was there-"

"Wow, another big news!"

"-walking out of an exam room."

Foreman opened his mouth to say another sarcastic remark about the fact that Cuddy, in spite of appearances was a real doctor, too, and that, yes, occasionally, she did clinic hours, like any doctors but he stopped himself and held his breath instead, when Thirteen, anticipating his barb shot him a warning glare.

"And a minute later," she said, with a dramatic voice, "Wilson exited the same room."

It finally got Foreman's attention and Thirteen saw it instantly from the look of confusion that started to spread on his face.

"What? How? Wh- Are you saying Cuddy and Wilson-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Thirteen snapped her fingers right under his nose.

"Foreman! This is real life, not an episode of Prescription Passion!" she said sharply, her eyes flashing daggers at him.

"I'm trying to find out where this is going," Foreman defended himself.

"And you're doing a pretty lame job at it! What do you do in an exam room?"

"You, uh, examine?" he said, looking bored.

"Exactly!"

"So what? Seriously, I don't even know why we're discussing that right now. That's none of our business anyway. For all I know, Cuddy needed Wilson to sign some paperwork, or he wrote her a pill prescription."

"Wilson is an oncologist!" Thirteen exclaimed, getting unnerved by Foreman's obvious lack of focus.

"Yeah, whatever. They're friends, and that's not like it'd be the first time Wilson would have written a prescription for something not cancer related," Foreman contradicted, nodding knowingly. "I'm sorry but if this is all you've got, you're going to be alone in your excitement here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

And with that, he started to walk away. Thirteen promptly grabbed him by his shirt's sleeve and held him back.

"No, you don't! Listen to me," she ordered cogently, shooting him a silencing glare. "Cuddy went back in her office, and she was not carrying any files with her. And Wilson…"

"What about him?"

"Well, that's where it gets interesting," she whispered in a low voice, coming closer and waiting to get Foreman's full attention, "I followed him…"

"What? You followed-"

"Shut up and listen! Wilson went straight to the lab." She stopped and waited for the news to produce the awaited effect.

Foreman shrugged instead and looked at her with a trace of slightly annoyed impatience.

"An oncologist going to the lab? Uhm, yeah, now that's interesting."

"You know what he was doing in there?" Thirteen tantalized.

"No, but obviously you do."

"He brought a blood test."

Foreman's eyebrows arched in what finally seemed to show real interest.

"Cuddy did a blood test?"

"Seems like it."

"Are we even sure it's Cuddy's blood?" he added, glancing at the lab.

Thirteen noticed the use of the word "we" as proof of Foreman's implication and she smiled inwardly.

"I'm pretty sure it is."

"Why?"

"Because I searched in the database for every new test that's being currently run in the lab and the only name that was added today is Julia Smith…"

"And it proves that it's Cuddy's blood because?-" Foreman asked dubiously.

"There's no patient registered under that name in the hospital right now," she explained "And I mean, no clinic patient either; at least not in the past two days," she quickly added before Foreman start questioning her logic.

"Wow! Fake name?" he said, his brow turning into a frown.

"Yep!" Thirteen exclaimed with a sing song voice.

"Why would Cuddy run a blood test under a fake name?"

"Because she doesn't want people to know she's having one?"

"You think she's-"

"Pregnant?"

"You think she is?"

"No. You think she is?"

"I didn't say that" Foreman contradicted.

"Then what, STD?"

Foreman rolled his eyes disapprovingly.

"Always the optimistic one-" he told her, with a pout.

"Well, anyway, we're here to find out," Thirteen said, determinedly walking toward the lab.

Foreman held her back, forcing her to stop.

"Sorry but why would we do that again?"

"Oh, come on! Cuddy disappeared for a whole week, now she's back and she has her blood tested. Under a fake name. Something's definitely fishy here."

"Doesn't mean it's any of our business," Foreman argued.

"Wow, I thought you'd know better," she deadpanned.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means if something's going on with Cuddy right now, it'll most certainly affect House. And it won't be long before, in turn, it starts to affect us. So, sorry to disagree but, seeing that our jobs are concerned, that's definitely our business."

Foreman narrowed his eyes for a moment, weighing his options.

"I don't need to remind you how he would be if things go wrong, do I?" she added, feeling Foreman's reticence melting away.

And indeed, it was. Thirteen's remark had instantly triggered Foreman's memory and forced him to focus on how much of an unbearable prick House had been when Cuddy was away and how, specifically, he'd treated him during that period, edgy and on the verge of being violent for no reasons at each and every occasion there was. Yes, Foreman thought, there was no doubt that their boss' mood was deeply intricate, if not entirely co-dependent on how much happiness, at least less misery, House was getting in his life.

And there was no doubt either that being in a relationship with Cuddy had done a lot to improve that in more than one way. Being with her had made House light-spirited, relaxed and generally inclined to social interactions which almost looked like normal ones. Hell, Foreman had been working with House for years and now was the best he'd ever seen him. They definitely couldn't let that be jeopardized.

"Fine!" he muttered his agreement, letting go of Thirteen's forearm that he'd grabbed the whole time. "And by the way, why do you need me?" he added after a short moment of reflection.

"Audrey is there." Thirteen said, as if the name itself would explain everything.

"And?"

"Oh, please, she's all over you! You think no one sees how she's totally melting each time you're around? 'Oh, Doctor Foreman! Sure, Doctor Foreman! Anything you want Doctor Foreman!'" she mocked, her voice deliberately sugary.

Foreman shook his head in dismay but made no comment. They headed to the Lab, where indeed they came face to face with Audrey, the assistant, who was absorbed in paperwork. She tilted her head up when she heard the sound of footsteps coming in and a bright smile instantly illuminated her face.

"Oh, hi Doctor Foreman!" she said, visibly pleased to see him. Thirteen followed shortly after and she barely gave her a nod. "What brings you here?"

"Hi Audrey!" Foreman answered coming close to her desk, pulling his most assertive stance. "Dr. Wilson came earlier with a blood test," he explained, leaning a little toward her, his chest coming closer to her shoulder.

"Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"Julia Smith, is that right?"

The assistant nodded. Thirteen was standing behind the desk, trying to look busy with things, while in fact she was only nervously twisting her fingers to keep her hands occupied.

"Uh," Audrey stuttered a little uneasy. "Dr. Wilson said he wanted to handle that personally."

"I know," Foreman said casually, making it sound like it was not a problem. "But Dr. Wilson specifically asked me to come here and check the blood sample to make sure it's viable for the tests he ordered."

That was a lame excuse. Foreman realized it the moment the words came out of his mouth. Thirteen shot him a glare from across the desk. Besides, for a split second, Audrey imperceptibly frowned skeptically, looking surprised and unsure about Foreman's motives. But he smiled reassuringly, and her expression of puzzlement faded away quickly. After all, she was just an assistant and doctor Foreman, well, he was a doctor. A very sexy one at that, she thought, suddenly becoming aware of the scent of his perfume invading the air around her and tickling her nostrils.

"There're two samples," she told him. "I think there's largely enough blood to run the tests…"

"Yes, sure," Foreman confirmed, glancing at Thirteen, looking a bit helpless. "But-"

"Uh, it depends," Thirteen butted in, with a confident voice. "Sometimes the first results can be false positives and we may need to do the tests twice, but Julia Smith's condition isn't compatible with excessive draws of blood. I mean, see by yourself: The tests are enough a strong indication of that." She planted her gaze in Audrey's eyes, compellingly inviting her to indeed check by herself and finally bring them the answer they needed.

That was undoubtedly a gambling move but there was no time to lose anymore over falsely polite formulas. They had to get to the point. Foreman held his breath and alternatively stared at Thirteen and Audrey with a slightly panicked gaze that the assistant fortunately misread as a solemn one indicating she had to do as she was told.

She quickly fumbled into her files and pulled a sheet of paper out of the pile. She read the form and nodded with a look of concern on her face while Thirteen, seizing the opportunity, promptly leaned forward to give it a look as well. Her expression changed the second she laid eyes on the form and Foreman couldn't miss it. Expectantly, feeling his heartbeats speeding up, he looked at Thirteen while she was staring at the words written down on the white sheet of paper. She gulped and tilted her head up very slowly.

"See? Ovarian and breast cancer markers," she said, talking to the lab assistant but staring right into Foreman's eyes. "Julia Smith can't risk having her tests screwed up."

She bit her lip, still intensely searching for Foreman's gaze who had frozen still, processing the news, his mouth agape in astonishment.

# # # # # #

After a tiresome day spent searching obsessively for answers, House left the hospital in the evening to go back to his apartment. In the parking lot, just before he got on his bike and put his helmet on, the thought of him going back home where later Cuddy would probably join him suddenly hit him. That's what his life was like now: He was not a miserable lonely jerk anymore. He had someone to be with, someone to come to, someone to take care of.

That last thought sent chills down his spine as the very idea of not being able to make things right invaded his brain. He shivered and stared blankly ahead for a while. Nobody had ever handed him the manual for relationships, and he was more than convinced that he was doing a lot of things completely wrong, but he was trying. Trying really hard and because of that, it had been several months now since he was rewarded with the unhoped-for chance to be with the most gorgeous woman he'd ever known, and received her love, in spite of his flaws, his assholery and every display of affection he was incapable of showing her.

Yes, House was a lucky bastard for having her. Just the fact that she would let him love her was awe-inspiring in a way. He'd wanted her for so long, there was no denying that, even if at some point in his life he'd almost given up hoping. But now he had her. Cuddy was here, she was his and House didn't want to try and rationalize it because whenever he did, his head started spinning.

There was one thing House was absolutely sure of: Whether he deserved that miracle or not, now that he'd tasted it, he would never be able to let go of it. Cuddy was all he needed in his life. She was what made his life less miserable, and less miserable was what made it worth living. Without her, he'd be dead or locked-up in an asylum. So, he couldn't lose her. He couldn't even begin to envision what it would feel like not to have her, not to hold her, not to fall asleep beside her…

And it terrified him.

House suddenly realized that since he'd let Cuddy into his life, he was now completely addicted to what it felt like to have her, to be loved, to give love. He didn't know what to do with that overwhelming evidence, neither did he know if he should feel reassured by it or be frightened, but it just hit him in his guts and his hands started to shake as a result of it. He stared down at them for a moment, unaware of him inhaling long, slow breathings, and he reached out for his bottle of pills in the back pocket of his jeans. Quickly he slid one tablet inside his palm and tilted his head backward, pushing the 20mg of chemical soothing down his throat. Then he hopped on his bike and drove off.

Cuddy arrived at his place a little before nine.

In the few hours that had preceded her arrival, House had bustled about the kitchen, cooking his most exquisite cuisine for her. When he lacked words to express how he felt, he usually let his actions speak for him and that night, there was no doubt he had many things to tell her: Pardon me, love me, stay with me, don't hate me, don't leave me… don't die… The words were getting muddled in his head when, at the same time, they seemed so clear it almost frightened him.

As Cuddy opened the door, House realized that the sound it made was the one he wanted his life to sound like: The sound of someone who would come to him after the day passed by; the sound of his loneliness being far gone.

"What's this?" she asked, stopping at the threshold and gaping when she saw the decor in the living room.

House was standing beside his couch and looking at her with a mischievous gaze. On the coffee table behind him, he'd put a tablecloth and dressed a table for two, with fine crystal glasses and white porcelain plates. The stereo was playing smooth jazz. The room was illuminated by soft candlelight. The candles were laid everywhere, on the shelves of his bookcase and furniture and the place was suffused with a soft warm halo emanating from the dancing flames. It looked absolutely surreal and unexpected. At least that's what her mesmerized gaze told him, which was the exact effect House wanted to trigger.

"I've cooked dinner," he said casually, coming close to her.

"There're candles," Cuddy deadpanned, eyeing him up suspiciously.

House rolled his eyes and held back his smile, walking behind her to help her get rid of her coat.

"So what? Can't I cook my girlfriend a nice dinner?"

He placed the coat on the chair's backrest in front of his desk and took her hand, pulling her inside with him gently.

"Is that how you apologize?" she asked, and the slight amusement behind her tone was impossible to miss.

"Apologize, me? Doh! Why would I have to apologize?" he said, letting go of her hand and sitting on the couch.

Cuddy took her high heel shoes off and sat cross-legged on the floor, facing him.

"I don't know," she tantalized. "Maybe, leaving me alone with Wilson this morning while you said you'd handle that yourself would be a reason-"

"I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Stuff," he said, while uncorking a bottle of wine. "I run a Department, in case you forgot!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

House leaned in to grab her glass, poured a dose of ruby alcohol into it and handed it back to her. She watched him serve himself in silence and waited until he was done. He held his glass and they locked eyes, staring intensely in each other's gaze while taking a few sips of wine. Then Cuddy put her glass down on the table, and shifted her weight to the side, uncrossing her legs and folding them under her butt cheeks.

"House," she started, searching for his eyes. "I get why you didn't want to come, but-"

"I never said I didn't want to come," he answered quickly, looking down. "Only that I couldn't come."

"Alright," she conceded, half-convinced. "Can I ask you a question then?"

"What question?"

"Why do you want to test me for ovarian canc-?"

"Nuh-uh," he cut her off, shaking his head. "We're not talking about this."

"Why not? It's my health we're discussing here. Don't you think I have the right to-"

"Nope!"

She puffed and stared at him in bafflement.

"You're a doctor too, or so you say you are," he carried on, teasing her. "I don't need to explain you the process of diagnosing."

"Is that because I … bled a little the other day."

"Did you?" he asked, faking to be surprised.

"House! Don't play dense. Wilson asked me-"

"Oh, he did? And what did you tell him?"

"The same thing I'd told you then: That it was nothing and that it was only because we-"

House's eyebrows arched up in surprise and he smiled slightly.

"You really did tell him that, uh?"

"What other choice did I have?"

Instead of answering, House brought his glass to his mouth again and slowly drank another sip of wine.

"CA 125-" Cuddy started.

"Shut up!"

"What?"

"You agreed to let me handle this, so stop asking questions!"

"But-"

"Tss! You're starting to sound exactly like those annoying patients of mine who always think they need to tell me how to do my job."

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"Right now, you eat, you relax-"

"And then what?"

"Then we make out!" he stated with exaggerated solemnity.

"Really, so that's your plan?"

"Absolutely! First, I'm gonna get you drunk and satiated with delicious meals, and then I'll take advantage of your body all night!"

His tone was so theatrically serious, Cuddy couldn't repress her laugh. She tilted her head to the side and looked at him with fond eyes.

"You're-"

"Irresistible?"

"I was going to say impossible."

"We'll see about that after you've tasted what I cooked for you," House replied assertively.

Then he stood up and leaned down to take their plates, before disappearing into the kitchen…

# # # # # #

Dinner had been exquisite. House was as obsessed with perfection when it came to cooking as he was with medicine when it came to diagnosing, and the refined meals he'd prepared for her had tasted just like heaven. After one last spoonful of exotic fruit zabaglione, Cuddy heaved a deep sigh of plain satisfaction and leaned backward, resting her body weight on her stretched arms.

"Oh God, that was delicious!" she moaned in pleasure.

"I know," House said with a self-satisfied grin. "But you can call me God later, the evening is not over yet."

"Really? I can't eat anything more-"

"Dinner time is over," he clarified with a hoarse voice while standing up and putting out a hand to her.

Cuddy looked up at him from her sitting position for a short while, pursing her lips to try to suppress the smile that was irrepressibly forming on the corner of her mouth until finally, she gave him her hand so he could pull her up. She stumbled and fell right into his arms, but he steadied her, grabbing her by the shoulders to straighten her up.

"I think I drank too much," she said apologetically.

Narrowing his eyes at her, House studied her face and smiled roguishly.

"Or maybe the drugs I've put in your glass are starting to kick in."

"What? You drugged me?" she exclaimed, looking utterly staggered.

House burst into laughter and let go of her shoulders.

"Of course not!" he replied, still chuckling. "I need you fully awake, even though half-conscious would work too, but that'd be definitely less fun, and I mean for you!"

"What are you talking about?" she said, rubbing her forehead.

Instead of answering her question, he took her by the hand and guided her with him to his bedroom. Cuddy tried to resist at first, still a little perplexed, but he turned around and stared at her with a reassuring gaze.

"You've been fed. Now let's get you relaxed-"

"But my head spins," she protested, half-convinced.

"No, it doesn't. Geez Cuddy, you're so gullible! Look at me: I didn't drug you, ok? That was a joke."

"A stupid one," she pouted sulkily.

"But funny."

She rolled her eyes and finally followed him down the hallway. At his bedroom's doorsill, House stopped and whirled around, halting her as well. She raised her eyebrows quizzically and he smiled at her, with an unexpected shyness that took her off guard and touched her infinitely, as it finished reassuring her about his intentions. Irresistibly drawn to him, she leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. He moved aside to let her enter the bedroom and she took a step inside.

A subtle scent of essential oils floated in the air. Maybe it was Ylang-Ylang or jasmine, she couldn't tell, but the smell was definitely a delight for the senses. Then she saw the flower petals spread on the bed sheets and her eyes widened in astonishment.

"Oh-ho," she chortled. "Seriously?"

The truth was, from the moment she'd arrived, she'd been a million miles away from anticipating any of that, and despite the fact that House's delicate attentions undoubtedly thrilled her, Cuddy felt a little nonplussed by the obviousness of the effort. Predictably though, House feigned to ignore her comment and walked her to the bed. She stood there, the back of her knees touching the edge of the mattress and she scrutinized him, intrigued.

"What's this?" she insisted, more eager to understand his motives than to simply enjoy the moment.

"It's a bed," he answered dismissively. "Now lie down. You're getting naked."

She sent him a challenging look, her eyebrows rising in mock surprise but, with a conquering smile, he pushed her backward before she had time to react.

"House-" she whispered, panting.

But the second she fell on the bed, he bent over and rested his hands astride her body, his strapping frame towering over her. The sudden closeness of their bodies, and the depth of his gaze on her, loaded with palpable sexual tension, took her breath away and the words died down in the back of her throat.

"You talk too much," he rasped, and he laid a soft kiss on the pulp of her bottom lip, sensually sucking it inside his mouth.

Her fingers instantly clutched at the sheets and when he parted from their kiss, her body jolted upward to stay close to him, already craving more of his touch on her. House straightened up and looked down at her ravenously. She wore black stockings, and he took evident pleasure in taking them off leisurely, fondling the length of her silky thighs and calves in the process. One piece of clothing after the other, he heedfully undressed her, paying infinite attention to every inch of her skin he was uncovering, touching it with the palm of his hands, rubbing it with his stubble, licking it with the tip of his tongue.

After a while, Cuddy was lying on the bed, scantily clad, her entire body trembling in anticipation. House invited her to slide toward the center of the mattress and while she stretched languorously to a more comfortable position, he quickly took off his clothes, keeping only his boxers on, before sitting down next to her. To her surprise, House reached out for a cup on the nightstand that she hadn't noticed until then. After he'd dipped his fingers in its scented, oily content, he rubbed his palms to moisten his skin and turned around to face her again.

She hadn't taken her eyes off of him and when he seized one of her feet, she bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan. Delicately, he began to massage her foot, applying gentle pressures on the sensitive spots of her sole, stroking her ankles and fondling her toes. She surrendered to the sensation and threw her head back on the pillow, taking long, deep breaths and letting the calm pervade her.

"Smells good," she crooned with her eyes closed. "What's that scent?"

"One of my secret cocktails-"

"It smells like Jasmine or-"

"Shh… stop analyzing. Just relax," he told her.

Cuddy smiled and fell silent, as House continued his rub downs, conscientiously, wandering his hands higher on her calves and kneading her muscles gently. She could almost feel the tension of the last days leave her body. She struggled to keep her eyes open, not wanting to fall asleep just yet, but feeling dangerously laid-back, nonetheless.

Her mind drifted into a delightfully relaxing haze, and she must have dozed off for a short moment because she didn't notice when House stopped massaging her feet. The next thing she felt was his hand on her hips, hooking the waistband of her panties and taking them off. She opened her eyes and wriggled on the mattress. The sensation of his lips tracing his way up her legs with hot kisses came next. His stubble scraped her a bit, but it was a pleasant feeling, subtle mix of tickling and scratching. Then his hand landed on her sex, and he cupped her mound, while he spread her thighs open with his chin.

"House," Cuddy moaned. "I'm falling asleep-"

"No, you're not," he contradicted assertively, as his middle finger made his way down her slit, parting her folds slowly.

She bucked her hips at the sensation and her toes curled up in a jerk.

"See?" he teased.

"I'm not in the mood," she lied, brazening it out.

"Stop me," he dared her.

She tried to squeeze her legs shut but he instantly pressed on her knees to open them wide again. Heedless of her protestations, he chose every sensitive spot he knew by heart would drive her mad and started kissing her, first softly, barely brushing her lower abdomen with his lips, then more insistently, nipping her flesh where her skin was as thin and transparent as tissue paper. And warm. So warm he couldn't help nuzzling her groin, and the agonizingly pleasuring tickling sensation created by the rubbing movement of his nose on her skin made her muscles contract.

"Don't," she insisted, completely unconvincingly. "I don't need-"

"You don't know what you need," House interrupted. "I do. And trust me, oral sex is definitely on the list right now."

Cuddy propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him challengingly. He sustained her gaze, smiling roguishly, his stare conveying the almost blasé certainty that he was right, and it annoyed her a little.

"No," she answered, with nerve, somehow piqued in her pride, even though she knew, and House knew, it was absolutely untrue.

Especially as he chose that exact moment to push a finger inside her core, unceremoniously, and the way her inner walls instantly clenched at the intrusion, clamping, and relaxing around his finger in a few spasms gave him the unnecessary proof that it was.

"Ooh, you can't fool me!" he chuckled. "That little pussy of yours is screaming for attention right now-"

"You sound like a horny teenager," she said, her tone indicating she was slightly put out.

He raised his face up and sent her a mischievous, amused gaze.

"I doubt any teenager, no matter how horny, would have enough experience to handle you the way I can," he teased, knowing that his words would make her shiver in anticipation just like he wanted her to.

And indeed, she shivered, a light tremble shaking the small of her back and descending along her legs. House placed his hands on her thighs again to spread them open and he greedily dived in, nipping her mound, as if he were taking a mouthful of chocolate muffin, thrusting his tongue between her folds, and lapping her clit up and down with a pressure that left no doubt about how earnestly he intended to treat her. Cuddy's hips jolted upward, and she threw her head back into the pillow.

"Ahh," she moaned, incapable of holding back the long-pleasured sigh that escaped her lips.

House smiled victoriously against the soft skin of her sex, inhaling deeply, to catch his breath first, but mostly to fill his nostrils with her scent, so intoxicating when lust was irrepressibly pervading her body, just like it was in that moment.

"God, I love the way you smell!" he said, the sound of his exclamation muffled by her folds.

"Stop talking!" she ordered impatiently.

House propped himself up on his forearms and stared at her with glee. Cuddy saw him, and his gloating face, and she glared at him in response, trying her best to look ominous but, in truth, only managing to reinforce the fact that she was desperately craving his touch. She realized House hadn't failed to notice that as a fact as well when his smile turned into a beam.

He took in a sharp breath that inflated his lungs with pride and in that exact instant, she would have slapped herself for displaying such a transparent desire if a certain sense of self-awareness, and maybe even honesty, hadn't prompted her to admit that, after all, she didn't really care. At all.

"House," she pleaded, as her lower abdomen started to undulate in slow, languorous motions, almost in spite of herself.

Her body was calling him there, yearning for his touch. And so, House leaned down again, while she lifted her pelvis to meet with his mouth faster, the carnal sensation already burning all of her nerve-endings and making her clit throb almost painfully. He slid his hands under her ass cheeks to relieve her of the effort of being arched up, and he crashed into her again.

The moment his lips came in contact with her sex, an erratic jerk shook her body and her breath hitch, her hand instinctively grabbing his hair and pulling at it forcefully, as if that movement solely was channeling all the incredible energy that her desire needed to release. He licked the wet bud of her clit, alternating speeds, using the tip of his tongue to tickle and the pulp of his lips to flatten and suck and Cuddy's breathing turned into loud gasps in no time.

His hands cupping her ass, he began to knead the plumpness of her flesh, eliciting just the perfect muscle contractions on her part that made her pelvis rock up and down and increased the rubbing effect of his tongue strokes. She wasn't even gasping anymore: Her breathing had become wheezing moans and House knew, just then, that she was hurtling near the edge.

He half-heartedly removed his hands from her ass, considering how much he loved to grope and fondle that part of her body, but he knew he needed her to be steadier, for she would undoubtedly feel the first quaking waves of orgasm very soon with what he intended to do next. When the small of her back met the surface of the bed, he firmly pressed on her hipbones to pine her down to the mattress and he thrust his tongue into her core pulling it out almost right away and darting it back again. After several quick tongue-thrusts, he felt her wriggling underneath him, as she was fighting the need to give in to the electric pulses that coursed through her nerves and urged her to jolt her body upward.

"Oh God! Oh fuck!" she practically screamed, slamming the mattress with the palm of her hand.

"You're such a blasphemer!" House chuckled, halting his tongue strokes long enough to mumble the words against her wet sex, his lips merely brushing her clit.

"Don't stop!" Cuddy instantly protested, squirming in frustration for being interrupted in the most ill-timed moment of her ascending trip to heaven.

He did not stop. And she came, the second his tongue touched her core again. Shamelessly and unbelievably loud, she came. The sound of her release echoed in the most beautiful way against the walls of his bedroom.

House rested his forehead on her lower abdomen, and he let the undulating waves of her pants rock him gently for several minutes. When her breathing finally found its normal rhythm again, he crawled his way back up, trailing soft kisses along her midriff and ribs until his mouth reached her nipple and he gently rested his head against her breast, the thudding sounds of her heartbeats echoing into his ear. She caressed his skull, combing his dark gray hair with her fingers delicately, and sighing gratefully above him.

The sudden silence in the room contrasted with the feverish shouts that had filled it just moments before and it permeated the air with a peculiar sense of perfect quietness. House wanted to melt under her skin, make one with her and never let go of that precious feeling of bliss that was pervading him in that instant.

Without thinking of it, almost mechanically, his fingertips started to caress her right arm lightly, from her shoulder, along the curve of her bicep, and down again, until at some point, he reached the bend of her arm. Blood test, test results… That sudden realization hit him with no warning, and he stopped where the needle must have entered her vein.

Cuddy didn't notice the way he quickly removed his hand from her arm, and it didn't feel awkward to her when he put it on her midriff instead. But feeling unexpectedly overwhelmed, House closed his eyes and buried his face deeper into her breast, inhaling deeply against her bare skin. Her smell was intoxicating. He squeezed her tighter, practically suffocating her inside the tightness of his embrace.

"You know I'm gonna need to breathe at some point," she said with a low voice.

He instantly relaxed his grip and lifted his head to look up at her.

"Pff, no you're not! Breathing is overrated," he told her, smiling against the plumpness of her breast.

She giggled and turned her head to the side, looking at the petals around her. She took one in her slender hand and held it up to study it.

"What kind of flowers is that?" she asked.

"Huh?" House couldn't hold back his surprise. "You really care about that?"

Cuddy didn't answer but brought the mallow petal under her nose to sniff it.

"It doesn't smell anything."

"And? Why does it matter?"

"I'm not saying it matters, I just noticed it that's all-"

"You're so incredibly high maintenance!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are: Dinner by candlelight, refined cuisine, wine, massage, full focus on your sole pleasure and what you notice is that the flower has no smell?"

Cuddy stared at him with a slight look of hurt.

"You make it sound like it was a chore for you to do all those things!" she said with a disenchanted voice.

"No, it was not. Actually, that's quite the opposite. I want to do all those things for you. But you, on the other hand, you make it look like it's not enough to please you-"

"That's not true!" she demurred. "Of course, it pleased me. I'm thrilled by everything you've done: The dinner you cooked for me, the candles, the massage, the sex, and the flowers, too. I loved everything-"

"But?"

She puffed, feeling guilty for indeed intending to end her sentence with a 'but' and being unmasked so easily.

"There's no 'but'," she tried to deny with the energy of despair.

"Of course, there's a 'but'! You think I don't know you by now?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"I don't care about the flowers and the dinner and the massage. I mean, I do but-"

"Ah, see? Here comes that 'but'"

"It's just that … something's wrong with me. And we don't know what it is. I think-" She hesitated a second and added, "I think we should talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about," House said, barely hiding his annoyed sigh.

"But-"

"Cuddyyyy, I'm not gonna run away. That's your thing, remember?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, startled by the sudden veiled reference to her flying to Boston, which proved the hurt hadn't completely dissipated yet, and perhaps never would. House felt her uneasiness and he took her hand inside his, softly caressing the length on her fingers with the tip of his thumb.

"You have something, yes, but I'm not going to dump you because you're sick. And if you don't already know that, then you're an idiot."

"I know you're not going to dump me," she answered.

"Good. Everything's fine, then. Now, can you please stop talking and go to sleep?"

She removed her hand from his and shifted on the mattress to face him, staring at him with a disapproving face. He stared back at her with exaggeratedly widened eyes, as if saying 'you started this!' and she shook her head resignedly.

"House, I just want to know how you feel," she said carefully.

He looked at her without saying a word for what seemed like an eternity and a shadow of self-consciousness darkened his gaze. Then he slowly raised his hand to her face and traced a diagonal line from her cheekbone down to her mouth with a feather touch.

"I feel-"

His finger stopped on her upper lip, and he pressed lightly on it to prevent her from cutting him off. Cuddy fought the pressure and held her chin up but kept her lips close. He took a deep breath and stared at her a little longer.

"-Like I need to sleep, which is not going to happen anytime soon if you plan to talk about scentless flowers all night long!" he finally said, recovering his poise.

Cuddy heaved a deep sigh of mingled frustration and sadness.

"So, you're not going to talk to me?" she asked.

"Why would I need to?"

"I'm not saying you need to, just that it's ok if you want to. We can talk about what's going to happen-"

"Nothing's going to happen," he quickly dismissed her.

"But we can't be sure about that and that's why talking about it can help. Not just you, but me as well-" Her voice was barely above a whisper, uneven and nonjudgmental, but above all, Cuddy was careful to make sure it sounded reassuring, as if it didn't really matter. "Can't you see that, for me, it's important to have you now? That I need to feel you're here, with me-"

"I'm here with you."

"But maybe I need to talk about this with you or, maybe I just need to hear what's on your mind-"

House propped himself up on his elbow and he looked her in the eyes, intensely, not letting go of her light grey gaze on him for one second.

"I already said everything I had to say tonight," he told her with a hoarse voice, after a moment of complete silence. "Words are superfluous, and useless. And you know what's on my mind, Cuddy. Everything that's in there, you already know about it."

She stared at him with her mouth agape, incapable of uttering one single, meaningful word to express how she felt about the things he'd just said, but most of all, as she shamefully realized, about everything he hadn't, which had spoken just as loud. She shivered and lowered her gaze uneasy.

"Can we finally sleep now?" House asked her with a slightly teasing voice.

"Yes," she murmured, lying back on the bed beside him and huddling up in his arms.

He enfolded her in his embrace and, as her warmth permeated his body, he stared blankly at the ceiling for some long, silent minutes.

He needed her so much. It was actually frightening how evident that fact was. He literally couldn't live without her. Literally. If she ran away again, or if anything happened to her…

House promptly chased the idea out of his mind but, if something happened that would change the way they were together in that instant, or how incredibly fulfilling it felt, he couldn't take it. He wouldn't even try. That'd be simply the end of him.

Every pore of his skin was screaming how much he loved her and yet, there were still times when he found himself unable to say the words aloud. And maybe there were not enough candles he could light, not enough flower petals he could spread on the bed sheets she'd sleep in to tell her that, but that was his way of saying it, because on days like this, there was simply no word to describe it either.

A/N

I know it's not exactly Sunday yet, but I want to say how much I remember that unforgettable day, ten years ago, when images of horror and distress hit the entire world, like a slap in the face, leaving it in shock, as another form of – inexcusable – distress took the lives of hundreds of innocent people, whose only sins had been to be "from the other side"…

That was gratuitous. The world is round; hence there should be no sides…

My thoughts go to the persons who lost a beloved one that day.

9/11. Ten years. Somehow, it will always feel like it was yesterday…

Love, tolerate, take care ~ Maya