A/N-Hey all! Thanks to everyone for reading and to the last chapter's reviewers: IHeartHouseCuddy, lenasti16, freeasabird14, jaybe61, LizLo, BabalooBlue, JLCH, JM, LoveMyHouse, ikissedtheLaurie, grouchysnarky, Huddyphoric, bere, jkarr, vicpei1, LapizSilkwood, somebadhat, Abby, Huddygirl, Alex, dmarchl21, linda12344, Maya295, Boo's House, Ruby and the Guest Reviewers.

Sorry about the delay, life is a bit crazy, and the chapter came out a bit longer than I anticipated. Here's the ending.

-Under Advisement-

Cuddy stood in her kitchen, chatting with her cousin while they made desserts. The older blond woman who greeted House bustled into the room, her presence seldom went unnoticed anywhere for long. The older woman, Arlene, gestured toward the door, "Lisa, some coworker of yours is here. He said he wants to buy you a drink. Not the most appropriate time for social calls, the middle of a family gathering and all, but-"

"Hunh?" Cuddy asked, processing what was being said without looking up.

"Some doctor is here for you, dear."

"Could you be more specific? I know a lot of them."

Looking up just as he entered the kitchen, Cuddy saw House approach her with a combination of discomfort and bravado. He stood next to her, examining the scene as if he had discovered a tawdry secret, "Cuddy! Doughnuts?"

"What are you doing here?" Cuddy asked, keeping their conversation quiet enough to be somewhat private. "You're buying me a drink?"

Speaking at the same semi-private volume and brandishing a bottle, he answered, "I'm taking your advice."

"That's not a drink, it's an entire bottle."

"You didn't say I couldn't buy myself one too. Plus, the second part of your suggestion was to 'see what happens.' I thought maybe you'd want a second drink in the course of 'seeing what happens.' If things went well, I didn't want you to have to wait here for me to buy another one."

"I see you've thought this through."

"Definitely. After all, you're checking out twenty year-old clinic patients and boring pharm reps-"

"I was not!"

"So I thought if I had to leave to get you another drink, you might be distracted by any man who happened to be standing around."

"I'm related to almost everyone here by either blood or marriage."

"Lately your standards have really dropped."

"My standards are exceedingly high."

"And yet, you haven't kicked me out. Interesting. Were you thinking of drinks directly out of the bottle or are we going high-end and using glasses?"

She pointed to the cabinet next to the refrigerator, watching while he made himself oddly comfortable in her kitchen. Arlene was surveying, in her own way imagining that she was being subtle about her observations. "Didn't take you long to feel at home," she said while House limped back over to the island where Cuddy was working.

"Maybe this isn't the first time I've been here," he commented suggestively while he handed a glass to Cuddy, "and I already felt at home."

Cuddy smiled at the drink after she sipped, offering a look of approval at his selection. Arlene grabbed the bottle from the counter, "Well at least you don't have terrible taste in wine."

"I have fantastic taste."

Cuddy pointed at fillings for the doughnuts, obviously trying to prevent any extended conversation, "Pick: hazelnut, strawberry or chocolate?"

"When my mother made them, she just dusted them with powdered sugar," Arlene complained, "and everyone was happy. You don't have to gourmet up everything in order to impress people. I know I just want one with-"

"Wait," House interrupted, grabbing an almost filled doughnut from Cuddy's hand, "let me guess." House placed the recently filled doughnut on the counter and, with a flat palm, smashed it down, expelling the filling onto the counter. He grabbed the powdered sugar, dumped some on top and held out the flattened pastry to the older woman, "Just sugar?"

Arlene scowled at his hand while Cuddy grabbed a fresh one, sprinkled sugar over it, put it on a plate and handed it to the older woman.

House scooped up the recently displaced filling with a finger and tasted it while Arlene walked away. "Maybe she is the one I'm supposed to be buying a drink for," he commented, "please tell me she's single."

"Widowed," Cuddy answered as the kitchen emptied, "and I can't wait to hear the hospital gossip machine when people see you ogling your future step-daughter."

"You're kidding."

"Go for it."

"That was your mother?"

"Yup."

"Perfect. Do you ever worry that she's meaner than you? Makes you look weak?"

"I'm overwrought with concern."

He dipped the flattened doughnut into the filling that was recently displaced, "This is good. Does she have something against things that are tasty?"

Cuddy chuckled, "She would tell you she has a thing against snobbery."

"As long as snobbery tastes good, I'm all for it."

Cuddy promised to return when she was pulled away to do other things, and House took a seat at the counter. A woman came in, grabbed a drink from the fridge and said, "Where'd Lisa go?"

"I have no idea."

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Chris," House answered.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Chris. I'm Julia."

Noticing that there were no outward signs that Julia recognized the name, he said, "What if my name is Neil?"

"Ummm…OK?" she questioned, confused, but still without offering any signs that she recognized the name.

"Or Greg House," he finally said.

There it was, the flicker of recognition while Julia looked over the food on the counter for a moment, pretending to be uninformed, but her face gave her away. "You sure about that?" she asked, "maybe you should check your ID."

"Completely sure. You're her sister?"

"Why should I tell you? I'm still not convinced you are who you say you are."

He held up his cane and saw it again, the recognition. "So she has mentioned me?"

Julia's responses were a little slower and less commanding than her sister's, but similar. After a second's delay, she said, "Not that I remember."

"You took the cane as proof. She's mentioned me."

"No, I just…thought…"

"So what has she said?"

Julia opened her mouth, hesitated and said, "Chris, Greg, Abe Lincoln…whatever your name is…did you know that this whole get-together is for my birthday?"

"Doughnuts instead of cake?"

"My grandmother used to make them on special occasions when we were kids. We were reminiscing about it recently so my sister surprised me."

"Happy Birthday."

"But I'm pretty sure you're not here for my birthday."

"Why would you say that?" he asked, acting offended.

Cuddy walked back into the kitchen, and the moment she saw her sister and House alone, chatting, she approached much faster. Julia put an arm around her sister and said, immediately, "Who's this?"

Cuddy looked at House and was ready to answer before she thought better of it, "Who did he say he is?"

"He's either Chris or Niles or Greg."

Cuddy smirked, "You mean Neil?"

"That's it."

"This is Greg House. He's a doctor at the hospital."

"That's what I told her," he answered.

"After you claimed to be someone else," Julia accused.

A child called in the background, and Julia followed the voice, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

"Why are you prying answers from my sister?" Cuddy asked him, propping one hand on the counter. "If you want to know if I've mentioned you or if I'm seeing anyone, why not ask me?"

"Because you'd lie."

"No I wouldn't.

"Fine," he countered, looking directly into her eyes, "have you mentioned me to your sister?"

"Yes, on occasion."

"Complimentary things?"

"Depends on the day."

"Have you been bringing dates to family functions lately?"

For a moment she seemed to regret her offer to tell him the truth, then she shook her head, "Not for years. I usually only introduce them if I think they're going to be around for a while and, as I said, my standards are high."

"But you introduced me."

"Technically, you introduced yourself."

"True. Not the best indicator of my status then, is it?"

Shaking her head with the most subtly coquettish look on her face, she took a tiny piece of her bottom lip between her teeth and then he breathed his victory. She watched while he reached into the back of his jeans, pulling out a paper that was, by that time, so tattered and torn it looked years old. He unfolded it slowly, holding it close to his body. Reaching to take a pen that was resting above the phone on the wall, he made one more quick note on the paper and she whispered, "Just tell me what's on the damn paper that you've been dangling in front of me."

"I took your advice, twice…so if it doesn't work out, I'll never listen to you again."

"Oh god. Which advice did you take and twist?"

"Beautiful women and drinks. I don't think I twisted that one at all."

She considered a response, "I'm waiting for the punch line."

"No punch line," he said, his honesty making her more uncomfortable than any of his jokes did.

"What does that have to do with the paper?"

"This," he held it up, "is the result of the other piece of advice that I took. You said that I should be able to tell if a woman is approachable by signs and body language. So…I did a little research."

"That was smart," she said before she walked out of the kitchen and into the garage to bring in more drinks.

House followed her, "So far, you've exhibited every behavior on the list but one."

"Which one's that?"

"It's called framing," he propped his cane against the wall and hooked his thumbs on his belt loops, letting his fingers hang down, "like this. Apparently it's to call attention to the location of your vagina. I figured, subconsciously, you already knew that I could find it on my own."

She shook her head, trying to straighten a smirk, and folded her arms, "But you think I sent all of these other signals? Minus the framing, obviously."

"You definitely have. I've gathered the evidence. The evidence does not lie."

"So, now that the research is done, what does that mean?"

"There are a few complications. Like the fact that I work for you."

"Barely."

"Technically, you're the one who says whether or not I get paid."

He took the one step down into the garage and leaned against the deep freeze as he tossed a Vicodin into his mouth. Standing about two feet away, she added, "Agreed. Which means it would be horribly inappropriate for me to approach you twice. Once is understandable, but twice…you could easily see that as harassment."

"Hardly, I showed up uninvited at your home during non-working hours. If you're harassing me, it's because I want to be harassed. And what happens if I decide that I'm going to actually take the risk?"

"I guess you'd need to be ready for the answer. And, ultimately, perhaps the benefits of that answer."

His eyes lit for a second and he added, cautiously, "Or a more negative reaction. There's still the very real possibility that you'll react poorly. You could get offended or feel uncomfortable, things would be even more awkward at work. Face it, who else is going to supervise me? And annoying you is one of the unwritten benefits in my contract. Without that, it's just a job."

"Sounds like a difficult decision."

"It really is. I've seen the cues, biting your lip like you just did in the kitchen when you were practically throwing yourself at me-"

"Throwing myself at you?"

"Or that whole neck touch thing in the clinic when you were trying to get my attention."

"Was I trying to get your attention?"

"Well, cognitive, modern day, evolved Cuddy might not have been trying to get my attention, but instinct-driven, un-evolved, primal Cuddy was begging for it."

"Un-evolved, primal me sounds pretty hot. If it's such a science, I'm not sure what's holding you back. You seem to have all of the answers."

"There's this little unknown that keeps nagging at me. You said in my apartment that you've always found me attractive."

"I admitted that, yes. I don't really think a lack of attraction is our problem."

"Right because just wanting…wanting is easy. The follow-through gets more complicated."

"It's slightly less complicated if the wanting is mutual. And you've made your position pretty clear on the whole wanting and attraction issue."

"I guess that's fair. But you also said that the moment was gone, so I'm left to wonder, does a physical attraction for someone necessarily mean that the answer to a come on is yes? I mean, you may be physically attracted, but mentally or professionally, you might have too many reservations about acting on that attraction."

"Which means it's still risky for you because signs and signals don't translate to a sure thing," she nodded. "I can see the reasons for concern." She stepped in front of him, her arms unfolding while her fingertips met in front of her. "As a person who so recently faced rejection, I commiserate."

He stood upright, no longer leaning so he was a bit closer, "Maybe you weren't actually being rejected…maybe the man in question was just a bit uncertain about recent events. Maybe he knew that sometimes it's best to avoid potential problems and just walk away. Or maybe his wannabe match-maker friend ambushed both of you and was standing there...just in the guy's peripheral vision."

"I think he would have rejected me even if his friend wasn't there."

"That's possible. Which takes us back to the idea that maybe he needed some time to think about things, or maybe he thought you were playing a game."

She stepped the slightest bit closer, looking up at him with eyes that were sincere, "No matter what games were being played, I was interested. But I still want a guy who's willing to put himself on the line for me so I know I'm not pushing him into something that he doesn't really want."

"I know," he said, reaching out his left hand to touch her right side. The small concession was laden with possibility, a touch that was voluntary and deliberate, an admission offered through the palm of a hand and the subtle wrap of fingers around the curve of her waist. "Someone who's willing to put themselves on the line with a touch?"

"Yes," she agreed, her hand moving to rest against his chest, "that's one way."

"One who would spend days seeking proof of the possibility that you're interested?"

"That's less direct, but sure."

"One who would show up to buy you a drink at home, since you didn't go out?" the fingers of his other hand went to the space below her neck, to touch the section of her clavicle that wasn't hidden beneath her sweater.

"Yes," she answered, moving even closer to him and looking up, the fullness of her lips available to him.

He closed the remaining gap, his right hand sliding up her neck and surrounding her face, his thumb tracing the meeting of her lips for a second before it retreated so nothing would separate his mouth from hers. His action was more than equally rewarded, because as soon as he made the next move, her thinly repressed interest was allowed to surface, as if all that had been holding her back was the confirmation of his intent. She sighed as their mouths met, with still subtle but long awaited tastes. They moved even closer, bodies pressed fully against each other as they sampled the forbidden. As House leaned back against the deep freeze behind him, her body came along, the soft sounds that were evident between them indicative of relief and exhilaration.

His body was craving her even from the kiss and the sensation of her shifting hotly against him. He was growing increasingly aroused as he pressed against her body, their forms separated by layers of clothes that could be so easily shed. His fingers found their way under her shirt, curling around her back and grazing against her spine. When she felt the compliant twinge of her senses, the flood of warmth and wetness that her body so easily offered in response to him, she had no desire to be reminded of the realities of their situation, but her ears caught the piercing sound of her own mother's voice on the other side of the door. The responsible segments of Cuddy's mind overruled her otherwise eager self. She moaned his name, prepared to tell him that they needed to wait, but the sound of her voice did nothing to deter him. His hands lifted her against him, their bodies, once in better alignment, automatically rocked against each other in a display of what each was promising if such access was granted. He breathed her name back at her, softly, a necessary answer to her, and she was practically climbing him until she heard the voices on the other side of the door again.

She slid down, both of her hands flat against her chest. His lips were wet and deep pink, his mouth open as he breathed, and then a look of loss crossed his face. "Party," she explained simply, reaching up to offer quick kisses of consolation, "we have to get back in there."

Nodding once, he almost unwillingly agreed, his brain attempting to wrest control from his libidinal urges. "It's late. They should be going," he suggested.

"Some of them are staying the night. I'm so sorry, I can't do this tonight."

"So I finally show up here tonight and…fine. Not tonight. When?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tomorrow night…tomorrow afternoon, actually. I will make it worth the wait."

"Sure," he agreed unhappily, "or you could come over to my place in an hour…where there are no visitors."

"And leave my guests here? Unless you want to go tell my mom that I need to leave so we can fornicate, I don't think that will work."

He looked determinedly toward the door, obviously willing to explain the need for fornication to whoever would listen. Seeing him in the early stages of planning, she warned with words that flew quickly from her mouth, "Do not tell my mom that."

"Fake a hospital emergency?"

The door opened as Cuddy gathered the drinks she needed for her guests. She brushed past him, whispering, "We only have to wait a few more hours," before offering louder excuses for her absence to her mother.

The door closed as House looked up at the garage light above his head and waited until his desire became unnoticeable again before regretfully returning to the party. It was, in spite of obvious frustrations and delays, an interesting way to watch her. He could observe the dynamics between her and family members, watch the subtleties of her flirting with him in the presence of others after confirming her interest in him, but he couldn't concentrate on those things.

When he moved for the door, she intercepted him, "Second thoughts?"

"Not at all."

"You can hang out for a while."

"Is that a slumber party invite?" he asked, hopefully.

"No."

"As fun as your family is, I keep thinking of all of the things I'm going to do to you tomorrow…stuff I would gladly be doing right now if you'd let me. And I figure Uncle Henry's gonna be a little confused if I get turned on when he's telling stories about his cockatiel."

"It's a macaw."

"Cockatiel sounded better. Although in retrospect, I guess I could have gone with 'bird'…the word 'macaw' is euphemistically useless."

"Believe me," she smiled, "I would rather be doing exactly the same thing you want to be doing. I will reward your patience."

The two hours after he left were filled with goodbyes, getting overnight guests settled and cleaning up after the party as Cuddy tried to keep her focus on the things that needed to be done. Her mind flashed to their moment in the garage, to the teases of the preceding days and the possibilities of what the next day could bring. As she showered, part of her wondered if House would lose his will to try just when they were so close to something.

He thought she would be a little more surprised to find him, actually lying in her bed after everyone else had gone to sleep. When she returned to her room, she didn't jump or even seem startled when he said, "Something's bothering me."

"Then go home and masturbate like every other resourceful, sexually frustrated human being on the plant."

"I already did."

"Already?"

"You'll thank me later."

"Why are you here?" she looked at him in a mirror while she brushed her hair, keeping her voice at a whisper.

"Like I said, something was bothering me."

When she was done brushing her hair, she stood next to the bed, arms folded to keep her silky robe closed around her body. "You can't stay tonight. My mother is in the next room."

"It's been a really long time since I heard that one."

"So tell me what's bothering you, and then you have to go."

"What's she going to do if I stay, ground you? She'll forbid you from approving purchase orders and doing yoga for two weeks as punishment?"

Cuddy tried to shoot an angry gaze that was softened by her amusement, "They just met you, as far as they know…we only work together."

"They know we don't just work together."

"I don't want to give the impression that I make a habit of having one-nighters with employees."

"Is that what this is?"

She firmed her jaw, took a deep breath and said assertively, "I hope not. So tell me what's wrong and then you have to go."

He sat up, propping pillows behind him so he was upright in her bed, leaning against the headboard. "I've known you for a long time. I've watched you. I've seen you do the little lip nibble thing, the head tilting thing, the subconsciously suggestive inanimate object fondling …all great body language moments."

"Yes, the crinkled paper, the evidence, the proof."

"Exactly. I made sure you were doing all of those things after the whole 'I'm over you, House' speech you gave me. You're so not over me."

"I'm pretty sure we've established that already."

"But the neck thing…," he started, letting the thought hang in the air and watching her shift uncomfortably.

"What neck thing?" she tried to recover, brushing one of her sleeves casually with her hand while she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

"The thing that you did in the clinic when we were talking about metal-head."

"I don't know-"

"You know," he huffed so loudly that she shot him a warning glare. He started to whisper, but his tone was still certain, "In all of the years I've known you, you have never done that. It stuck out because it was weird. It was pronounced, you wanted me to notice it. You stretched, your hair was pulled to the side and you slowly touched your neck. It was intentional."

Her protest began so weakly that she knew it was pointless, so she tucked her lower lip into her mouth and narrowed her eyes, "What if it was?"

"You did that just days after suggesting to me that I should pay attention to body language to tell if a woman is approachable. You were telling me you were approachable…you were luring me in."

She smirked, confessing with her eyes, "Would that be a horrible thing? Are you really going to be unhappy that I've thought about you like that or that I've hoped for…something more between us?"

"Why not before? Why now?"

"Because that patient was mirroring you. I hate to admit it, I wanted to be the dominant one in that room, and whether I am or not…the patient thought you were. And then, when you lied to Wilson about what he actually said-"

"I didn't lie."

"You remember everything. But you chose not to tell Wilson the whole truth."

"The overall message was the same."

"No…it wasn't. That's why you hid it. The Mirror patient said, 'I've never gotten over you." That is what he said. That is completely different from lusting after someone or even being currently in love with them. You know that and that's why you hid it. It had…history and implied an enduring emotional connection. It was bigger."

"I thought we were discussing your trap?"

"We can, if you want, but it doesn't change what happened. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that…even though he was mirroring you, he could have been mirroring me just as easily."

House's thoughts stopped dead, she could almost hear his brain screeching to a halt, and, for a few moments, she thought he'd leave as quickly as he did after the patient's disclosure. And then he took a breath and settled back against the pillows. He looked at her after a moment and she could see a mix of relief and contentment in his expression. "You admit that you did that on purpose?"

"The thing in the clinic…yes. The other signs were unintentional. But yes…the neck thing was deliberate. Apparently it worked."

"Apparently. So when you said you were over me, that was a lie?"

"You shut me down pretty hard, it was an understandable counter-move."

"You also said that you didn't want a 'submissive little boy.' Is that the truth or part of the game?"

"I'd think that's obvious. Intimacy is different than work."

"I hope so. I like your answer," he nodded, carefully considering her statement, "I'm just not sure if I believe you. It's possible you're lying because you have a recent history of-"

"Wait a minute…you said you had no interest in me. You lied too."

"You set up the trap."

"I…pointed out a possibility. Where you went with it was up to you."

"I like your alphaishness, Cuddy, I really do, but I'll need proof that you really want what you say you want."

The way that he said it drew her attention to his eyes, to the lust-filled stare he had honed on her. She nodded, laughing subtly as if to tell him that she knew what he was trying to do, but it wasn't going to work. She hadn't even noticed that his hand was outstretched and touching the piece of her thigh that was closest to the mattress. It was unclear when or how his hand found its way to her leg, but once she noticed it, the touch occupied most of her thoughts, demanding to be heard like a siren in the quiet of night.

When her thighs tightened against each other, he could practically feel how aroused she was, but she shook her head, "I'm not having sex with you tonight."

"So like every other sexually frustrated, resourceful adult, I guess you've already met your own needs?"

"I was here, cleaning up after the party and getting everyone else settled in. I didn't have as much time on my hands as you did."

"I was thinking about you," he said as his head tilted a bit and he watched his hand dare to wander slightly farther upward.

"Were you?"

"I often do," he admitted, "but lately I think about you a lot more."

His hand was under her flimsy nightgown, her robe open. His thumb tugged at the bottom of the nightie, "Hold that up for me so I can see."

"I can't have sex with you tonight."

"So far you're failing to prove to me that you can surrender control on occasion."

She was instantly irritated, but couldn't stop herself from welcoming the feeling of his hand on her body. Her fingers curled around the hem of the nightgown and she pushed, "Let's set some limits."

"This is you letting go?"

Although hesitant initially, she complied when he helped her lift her nightie higher, and she held it in place, acknowledging fully that her body was moving forward and encouraging progress even though her mind understood how much more difficult it was going to be to say no with each passing step. She could feel her body screaming for attention, negotiating between the obligation to tell him to stop and her body's not so subtle requests to continue.

His eyes focused on her swollen and glistening sex when he realized she wasn't wearing panties. He was too distracted to ask if she neglected to put them on because she was hoping he'd come back. He wanted to lap up the moisture, to taste the arousal that was there because of him. He'd earned it, he'd provoked a sexual response in the woman, although they had barely touched. His thumb slid along the wetness, making as little contact as he could while still touching her. Her hips tilted in invitation, offering him a better view and easier access. He suppressed the urge to taste her, to allow his tongue to dive into the silken folds of her body even though the offer was clearly there. He turned his palm up, his finger dragging forward slowly, allowing it to reach a bit more insistently.

Her breath transformed, becoming slower and her lungs filling more completely. When she looked at him, she didn't find the smugly victorious person that she had expected. He seemed to be as overtaken as she was.

"I can't do this tonight," she tried so unconvincingly that it was almost laughable, making the attempt one last time as her eyes grew heavier and fluttered upward a bit.

Letting go of her nightie with one hand, one side swooshing down to cover her again, her fingers wrapped around his wrist for the express purpose of stopping him, but once she was there she held him against her.

"You're directing me," he informed her.

He dropped his head when she pulled away from him completely and left his side. He was confounded by her ill-timed departure until he heard the lock click on her door. She walked back to the bed more hurriedly, "You'll have to leave before everyone gets up."

"It's a wonder I ever questioned your ability to let go and relax."

"Shut up," she said, shaking her head with playful reproach, "I'm letting you stay for a while. I thought that's what you wanted."

He nodded slowly, taking his phone, setting an alarm, and assuring her, "I'll leave when this goes off."

"Thank you."

"Are you done ineffectively demonstrating your ability to not control things?"

She nodded once, decisively, her head tilted to one side, "Yes," before she leaned down, bracing her hands on the bed and leaning toward him.

He moved to the edge of the bed, took her wrists and pushed them behind her back, "If I need to actually tie you up, you'll have to accept that you have a complete inability to let go. I mean, it's not entirely unexpected, just know that we'll be starting this whole thing between us on that foundation."

"Then stop talking…and do something."

The challenge sent chain reactions of sensation through his body, he was fully alert, entirely aware in that moment. He pulled her closer, letting go of her hands and slowly lifting the nightie again, exposing her hips and belly button, the narrowest section of her waist, her ribs. Pausing before exposing her breasts, he watched while she slipped her robe from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground.

As she stood there, he moved his face along her side, across her hips, acquainting himself with her body at his own pace. She found herself both desperately wanting more and wanting to freeze the moment, the two competing interests pulling her mind. Before she could plead for more, his fingers returned to her, finding her wetter than before, the puffy flesh of her sex pleading for his attention. Following the contours of her body, he leisurely ran his fingers along every pleasurable space, not spending too much time in any spot, just ratcheting up her desire with each passing stroke. All of the touches were dips and soft flicks while he indulged in her whole body response. She was still standing in front of him, gravity pulling more heavily on the spots most flooded with need. Her breathing was only slightly louder, accented with delicately approving moans and regretful sighs when he'd move on too quickly to another spot.

Even he was astounded by her patience at one point, at the way she was trying to allow her body to revel in the feelings without demanding more. Two of his fingers surrounded either side of her clit before sliding backward and slipping just an inch or two into her. "God, House," she said quite clearly, with anger and arousal, pleasure and ache, all from the same series of unhurried touches, "make me come."

He only smiled at her, his one arm bringing her closer and turning her around so she was sitting on the bed between his thighs, her back against his chest. He pulled her left leg over his, leaning back a bit so he could have access to her body before he said, "I was going to…and then you got bossy."

She groaned in response because she could feel the demanding pulse between her legs, pleading for attention. His hands palmed her breasts, transferring his attention to something that under many other circumstances would have felt wonderful, but at that moment was just another diversion from the desired direction. Feeling him hard behind her, she tried to reach but heard his voice in her ear, "Don't do it."

She was fidgeting against him, his rough jeans against her skin, as his attention reached the point where it was becoming too frustrating to enjoy, and he whispered against her neck and shoulder, "I've felt like you feel for days…you've been making me crazy."

"Why didn't you say something?" she purred. "Why didn't you go out with me when I asked you?"

His pace slowed even further, and he looked at her over her shoulder as he tried to find the answer, "I…don't know."

When he began to move again, she peered through the slits in her eyelids, saw the look on his face and tilted her mouth toward his, hoping that he'd take the suggestion.

He took her face in his free hand, kissing her fully before lifting her over him and dropping her on the bed. His mouth slid down along her body quickly while he tried to remember why they were waiting. No reason seemed important enough to wait any longer, so he nestled his face between her thighs. She pushed him away a few times because her body was so sensitive that she could hardly stand the touch. Adjusting to the amount of pressure her body could handle, he returned to his devoted meeting of her needs, and she was soon wriggling against him.

When he finally let her orgasm overwhelm her, her upper body shot up, the muscles in her thighs so tense they twitched against him. Her heels were digging into his back to hold him closer but after a few moments, her fingers separated his mouth from her body so she could stop the insanity of all of the converging feelings.

She pushed him on his back and straddled him, sitting on his abdomen and facing away. "How have I been making you crazy?" she asked, running her hands up his thighs.

"Strutting around at work, showing up in my dreams."

"Me?" she asked over her shoulder, popping open the button on his jeans and opening his zipper.

Once she was able to get rid of most of his clothes, her hands began to explore his body in a way that seemed almost casual and curious, allowing her to learn his responses and at the same time, repay him for some of the pleasant torment she'd endured. His hands went to her sides, his thumbs meeting at the center and roaming the soft expanses of skin along her back and ass. "I know you're in control again, but whatever you do, please, oh please don't toy mercilessly with my body until I come."

She could hear the laugh in his voice but the hitch that occurred near the end when she firmly encircled the base of his sex and began to stroke him made her smirk. Eventually slipping off his abdomen, she turned toward him, "You're saying a lot of words, so why has it been so difficult to get you to admit that you like me?"

"You're sounding like my dream."

"Tell me about this dream."

Watching him, it was clear that he was trying to concentrate enough to form coherent thoughts, and she enjoyed how much of an impact she could have on him. He said, quickly, "I'm somewhere, different places, and you come find me. You get naked. You get really close but when you ask me to admit that I want you…you leave."

"I just leave?"

"Because I won't answer."

She looked worried, he could see it, "So your subconscious doesn't want us to…"

"Oh, I want to answer. I can't."

"I didn't think I was that frightening…not to you."

"You aren't," he avoided eye contact.

She climbed over him, like she did in her dream, on all fours around him, but in reality she couldn't prevent their bodies from touching. "Am I like this…in your dream?"

He nodded, anticipating the frustration of the usual outcome that he'd been trained to expect.

"And then," she slipped against him, teasing him with subtle undulations of her body, "What happens next? I ask if you want me?"

"Yea."

"It feels like you want me."

"I do."

"Not so difficult, is it? Probably not as hard as showing up here with that bottle of wine."

Her hair had fallen around them, she was over him, her mouth open, her still wet and tantalizing sex was warm against him, he could almost feel his body moving into hers. Impatience started to crawl through his skin. He pushed his torso upright with his hands, "In case there's any lingering questions, I definitely want you."

She snaked down his body, moving seductively over him until she finally took him in her mouth. She was trying to build tension as he had for her, varying pressure and speed, but essentially that moment had begun weeks ago, so almost any contact was too much contact. Her nails scraping along his skin, tickling and scratching while he watched every move she made until he couldn't bear to watch anymore and his control fizzled and crumbled into a long awaited release that seemed to make all of the waiting and games worthwhile.

They half-slept until their bodies awoke each other again, and the thrill of having a lover that was so long denied fueled their desire. He was over her, the two of them frantically urging their bodies together, chasing mutual gratification. The alarm on his phone sounded on her bedside table just as she bit down into his shoulder, his mind and body too consumed by the way her body pulsed and rubbed against his to be bothered with the sound. She grabbed the phone with her hand, smashing buttons until the noise stopped, completely unconcerned that it was time for him to leave. She didn't care about the time, not when he was pounding into her body with a perfect rhythm while his hands held onto her like nothing could make him let go. Each made just a bit too much noise when they came together in the early hours of the morning.

He woke up with Cuddy, still mostly on top of him, feeling pretty good about how he found himself that morning until he realized that it was daylight, and he was already supposed to be gone. Cuddy's eyes opened, she looked at House and her clock, some part of her brain assuring her that if the clock said it was still early, the sun was somehow wrong. Smiling sheepishly at House, she started to speak and he intervened, whispering, "Don't blame me, you turned off the alarm."

"Because you were having sex with me! I didn't have the presence of mind to reset it at the time."

"Are you looking for an apology?"

"No," she said as she sat up, looking around her room. "You're right, this is my house, I'm an adult. I'll just explain that we're seeing each other."

He looked at her body, partially naked in front of him, "Yes we are."

She started gathering his clothes and tossing them on the bed. "Do you want to hang out up here until they go? I know my mom can be sort of…much."

"Is that what you want?"

"No. But I was the one who turned off the alarm. That wasn't your fault, so if you don't want to…"

He sighed, feigning remorse, "I can't let you take all of the blame. If only I wasn't so incredibly good at sex, you could have reset the alarm when it went off."

She scowled a reprimand that was so mixed with flirtation and affection that it just made him want her more.

At that moment, they heard the angry voice of Arlene Cuddy, shouting, "You're out of creamer for my coffee and some jackass has me parked in. Lisa, whose beat-up, old car is that?"

Cuddy cringed as her mind considered the discussion that was likely going to take place. House, undeterred by Arlene, yanked Cuddy back into bed, "Arlene's gonna be so excited. I think she already likes me."