A/N: Inspiration struck as I was lying in our beach condo, slightly drunk off tequila and sweating it out at 3am. Ironically enough, I didn't get around to writing it until I was sitting-or rather working, at a pool covered in rain drops. Just a little something to kick off summer with.

It was that sweltering, sticky, drive-you-crazy kind of heat, and that was her excuse.

She was lying on a pool chair, sweat dripping down her brow as the sun beat down on her slightly tanned skin; it was merely the beginning of June, and Lisa Cuddy had somehow found herself lying next to the pool clad only in a white string bikini with several copies of Vogue stacked neatly on the ground next to her.

She'd come home late Thursday night only to find that her air conditioner had suddenly gone awry, and rather than spending the oncoming nights in an unbearable, air-condition-less home, she decided to check into the most lavish and outrageously expensive hotel she could find. After about ten phone calls and several huffs of exasperation, she'd been informed that nobody was available to come and relieve her home of the unbearable heat until Sunday; apparently there was an influx of broken air conditioners in Princeton that week.

At first she'd been slightly outraged and infinitely annoyed, but the mere thought of checking into a hotel where her every want and need could be catered to was too relaxing to resist.

So she packed her bags.

It was Saturday afternoon by the time she'd managed to slip away from the hospital for a few hours. Her week had been filled with a seemingly endless amount of meetings and budget reports, and she was looking forward to a promising afternoon that required absolutely no effort on her part.

She sighed contently, a slight smile escaping her lips as she relaxed into the lounge chair that looked out across the deserted pool; the hotel was essentially empty, due to the holiday season just starting out. She had the entire space to herself.

Sipping on her unsweetened iced tea, Cuddy leaned over her chair, reaching for a magazine from her pile; she had a habit of buying magazines and never finding time to read them. But she didn't mind that her copy of Vogue was slightly outdated—the process was relaxing in itself. She squinted through her oversized Ray-Bans as she read, the sun glaring down on her evenly tanned body. She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and swept her brown locks back into a chic ponytail. Her hair was straight, but the humidity was threating her slightly unmanageable curls make an unwanted appearance.

She was about to close her eyes when she heard the familiar plop of his cane.

She slipped off her sunglasses, as if the lenses had somehow confused her sight and Gregory House was most certainly not standing in front of her with a crooked smile on his face, eyes leering at her scantily clad figure. But she sighed, because he most certainly was.

She reached for the sheer black cover up she'd brought with her, hit with a sudden urge to cover herself up in front of him. He groaned.

"Don't cover up on my account," he insisted, his eyes roaming over her body. "Although that's an interesting color choice," he said, nodding at her white bikini with golden hoops at the side. "Didn't peg you for the angelic type."

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, frustrated with the sudden interruption. She cast her cover up to the side and raised her eyebrows at him, slightly impressed with the satisfied smirk that was plastered against his face. "How did you even get in? You have to be a guest at the hotel to get on the elevator."

He shrugged and picked up his cane, pointing at her. He sat down in the pool chair next to her, stretching his feet out

"Told them I was your pimp. They believed me for some reason," he said, tilting his head to the side and leering at her in a way that was so annoyingly him. "Probably has something to do with what you've been wearing the past couple of days."

She glared at him and scoffed.

"I haven't seen you complaining," she said, playfully accusing him while taking a sip of her iced tea. She let her lips linger on the straw for a second or two longer than was necessary, enjoying the distracted look on his face.

"What's the real reason you're here, House?" she asked, stretching her legs out. She lifted one knee up, arching her back slightly so to hit the appropriate angle of the sun's rays.

He shrugged, turning his head towards hers.

"Wilson said you were living out of a hotel," he said, his eyes fixating on her thigh; the sun seemed to glisten on her skin. "Wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

"Well this is pretty much it," she said flatly, not bothering to turn and face him. She closed her eyes in relaxation. "You came, you saw, now you can leave."

She turned and glared at him, her eyes practically daring him to make the joke they were both thinking. He smirked.

"I have no intention of leaving," he said innocently, lifting an arm and propping up his head. She rolled her eyes. "I'm here to relax."

"So am I," she bit back, implying that he was causing her to do just the opposite.

"Great!" he mused, smirking to himself. "We can relax together. It will be fun."

She sighed.

"Fine," Cuddy muttered, too exhausted to even think about arguing with him. She gave another irritated sigh and then smirked, trying to hide the slightly pleased look on her face.

House had been particularly irritating that week; he'd evacuated the entire cafeteria, claiming there was a fire in the kitchen—he had no idea what it took for her to convince the fire department that everything was fine. He'd called her in for consult after consult in the clinic, all of which were unnecessary and not the least bit interesting, and he'd done everything he could possibly think of that might provoke even the tiniest bit of annoyance from her.

And yet…

She looked over at him. He was wearing one the most ridiculous outfit she'd ever seen; bright yellow swim trunks with blue fish scattered all around and rubber flip flops that he could barely walk in. And she thought she spotted a beach bag that she only assumed was chocked full of pool toys that only he could find entertaining. Frankly, he looked like and eight year old kid getting ready to spend a day at the beach.

But he was wearing a fitted white t-shirt that simply clung to him, and she cleared her throat and darted her eyes away, because he certainly didn't look like an eight year old anymore.

She shifted uncomfortably when he tore his t-shirt off, deciding that the only fair thing to do was to get back at him. So she extended her leg slowly, stretching for a bit before she stood up, glancing over at him for a brief second before she made her way to the pool. She paused at the edge, dipping her toe in while she let his eyes linger on her bikini-clad form; she didn't have to turn around to know that he was staring at her ass. She smirked and turned around, a devilish grin on her face as she hopped into the pool, her palms gripping the edge as she steadied herself.

Cuddy leaned up against the edge, her arms folded across the top and her head resting in the nook she had formed with her arms. The water pooled around her, ripples forming as she kicked her legs back in a lazy manor, staring him down with every tantalizing movement.

She watched as he shifted in his chair.

Feeling the edges of her hair start to dip into the pool, she moved away from the edge, standing up as she redid her ponytail, gathering it higher and wrapping a strand around the elastic. His eyes gravitated towards the gold metal hoop that sat between her breasts, contrasting with her tanned skin and the white halter bikini she was wearing.

He smirked. Reaching underneath him, he grabbed something from his bag and made his way over towards the pool. Watching him skeptically, she quickly backed away from him as she realized he was holding a very small water gun in his hand.

"Don't even think about it," she said playfully, a grin on her face as she slowly backed away. She was in the shallow end, and the water hit right below her waist; she folded her arms over her chest as he aimed the toy gun towards her.

He smirked.

"What, are you afraid of getting a little wet?" he asked suggestively, raising his eyebrows at her.

He quickly pulled the lever, sending bursts of water towards her. She shrieked at first, but her opposition quickly morphed into laughter as the water sprayed all over her body. She lifted her hands to shield her face from him, and he let out a slight laugh as she struggled to find her footing.

"Give me that," she ordered, walking towards him. Her fingers dragged across the water. She held her hand out and gestured for it, conscious of the fact that the inside of her arm was pressing one of her breasts towards the other.

Not that it mattered, really; she was wearing the smallest bikini she owned, and she hadn't decided if it was fate or luck that Gregory House had shown up on the very day she had chosen to wear it.

"No way," he retorted, placing the toy water gun at his side. He nodded towards his bag. "This is mine. Go get your own toy."

Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"Didn't you mother teach you to share?"

He nodded.

"She also taught me not to give in to bullies," he said.

Cuddy shook her head. A wave of water—and confidence, for that matter—washed over her, and she slowly waded towards him, her hands falling to her sides as her hips dipped up and down in the water.

"You just want another excuse to look at my ass," she said huskily, her voice low and her eyes flicking towards him. She pointed her finger on his bare chest, poking him accusingly before slipping past him.

They both knew he didn't dare to refute that—and as she got out of the pool, she felt his eyes on her. But she didn't mind. Not really.

Cuddy walked over to his pool chair and leaned over, shaking her head in amusement as she saw the array of toys that he'd brought; rubber ducks, water guns, diving sticks—he even had a pair of goggles that were attached to a plastic shark fin. She wondered if he'd had these lying around his house, but decided not to ask him. Sometimes it was better not knowing when it came to Gregory House.

She picked up a small rubber ball and two paddles and removed her hair tie, causing her slightly wet locks to spill over her shoulder. She ran her hand through them before getting back into the pool.

"I bet I'll outlast you," she challenged, handing him the other paddle.

He smirked at her.

"You're challenging me to ping pong?" he asked. "The reigning champion of beer pong?"

Cuddy smirked.

"I seem to remember beating you once or twice," she retorted. "And besides, I don't see any beer around here, do you?"

He tilted his head to the side, giving her a tentative look. She rolled her eyes.

"You couldn't have mentioned that when I was already out of the pool?"

He shrugged.

"You were right about me wanting to stare at your ass. I'm just trying to live up to your expectations," he said nonchalantly. "I don't like to disappoint when it comes to objectifying your body."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and got up once more, walking towards his bag. She rummaged through the bottom and found two bottles of beer—taped to an ice pack, no less. She undid the tape and gave him a playfully frustrated look before walking back over to the pool.

House met her at the edge, and she handed him a beer as she sat down, her feet dangling in the water as she took a sip. House took a swig of his own beer, the rubber ball bouncing in his other hand.

He playfully bounced it off of Cuddy's bare knees; she splashed water at him in revenge.

"So was this your intention all along?" she asked, leaning backwards slightly, her wet hair dripping down her back. House smirked and she inched her head forwards. "You follow me here, undress me with your eyes, get me to drink your beer and play with your…toys."

She stared him down while she slowly slipped back into the pool. He threw the ball to the side as he walked towards her. They each took a sip of their beer and then placed them on the edge.

"At this point you should know that everything I do is a ploy to get you to take your top off."

Cuddy smirked.

"I do know that, actually. Discretion isn't exactly your forte," she said, smiling at him. "Why do you have to do this, House? Couldn't you just ask me out instead?"

He shrugged and moved towards her; he took her hips in his hands, hooking his thumb underneath the golden hoop. His thumb traced across her wet skin.

"Admit it," he said, staring her down while his thumb moved across the side of her waist. Her breath hitched. "This is way more fun."

"It kind of is," she whispered, agreeing with him. Cuddy reached behind her, finding the strings to her bikini. She slowly untied them, letting her bikini fall; he gulped as it floated away from them.

He hooked his thumb back through the hoop of her bikini bottom, his other hand mimicking his own actions. He pushed her back with the appropriate amount of force, her back colliding with the edge of the pool. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I guess Wilson told you my air conditioner broke," she mused, her fingers draping down his shoulder.

"Don't worry," interrupted House, knowing exactly where her train of thought was going, "I'm not going to leave you all hot and bothered."

He covered her mouth with his, her legs wrapping around his waist as she groaned appreciatively into his mouth; her hands tore through his hair and down his back, tugging him closer towards her.

They broke away from each other, his mouth moving from her lips to her jaw and down her neck as her legs slid up and down against his; the water pooled around them, and Cuddy was suddenly very aware of just where they were—and her lack of clothing. Sensing her hesitation, House pressed his thumb against her skin in a surprisingly comforting manner. She nodded, and her head lolled back against the edge as his hand moved to her waist and then to her ass, cupping it as he supported her.

Before she knew it her entire bikini was floating across the pool.

"If I'd known it was going to be this easy to get you naked I would have stalked you earlier," he murmured, lips pressed against her skin. Steadying his hands on the edge of the pool, he placed his head against her chest, settling himself between her breasts.

He slowly moved his tongue across her skin, experiencing her as he moved; she tasted like sweat and coconut—an enticingly torturous combination.

Her breath hitched and she let out a moan as his tongue began to circle around her nipple.

"You've never stopped stalking me," she countered, her eyes closing and her hips bucking toward his. He tightened his grip on her, his hands settling at the base of her thighs as she pushed down his swim trunks with her toes.

Her toes were curling and they pushed into his skin as his bathing suit floated away, and her knees immediately separated even further, her hips colliding against his like a magnet.

"In fact," she continued, opening her eyes and smirking at him. Her voice lowered to a seductive whisper. "I'm surprised it took you this long to come and find me."

"Thought I'd give you a little space," he said, his head moving back up towards her jaw. The scruff of his beard was scratchy against her silky smooth skin; it was a perfect juxtaposition. He pressed his lips against hers quickly, their bodies moving in tandem with each other. "Find you when you were least expecting it. Catch you off guard."

"Predictably unpredictable," she mused, her head falling back. "Kinda like this weather."

He thrust into her and she gasped, unprepared for the feeling of him being inside her. He pushed inside her, her nails digging into his shoulder as her head lolled forward. "Hot and sweaty and yet…" her voice trailed off and her knees bent to the side, small splashes of water moving around them. She pressed her lips to his. "Completely satisfying."

She sucked on his bottom lip as he thrust inside her, remembering that there was a time when it drove him crazy; his quickened pace told her that not much had changed.

"Wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the summer was like this," he growled.

"Hot and sweaty?" she murmured, anchoring herself closer to him, her chest rubbing up against his.

She moaned.

"That, and something else," he answered, thrusting into her once more, the tension simultaneously releasing from their bodies. "Completely satisfying."

Hopefully this will tide you over until I manage to whip out everything else I have planned. College Huddy? A little trip back to the Only Fools Rush In universe? The possibilities are endless! Leave a review on your way out.

-Alison