Just a little one-shot prompted from a scene in Sleeping Dogs Lie. For my friends who need a distraction, and my readers who just like a little fun. :-)

Disclaimer: I'm in no way connected with the television show. Unfortunately.

She Knows What Gets Him Off

"You've seen one patient in the last two hours," Cuddy's voice was loud enough to hear over the sound of the clinic door slamming behind her.

"Complicated case," House grumbled, obviously frustrated that she startled him out of his afternoon nap. "I'm a night owl - Wilson's an early bird. We're different species."

"Move him into his own cage."

House frowned. "Who'll clean the droppings from mine?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes as he turned on his side away from her, curling into a fetal position in an effort to return to his nap. She wasn't going to have it.

"Twenty-five year old female with sleep issues," she said, walking around the table and pushing the file in his face.

"I'm guessing she's... what's the medical term? Upset." He begrudgingly took the file. "These 25-year-old females are usually completely rational. They're rocks. Really."

House briefly glanced at the file and handed it back to her. "My theory seems to be supported by the fact that she swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills," he said, turning away from her again. "Get her a shrink. I need some shut-eye."

"She's a little bit more than upset," Cuddy said. "She hasn't slept in ten days."

"She's lying," he taunted, peering at her through one squinted eye. "Without REM sleep, your neurons stop regenerating - the brains shut down lobe by lobe. She'd be insane after five days - dead by ten."

"Give me a little credit," she said, tossing the file back at him. "I know what gets you off. She took the pills to sleep, not to kill herself."

House grinned. "You think you know what gets me off?"

"Most definitely," she responded flippantly. "The pills didn't work."

"Prove it."

"That is the proof, you idiot," she said. "They didn't work. She stayed awake, even though she downed the whole bottle."

"So she says." House sat up now, his legs spread wide as he took the file back from her. She knew he was intrigued.

"And you're wrong," she said with a challenging lift to her jaw. "The longest anyone has ever survived without sleep is eleven days, not ten."

House didn't look at the file. Instead, his eyes slowly roved her body from cleavage to thigh. "I'll take the case on one condition," he said. "You prove you know what gets me off."

"I'm not here to play your perverse games," she said. "I'm your boss and you will take the case. Now, get your ass up and gather your team. You have about twenty-two hours before the eleven day mark."

House stood and stepped into her space, not in a threatening, intimidating way, but certainly with the intent to take her off guard. She recognized the tactic and didn't back down for a second, even when her heart began to beat a little faster. Damn him.

"If I solve the case in less than twenty-two hours, you have to prove it."

"I'm not betting on your patient's life."

"Because you know you'll lose," he quipped. "You have no idea what gets me off."

Cuddy's eyes narrowed and she moved her jaw to the side as she unconsciously defied him. He fought back the grin. He knew he had her.

"Take care of your patient first," she said. "When I prove it, you owe me two more weeks of clinic duty."

"One."

"Two."

"That's not fair."

Cuddy shrugged and turned away. "Then find someone else to get you off."

The image that popped into his head was nothing short of pornographic. Cuddy's hands on him, her legs wrapped around him, her body writhing beneath him as he pounded into her.

"Two weeks," he quickly agreed, stopping her before she could leave. "But this is not metaphorical. It has to be clear and complete. No doubt for either of us that you have succeeded."

Cuddy looked at him over her shoulder. He was staring at her ass and almost smacking his lips at the prospect.

She ginned and winked. "Get to work, Stud."

House sighed in frustration and shoved the drawer back into place. The woman kept the cleanest desk in the hospital. A search of the drawers revealed he was getting sued by another patient, Nurse Jeffrey had filed another harassment complaint against him, the clinic was getting a grant from the Fullerton Foundation, she'd been nervous recently and chewed the eraser off a newly sharpened pencil, she'd been sneaking Cadbury chocolate, which explained the recent visit to the dentist, and she'd bought a new pack of breath mints this morning. There was nothing in Cuddy's desk that would explain her unusual behavior.

"What are you hiding, Partypants?" he muttered, and moved the mouse to wake up her computer. There had to be a note or file on her computer. She was too anal not to have something written in her calendar that would be a clue, something to prove one of his theories to be true.

The curiosity was killing him; the inconsistencies had been driving him crazy all day.

First, it was the missing earring he'd noticed at lunch.

"What the hell are you doing?" She'd snapped when he'd started pounding the napkin on the cafeteria table with the curve of his cane. Foreman had stepped aside, giving way to the inevitable sparring match.

"Adding flavor to Thursday's Cafeteria Surprise," he easily answered, opening the napkin to reveal the powdered remains of two Vicodin pills. "Want some?"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Not yet," he said. "But you've lost an earring, which is like losing your mind considering your advanced OCD."

She frowned and reached to touch her earlobe.

"She doesn't know she sleeps," Foreman interrupted. Cuddy frowned at him, obviously confused.

"She wasn't sleeping," House answered. "She wasn't on the phone, either. It's her right earring that's missing. Dr. Cuddy always moves the phone to the left ear. Can you guess why?"

"She's left-handed," Foreman impatiently responded. "And I'm talking about the patient!"

"Not as interesting."

"You'd better find a way to make it interesting," Cuddy warned. "You only have nineteen more hours."

He'd gone to see the patient, and had indeed found the case more interesting than he'd first expected, but it hadn't stopped him from thinking about the anomaly of Cuddy's missing earring.

Then he'd seen her in the clinic and noticed her lipstick.

"You changed your lipstick."

Cuddy arched a brow, but didn't look up from the notes she was making in the chart. "It's called freshening up," she said. "You should try it sometime."

"I only wear lipstick when it circles my penis."

She didn't have a chance to reprimand him before Cameron stormed up to continue the ongoing whine of the day.

"Is this just one of your experiments? You just wanted to see how I'd react to being screwed over by Foreman?"

"Nice idea, but no," he said, tossing the chart he was holding in front of Cuddy. "This was just good old-fashioned laziness."

Cuddy glared at him, but placed the chart in the tray for processing.

"I gotta hand it to Foreman though, he knew that you were a suck up and I don't give a crap. He successfully exploited us both."

"Right. We're both victims," she said. "A simple heads up, that's all I needed. You know, between your incredibly witty remarks about anal sex and Cuddy's breasts, you could have tipped me off."

Cuddy turned then, her jaw slanted in that way that said she was astounded, angry and barely tolerating him…and Cameron.

"If I'm talking anal sex and Cuddy's breast, it's not you I'm wanting to tip off," House said, leaning forward as if sharing a confidence. "If you know what I mean."

"Maybe you could both explain how this conversation contributes anything to the differential you should be doing on your patient," Cuddy said in her most threatening and authoritative tone.

"Maybe you can explain why he would allow Foreman to steal my article."

House sighed dramatically. "If I had told you, Foreman would be pissed at me," he said. "And as annoying as you can be, at least I know you're not going to pop a cap in my ass. Now that was witty, huh?"

House turned to face Cuddy, leaving Cameron to fume.

"You didn't just freshen up," he pointed out. "That is pinker that your usual color."

"So I'm trying a new color."

"Why?"

"Who cares?" Cameron snapped. "When you didn't tell me about Foreman's article, you became complicit."

"That would be the case if I actually read either of your articles," he said, turning to face her, finally giving her his full attention. "You continue to be flabbergasted every time someone actually acts like a human being. Foreman did what he did because it worked out best that way for him. That's what everyone does."

"That is not the definition of being human," Cameron said. "That's the definition of being an ass."

House didn't bother to respond as she walked away. He returned his focus to Cuddy and her lipstick.

"That lipstick makes you look like…"

"Cameron's right," she interrupted, walking away from him toward her office. "You are an ass."

He may be an ass, but she was up to something. He'd been ready to dig a little deeper when he'd walked in on her advising Cameron to stop whining and kick some ass. It was good advice, even if Cameron couldn't digest it. Cuddy had turned the tables on quite a few adversaries after she'd gained a seat of power.

He'd tried to track her down later, but she'd disappeared: left the hospital in a cloud of intrigue. She'd completed her rounds earlier than usual, shifted a few meetings around and left the hospital. Cuddy never left the hospital during the day unless it was to meet a donor, and her assistant would have known if that were the case.

House pushed the keyboard forward to a more comfortable position, preparing to hack her computer, and was immediately distracted by the receipts below.

"What have we here?"

He didn't have time to look at them when he heard her voice.

"Shit."

He grabbed the receipts and his cane, and slipped into the office restroom to hide behind the door. She was supposed to be meeting about the new pediatric wing. That should have taken at least an hour knowing that blow hard Carter was taking the lead. So what? She was skipping out on meetings now?

She was talking to her assistant. Or should he say patronizing another assistant. No wonder she couldn't keep an admin on staff. He needed to have a word with this new one and teach her how to bite back. Cuddy needed a fighter by her side, not a yes-man…or yes-m'am.

House looked down at the receipts in his hand, his eyes widening when he saw she'd dropped over $300 at the donor dinner on Tuesday night. Didn't she realize her legs would bring a bigger check than an overpriced meal?

Her grocery receipt confirmed what he suspected all along. She needed a good piece of meat, in more ways than one. How did she live off salads and tofu? No wonder she was in need of regular chocolate fixes. Her blood sugar was probably low.

She bought a pair of stocking this morning. Maybe that was what had her crazy. She started the day of with a run in her hose and…

His mind flashed to their conversation in the clinic this morning. She hadn't been wearing stockings. When he'd issued the challenge, she'd been wearing the light grey skirt and black shoes. Definitely bare legged.

The time on the receipt said 10:38 am. He frowned. She suddenly decided half way through the morning she should have worn stockings? It didn't make any sense.

"Let me know when Mr. Levinson arrives," he heard her say, followed by the muffled tick of her heals on the carpet. His mind continued to theorize.

She had a date.

Dammit! That was it.

House thought back to another exchange they'd had in the hallways earlier in the day.

"You're wearing a new bra."

"You're wearing old boxers."

"You don't know that," he said. "I, on the other hand, can see down your blouse."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the file she was reading.

"Goodbye, House."

"I need your help."

"I'm all out of anti-perv meds."

"You crush me," he said. "I'm serious. I need your help."

"With what?" she asked. "Is there an inexplicable rash on a patient's scrotum you need me to look at?

"Twenty-seven year old female wants to donate half her liver to her dying girlfriend."

"That's very generous," she said. "This the sleepless girl? What's she got?"

"Liver failure."

"I suppose I should have figured that out when you said she needed a new liver," she said. "You don't have a diagnosis.

"The transplant buys me time."

"Let's just skip the part where I say this is insane."

He should have realized it then, but he was focused on the patient.

She was wearing a black bra with red ribbon. He'd caught a glimpse of it earlier. First the lipstick, then the bra and now she'd run out and bought stockings.

She'd been with a man. That must be it. She'd left to have a rendezvous, which is why she didn't actually commit to his challenge.

"Get to work, stud."

She'd played him: got him worked up so he'd be anticipating her next move and not noticing the new man in her life.

House dropped his head against the wall and swallowed a sigh. No, that couldn't be. She hadn't dated in months. He would have noticed; he would have picked up on signs. He hadn't. She'd been business as usual. No unusual activity or behaviors…until today. But if she was serious enough about the guy to skip out on work to meet with him, it wasn't a first date. It may be new, but it wasn't early. Had he missed the signs? Could she have kept it that well hidden?

Dammit. Nothing was adding up. He needed to see her panties.

If he could get a glimpse of her panties, he'd know for sure. A matching set always meant one of two things: she was hormonal and in need of a confidence boost or she had a plan for seduction.

House could hear her moving around her desk, and peered through the crack in the door to see what she was doing.

Cuddy bent at the waist and opened the bottom drawer of her desk.

Great. She's going to do her filing. She'll probably get wrapped up in a spreadsheet and I'll be stuck…

She propped her foot on the drawer and reached down to her ankle, slowly moving her hands up her leg to smooth the nylon.

His eyes widened when her hands moved high on her thigh, pulling up her skirt to reveal the garter hidden beneath.

Oh. My. God.

House held his breath, silently willing her to keep moving a little higher.

Cuddy dropped her leg to the ground and turned to prop her other leg on the drawer in the same manner. She was facing the restroom now, her fingers already sliding up her calf and toward her thigh. House gulped. It was one thing to fantasize about her, another thing altogether to catch a glimpse of heaven. He crouched a little lower to find the perfect angle as she pushed the fabric of her skirt a little high and adjusted the garter.

His eyes slowly followed the line of her perfect thighs, toned and creamy, just like his fantasies. He could imagine touching them, tasting them as he moved higher.

Black with red ribbon. The realization was both hot and cold as it washed over him.

Her panties matched her bra. She was wearing a matching set. With stockings. Held by the clips of a garter belt. And do-me pumps.

House stopped breathing.

"Dr. Cuddy," he admin called through the door. "Mr. Levinson is here."

"I'll be right out," she said.

House couldn't wait for her to leave. He wanted to pound the wall, to release the growl of frustration that churned in his gut. She was dating, and he hadn't caught it. Shit.

And he was developing an erection, and if he'd seen much more, he would have embarrassed himself and her.

"Don't tell me," Cuddy said as she opened the door and saw it was him. She wrapped her robe around her and crossed her arms at her chest as she glared at him impatiently. "You want to transplant her heart with a nocturnal animal so she'll at least sleep during the day."

House stepped into her entry as she stepped back to let him in. "Liver transplant worked," he answered with a cocky smirk as he closed the door. "Another puzzle solved."

"Just not the one that explains why you are here."

"Why so agitated, Dr. Cuddy?" he asked with feigned innocent. "Your date left before he could yodel in the canyon?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes and turned away from him, walking toward the kitchen. "Sorry to disappoint you," she said over her shoulder. "I know how much you dream of watching."

"Every time I cuff the carrot," he called out as he stepped into the living room and examined the surroundings. The fire was burning, there were two empty coasters on the coffee table and the sofa pillows were haphazardly tossed beside the unfolded fleece blanket.

"That often, huh?" He heard her say, and grinned. He could imagine the smirk on her face.

"As often as you regret removing your vegetable," he quipped as he followed the sound of her voice.

"I've always been a woman, House," she said, joining him in the dining room. "And the more you talk, the more I think you may be suffering from vagina envy."

House reached for the bottle of water she was handing him, but his eyes dropped to the seam in her robe that was parted now that she wasn't holding it tight around her.

Black lace and red ribbon. Deep cleavage. Silky skin.

As she twisted the cap off the bottle of water she'd kept for herself, her breasts jiggled slightly and the gap grew wider. He could see the perfect skin of her abdomen, the dip of her navel, the garter belt and dark lace that hid dark curls of pleasure.

House gulped.

She still wore the stockings. And the heels. Why hadn't he noticed the heels when he'd come in?

You were looking for her date.

His eyes narrowed as his gaze returned to her face.

"There is no man," he said. His eyes traced the shape of her mouth, puckered along the plastic rim of the bottle as she drank. There was something sensual in the movement of her throat, and the way the residual moisture clung to her lips.

"Oh, there's a man," she said, placing the bottle on the edge of the table and taking two steps toward him. "At least you look like one."

House felt her hand on his crotch and dropped his unopened bottle of water on the floor.

"You feel like one, too."

Her husky voice taunted him; the palm of her hand sliding along the growing length of his shaft left him speechless.

"You've been thinking about me all day, haven't you?" she asked, her hand dipping low to trace the shape of his balls. His erection pressed painfully against his zipper in response.

"What are you up to?" It sounded more like a croak than a question.

Cuddy grinned, her jaw shifting to the side as she leaned toward him. "There's only one thing that gets you off more than a puzzle," she said. He could feel the tips of her breasts as they grazed his chest; her breath teased the line of his chin and jaw and ear. And then she whispered. "Me."

It took a moment for House to understand, primarily because all of the blood from his brain was now in his groin, but then she kissed him.

It was just a peck on the cheek, but Cuddy felt a powerful heat engulf them. The air shifted and his nostrils flared like an animal that'd caught the scent of his prey. She felt the scruff of his beard along her cheek and beneath her ear. His lips nipped at the pulse in her neck, and his tongue snaked along the line of her clavicle. Cuddy purred; House growled deep in his throat. She thought she heard the clatter of his cane hitting the floor, but then his arms were around her, turning her and lifting her onto the dining room table. Her robe was pushed off her shoulders and down her arms. When he stepped between her thighs, she reached for him, wildly shaking the offending fabric from around her wrists where is restrained her.

His arms surrounded her; his hands slid along her spine and neck. His face was on her chest and in her cleavage. She felt the pressure released along her chest and gasped for air. It was too much. Her senses were under assault and she couldn't take it anymore.

Cuddy gripped his head, pulling his face up to hers. She was hungry for his kiss, desperate for his taste. But he held back, teasing her and taunting her, nipping at the pulp of her bottom lip with a tenderness that belied the heat of his body and the passion of his hands.

He suddenly gripped her thighs and slid her forward into his hips. The movement caused her to fall back and she caught herself, bracing her hands on the table. House gently pushed shoulders back, and as his hands slid down her arms, he took her bra with him.

His eyes ignited with the blue of a fiery ember as he got his first glimpse of her perfect breasts. Her nipples puckered against the cold, or perhaps beneath the heat of his stare. But when his fingers traced the dark circles of her areolas, the painful tickle of nerves coming alive had her arching toward him. He skimmed her tips and moaned with desire.

Cuddy saw the lust in his eyes; she felt the intensity of his barely restrained desire, and gripped his wrists. It was hard to say if she was holding him steady or begging for more. House didn't need clarification. He knew what she wanted, what she needed. His body was attuned to hers.

He cupped the fullness of her breasts, his thumbs pleasing and tormenting the tips of her nipples. It was as if there was a live wire connecting her breasts to her core, and his caress was the current that powered her desire. She bent her knees and spread her legs, bracing her heels on the table.

House groaned at the site of her.

She wanted to tease him, to tell him she wanted him to do to her exactly what he was thinking, what he was imagining, but she couldn't find the words. His hands were moving down her thighs, over her knees and circling her ankles. He was studying her, examining her shape and contour, memorizing the vision of her in nylon fantasy. When his fingers made their way back up her legs, she instinctively pushed her hips up toward his touch.

House lifted her right leg and propped it on his should as he released the stocking and rolled it down her leg. It felt to Cuddy as if he moved in slow motion. House fought to slow down. He didn't want to rush this; he didn't want to miss one second, one moment, one sensation. But as he moved his attentions to her left leg, he was trembling beneath his determined control.

Cuddy held her breath when his fingers slid along the edge of the lace between her thighs. House watched her, his own breath becoming labored when he felt the moist heat of her pleasure on his knuckles. A primal need for her engulfed him and he fought the desire to rip the panties from her body.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered as he looked down at her spread out before him, then nestled his face at the apex of her thighs.

She could feel the scruff of his beard on her thighs, the heat of his breath through the lace fabric as he nestled his face against her. But then the barrier was gone and he was nipping and licking along the groomed line of hair. She bucked against him; he dove deeper.

She cried out when she felt his tongue, sliding along edge of her lips and circling her clit. He hummed against her and the sensation sent her reeling.

"House."

His name on her lips as she sought orgasm inflamed him. He tightened his lips around her swollen nub and sucked. She gripped his head, pulling him into her, and he increased pressure and speed and intensity.

Cuddy was fast approaching the peak of ecstasy, and House was relentless in his determination to send her over the edge. He felt the muscles in her thighs grow tight and taunt around him, as her hips moved in the frenzied rhythm of his tongue.

She was wet. So wet. The pulse of her sent waves of moisture sliding from her center, and he slipped his finger in to feel the source.

Her walls tightened around him. He groaned. She spasmed. He moved his finger in time with his tongue, driving and pushing her to ride the wave to the end. But she was wild, and desperate, and her body too conscious of his touch and feel. She pulled at him, and toward him, her torso angled to almost a seated position, forcing his finger deep to fill her and touch her in just the place that would send her into rapture.

When she finally returned to consciousness, she found him watching her and sense of awe and want shrouding him.

She smiled and sank onto his lap, careful to shift her weight to protect his leg. Her fingers ran through his hair and she tilted his head, leaning in for the kiss she'd been wanting and now would not be denied. Her essence lingered on his lips and in his beard, but she could only taste the flavor that was all him. She wanted more.

Their tongues vied for position and power, both voraciously exploring and devouring as their lips moved as one. Her hands slid down his chest and pulled at the hem of his t-shirt. She needed to touch his skin, to feel his chest against hers. She needed to feel the heat of him surrounding her without distraction or barrier.

She pulled away from him, ripping the shirt over his arms and head, then froze as she looked into his face. He stared at her with a wonderment and lust…and what looked to be a hint of fear.

His eyelashes fluttered closed and she watched as he breathed deep, tilting his head back to bask in the feel of her breasts against his chest, her hands in his hair, her lips nipping at his nose and jaw and lips. He'd never felt anything so divine. He wanted to relish it, to drown in the depths of the intimacy between them. His body had other ideas.

She must have sensed the shift, felt the pulse of him swollen and hard between her legs. Cuddy reached for his belt and fumbled with the clasp and then the zipper. House gripped her hips, both pushing and pulling at her as his desire for her increased to dizzying proportions.

By the time she released his cock from the confines of his jeans, House was almost lost in a haze of lust and need.

"I can't wait," he said, lifting and shifting her to a better angle as she gripped him and positioned him beneath her.

"I don't want you to," she said, and lowered onto his lap.

He moaned as his entered her. She sharply inhaled her body stretched to accommodate him. He stilled, holding her steady as she adjusted to the fullness of him. He watched her, allowing himself the moment to fully experience the feel of her surrounding him, encompassing him, becoming one with him.

But then her lashes fluttered and her eyes locked on his in a heated, hungry, vulnerable stare. He lifted his hips, pushing into her. She moved against him, finding his tempo and moving in rhythm with his body. He could see the sway of her breasts and the fluid movement of her body in his periphery, but he couldn't break the stare. He was captured, enraptured, drowning in the emotion he'd so long avoided and denied.

"Cuddy," he whispered. His tone was reverent and raw; her smile was encouraging and amazed. It snapped him, ripping his control and baring the intense possessiveness of his heart. This woman who was both angel and vixen, both friend and foe, the woman who was his favorite fantasy and most protected desire was his. His.

"Yes," she responded to the primitive dominance that had him pushing and pulling, driving and pounding into her with such focus and force.

She arched and leaned back against the table edge. It was just the angle he needed to find that sweet spot that sent her gasping and gripping and tightening around him. Her slick, hot walls clamped around him and he exploded into tiny bursts of light and shadow and euphoria.

"So this is what it feels like," she said, her teasing voice drawing him back into conscious awareness. Her hand moved along his jaw and she stared at him in satiated delight and tender satisfaction. "It feels good to win."

House laughed, still engulfed in blissful aftermath and the treasured safety that he found in her embrace.

"Best loss ever," he replied, slowly enunciating every word impact.

"Who knew you were such a good loser?" She shifted her weight, moving off his lap now that strength was returning to her legs.

"The best bets are those where the loser is also a winner," he said, but she already knew that. She was very selective in the games she engaged with him. His eyes roved her naked form from head to toe as she stepped away from him. He would never grow tired of looking at her.

"Touché," she chuckled.

"And by touché you mean..."

"Shut up, House." She moved gracefully toward the door. The sway of her hips was almost hypnotic. Almost.

"Hey," he called to her as he stood to follow her into the hall. "How much clinic duty would it take to do this again?"

The End