This is just smutty fun. I needed to just write a silly one-shot. I watched "5 to 9" last night and thought about how much better House would have been than he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned when it comes to relieving Cuddy's morning stress.

I don't own them. If I did I would boss them to be permanently in love, ironically romantic, and screwing at least 90% of the time.

Cuddy's alarm went off just a couple hours after she had been half-aware of House coming to bed. He'd had particularly tricky patient for a few days and had stayed into the night to watch her emergency surgery.

"How's your patient?" she had mumbled when she felt him fall into bed next to her.

"No longer dying," House had replied, yawning. "She has pica. Her stomach was full of glass."

"Oh," Cuddy replied, too asleep to be fascinated.

"Yeah," House answered, too tired to mind.

And they had fallen asleep, legs entangled, her face against his shoulder.

Now she woke with a start to the alarm's buzz. She had an important board meeting today and needed to get to the hospital in plenty of time to take care of all the small ends that always loosened overnight in order to be prepared for the meeting on time. Her hand fumbled for the alarm and she switched it off and sighed heavily.

House rolled over behind her and threw an arm around her waist. "Wanna get naked?" he murmured. Cuddy grinned and looked back at him. His eyes were still closed and his breath was still puffing rhythmically against her skin.

"You're even horny when you're sleeping?" she asked.

"Depends who I'm sleeping with."

Cuddy sat up a little and stretched. "Go back to sleep," she whispered. "I have to get going."

"How about half naked then?" he bargained, kissing down her body and finding the bottom of her nightie. Cuddy laughed quietly.

"I'm totally stressed out," she confessed. "I can't. Later."

"I like you stressed," he replied, still working his way down her body. "You come harder."

"I do not."

"Want proof?" His mouth was at her thigh now and he ran his tongue and lips against her skin, maneuvering his body between her legs. His hands slid over her calves, then her thighs, spreading them apart. They continued their leisurely groping, sliding up over her stomach, her ribs, her breasts, and finally resting along her waist. She was loving it and fighting it, simultaneously trying to convince herself both to chill out and to get a move on.

House looked up at her, smirking. "Come on, Cuddy. You're really gonna turn down one simple morning orgasm for the sake of ten more minutes to over-prepare for your meeting?"

"You know damn well it's not gonna be ten minutes," she scolded half-heartedly.

"It will," he promised. "I want to get you off and then I'll let you go. I'll sleep better knowing I sent you to school with your homework done."

She tried to look stern, but he looked hopefully up at her with his disheveled bedhead, scruffier scruff, and sleepy blue eyes. "You say that now, House. Then you're gonna say That got me so hot. Just ten more minutes. I need you so bad."

"I won't." He kissed her gently, right above her heat.

"You'll be too horny to sleep," she protested, but she arched up a little against his mouth. Her voice was getting weak.

"I've got ways of handling that." His hands slid to her hips and his lips pressed gently against her sex.

"I intentionally set my alarm early so that… Oh my God…" Cuddy felt her resistance give way as House ran his tongue along her. Her hands slid down her own body until they found his head. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him last night until now, feeling his body along hers, hearing his voice, succumbing to the skills of his mouth.

Her mind kept flitting to her crazy day, but it was like House could sense it. She'd momentarily panic and glance at the clock or think about the commute traffic and then his pressure would increase, or his hands would lift her pelvis harder against his mouth, insistent that she let go and enjoy this. Quickly the invasive thoughts retreated, admitting defeat.

Cuddy sank deeper into the pillows and raked her fingers up her thighs as the tension started building. House pulled back just slightly and she felt his breath on her and the thought of him stopping was suddenly more dreadful than anything the board could do to her. She whimpered a little.

"I love that you're a perfectly manicured badass," he told her.

"Thank you?" she said, annoyed that he wanted to converse.

"But you're even hotter in the morning, all beautifully wimpy and compliant."

"Okay, Lord Byron. We're on a schedule here. Little less waxing romantic, little more…" Cuddy made a let's get on with it gesture.

House smiled, proud of his ability to convince her of what was truly important. "See? You get bossier as the morning wears on," he snarked. She was articulating a witty retort when the return of his warm, wet mouth to her warm, wet sex dissolved her connection to the witty part of her brain. He was getting serious now, focused. She felt his tongue slide inside of her a little, a tease that made her think of calling in sick. She wanted him inside her, filling her more deeply than this. She was about to suggest it when his efforts honed in on her clit, circling, flicking, and sucking with a rhythm he had memorized as hers. Her thoughts of work, sexual positions, and all things worldly began fading into the blissed out state of being conscious of only one set of nerve-endings. She cried out to the ceiling, delighted to be climbing toward the purpose now.

She didn't think about budgets. She didn't think about Sanford Wells or the board. She didn't think about clinic staffing schedules or drug reps.

She thought about nothing except her maniacal desire for him to never ever stop what he was doing. She urged him on without words, writhing against the mattress, fisting bedsheets and his hair. He was right about the stress. Her tense muscles, the thoughts that had battled the building coil of arousal deep inside of her, her wish for a relief from the tedium – they wove together to create the most intoxicating orgasm. She was right there, right at the peak, knowing she would come at any second, wishing for it and also wanting it to never arrive, to just stay right there where her everything felt so amazing. But the temptation to cross over into ecstasy was too much and when House pushed down on her hips, holding her still and delivering that exact amount of pressure with his mouth and tongue, moaning so quietly against her heat, she dove into her delight, crying out and heaving breaths into the still, dim bedroom. She shuddered and bucked and her body's each spasm seemed to just invite the next. She thought she might never stop coming, as long as he kept kissing her, which she gasped out to him as an order.

Despite his obedience, her body could not exist like that forever, but House ushered her back to earth so gradually and methodically that she felt like she might understand what nirvana was now.

As she lay there panting, trying to get her eyes to look straight again, House climbed up her body, kissed her lightly, then rolled over, yanking the covers over to his side of the bed. "Get up, slacker," he teased.

She chuckled. It was a chuckle but came out more as a moan-like incoherent mumbling. She took a few deep breaths, rubbed her hands over her face and willed herself to sit up. She looked at the clock. Eleven minutes. He was nothing if not a pro. She shuffled off to the bathroom to get herself together before Rachel would wake up, and noticed she was smiling dreamily as she blew her hair dry, and that the furrow between her brows was gone as she applied her make-up. Screw beauty sleep, House gave her beauty sex.

She gathered her things and was sneaking out of the bedroom, but stopped to give him a light kiss in his sleep. One eye flickered open just a hair, then closed again. "I need you so bad," he muttered, barely smirking. Then he returned to a quiet snoring sleep.