Why was she so uncomfortable? Waking up next to him was a special treat, reserved only for the rare opportunities when she could create a convincing excuse to escape her suspicious husband. After discovering that House actually enjoyed her company after sex and wasn't overly obnoxious about cuddling, it was something she had tried to maximise. But something was off…
Her arms were caught behind her back, bound tightly together, her efforts revealing no weaknesses in what could only be his latest scheme to torture her. She wiggled her fingers, restoring blood-flow to her arms and gasping a little as her skin prickled with sensation, thousands of tiny needles dancing across her flesh. One of her fingertips touched something that wasn't part of the bed, something warm.
"House?" An echo was her only response, until one of his arms wrapped around her, his chest meeting her back.
"Cameron." His voice was smooth, too smooth for him at this time in the morning, he must have been awake a while. Further thoughts were crushed as his hand grazed her nipple, leaving nothing but the beginning of a hot need burning, a thought which only made her blush more.
Arching, she felt herself press up against him, hard against her butt, leading to a momentary fantasy about what it would feel like to have him take her there. It would hurt, but that wasn't scary anymore, he managed to bend pain around until she forgot what separated it from the intense fire he stoked within her. Her fantasy was rudely interrupted by a sharp pinch on her breast.
"Did you hear what I said?" His voice was as sharp as his fingertips, a ripple of fear and need running through her.
"No." It didn't take him long to control her body, but he didn't try to take away her choices. Both were invariably fun, so why not let her choose. Pushing her head around she looked at him, morning light shining through hot mist rising from his body. Had he showered? How long had she slept?
House stroked his hand downwards, teasing a taut tummy until fingers could creep over her mound, pressing tight against her need.
"So I guess you don't want me to fuck you this morning?"
Her irises flashed wide, pushing her hips at his fingers, "I do! House!" He'd made it difficult for her purposefully, she knew it, rolling wildly to press up close, feeling her boobs mashed to his chest as she kissed angrily at him, all twisted about atop the sheets. His smile was infuriating given how easily he was frustrating her attempts to encourage him. Eventually a quick roll separates them, leaving her flopped over on her front, glaring sideways up at him until his limp takes him out of view behind her.
A hand is on her again, swatting her ass before he pulls her hips up, fingers on her back stopping her from sitting back or kneeling. He doesn't tease for long, hands running to her hips, propping himself up as he positions in behind her, resting himself between her buttocks for the second time this morning, eliciting the same animalistic reaction as the first time around. He backs off a little before nudging into her easily, hands stroking the rage and lust away from her in cool, collected, caring caresses. It did nothing to silence her whimper, but the pillow under her face did enough of that.
She stretched, fingers grasping through the air to meet his hips, clawing at him as he sinks deep, hips nuzzling up so tight that she is trapped between her pillow and his wanting body. It feels like heaven, even better when he started to rut into her, all of her strength going into pushing back at him, keeping him in her as long as possible.
It was a beautiful view. She trusted him completely, arms twitching in their gauze prison, face and neck red with the effort of getting enough oxygen to stay conscious. Slipping a hand under her, his fingers forcefully rubbing against her sex until it was plain she wouldn't last any longer than he could.
Easing up for a moment, his hand slid up, leaving a trace of her wetness up her tummy until his fingers deviate around her side and into her long hair, floating free over her neck. The ache in his leg throbbing dully was all the encouragement he needed to know this had to end, now.
Fisting her silken mane into a ponytail, he pulls her head back, easing the weight on and his wrist back as her spine arches. Her gasps are now little more than primal moans, the pain of her hair almost pushing her over the edge as her torso floats up. The arch leaves her suspended at least a foot above the mattress, her ass pressed tightly to him for any support he can offer.
When he starts to thrust, bouncing her off his hips in an arc, the tension is too great, her mouth locked open in a silent scream as she is left helpless to resist his urgent fucking. He gives in, climaxing hard and satisfying his needs as well as hers. As he peaks, his other arm encircles her, pulling up until she is sitting in his lap, his leg grumbling constantly, but her heat pressed against him is too good to resist as she rocks against him.
They shiver together, his hands touching tenderly now, easing the bandages down her arms until they unravel. Grabbing his forearms, hips still rocking she moans softly, the feelings too good to end.
His lips kiss against her neck a moment, before murmuring into her ear, "You like being on top?"
The squeeze on his arms and release of his right can only be taken as a good sign, her breathing sharp as she teases herself, fingers stroking down over his shaft still half inside her. The touches are just enough, his hands moving to cup her breasts as he feels himself stiffen agonisingly inside her.
"Come again." His tone begs no inquiry, but it's not an order. She disobeyed his 'orders' frequently, especially recently as his punishments were much more fun than clinic work now. No, her next stuttering orgasm was nothing short of a commandment from on high, her fingers frantically grinding on her clit as his sweat-soaked skin shivers beneath her.
His tongue was kissing her neck when she tossed her head back, her wail one of complete perfect pleasure. Holding her tight he let her moan and writhe, slippery in his arms, his leg's protesting eventually became impossible to silence, pushing her forwards until he could slip aside, flopping back onto the desecrated sheets.
In seconds she was moulded to his side, wrapped tightly to him, kisses peppering his shoulder and stubbly cheek. It felt nothing short of perfect.
Robert's sullen eyes watched her intently through the window separating the operating room from the scrub station, reading her, turning away only when the primary nudged him with an elbow and said something. The last expression she could read in his eyes was a mixture of disappointment and sorrow. There was no point in staying and watching. Even though Chase was fast cottoning on to the fact that something was twisting between them, he wouldn't deal with it now. Patients came first, as always. He'd make someone very happy one day. The bitter tang of guilt almost made Cameron wish he made her happy. She hid in her office until the first tear fell, splashing into the swirling darkness. Getting married was stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course House had to toy with her, a very smug cat with a very scared mouse. A mouse, she thought sourly, who would compromise her own desire for a quick fix. Chase was instant coffee, hot, easy and safe. But now that House wasn't being a completely infuriating ass all of the time… Who chooses instant when she could have the real thing?
But they'd moved on, she was sure of it! If she thought House wanted her, needed her, even really cared, then Robert would never have been an option. Then all of a sudden House was gone. She hadn't expected him to be at the wedding, but she expected a reaction. Instead, he vanished.
It took over a week of interrogation until Wilson snapped. He needed to talk to somebody and so the story poured out. It sounded too unlikely, too far out, even for House. She even wondered if it was a setup to punish her for marrying Chase, before she filed that thought away under 'Self-Centred Ass'. Going with Wilson to the grey stone slab of the institution was a punch to the gut, reality asserting itself unpleasantly.
She almost cried when she first saw him. The institution was a carnival hall of mirrors, distorting reality until natural laws collapsed, up became down, hot became cold, day became night. Wilson had left them alone for a while so he could speak with one of the staff and she'd just sat there, unable to think of anything to say. He didn't say anything, even when he looked up at her, sensing nothing but nervousness radiating from the thread-bare armchair and its occupant. Wilson returned and watched them both for a moment before taking Cameron carefully by the arm. She death-gripped the sleeve of his jacket all the way back to the car.
At least charts kept her busy, busy enough that she was fairly sure the nurses hadn't even noticed the bubbling cauldron of guilt and concern that was Allison Cameron. They'd pop in occasionally to shoulder tap her, keeping her in the loop, but it was obvious to all that she wasn't really there. Chase was quickly assigned the blame and the unspoken agreement was to be a little cooler to him until their boss' mood improved.
Besides, she didn't have to worry about him tonight. He was booked through till midnight, if the surgery went smoothly, longer if she had read the patients chart correctly. If he made it home it was doubtful he'd notice her missing before exhaustion smothered him with sleep.
"House." Her voice was small, robbed of its timbre by cheap electronic gadgetry. It was still the best thing he'd heard all day
"If you're enquiring about my long-distance plan, I'm perfectly happy thank you." He could hear her smile and it felt good. Making her happy was a guilty pleasure, given his carefully crafted image, but he wasn't shy about her knowing this.
"Are you doing anything? I… want to see you." Tension, trepidation, hope with a touch of uncertainty, as if her words would somehow force him to confront her neediness and recoil away, horrified.
"So come over." It came across sharper than intended and she was silent for a moment.
The eventual response was soft. "Ok." Then the muffled rub of thumb against a cell phone, just before the line went dead. He went back to dozing on the couch, only awakening when his barely conscious mind sensed her close, blinking as a form settled beside him, pressed tight to his side.
Eyes drifted shut again as he accepted her presence, feeling her fingers stroking over his chest reassuringly, until a soft kiss pressed his forehead.
"Can we go to bed?"
"Wus'wrong'wi'ere?"
She rolled her eyes, "Yes, I'm sure you won't be at all grumpy after sleeping on the couch all night."
He acquiesced, heaving upwards, accepting her help without mention and letting her lead him into what he was coming to think of more and more often as Their Bedroom.
Clothes fell until they slipped between the sheets, her fingers delicately peeling his boxers shorts away. He woke up a little when he realised that the arm she'd slipped around him was gently jacking him off beneath the covers.
"What are you doing?"
A soft giggle was his only answer, until she kissed his back, "Just saying thank you."
"You want to thank me with a hand-job?"
She eases him onto his back before she answers, her thighs straddling and teasing his now hard shaft up into her.
"No, I owe you more than that." He almost tells her she doesn't owe him a thing, deciding to milk the opportunity.
"That's better. Know your place." Leering obnoxiously he prods her tummy.
"I'll stop if you don't shut up Gregory House!" Her tone is mirrors his, teasing, but she still pulls back, just leaving his tip inside her as she awaits an impertinent response that never comes.
Her purr is audible, accented heavily by her weight sliding back down onto him. "Good boy."
They work together, gentle and lazy, moving just enough to sneak them both closer to climax. His hips push up into her harder as she teasingly grinds in his lap.
"Cameron!" His voice is tight and desperate and he needs her and it is a greater turn-on than anything he could ever do to her.
Leaning down, her nipples brush over his chest as she kisses him sweetly, "Come in me, House, let go and come."
He shudders, groaning his release out into her, her lips shushing and soothing him. Rolling back onto the soft comfort of his bed, a silly grin grows, smiling at the ceiling until he pulls her back into a tight cinch.
Author's Note: Hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing.