by Laura Smith
House spun the chair around slowly as the door to the lab opened, the soft sound of air moving proceeding Cameron in the door. Her eyes were closed as she covered her yawn, rolling her neck as her other hand reached back to rub the nape under her sweep of hair. He watched her in silence, his eyes moving over the taut pull of her shirt as she stretched, her lab coat swaying around her.
"Burning the midnight oil?"
She stifled a quick scream as her eyes snapped open. "Dr. House."
"In the flesh." He rubbed his eyes with one hand, his own tiredness echoing hers. "What are you doing here? I sent you home hours ago."
"I had a thought."
"That can't be good." He tightened his grip on the cane as his other hand dropped to his good leg. "Any thought that leads you to the hospital in the god-forsaken hours of the morning can only be bad. Trust me."
"Been here long?"
"Never left." He turned his chair slowly and gestured to the array of slides. "Nothing."
"There is nothing you're going to come up with that I haven't tried and tested. I've spun so much urine I feel like a fucking carnival ride." He kicked the metal table leg with his foot then took a deep breath. "Sorry."
Cameron walked up to the table and looked at the slides. "For?"
"I'm sure my indelicate choice of language probably offended your sensibilities."
"Trust me, Dr. House." She picked one of the slides and slid it easily into the microscope, clicking the metal rods in place. "You couldn't offend me."
"What if I tried..." He rolled the chair slightly so that he was directly behind her, moving his cane between her legs and sliding it up along her calf. Cameron stiffened, the line of her back arching slightly. "Really hard?"
She pressed her eye to the viewing scope. "Try all you like."
He moved the cane away and tapped it on the floor. "Stone cold. I like that."
"Given that you allow yourself about that much emotion?" She turned and smirked at him. "I can't imagine why."
"Now you're trying to offend me. Trust me, given my jaded and cynical views of life, it's a fruitless endeavor."
"When it comes to you, I excel in those." Cameron tapped the slide. "Did you check for..."
"Why are you here?" House planted his cane between his legs and leaned forward, his chin resting on his hands atop it. "And don't tell me you suddenly thought of some random, unthinkable disease at three in the morning, because I won't believe you."
"I suppose you're postulating that I got out of my very comfortable, warm bed to come here and banter with you? Thank you for thinking me that desperate."
"Men should turn you down more often. It makes you all nasty." He leaned back. "I like it."
"You didn't turn me down."
"I most certainly did," he replied quickly. "Just because the offer wasn't explicitly on the table doesn't mean the contract wasn't out there to sign."
"And now you're insulting me. Very nice." She turned and faced him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Tell me, are you a bitter old man because you have no friends or do you have no friends because you're a bitter old man?"
"Not so old." He reminded her. "Or are you insulting your own taste in men?"
"Momentary lapse of reason." She looked at him for a long moment, her mouth creasing into a slow smile. "Interestingly enough," she advanced on him, walking slowly, her hips moving with a subtle sway, catching his eye, "I excel in them."
House blinked, the gesture taking longer than normal as sleep warred with him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, tilting his head up to look at her. "What do you think you're doing, Cameron."
"I'm going to tell you my brilliant idea that I got at three in the morning." She grasped the arms of his chair and leaned in, her face close to his. "It had absolutely nothing to do with microscopes, though the word slide might come into play."
"I'm not interested, Cameron."
She released one arm of the chair and let her hand fall, the tips of her fingers trailing over the telltale hint of his erection. "Everybody lies."
"Surely you're not going to base your emotions on the purely physical reaction of a tired, bitter old man?" He caught her hand, unable to keep his breath from catching as she turned it, lacing her fingers with his. "Cameron."
"What's the matter, Dr. House?" She pulled his hand away from their bodies and leaned in, her nearness and grasp of his cane hand holding him captive. "Differential diagnosis," she whispered. "Your breathing is short and stilted, catching in your chest. Your pulse is jumping. You can't look me in the eye."
He looked directly at her. "Circumstantial."
"Arousal. It's the only thing that accounts for all the symptoms."
"I could be suffering from a stroke." He clenched his teeth as she leaned even closer, the subtle scent of her perfume assaulting him. "Myocardial infarction. Pulmonary embolus."
"Should I call a doctor?"
He breathed a thick laugh. "You are a doctor."
Her lips brushed his quickly before she pulled away. "Good thing."
House nodded. "Very good," he admitted as his mouth opened against hers, her tongue sliding along his as she knelt on the chair, trapping him further. He broke the kiss and tilted his head back, his lips curved knowingly. "Though one could argue I'm just acquiescing because I've no choice."
Cameron released him and stood, putting a few feet between them. Without a word, she walked around him to the counter that ran along the back of the lab. She moved two thick white binders aside then turned to face him, her hands curving around the edge of the white surface, knuckles whitening as she hoisted herself up. She crossed her legs at the ankles, her skirt ending just below her knees. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to have an excuse."
House laughed and pushed off the slick floor with his feet, his chair rolling toward her. He planted his cane and stopped the movement just in front of her. "I could easily say that I was coerced given that it's now four in the morning and I've been working all night."
Cameron shrugged. "I'm not doing anything, Dr. House. Merely sitting here like a good employee."
House reached out and curved his hands around her ankles, his cane propped up against the side of the chair. He stroked the silk of her skin with his thumbs as he unhooked her ankles and eased her legs apart. "Completely innocent."
She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip as his hands slid further up her legs. "Something like that."
House released her legs for a moment and reached down, his hand grasping the slim lever at the base of his chair and pumping it, lifting the chair slightly. He cupped her knees beneath her skirt and opened her legs further. "Tell me something?"
Her voice was soft and thick, hesitant. "What?"
"You get out of bed to come to the hospital and you're wearing a skirt?"
"I wore it yesterday."
House's hands slid higher, pushing the skirt along with them. "I know." He rolled the chair closer as she inched toward the edge of the counter. "Tell me something?"
Cameron's lip quivered as House's hands reached the tops of her legs and then slid down to the delicate flesh of her inner thighs. She swallowed hard. "What?"
"Were you not wearing panties yesterday? Or is that a new thing just for me?"
"Just...just for you."
He smiled slowly then bent his head and kissed the side of her knee, the rough buzz of his stubble abrading her skin. "Good."
Cameron's hands tightened around the edge of the counter as he pressed gently on her knees, guiding them further apart. His lips worked their way along the creamy pale skin, this teeth and tongue playing over her flesh. Her breath hitched above him as the muscles beneath his hands tightened. He inched his chair forward again, the motion in unison with his hands reaching the apex of her thighs and his thumbs brushing the dark hair that framed the slick, wet flesh.
He could feel her trembling as his thumbs made a slow sweep down the soft skin, parting it to expose the hard nub of her clit to the cool, controlled air of the lab and the hot dart of his tongue. Cameron hissed above him and he repeated the gesture, the swift pressure meeting her flesh for a mere second before disappearing again.
"God..." she breathed on a rough gasp, her breath loud in the quiet room.
"Careful," he murmured against her skin, inhaling the sweet, spiced scent of her. "You're liable to give me a complex."
"One you...oh..." Her body jerked as his tongue circled her clit slowly then swiped across it in one quick, vicious flicker. "Don't already have?"
House ignored her, instead focusing his attention on the slide of flesh below her clit, his tongue trailing over it to her slick, wet opening. He traced the opening with his tongue then slipped it inside, coating himself with her heat.
Cameron arched her back, gasping for breath. House eased his tongue out then let it drift down her perineum to the rim of her sphincter then drew it back up, inhaling the heady air of her surrender as he captured her clit between his teeth and lashed at it in earnest with his tongue.
"Oh...oh..." Cameron's legs circled him and the chair, pulling him closer. He released her labia and curved his hands beneath her thighs, sliding them back to cup her buttocks. She pressed her head against the wall behind her and lifted herself into his hands, her heels hooking on the back of the chair as she levered herself off the counter.
House groaned softly, squeezing the firm yet soft flesh in his hands, the sound reverberating along his tongue. Cameron hissed in low pleasure, her body offered wantonly up to him as he released her clit, circling it again with slow deliberation.
He eased her back onto the counter, his tongue paving a path for his fingers as the traced up, teasing across her sphincter again before two slid inside her. His other hand moved further, replacing his tongue with a quick finger applying unrelenting pressure to her clit as he pulled back enough to watch her give herself over to his pushing, pressing and thrusting fingers.
Cameron shuddered above him, her eyes locked on his. She was disheveled and wanton, her breasts heaving with every breath as she fought her orgasm, bucking into every thrust. House licked his lips and she caught her breath, finally releasing it in a shaky sigh. House slipped another finger inside her, increasing his rhythm steadily with the added girth. Cameron's breath stuttered brokenly and he smiled, swallowing to wet his dry throat.
"Come for me, Allyson."
She forgot to breath as she came, the flood of her orgasm bathing his fingers. He bent his head, using his tongue to stem the tide, prolonging the quivering loss of control with a succession of rapid flickers with long, lazy licks of her swollen flesh. He pulled away slowly as she stilled, licking his fingers and then his lips as she watched him with nearly closed eyes.
He grasped his cane and pushed his chair back, watching as she let her legs drop down, her grip on the counter the only thing supporting her as she stood, her body shaking. "I'd let you borrow the cane, but I'd look pretty silly zipping down the halls on a chair, don't you think?"
"I could borrow the chair." She reached up to her hair then let her hand fall back to clench the counter as she swayed.
"I think it best that I don't stand up for a while." He smirked at her. "I could give you a ride."
She laughed softly, weakly. "Isn't that what you just did?"
"Not quite." He reached out for her hand and pulled her toward him, wincing slightly as she sat carefully on his lap. "Though just imagine what it'll be like when I do."
She yawned and dropped her head to his shoulder as he slid his arm around her hesitantly. "Every day with you is a roller coaster ride, Dr. House."
He nodded and closed his eyes, his hand drifting up to stroke her hair. "I may be a bitter old man, but I'm not boring?"
"You're not old." She tilted her head back. "Definitely not boring." She kissed his cheek then let her head drop back down to his shoulder, snuggling against him. "Maybe not so bitter."
"You're sweet." He bent his head so that it rested against hers. "A liar, but sweet."
He smiled, the gesture shifting against her hair. "I don't like you."
"I know," she murmured sleepily. "The feeling's mutual."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.