"Hot Water" by karaokegal
Title: Hot Water
Author: Karaokegal
Word Count: 3418
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Stacy/Cameron
Prompt: 51. Cameron/Stacy hate!sex!
Notes: My first attempt at hardcore femslash in a long time. Thanks to rivers_bend for pushing as hard as I needed to get it right.
Cameron came home wanting only a hot bath and sleep. Food could wait, maybe even until tomorrow. She was too upset to eat. Still clenched from the confrontation in Cuddy’s office. On a good day, she could almost stand up to Cuddy, but not Cuddy and Stacy attacking her in unison. It wasn’t fair. She’d done exactly what House would have done and ended up being scolded by one woman she feared and one she hated.
She ran the water and threw in a handful of lavender-scented bath beads, before entering the tub and sinking in up to her shoulders. She'd tried to pull her hair out of the way with a scrunchie, but tendrils came out and got wet. She’d shampoo it all out later. Right now she could just relax. Feel the water take away some of the stresses of working for that miserable bastard she was still in love with.
House had given her every opportunity to detest him. His cold analysis of her on their date still made her nauseated every time she thought about it, which was too often. “I’m on the bandwagon. I hate you too.” she’d lied, knowing he saw right through her.
I should have taken Sebastian up on his offer. She held her feet under the faucet and imagined herself in Africa, saving lives, working for a man who actually cared about people more than puzzles. She used one foot to turn off the water. When she closed her eyes, Sebastian Charles turned into Robert Redford and she was Meryl Streep and they were flying over Africa and beautiful music was playing and who the hell was banging on her door?
Why couldn’t she enjoy a daydream of her favorite movie without being interrupted? She seriously considered ignoring who ever was being so rude, but it wasn’t her nature. Besides, it might be some emergency. Like they’d come here instead of calling. Just admit it, you think it might be House.
She left her warm cocoon and dried off. She debated the merits of answering the door in nothing but a towel and wondering if even that would get House’s attention, but decided on her thin pink bathrobe instead.
The banging was backed up by a voice.
“Come on Cameron. I know you’re in there. Open up.”
Definitely not House, but just as rude, obnoxious and annoying.
Cameron opened her door to the last person on earth she wanted to see.
+++++
Cameron knew she’d hit bottom when she found herself seeking sympathy from Foreman.
They were sitting in the diagnostics office with piles of files on the table, trying to unravel two years of House’s unorthodox notation methods. Foreman had dragooned Cameron into the process because she’d been functioning as House’s de facto secretary in addition to her official duties. He thought she might have some insight into House’s charting technique, or at least be able to read his handwriting.
She set about the job with her customary efficiency, but by 5:30PM, it was dark outside, her eyes hurt and aggravation came spilling out.
“What’s so great about Stacy?”
“Excuse me?”
Foreman looked up from a folder, completely confused.
“OK, fine. I get that House is still in love with her, although God knows why, after what she did to him.”
”I thought you were too screwed up to love anyone. You just couldn’t love me. I’m happy for you. I really am.”
Cameron winced at the memory. She’d meant the words, but saying them to House had been truly pathetic. He probably hadn’t heard her, because he was so intent on watching Stacy and Mark.
It was over six months later and Stacy was still there. What the hell does a hospital need with a constitutional lawyer anyway?
“If she’s not bugging House, she’s in Cuddy’s office like it’s their old sorority house. Chase thinks she's the Blessed Virgin because he didn’t get fired for killing that woman. Even Wilson can’t keep his eyes off her.”
Foreman had his brows knit together in what Cameron took to be avid attention to her plight.
“I don’t understand. She’s totally obnoxious, pushy, not that pretty. I’m younger, I’m thinner, so why does everybody love her so much?” she finished, hoping Foreman would offer a kind word. His rapt expression turned to mocking disbelief.
“Are you listening to yourself?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well for one thing, you seem to have me confused with Oprah Winfrey. I ain’t giving out free cars and if you need an audience, you should take your sorry white ass to Jerry Springer.”
Cameron felt her eyes and face starting to burn.
“Don’t start crying.” Foreman’s voice had an air of revulsion along with panic.
“I wasn’t,” she said sniffling.
“Look, Cameron. You have got to get over this. She’s going to be here at least ‘til Mark is up and walking. In the meantime, you’re turning into Jan on the Brady Bunch. ‘Stacy, Stacy, Stacy.’”
Foreman crossed his arms in exasperation.
“Yeah, she’s obnoxious. She pisses people off. And she’s really good at her job. Sound like anybody else we know? You want to get House’s attention? Maybe you need to be more like that, because the whole sweetness and light thing is not working.”
She tried to erase Foreman’s words with a good workout on her treadmill, I am NOT Jan Brady. but the part about being obnoxious clung to her memory. She couldn’t change her whole personality to compete with Stacy Warner, but maybe she could find a way to show House she wasn’t a total wimp.
She got her chance with the next case, ”hot OTB babe”.
She’d figured out the puzzle and proven the patient to be a liar, all in the most House-like way possible. Where was her “Well done” or “nice job” or at least a glimmer of appreciation?
Nothing. Just a chagrinned look and twenty-four hours of breaking rules and turning cartwheels to prove that Annica really was sick. Despite his incredibly unethical behavior, House was once again the hero of the day and Cameron was left watching House and Wilson enact one of their bizarre rituals where House mooched and Wilson let him get away with it.
Before she could start wishing that House would mooch off her, she was paged to Cuddy’s office and found herself under assault from Cuddy and Stacy over what she’d done with the Rifampin.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“There could be incredible liability for the hospital.”
“You had no right.”
“It was completely unethical.”
“If you do anything like that again…”
Their accusing voices blended into one attack. She fought to keep from withering under the assault. It was hard to breathe, much less talk, but if there was ever a time not to be Jan Brady, this was it.
“All I did was exactly what House would have done. And you,” she pointed at Cuddy “would have been thrilled. I’m not sure what you would have done,” this time she gestured to Stacy, “but you sure wouldn’t have brought him in here to be scolded like a child. He gets away with everything because you’re still in love with him even though you’ve got a husband who loves you.”
She couldn’t believe she’d said all that. It was completely inappropriate. If she wasn’t in trouble before she sure was now.
“Can I go?”
They exchanged a glance and then Cuddy nodded, still looking very concerned. Cameron went home to take her bath and wonder if House would sign off on her getting fired for mouthing off to his ex.
Now the witch was here, in her tailored black suit, white shirt open at the neck, revealing more cleavage than was absolutely professional. She and Cuddy seemed to be competing to find out who could show the most skin. Cameron found herself staring briefly at Stacy’s small crucifix, before looking at her face, eyes dark and determined.
“I was busy,” she announced hoping to cut short whatever Stacy wanted.
“I can tell.” Stacy’s voice was cool, as she looked Cameron up and down, reminding her that she’d some to the door in a bathrobe.
“If you’re here to apologize…”
Cameron had no intention of inviting her inside, even if it meant standing there in nothing but pink terrycloth held together by a sash that wasn’t even properly knotted.
“Apologize, my ass,” Stacy enunciated, taking a long legged stride that brought her inside the apartment without asking permission.
“Did Cuddy send you here?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I need to work with Greg and for some bizarre reason; he wants to keep working with you. That means you and I need to work together.” Stacy wasn’t even doing her the courtesy of looking at her face while she spelled this out. She was looking around Cameron’s living room, scoping out her couch, coffe table books and the the stack next to her CD player, without bothering to conceal what she was doing. Cameron was momentarily self-conscious about the Goldfrapp CD still on the top of the pile. “So what’s your problem, Dr. Cameron?” Stacy managed to make her title sound like an insult. Probably her courtroom technique for hostile witnesses.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“You’re full of crap. You can’t get over that I used to be involved with Greg. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out for you but that’s life. You’re supposed to be an adult, so why the hell are you stomping around the hospital acting like I killed your kitten?”
Stacy stood in the center of Cameron’s living room, hands on her hips, poised elegantly on her high heeled sandals. Waiting.
“Is this on the record, counselor?”
She bit off the last word. Two could play at that game.
“Just you and me, Allison.” She hissed out Cameron’s first name. Another insult.
“You ruined his life and he still wants you. You’re a bitch and people kiss your ass. Everybody loves you and I’ve got nothing.” She shouted before realizing she’d raised her voice.
Stacy nodded, considering Cameron with folded arms. Her small mouth twisted into a smug smile, reminiscent of House’s when he had one of his puzzles in the crosshairs.
“Yeah, I thought it was something like that.”
Stacy stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a long stride. She opened Cameron's robe with one tug at the sash. Her hands on Cameron's bath-warmed skin were shockingly cool. Cameron felt helpless to move or protest as they encircled her waist, pushing her down onto the couch.
“Hey, wait, I’m…no…you… can’t.” She barely managed to get the words out and none of them made sense, because Stacy had her on the couch, her robe pushed aside, breasts exposed to Stacy's skillful hands. She felt her torso rising against her will, wanting more pressure, nipples wanting to be squeezed, teased, hurt and pleasured. Chase hadn’t spent much time…doing much of anything. Stacy seemed to have an infinite amount of time and infinite knowledge of what to do. Her fingers drew Cameron’s nipples into hard knots and then pinched, making her whimper and forget that she didn’t, wasn’t, hadn’t…”Oh my god!”
While Stacy’s hands were still working on her tits like they were some kind of toy that only she had the instructions to, she brought her face close to Cameron’s so that Cameron smelled both her cigarettes and the mints she used to try and conceal them. She didn’t want Stacy to kiss her, so why was she letting Stacy crush her lips and invade her mouth, the same way she’d invaded her apartment? Why couldn’t she say no? At the moment because she had a mouth full of Stacy’s tongue.
The hands had left her breast and were moving down her body, feeling her ribs, examining her hip-bones and finally moving between her legs. “NO!” she wanted to scream, but ended up moaning into Stacy’s mouth. She tried to press her legs together, but Stacy merely parted them with one hand sliding in-between her sweat-slick thighs. The single long finger Stacy slid inside violated and filled her at the same time. “No!” she tried again, even as her legs were spreading, her knees bending, her hips pushing up begging for more. Stacy’s two fingers had her legs bouncing up and down uncontrollably, her body shaking with need. “NO!” had become “Oh god please” and this time Stacy could hear her because she’d broken the kiss with a rough bite.
“You want something, Dr. Cameron?”
“Oh god, please. Let me…”
“Are you going to play nice, from now on?”
“Yes, please, anything…Oh god.”
She was need. Nothing but raw desire seeking release, not knowing where to look for it, humping Stacy’s fingers manically, until a third finger pressed in, and she felt Stacy spreading them inside her, and her thumb, perfect, right there, pushing down on her clit, forcing her to experience over-sensation of every nerve ending.
”Come on,” Stacy urged roughly.
Cameron came crying and screaming words she’d never said out loud before. Stacy rode it out, keeping her fingers working until Cameron had finished screaming obscenities and her legs had almost stopped shaking.
She wanted to clutch a throw pillow and curl around it. Maybe Stacy would leave like a polite rapist should, and they could pretend this had never happened, except that Cameron might wake up with 'sex glow' in the morning.
“No sleep for you. It’s my turn.”
Cameron opened her eyes to find Stacy standing next to the couch, unzipping her pants.
“No.”
“The playing nice starts here,” she said, stepping out of her pants and sliding her red silk panties down her ridiculously long legs, making it obvious what she meant, by “here.” Cameron tried not look
“I’m not…”
Stacy wiggled the fingers of her right hand, still shiny with proof to the contrary.
“You’re not going to make me tell Greg how uncooperative you’re being.”
“Blackmail?”
“Persuasion.”
She’d do it too. Badmouth her to House and Cuddy. Make her life miserable. Cameron had been willing to walk away from House once. If she had to, she’d do it again.
Cameron stood up with every intention of ordering Stacy out of her apartment only to find herself drawn into another kiss. This time it was her tongue doing the probing, her teeth sinking into Stacy’s lower lip. She wondered if Mark would notice any swelling.
If Stacy wanted to cheat that was her problem. Stacy wasn’t the one being forced to do something against her will. She was the one pulling Cameron down onto the couch on top of her.
Stacy groaned lewdly against Cameron’s mouth and her hips rose up. Forceful hands gripped Cameron’s shoulders, pushing her toward something she didn’t know if she was ready for. To buy time, she nuzzled Stacy’s neck, eliciting a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She could practically smell the need and frustration coming off the other woman’s skin.
Mark isn’t fucking her. The coarseness of the thought surprised her almost as much as the surge of power that came with it. She straddled Stacy’s hips, working her way down Stacy’s body at a deliberately leisurely pace. Cameron took her time finding out how much pressure it took to make Stacy’s nipples harden in her mouth and what the sweat that pooled between her breasts tasted like. It was different from the taste when she dipped her tongue into Stacy’s navel, which produced that sound again, and caused Stacy’s whole body to arch up as if she were trying to throw Cameron off.
“Now who’s not being cooperative?” she taunted.
“Come on Cameron,” Stacy sneered back, trying to maintain control of the situation. “Show me you can do something with your mouth besides whine.”
“Bitch,” Cameron muttered, working her way along Stacy’s inner thigh with little flicks of her tongue, getting closer to the final goal. She wasn’t sure she could do it, but if that’s what it took to make Stacy scream, than Cameron would find a way.
Stacy’s legs were already spread for her. She was slick, wet, ready. Cameron tentatively licked at the glistening skin on either side of the main target., avoiding giving Stacy what she wanted. The taste was salty and sweet at the same time. Stacy’s response was satisfyingly incoherent. Her whole body seemed to be vibrating against Cameron’s tongue. She kept up a steady licking until her mouth got tired and she pulled back to admire her handiwork. Excuse me, mouthwork.
Stacy Warner, big bad Uber-bitch, lay on Cameron’s couch, legs open, face flushed, whining like a cat in heat, waiting for Cameron to get her off.
“Keep going,” she demanded as though she were still in control of the situation.
“Oh, excuse me. Did you want something?”
“Cameron!”
“Maybe you should ask nicely.”
“For crying out loud…”
“Maybe you should beg.”
She shifted her weight so that she pressed against Stacy’s pelvis, providing just enough contact to intensify the agony.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, Cameron.”
“I have a name. Just like Greg and Mark and Lisa and every one else you’ve fucked.”
“Please, Allison!”
Cameron moved back between Stacy’s legs, pushing them even farther apart. She resumed flicking her tongue in and out, hard and fast until she heard Stacy’s breathing change to tortured gasps. Moving up to Stacy’s swollen clit, she ran her tongue over it, once, twice, three times and then clamped down with her lips, thrusting two fingers in at the same time.
She didn’t hear the scream as much as feel it. Stacy’s whole body bucked up as though shot through with electricity. Her jerking hips thrust her clit harder against Cameron's teeth and tongue, making her feel like she was nursing the orgasm out of Stacy, each shudder echoing inside her own head until she slid her fingers out and let Stacy’s body fall away from her mouth. It was almost too personal to experience another person’s climax that way.
Stacy curled up nearly in two, gently rocking herself through the rest of the spasms that went through her. Cameron tried to stay detached, but couldn’t help wonder if Stacy had as many of these moments alone as she did.
“Are you OK?” she asked, realizing too late that it make her sound like a doctor.
Stacy caught it and reached for her professional shell along with her clothing.
Is that how you want this to end? A less intoxicated version of “It didn’t suck?”
“So, am I cooperative? Can we work together?”
Stacy had retrieved her panties and seemed to be debating the merits of putting them back on before abandoning the idea.
“Yeah. We’re OK. I should get home. Mark’s waiting for me.”
“Right. Except…”
Cameron let a teasing grin come to her face.
“Yes? What’s the problem?”
“You really need a shower. Unless he’s got cadmium poisoning or something.”
Stacy got the point, even if she had no idea what cadmium poisoning was. She looked offended, shooting daggers at Cameron as she started redressing herself, sans panties, which went in her handbag.
So much for cooperation.
“Well I’m going to take a shower. You can see yourself out.”
Cameron let out a deep sigh as she went back to the bathroom. She watched the cold water drain out of the tub, still trying to figure out what had just happened with Stacy. I’m not gay, I’m just adventurous.
She found herself able to laugh at the fact that she’d just had sex with House’s ex-lover. Maybe as close as she’d ever get to House. Had she’d gotten something that House still wanted or was she just a pawn in some game?
The tub was empty, so she turned on the shower and stepped under the hot water. She wanted to wash away the traces of what had happened along with the fear that it might mean something to her. Clearly it meant nothing to Stacy.
“Hey.”
The sound of Stacy’s voice intruded on her thoughts and nearly scared her out of her skin.
“What the hell? I thought you were leaving.”
“Not just yet.”
One leg stepped daintily over the edge of the tub, followed by the rest of her, once again crowding in Cameron’s space, pushing her back against the wall, The tiles were cool against her back and Stacy’s mouth hot against her neck.
“I decided to take you up on that shower. I like having someone to wash my back.”
Author: Karaokegal
Word Count: 3418
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Stacy/Cameron
Prompt: 51. Cameron/Stacy hate!sex!
Notes: My first attempt at hardcore femslash in a long time. Thanks to rivers_bend for pushing as hard as I needed to get it right.
Cameron came home wanting only a hot bath and sleep. Food could wait, maybe even until tomorrow. She was too upset to eat. Still clenched from the confrontation in Cuddy’s office. On a good day, she could almost stand up to Cuddy, but not Cuddy and Stacy attacking her in unison. It wasn’t fair. She’d done exactly what House would have done and ended up being scolded by one woman she feared and one she hated.
She ran the water and threw in a handful of lavender-scented bath beads, before entering the tub and sinking in up to her shoulders. She'd tried to pull her hair out of the way with a scrunchie, but tendrils came out and got wet. She’d shampoo it all out later. Right now she could just relax. Feel the water take away some of the stresses of working for that miserable bastard she was still in love with.
House had given her every opportunity to detest him. His cold analysis of her on their date still made her nauseated every time she thought about it, which was too often. “I’m on the bandwagon. I hate you too.” she’d lied, knowing he saw right through her.
I should have taken Sebastian up on his offer. She held her feet under the faucet and imagined herself in Africa, saving lives, working for a man who actually cared about people more than puzzles. She used one foot to turn off the water. When she closed her eyes, Sebastian Charles turned into Robert Redford and she was Meryl Streep and they were flying over Africa and beautiful music was playing and who the hell was banging on her door?
Why couldn’t she enjoy a daydream of her favorite movie without being interrupted? She seriously considered ignoring who ever was being so rude, but it wasn’t her nature. Besides, it might be some emergency. Like they’d come here instead of calling. Just admit it, you think it might be House.
She left her warm cocoon and dried off. She debated the merits of answering the door in nothing but a towel and wondering if even that would get House’s attention, but decided on her thin pink bathrobe instead.
The banging was backed up by a voice.
“Come on Cameron. I know you’re in there. Open up.”
Definitely not House, but just as rude, obnoxious and annoying.
Cameron opened her door to the last person on earth she wanted to see.
+++++
Cameron knew she’d hit bottom when she found herself seeking sympathy from Foreman.
They were sitting in the diagnostics office with piles of files on the table, trying to unravel two years of House’s unorthodox notation methods. Foreman had dragooned Cameron into the process because she’d been functioning as House’s de facto secretary in addition to her official duties. He thought she might have some insight into House’s charting technique, or at least be able to read his handwriting.
She set about the job with her customary efficiency, but by 5:30PM, it was dark outside, her eyes hurt and aggravation came spilling out.
“What’s so great about Stacy?”
“Excuse me?”
Foreman looked up from a folder, completely confused.
“OK, fine. I get that House is still in love with her, although God knows why, after what she did to him.”
”I thought you were too screwed up to love anyone. You just couldn’t love me. I’m happy for you. I really am.”
Cameron winced at the memory. She’d meant the words, but saying them to House had been truly pathetic. He probably hadn’t heard her, because he was so intent on watching Stacy and Mark.
It was over six months later and Stacy was still there. What the hell does a hospital need with a constitutional lawyer anyway?
“If she’s not bugging House, she’s in Cuddy’s office like it’s their old sorority house. Chase thinks she's the Blessed Virgin because he didn’t get fired for killing that woman. Even Wilson can’t keep his eyes off her.”
Foreman had his brows knit together in what Cameron took to be avid attention to her plight.
“I don’t understand. She’s totally obnoxious, pushy, not that pretty. I’m younger, I’m thinner, so why does everybody love her so much?” she finished, hoping Foreman would offer a kind word. His rapt expression turned to mocking disbelief.
“Are you listening to yourself?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well for one thing, you seem to have me confused with Oprah Winfrey. I ain’t giving out free cars and if you need an audience, you should take your sorry white ass to Jerry Springer.”
Cameron felt her eyes and face starting to burn.
“Don’t start crying.” Foreman’s voice had an air of revulsion along with panic.
“I wasn’t,” she said sniffling.
“Look, Cameron. You have got to get over this. She’s going to be here at least ‘til Mark is up and walking. In the meantime, you’re turning into Jan on the Brady Bunch. ‘Stacy, Stacy, Stacy.’”
Foreman crossed his arms in exasperation.
“Yeah, she’s obnoxious. She pisses people off. And she’s really good at her job. Sound like anybody else we know? You want to get House’s attention? Maybe you need to be more like that, because the whole sweetness and light thing is not working.”
She tried to erase Foreman’s words with a good workout on her treadmill, I am NOT Jan Brady. but the part about being obnoxious clung to her memory. She couldn’t change her whole personality to compete with Stacy Warner, but maybe she could find a way to show House she wasn’t a total wimp.
She got her chance with the next case, ”hot OTB babe”.
She’d figured out the puzzle and proven the patient to be a liar, all in the most House-like way possible. Where was her “Well done” or “nice job” or at least a glimmer of appreciation?
Nothing. Just a chagrinned look and twenty-four hours of breaking rules and turning cartwheels to prove that Annica really was sick. Despite his incredibly unethical behavior, House was once again the hero of the day and Cameron was left watching House and Wilson enact one of their bizarre rituals where House mooched and Wilson let him get away with it.
Before she could start wishing that House would mooch off her, she was paged to Cuddy’s office and found herself under assault from Cuddy and Stacy over what she’d done with the Rifampin.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“There could be incredible liability for the hospital.”
“You had no right.”
“It was completely unethical.”
“If you do anything like that again…”
Their accusing voices blended into one attack. She fought to keep from withering under the assault. It was hard to breathe, much less talk, but if there was ever a time not to be Jan Brady, this was it.
“All I did was exactly what House would have done. And you,” she pointed at Cuddy “would have been thrilled. I’m not sure what you would have done,” this time she gestured to Stacy, “but you sure wouldn’t have brought him in here to be scolded like a child. He gets away with everything because you’re still in love with him even though you’ve got a husband who loves you.”
She couldn’t believe she’d said all that. It was completely inappropriate. If she wasn’t in trouble before she sure was now.
“Can I go?”
They exchanged a glance and then Cuddy nodded, still looking very concerned. Cameron went home to take her bath and wonder if House would sign off on her getting fired for mouthing off to his ex.
Now the witch was here, in her tailored black suit, white shirt open at the neck, revealing more cleavage than was absolutely professional. She and Cuddy seemed to be competing to find out who could show the most skin. Cameron found herself staring briefly at Stacy’s small crucifix, before looking at her face, eyes dark and determined.
“I was busy,” she announced hoping to cut short whatever Stacy wanted.
“I can tell.” Stacy’s voice was cool, as she looked Cameron up and down, reminding her that she’d some to the door in a bathrobe.
“If you’re here to apologize…”
Cameron had no intention of inviting her inside, even if it meant standing there in nothing but pink terrycloth held together by a sash that wasn’t even properly knotted.
“Apologize, my ass,” Stacy enunciated, taking a long legged stride that brought her inside the apartment without asking permission.
“Did Cuddy send you here?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I need to work with Greg and for some bizarre reason; he wants to keep working with you. That means you and I need to work together.” Stacy wasn’t even doing her the courtesy of looking at her face while she spelled this out. She was looking around Cameron’s living room, scoping out her couch, coffe table books and the the stack next to her CD player, without bothering to conceal what she was doing. Cameron was momentarily self-conscious about the Goldfrapp CD still on the top of the pile. “So what’s your problem, Dr. Cameron?” Stacy managed to make her title sound like an insult. Probably her courtroom technique for hostile witnesses.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“You’re full of crap. You can’t get over that I used to be involved with Greg. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out for you but that’s life. You’re supposed to be an adult, so why the hell are you stomping around the hospital acting like I killed your kitten?”
Stacy stood in the center of Cameron’s living room, hands on her hips, poised elegantly on her high heeled sandals. Waiting.
“Is this on the record, counselor?”
She bit off the last word. Two could play at that game.
“Just you and me, Allison.” She hissed out Cameron’s first name. Another insult.
“You ruined his life and he still wants you. You’re a bitch and people kiss your ass. Everybody loves you and I’ve got nothing.” She shouted before realizing she’d raised her voice.
Stacy nodded, considering Cameron with folded arms. Her small mouth twisted into a smug smile, reminiscent of House’s when he had one of his puzzles in the crosshairs.
“Yeah, I thought it was something like that.”
Stacy stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a long stride. She opened Cameron's robe with one tug at the sash. Her hands on Cameron's bath-warmed skin were shockingly cool. Cameron felt helpless to move or protest as they encircled her waist, pushing her down onto the couch.
“Hey, wait, I’m…no…you… can’t.” She barely managed to get the words out and none of them made sense, because Stacy had her on the couch, her robe pushed aside, breasts exposed to Stacy's skillful hands. She felt her torso rising against her will, wanting more pressure, nipples wanting to be squeezed, teased, hurt and pleasured. Chase hadn’t spent much time…doing much of anything. Stacy seemed to have an infinite amount of time and infinite knowledge of what to do. Her fingers drew Cameron’s nipples into hard knots and then pinched, making her whimper and forget that she didn’t, wasn’t, hadn’t…”Oh my god!”
While Stacy’s hands were still working on her tits like they were some kind of toy that only she had the instructions to, she brought her face close to Cameron’s so that Cameron smelled both her cigarettes and the mints she used to try and conceal them. She didn’t want Stacy to kiss her, so why was she letting Stacy crush her lips and invade her mouth, the same way she’d invaded her apartment? Why couldn’t she say no? At the moment because she had a mouth full of Stacy’s tongue.
The hands had left her breast and were moving down her body, feeling her ribs, examining her hip-bones and finally moving between her legs. “NO!” she wanted to scream, but ended up moaning into Stacy’s mouth. She tried to press her legs together, but Stacy merely parted them with one hand sliding in-between her sweat-slick thighs. The single long finger Stacy slid inside violated and filled her at the same time. “No!” she tried again, even as her legs were spreading, her knees bending, her hips pushing up begging for more. Stacy’s two fingers had her legs bouncing up and down uncontrollably, her body shaking with need. “NO!” had become “Oh god please” and this time Stacy could hear her because she’d broken the kiss with a rough bite.
“You want something, Dr. Cameron?”
“Oh god, please. Let me…”
“Are you going to play nice, from now on?”
“Yes, please, anything…Oh god.”
She was need. Nothing but raw desire seeking release, not knowing where to look for it, humping Stacy’s fingers manically, until a third finger pressed in, and she felt Stacy spreading them inside her, and her thumb, perfect, right there, pushing down on her clit, forcing her to experience over-sensation of every nerve ending.
”Come on,” Stacy urged roughly.
Cameron came crying and screaming words she’d never said out loud before. Stacy rode it out, keeping her fingers working until Cameron had finished screaming obscenities and her legs had almost stopped shaking.
She wanted to clutch a throw pillow and curl around it. Maybe Stacy would leave like a polite rapist should, and they could pretend this had never happened, except that Cameron might wake up with 'sex glow' in the morning.
“No sleep for you. It’s my turn.”
Cameron opened her eyes to find Stacy standing next to the couch, unzipping her pants.
“No.”
“The playing nice starts here,” she said, stepping out of her pants and sliding her red silk panties down her ridiculously long legs, making it obvious what she meant, by “here.” Cameron tried not look
“I’m not…”
Stacy wiggled the fingers of her right hand, still shiny with proof to the contrary.
“You’re not going to make me tell Greg how uncooperative you’re being.”
“Blackmail?”
“Persuasion.”
She’d do it too. Badmouth her to House and Cuddy. Make her life miserable. Cameron had been willing to walk away from House once. If she had to, she’d do it again.
Cameron stood up with every intention of ordering Stacy out of her apartment only to find herself drawn into another kiss. This time it was her tongue doing the probing, her teeth sinking into Stacy’s lower lip. She wondered if Mark would notice any swelling.
If Stacy wanted to cheat that was her problem. Stacy wasn’t the one being forced to do something against her will. She was the one pulling Cameron down onto the couch on top of her.
Stacy groaned lewdly against Cameron’s mouth and her hips rose up. Forceful hands gripped Cameron’s shoulders, pushing her toward something she didn’t know if she was ready for. To buy time, she nuzzled Stacy’s neck, eliciting a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She could practically smell the need and frustration coming off the other woman’s skin.
Mark isn’t fucking her. The coarseness of the thought surprised her almost as much as the surge of power that came with it. She straddled Stacy’s hips, working her way down Stacy’s body at a deliberately leisurely pace. Cameron took her time finding out how much pressure it took to make Stacy’s nipples harden in her mouth and what the sweat that pooled between her breasts tasted like. It was different from the taste when she dipped her tongue into Stacy’s navel, which produced that sound again, and caused Stacy’s whole body to arch up as if she were trying to throw Cameron off.
“Now who’s not being cooperative?” she taunted.
“Come on Cameron,” Stacy sneered back, trying to maintain control of the situation. “Show me you can do something with your mouth besides whine.”
“Bitch,” Cameron muttered, working her way along Stacy’s inner thigh with little flicks of her tongue, getting closer to the final goal. She wasn’t sure she could do it, but if that’s what it took to make Stacy scream, than Cameron would find a way.
Stacy’s legs were already spread for her. She was slick, wet, ready. Cameron tentatively licked at the glistening skin on either side of the main target., avoiding giving Stacy what she wanted. The taste was salty and sweet at the same time. Stacy’s response was satisfyingly incoherent. Her whole body seemed to be vibrating against Cameron’s tongue. She kept up a steady licking until her mouth got tired and she pulled back to admire her handiwork. Excuse me, mouthwork.
Stacy Warner, big bad Uber-bitch, lay on Cameron’s couch, legs open, face flushed, whining like a cat in heat, waiting for Cameron to get her off.
“Keep going,” she demanded as though she were still in control of the situation.
“Oh, excuse me. Did you want something?”
“Cameron!”
“Maybe you should ask nicely.”
“For crying out loud…”
“Maybe you should beg.”
She shifted her weight so that she pressed against Stacy’s pelvis, providing just enough contact to intensify the agony.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, Cameron.”
“I have a name. Just like Greg and Mark and Lisa and every one else you’ve fucked.”
“Please, Allison!”
Cameron moved back between Stacy’s legs, pushing them even farther apart. She resumed flicking her tongue in and out, hard and fast until she heard Stacy’s breathing change to tortured gasps. Moving up to Stacy’s swollen clit, she ran her tongue over it, once, twice, three times and then clamped down with her lips, thrusting two fingers in at the same time.
She didn’t hear the scream as much as feel it. Stacy’s whole body bucked up as though shot through with electricity. Her jerking hips thrust her clit harder against Cameron's teeth and tongue, making her feel like she was nursing the orgasm out of Stacy, each shudder echoing inside her own head until she slid her fingers out and let Stacy’s body fall away from her mouth. It was almost too personal to experience another person’s climax that way.
Stacy curled up nearly in two, gently rocking herself through the rest of the spasms that went through her. Cameron tried to stay detached, but couldn’t help wonder if Stacy had as many of these moments alone as she did.
“Are you OK?” she asked, realizing too late that it make her sound like a doctor.
Stacy caught it and reached for her professional shell along with her clothing.
Is that how you want this to end? A less intoxicated version of “It didn’t suck?”
“So, am I cooperative? Can we work together?”
Stacy had retrieved her panties and seemed to be debating the merits of putting them back on before abandoning the idea.
“Yeah. We’re OK. I should get home. Mark’s waiting for me.”
“Right. Except…”
Cameron let a teasing grin come to her face.
“Yes? What’s the problem?”
“You really need a shower. Unless he’s got cadmium poisoning or something.”
Stacy got the point, even if she had no idea what cadmium poisoning was. She looked offended, shooting daggers at Cameron as she started redressing herself, sans panties, which went in her handbag.
So much for cooperation.
“Well I’m going to take a shower. You can see yourself out.”
Cameron let out a deep sigh as she went back to the bathroom. She watched the cold water drain out of the tub, still trying to figure out what had just happened with Stacy. I’m not gay, I’m just adventurous.
She found herself able to laugh at the fact that she’d just had sex with House’s ex-lover. Maybe as close as she’d ever get to House. Had she’d gotten something that House still wanted or was she just a pawn in some game?
The tub was empty, so she turned on the shower and stepped under the hot water. She wanted to wash away the traces of what had happened along with the fear that it might mean something to her. Clearly it meant nothing to Stacy.
“Hey.”
The sound of Stacy’s voice intruded on her thoughts and nearly scared her out of her skin.
“What the hell? I thought you were leaving.”
“Not just yet.”
One leg stepped daintily over the edge of the tub, followed by the rest of her, once again crowding in Cameron’s space, pushing her back against the wall, The tiles were cool against her back and Stacy’s mouth hot against her neck.
“I decided to take you up on that shower. I like having someone to wash my back.”