(no subject)
title: this might be the end
rating: ma
spoilers: nope
disclaimer: don't own
The six month pregnant Cameron lay in bed beside House, going through the file of their latest patient. House was flipping through the stations until he settled on the History Channel, something Cameron never having really understood the object of its appeal. Regardless, House watched it...and enjoyed it, so she always gave it a chance thinking that maybe this time she’d find it interesting.
It’s funny; it’s just like walking into your kitchen, opening up the fridge in search of something delicious only to find it practically empty, and as you close the door you groan at the thought of having to make a trip to the grocery store. Yet, five minutes later, you open the fridge again as if there will be something sitting behind the gallon of milk that wasn’t there before.
Cameron never enjoyed history, but always kept coming back for more, thinking that there would be something this time to catch her attention.
It doesn’t really happen that way.
The beeping from the microwave resonated into their bedroom, and Cameron scooted to the edge of the bed before House took hold of her forearm, tugging her gently backward.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw him grabbing his cane that was leaning against the side table and stood to retrieve the leftovers from the kitchen.
It’s always the little things that convinced Cameron in the beginning that House cared.
**
Usually they didn’t eat in their room because
1) Cameron‘s, “We have tables for a reason” would always stop it
and
2) Nobody likes waking up to the feel of crumbs between their toes
“Quit putting so much sauce on that,” House complained when Cameron reached for the Tabasco yet again to pour on her chicken and rice.
“Don’t even get me started. How many shakes of salt did you put on your pizza,” she countered back with a raise of a brow.
“Does it matter?”
“You don’t need the extra sodium with the way you eat,” she said while swatting his hand away from her plate.
He rolled his eyes as he took off his glasses,
“Please, it’s called delicious and my diet is just fine.”
She scoffed while adding,
“Right. I forgot that it’s cool to have a heart attack.”
“See,” he pointed out, “Aren’t you glad that I’m here to set you straight on what’s hip?”
“Extremely.”
Finishing his pizza, House opened up a carton of take-out that he ordered with Wilson a few nights before.
“Ugh. What is that,” Cameron asked disgusted at the sight before her.
“Protein, carbs, lots of fat and guaranteed grease with every bite,” he glanced at her from the side and continued,
“I don’t know what this is. Wilson ordered it, it’s good so I’m eating it.”
“It doesn’t look appetizing.”
“Quit staring at my food and eat your own.”
He tried sticking his fork into a piece of chicken from her plate, but she noticed his advances and held her plate away.
With a sigh,
“Here, try a bite of this and if you like it, I get a bite of your chicken.”
Cameron picked up a piece of what she assumed was beef and with hesitation took a bite.
“Good?”
Nodding he swiped a strip of her chicken, shoving it into his mouth before she could take it away.
**
After dinner, Cameron lay on her side, back against House’s chest as her hand covered his that was pressed on the front of her stomach.
“I have another appointment on Thursday. Do you want to come with or you going to stay at work,” she asked quietly in the dark while House stroked the tips of her fingers with the pad of his thumb.
“As of right now I’ll go, but if something happens with the patient I’ll stay.”
When she didn’t respond he lifted his head, nudging her shoulder with his chin for a reaction.
“I want you to come,” she admitted quietly.
“Alright.”
There was no need for an explanation. With the close call that they had a few months before, not to mention that he’d already skipped out on the last four appointments, he figured that the least he could do was go another time.
“You know what we haven’t done in a while,” House suggested lightly while removing his hand from her grasp, slowly sliding it down her stomach.
Scooting closer, the back of his hand ran smoothly along the inside of her thigh as she lifted her bent knee to stand upright, giving him better access to his destination.
His lips glided across the side of her neck, tracing a pattern before planting open mouth kisses to the back of her neck while his finger hooked around the band of her panties, tugging it down her thighs, his knuckles grazing her skin as they traveled further.
Cameron moaned her disapproval when he pulled away, his entire body absent from hers. Turning around she watched as he undid the button of his jeans, lifting his hips to remove them and his boxers to rest around his ankles.
“Come here,” he whispered deeply, his arms outstretched to her.
She went to straddle his lap.
“No. Turn around.” Biting her lip in anticipation, she turned so that her back faced him, his hands spreading her legs and settling them on each side of his lap.
There was no warning before he pushed himself inside her, his fingers already digging into her hips, helping her move instantly at his pace.
“Oh god,” she gasped as he forced her up and shoved her back down on his cock, the palm of his hand already pressing against her clit.
Tasting the skin of her shoulder, his thrusts elevating in speed, their breathing quickening, her moans and his grunts more frequent, he bit into her shoulder to keep from coming when he heard her whisper, ‘I love you’ over and over while seeing her body bouncing on top of him and picturing the look on her face.
“Fuck Allie,” he growled.
“Greg, I’m gonna cum,” she barely got out with an exhale of breath.
“Go ahead.”
Kissing the side of her neck, he used his thumb to rub faster circles against her clit. He could feel the start of her cum on his cock, her muscles compressing on him, holding, before she came entirely.
He didn’t give in to his release until he was certain she rode out her orgasm.
Minutes later, they found themselves in their original position, Cameron on her side, House behind her with their fingers tangled against her stomach.
“So Thursday,” he confirmed.
“Thursday.”
rating: ma
spoilers: nope
disclaimer: don't own
The six month pregnant Cameron lay in bed beside House, going through the file of their latest patient. House was flipping through the stations until he settled on the History Channel, something Cameron never having really understood the object of its appeal. Regardless, House watched it...and enjoyed it, so she always gave it a chance thinking that maybe this time she’d find it interesting.
It’s funny; it’s just like walking into your kitchen, opening up the fridge in search of something delicious only to find it practically empty, and as you close the door you groan at the thought of having to make a trip to the grocery store. Yet, five minutes later, you open the fridge again as if there will be something sitting behind the gallon of milk that wasn’t there before.
Cameron never enjoyed history, but always kept coming back for more, thinking that there would be something this time to catch her attention.
It doesn’t really happen that way.
The beeping from the microwave resonated into their bedroom, and Cameron scooted to the edge of the bed before House took hold of her forearm, tugging her gently backward.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw him grabbing his cane that was leaning against the side table and stood to retrieve the leftovers from the kitchen.
It’s always the little things that convinced Cameron in the beginning that House cared.
**
Usually they didn’t eat in their room because
1) Cameron‘s, “We have tables for a reason” would always stop it
and
2) Nobody likes waking up to the feel of crumbs between their toes
“Quit putting so much sauce on that,” House complained when Cameron reached for the Tabasco yet again to pour on her chicken and rice.
“Don’t even get me started. How many shakes of salt did you put on your pizza,” she countered back with a raise of a brow.
“Does it matter?”
“You don’t need the extra sodium with the way you eat,” she said while swatting his hand away from her plate.
He rolled his eyes as he took off his glasses,
“Please, it’s called delicious and my diet is just fine.”
She scoffed while adding,
“Right. I forgot that it’s cool to have a heart attack.”
“See,” he pointed out, “Aren’t you glad that I’m here to set you straight on what’s hip?”
“Extremely.”
Finishing his pizza, House opened up a carton of take-out that he ordered with Wilson a few nights before.
“Ugh. What is that,” Cameron asked disgusted at the sight before her.
“Protein, carbs, lots of fat and guaranteed grease with every bite,” he glanced at her from the side and continued,
“I don’t know what this is. Wilson ordered it, it’s good so I’m eating it.”
“It doesn’t look appetizing.”
“Quit staring at my food and eat your own.”
He tried sticking his fork into a piece of chicken from her plate, but she noticed his advances and held her plate away.
With a sigh,
“Here, try a bite of this and if you like it, I get a bite of your chicken.”
Cameron picked up a piece of what she assumed was beef and with hesitation took a bite.
“Good?”
Nodding he swiped a strip of her chicken, shoving it into his mouth before she could take it away.
**
After dinner, Cameron lay on her side, back against House’s chest as her hand covered his that was pressed on the front of her stomach.
“I have another appointment on Thursday. Do you want to come with or you going to stay at work,” she asked quietly in the dark while House stroked the tips of her fingers with the pad of his thumb.
“As of right now I’ll go, but if something happens with the patient I’ll stay.”
When she didn’t respond he lifted his head, nudging her shoulder with his chin for a reaction.
“I want you to come,” she admitted quietly.
“Alright.”
There was no need for an explanation. With the close call that they had a few months before, not to mention that he’d already skipped out on the last four appointments, he figured that the least he could do was go another time.
“You know what we haven’t done in a while,” House suggested lightly while removing his hand from her grasp, slowly sliding it down her stomach.
Scooting closer, the back of his hand ran smoothly along the inside of her thigh as she lifted her bent knee to stand upright, giving him better access to his destination.
His lips glided across the side of her neck, tracing a pattern before planting open mouth kisses to the back of her neck while his finger hooked around the band of her panties, tugging it down her thighs, his knuckles grazing her skin as they traveled further.
Cameron moaned her disapproval when he pulled away, his entire body absent from hers. Turning around she watched as he undid the button of his jeans, lifting his hips to remove them and his boxers to rest around his ankles.
“Come here,” he whispered deeply, his arms outstretched to her.
She went to straddle his lap.
“No. Turn around.” Biting her lip in anticipation, she turned so that her back faced him, his hands spreading her legs and settling them on each side of his lap.
There was no warning before he pushed himself inside her, his fingers already digging into her hips, helping her move instantly at his pace.
“Oh god,” she gasped as he forced her up and shoved her back down on his cock, the palm of his hand already pressing against her clit.
Tasting the skin of her shoulder, his thrusts elevating in speed, their breathing quickening, her moans and his grunts more frequent, he bit into her shoulder to keep from coming when he heard her whisper, ‘I love you’ over and over while seeing her body bouncing on top of him and picturing the look on her face.
“Fuck Allie,” he growled.
“Greg, I’m gonna cum,” she barely got out with an exhale of breath.
“Go ahead.”
Kissing the side of her neck, he used his thumb to rub faster circles against her clit. He could feel the start of her cum on his cock, her muscles compressing on him, holding, before she came entirely.
He didn’t give in to his release until he was certain she rode out her orgasm.
Minutes later, they found themselves in their original position, Cameron on her side, House behind her with their fingers tangled against her stomach.
“So Thursday,” he confirmed.
“Thursday.”