Fic: There's No Talking Here
Title: There’s No Talking Here
Rating: MA
Pairing: House/Cam
Spoilers: All the way to the end of season 4
NOTE: Alright, it’s been awhile so hopefully you’ll still dig this fic. I’m trying to get back into writing so I can finish up some stories and maybe start some new ones :-D Love you guys.
With her back against his front door, Cameron tried to control the rapid breathing, unwilling to allow any confidence to be tossed to House at the sight of her heaving chest as he moved towards her. Every time he took a step, the distinct unbalanced dip on his right side would cause her chest to thump just a bit heavier.
Was it anticipation?
Was it pity?
His warm, calloused hands slid from her neck to her cheeks while her eyes focused on his that scanned every curve and detail of her face.
“What are you doing, House,” she whispered.
A heavy exhale and a stroke of his thumb along her hairline was the answer.
But it wasn’t enough.
“House?”
“You know what I’m doing.” The tips of his fingers ran through the side strands of her blonde hair, and she felt his breath on her cheek causing a chill to rise behind her ears as he placed a soft kiss to her temple.
“You don’t do nice,” House pulled away with narrowed eyes and a confused scrunch across his brow.
“I am not being nice. I’m taking advantage you.”
Cameron tugged on the front loop of his jeans, rubbing her pelvis against him,
“Then stop wasting time.”
Grabbing the hair on the back of his head, Cameron smashed her lips to his, her tongue tracing the lower lip before plunging into his dry mouth.
The moan from the back of his throat vibrated against the tip of her tongue, sending a sensation to her core. After unbuttoning his jeans, she slid her hand beneath the waist band of his briefs, thumbing the end of his cock and squeezing gently as she stroked along his shaft.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he clenched his jaw, trying...
“Wait.”
“Shut up.” Cameron dropped to her knees, peeling away her top as she slid his pants down to his ankles.
The buckle snapped against the floor while House pounded his fist into the door when Cameron flicked her tongue at the head, a smirk on her face when she tasted the pre-cum.
House reached for Cameron’s upper arm, pulling to make her stand.
“Why are you doing this,” he asked conversationally while grazing his finger along her clavicle.
Taking a step to the side, Cameron slipped away with her back against the wall, staring down at the floor as she removed herself from House’s body pressed into hers.
He thought about blocking her with his arm or trapping her tightly with his chest, but if she wanted to leave then he had to let her. House watched as Cameron made her way down his hallway, tossing her bra to the side before entering the bedroom.
It felt surreal.
It felt dishonest.
It felt right...it felt wrong.
He bent down to pull up his jeans, not bothering with the button or buckle and limped to the piano in the corner. He popped the cork, taking two gulps of Sigmund 7 before hobbling his way to the bedroom, using the wall as aid.
Leaning against the wood frame in the doorway, House studied Cameron’s position at the end of the bed.
Was she tense? No.
Did she seem nervous? No.
Does she still care?
. . .
“I thought you didn’t miss me,” his tone expressed nonchalance, but the sudden lack of air and the sweat glistening on his forehead were entirely different.
Words are half of the truth.
Biology never lies.
Cameron scrunched her toes, bounced her leg slowly up and down before standing to face him, allowing him to scan her form.
It was tempting, but instead House turned his head to the side, avoiding her perfect body, avoiding her soft skin, the blush on her cheekbones and chest, her taut stomach...her painful eyes.
With a hand on his hip, House finally spoke,
“You should probably go home.”
“I don’t want to miss you, House,” she whispered.
“You’ve been successful so far,” pause, “Go home Cameron.”
The sound of her bare feet sticking to the floor as she moved away was enough, but it surprised him to see her underneath his covers, sitting upright, waiting.
“I don’t know what you need right now,” she admitted.
“What makes you think I need anything,” he asked with a shrug while limping to the bed, resting his head on the pillow. He kept his left hand at his side while his right lay on his chest.
“It’s going to take Wilson awhile but...”
She was interrupted by his glare that suffocated her with the warning of hate in his eyes.
“It’s not your business. If you want to fuck, fine. If you came to talk then you can leave.”
Exhaling, House turned away, staring up at the ceiling while Cameron pressed her lips together in a frown.
“House?” She waited for his attention, “Do you miss me?”
“I’m serious. If you’re here to talk then leave.”
Nothing was working between them. Nothing ever did. Sometimes Cameron wondered why she quit that night in his office, almost regretting what could have been. Every once in a while she’d catch herself imagining a case with him:
- sitting in the conference room late
- going over the symptoms on the white board
- eating
- drinking
It would have been the two of them at least for awhile.
Cameron scooted underneath the covers and lay her head beside House’s shoulder. It was silent except for the random car that drove passed outside, splashing through a puddle at the curb.
His breathing was steady. Cameron allowed her eyes to close, thinking that she’d stay the night, but was startled when House spoke,
“Why did you come over?”
With a sigh, Cameron went to roll on her back, but House held onto her arm.
“Since the accident, you’ve... been drinking more,” before he could interrupt she added, “Don’t tell me you haven’t. I can smell the whiskey when you walk by.”
“Riiight. It’s because you smell alcohol on me more often.” She nodded. “That’s bullshit. You would’ve confronted me at work. Why did you really come over?”
Yanking her hand from his grasp, Cameron pushed herself back into a sitting position, resting her head on the backboard.
“You tell me why House.”
He shrugged as if the answer was obvious,
“You’re tired of your relationship. Done with lying to Chase.”
“Hm,” she smirked to show amusement, but it went as quickly as it came after he added,
“You miss me too much and it’s effecting your relationship because you want to be with me. Before it was easy because you worked with me, now it's hardly ever...if that.”
Their gazes were locked. House was waiting for Cameron to make the move. Cameron waited for the right moment. Now.
Strands of his hair peeked through each finger as she gripped it in chunks, trying to breathe without breaking the kiss. House slid his hand to the back of her thigh, guiding one leg over his lap to straddle, hoping to make it easier on his leg. He nipped his way across her throat, tracing a wet trail with his tongue.
Cameron arched her back when he reached her breasts, flicking one nipple in his mouth while massaging the other, his thumb skimming down her stomach to rub her pulsing clit.
The faster she would grind against his cock, the harder he bit down on her chest and pressed between her legs.
Already he could feel her wetness coating a streak along him. Cameron rose to her knees, taking hold of him to angle at her entrance.
Slowly he slipped inside her, their breathing growing erratic the further he went. Before she was able to start a rhythm, House held her down, wanting to taste her,
“I want to taste you.”
She swatted his hands away, and grazed his beard with her fingertips as she eagerly bounced above him. Resting his cheek on her chest, the sweat dripped down his sideburns as he worked to lift his hips at her pace.
She wiped a drip away from his brow, fingering her clit before pulling him into a violent kiss.
Thrust. Another. House sighed into her mouth as he emptied himself inside her.
/-/-/
“He’s never going to forgive me,” House said it as he moved to rest his cheek on her forehead.
It was an internal debate for Cameron:
Speak or shut up?
Instead Cameron covered his hand with her own, biting her lower lip as she smiled when House laced their fingers and planted a kiss at the corner of her eye.
“He’s my best friend,” he whispered, probably more to himself than her.
There was no point for words. Squeezing his hand, she felt the lump form in her throat when he sighed...relieved.
Rating: MA
Pairing: House/Cam
Spoilers: All the way to the end of season 4
NOTE: Alright, it’s been awhile so hopefully you’ll still dig this fic. I’m trying to get back into writing so I can finish up some stories and maybe start some new ones :-D Love you guys.
With her back against his front door, Cameron tried to control the rapid breathing, unwilling to allow any confidence to be tossed to House at the sight of her heaving chest as he moved towards her. Every time he took a step, the distinct unbalanced dip on his right side would cause her chest to thump just a bit heavier.
Was it anticipation?
Was it pity?
His warm, calloused hands slid from her neck to her cheeks while her eyes focused on his that scanned every curve and detail of her face.
“What are you doing, House,” she whispered.
A heavy exhale and a stroke of his thumb along her hairline was the answer.
But it wasn’t enough.
“House?”
“You know what I’m doing.” The tips of his fingers ran through the side strands of her blonde hair, and she felt his breath on her cheek causing a chill to rise behind her ears as he placed a soft kiss to her temple.
“You don’t do nice,” House pulled away with narrowed eyes and a confused scrunch across his brow.
“I am not being nice. I’m taking advantage you.”
Cameron tugged on the front loop of his jeans, rubbing her pelvis against him,
“Then stop wasting time.”
Grabbing the hair on the back of his head, Cameron smashed her lips to his, her tongue tracing the lower lip before plunging into his dry mouth.
The moan from the back of his throat vibrated against the tip of her tongue, sending a sensation to her core. After unbuttoning his jeans, she slid her hand beneath the waist band of his briefs, thumbing the end of his cock and squeezing gently as she stroked along his shaft.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he clenched his jaw, trying...
“Wait.”
“Shut up.” Cameron dropped to her knees, peeling away her top as she slid his pants down to his ankles.
The buckle snapped against the floor while House pounded his fist into the door when Cameron flicked her tongue at the head, a smirk on her face when she tasted the pre-cum.
House reached for Cameron’s upper arm, pulling to make her stand.
“Why are you doing this,” he asked conversationally while grazing his finger along her clavicle.
Taking a step to the side, Cameron slipped away with her back against the wall, staring down at the floor as she removed herself from House’s body pressed into hers.
He thought about blocking her with his arm or trapping her tightly with his chest, but if she wanted to leave then he had to let her. House watched as Cameron made her way down his hallway, tossing her bra to the side before entering the bedroom.
It felt surreal.
It felt dishonest.
It felt right...it felt wrong.
He bent down to pull up his jeans, not bothering with the button or buckle and limped to the piano in the corner. He popped the cork, taking two gulps of Sigmund 7 before hobbling his way to the bedroom, using the wall as aid.
Leaning against the wood frame in the doorway, House studied Cameron’s position at the end of the bed.
Was she tense? No.
Did she seem nervous? No.
Does she still care?
. . .
“I thought you didn’t miss me,” his tone expressed nonchalance, but the sudden lack of air and the sweat glistening on his forehead were entirely different.
Words are half of the truth.
Biology never lies.
Cameron scrunched her toes, bounced her leg slowly up and down before standing to face him, allowing him to scan her form.
It was tempting, but instead House turned his head to the side, avoiding her perfect body, avoiding her soft skin, the blush on her cheekbones and chest, her taut stomach...her painful eyes.
With a hand on his hip, House finally spoke,
“You should probably go home.”
“I don’t want to miss you, House,” she whispered.
“You’ve been successful so far,” pause, “Go home Cameron.”
The sound of her bare feet sticking to the floor as she moved away was enough, but it surprised him to see her underneath his covers, sitting upright, waiting.
“I don’t know what you need right now,” she admitted.
“What makes you think I need anything,” he asked with a shrug while limping to the bed, resting his head on the pillow. He kept his left hand at his side while his right lay on his chest.
“It’s going to take Wilson awhile but...”
She was interrupted by his glare that suffocated her with the warning of hate in his eyes.
“It’s not your business. If you want to fuck, fine. If you came to talk then you can leave.”
Exhaling, House turned away, staring up at the ceiling while Cameron pressed her lips together in a frown.
“House?” She waited for his attention, “Do you miss me?”
“I’m serious. If you’re here to talk then leave.”
Nothing was working between them. Nothing ever did. Sometimes Cameron wondered why she quit that night in his office, almost regretting what could have been. Every once in a while she’d catch herself imagining a case with him:
- sitting in the conference room late
- going over the symptoms on the white board
- eating
- drinking
It would have been the two of them at least for awhile.
Cameron scooted underneath the covers and lay her head beside House’s shoulder. It was silent except for the random car that drove passed outside, splashing through a puddle at the curb.
His breathing was steady. Cameron allowed her eyes to close, thinking that she’d stay the night, but was startled when House spoke,
“Why did you come over?”
With a sigh, Cameron went to roll on her back, but House held onto her arm.
“Since the accident, you’ve... been drinking more,” before he could interrupt she added, “Don’t tell me you haven’t. I can smell the whiskey when you walk by.”
“Riiight. It’s because you smell alcohol on me more often.” She nodded. “That’s bullshit. You would’ve confronted me at work. Why did you really come over?”
Yanking her hand from his grasp, Cameron pushed herself back into a sitting position, resting her head on the backboard.
“You tell me why House.”
He shrugged as if the answer was obvious,
“You’re tired of your relationship. Done with lying to Chase.”
“Hm,” she smirked to show amusement, but it went as quickly as it came after he added,
“You miss me too much and it’s effecting your relationship because you want to be with me. Before it was easy because you worked with me, now it's hardly ever...if that.”
Their gazes were locked. House was waiting for Cameron to make the move. Cameron waited for the right moment. Now.
Strands of his hair peeked through each finger as she gripped it in chunks, trying to breathe without breaking the kiss. House slid his hand to the back of her thigh, guiding one leg over his lap to straddle, hoping to make it easier on his leg. He nipped his way across her throat, tracing a wet trail with his tongue.
Cameron arched her back when he reached her breasts, flicking one nipple in his mouth while massaging the other, his thumb skimming down her stomach to rub her pulsing clit.
The faster she would grind against his cock, the harder he bit down on her chest and pressed between her legs.
Already he could feel her wetness coating a streak along him. Cameron rose to her knees, taking hold of him to angle at her entrance.
Slowly he slipped inside her, their breathing growing erratic the further he went. Before she was able to start a rhythm, House held her down, wanting to taste her,
“I want to taste you.”
She swatted his hands away, and grazed his beard with her fingertips as she eagerly bounced above him. Resting his cheek on her chest, the sweat dripped down his sideburns as he worked to lift his hips at her pace.
She wiped a drip away from his brow, fingering her clit before pulling him into a violent kiss.
Thrust. Another. House sighed into her mouth as he emptied himself inside her.
/-/-/
“He’s never going to forgive me,” House said it as he moved to rest his cheek on her forehead.
It was an internal debate for Cameron:
Speak or shut up?
Instead Cameron covered his hand with her own, biting her lower lip as she smiled when House laced their fingers and planted a kiss at the corner of her eye.
“He’s my best friend,” he whispered, probably more to himself than her.
There was no point for words. Squeezing his hand, she felt the lump form in her throat when he sighed...relieved.