Fic: No Flowers Or Birds Or Pretty Girls
Title: No Flowers Or Birds Or Pretty Girls
Author: houseketeer
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1183
Summary: Written for the hc_smut_a_thon. Prompt was to re-write the hug scene from 3x11 to a smutty conclusion of any kind.
No Flowers Or Birds Or Pretty Girls
"Detoxing. I didn't know what I was saying."
She reaches out to hug me, and it's exactly the opposite of all I've been waiting for. Dinner dates and adoring looks aside, if she had ever just reached out and grabbed me, I'd promised myself I wouldn't stop her. But this can't count, can it? This is no passionate ass-grab--this is "I admire and respect you, and you might be going to a sad place with no flowers or birds or pretty girls for a long, long time." As if I needed a reminder.
Cameron, I do not need a reminder.
"Excuse me; I have to go to jail."
The look in her eyes tells me this barb as achieved all I wanted it too. She feels rejected, she’s hurt, and she’s telling herself I’m definitely not worth waiting ten years for.
Cameron, I am not worth waiting ten years for.
And at the same time, that look is tearing me apart. I ‘ve gotten used to the thought that no matter what shit I pull, Cameron will still respect me, and no matter who I make hate me, it’ll never be her. As usual I make myself a promise: if she says one more word, shows just a little bit more moxy, I'm hers. How many times have I made that promise? As many times as she’s not pushed the issue hard enough.
Cameron, you have not pushed hard enough.
She grabs my wrist from behind and says, "You don't have to go straight back."
That one counts; a purely sexual gesture.
I turn, and shake my head. "No, I don't." Her hand drops from my wrist only when I move to hold her, my hands sliding inside her lab coat as I kiss her with three years of pent-up sexual tension. My cane clatters to the floor. She’s impossibly delicate in my arms, as if she’s made of air. My hand in her hair, my tongue in my mouth, I want to be in her; it's not enough. Still kissing her I fumble to open her pants and they fall around her ankles. I push her panties down her thighs a short way, then slowly slide my hand up her thigh. I can feel the heat rising off her, and she’s dripping down her thigh. I collect some on my finger and bring it to her mouth. The look in her eyes as she takes my finger in her mouth and swirls her tongue around the tip could not be more erotic, and I worry I'll come on the spot. I'm already ramrod hard.
I look around--where--but end up just lifting her at her waist and setting her on the counter behind her. "Wait here." I bend for my cane, walk over and lock the door, pull the blinds. I hang my cane on the edge of the counter, then my left hand grips the counter, bracing my weight. I pull off her shoes, pants and panties. I spread her thighs, and she gasps as her legs contact the cold surface of the counter not already warmed by her touch. I bend down, and she squirms when I exhale a hot breathe on her. She sighs, "House," and I want to hear it over and over. So I slide two fingers into her and press circles into her clit with my tongue.
Her hands clench, one on my jacket shoulder and one in my hair. I slide my fingers in and out, curling them forward, (‘come here,') while I lick and suck on her clit. When I pull my face away to look up at her my thumb temporarily replaces my mouth. I meet her eyes, "Cameron, come now." Then my mouth is back on her and she is shaking, coming.
"Oh, fuck." I hold my fingers still in her; feel her clutching and squeezing at me while I kiss her mouth. She kisses back animatedly, and I know she can taste herself in my mouth. Then suddenly she breaks the kiss with a gleam in her eye; she has ideas. She hops off the counter. Now it's her eyes scanning the room, while her hand slips down to cup me through my pants, making me groan loudly. I think, 'She’s planning how she’s going to have me,' and my knees buckle slightly, I groan again. She's too much.
She shakes her head. "It will have to be the floor." Now she turns her attention to my belt and fly, opening them fast as she would an intubation kit, like a medical emergency. Her hands are so sure in urgent situations, so expert. "Floor," she repeats. I lay on the cold hard tile, and she pulls my pants a way down my thighs. Just once, her tongue swirls around the head of my cock, then she crawls forward and lowers herself onto it.
"Shit," my head tips back. She's so tight, burning hot around me. My hands grip her thighs, fingers splayed. She rocks forward and back. Slow at first, then faster. I loosen my tie, undo my top button. "Take your top off." She never stops sliding up and down on my cock as she slips her arms out of her lab coat. Her eyes are on mine as she unbuttons her blouse one button at a time to reveal a skimpy cream silk bra. She arches her back, reaches back to unclasp it and toss it aside.
Now she leans over me, riding me dangerously fast. Her face is red with the vigorousness of it, she is smiling lecherously. Suddenly her expression changes--the look she always has when she notices the crucial symptom and figures it all out. I instantly know what she knows. Clever girl. "How is this not hurting you?"
I have no idea how she'll react, which triggers a release of adrenaline and it's all so hot. "Vicodin."
She pushes harder, slams onto me with each thrust. "Tell your lawyer I want to testify."
"What?!"
"I'm gonna come, touch my clit." I do, rub her while she grinds against me. "I want to testify against Cuddy and Wilson, that you needed the pills and it was--oh god--malpractice to keep you off." I must be clearly skeptical, because she repeats, "Tell him," in a commanding tone.
"Yeah yeah yeah."
"Oh, yeah," she breathes, and I can feel her second orgasm, spasming around my cock. She grabs my wrist and rips it away from her clit, pins it to the ground. She gives me this determined look and starts to undulate her hips in a circle as she rocks. "Come inside me."
"Cameron. Fuck." I do as she says, and it's the best one I've had in I don't know how long. And god knows how long until we can do this again. Cameron gets up and starts to dress; I pull my pants up and fasten them while still lying down. Then I sit up, and watch her from the floor. "Still not coming to my trial?"
"No, I'll be there."
"Good."
FIN
To avoid missing one of my stories, I hope you'll join or watch houseketeers.
old comments
Author: houseketeer
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1183
Summary: Written for the hc_smut_a_thon. Prompt was to re-write the hug scene from 3x11 to a smutty conclusion of any kind.
No Flowers Or Birds Or Pretty Girls
"Detoxing. I didn't know what I was saying."
She reaches out to hug me, and it's exactly the opposite of all I've been waiting for. Dinner dates and adoring looks aside, if she had ever just reached out and grabbed me, I'd promised myself I wouldn't stop her. But this can't count, can it? This is no passionate ass-grab--this is "I admire and respect you, and you might be going to a sad place with no flowers or birds or pretty girls for a long, long time." As if I needed a reminder.
Cameron, I do not need a reminder.
"Excuse me; I have to go to jail."
The look in her eyes tells me this barb as achieved all I wanted it too. She feels rejected, she’s hurt, and she’s telling herself I’m definitely not worth waiting ten years for.
Cameron, I am not worth waiting ten years for.
And at the same time, that look is tearing me apart. I ‘ve gotten used to the thought that no matter what shit I pull, Cameron will still respect me, and no matter who I make hate me, it’ll never be her. As usual I make myself a promise: if she says one more word, shows just a little bit more moxy, I'm hers. How many times have I made that promise? As many times as she’s not pushed the issue hard enough.
Cameron, you have not pushed hard enough.
She grabs my wrist from behind and says, "You don't have to go straight back."
That one counts; a purely sexual gesture.
I turn, and shake my head. "No, I don't." Her hand drops from my wrist only when I move to hold her, my hands sliding inside her lab coat as I kiss her with three years of pent-up sexual tension. My cane clatters to the floor. She’s impossibly delicate in my arms, as if she’s made of air. My hand in her hair, my tongue in my mouth, I want to be in her; it's not enough. Still kissing her I fumble to open her pants and they fall around her ankles. I push her panties down her thighs a short way, then slowly slide my hand up her thigh. I can feel the heat rising off her, and she’s dripping down her thigh. I collect some on my finger and bring it to her mouth. The look in her eyes as she takes my finger in her mouth and swirls her tongue around the tip could not be more erotic, and I worry I'll come on the spot. I'm already ramrod hard.
I look around--where--but end up just lifting her at her waist and setting her on the counter behind her. "Wait here." I bend for my cane, walk over and lock the door, pull the blinds. I hang my cane on the edge of the counter, then my left hand grips the counter, bracing my weight. I pull off her shoes, pants and panties. I spread her thighs, and she gasps as her legs contact the cold surface of the counter not already warmed by her touch. I bend down, and she squirms when I exhale a hot breathe on her. She sighs, "House," and I want to hear it over and over. So I slide two fingers into her and press circles into her clit with my tongue.
Her hands clench, one on my jacket shoulder and one in my hair. I slide my fingers in and out, curling them forward, (‘come here,') while I lick and suck on her clit. When I pull my face away to look up at her my thumb temporarily replaces my mouth. I meet her eyes, "Cameron, come now." Then my mouth is back on her and she is shaking, coming.
"Oh, fuck." I hold my fingers still in her; feel her clutching and squeezing at me while I kiss her mouth. She kisses back animatedly, and I know she can taste herself in my mouth. Then suddenly she breaks the kiss with a gleam in her eye; she has ideas. She hops off the counter. Now it's her eyes scanning the room, while her hand slips down to cup me through my pants, making me groan loudly. I think, 'She’s planning how she’s going to have me,' and my knees buckle slightly, I groan again. She's too much.
She shakes her head. "It will have to be the floor." Now she turns her attention to my belt and fly, opening them fast as she would an intubation kit, like a medical emergency. Her hands are so sure in urgent situations, so expert. "Floor," she repeats. I lay on the cold hard tile, and she pulls my pants a way down my thighs. Just once, her tongue swirls around the head of my cock, then she crawls forward and lowers herself onto it.
"Shit," my head tips back. She's so tight, burning hot around me. My hands grip her thighs, fingers splayed. She rocks forward and back. Slow at first, then faster. I loosen my tie, undo my top button. "Take your top off." She never stops sliding up and down on my cock as she slips her arms out of her lab coat. Her eyes are on mine as she unbuttons her blouse one button at a time to reveal a skimpy cream silk bra. She arches her back, reaches back to unclasp it and toss it aside.
Now she leans over me, riding me dangerously fast. Her face is red with the vigorousness of it, she is smiling lecherously. Suddenly her expression changes--the look she always has when she notices the crucial symptom and figures it all out. I instantly know what she knows. Clever girl. "How is this not hurting you?"
I have no idea how she'll react, which triggers a release of adrenaline and it's all so hot. "Vicodin."
She pushes harder, slams onto me with each thrust. "Tell your lawyer I want to testify."
"What?!"
"I'm gonna come, touch my clit." I do, rub her while she grinds against me. "I want to testify against Cuddy and Wilson, that you needed the pills and it was--oh god--malpractice to keep you off." I must be clearly skeptical, because she repeats, "Tell him," in a commanding tone.
"Yeah yeah yeah."
"Oh, yeah," she breathes, and I can feel her second orgasm, spasming around my cock. She grabs my wrist and rips it away from her clit, pins it to the ground. She gives me this determined look and starts to undulate her hips in a circle as she rocks. "Come inside me."
"Cameron. Fuck." I do as she says, and it's the best one I've had in I don't know how long. And god knows how long until we can do this again. Cameron gets up and starts to dress; I pull my pants up and fasten them while still lying down. Then I sit up, and watch her from the floor. "Still not coming to my trial?"
"No, I'll be there."
"Good."
FIN
To avoid missing one of my stories, I hope you'll join or watch houseketeers.
old comments