House/Cam new fic, for the Smut-a-Thon comm.! :)
The challenge was: To write a scene featuring House and Cameron and the holidays. Bust out the holly, the mistletoe and the eggnog...you get the idea. And of course, since this is a smut comm, there should be smut. :) The challenge will to be write a maximum of a 800 words and can be as short as you like.
…yeah, I know I’m waaaaaay over the word limit. But when I hit 900 and hadn’t even gotten to the smut, I knew I couldn’t cut it down all that easily. My Muses are so sluggish lately, I feel grateful even being able to write this at all. Sometimes creativity can't be held to ordinary limits. So if necessary, I submit myself for a spanking for violating the word limit.
He was surprised when Cameron strode into his office and handed him a gift. She wasn’t as shy or unsure as the last time she gave him a Christmas gift.
“Happy Holidays, House,” she said with a little smile. Like she knew a secret, and she wasn’t sharing.
He watched her walk away, ignoring the fact that his new team were watching from the other room. He gazed at the little box wrapped in silver foil paper and blue metallic ribbon, staring at it as if she’d left a poisonous snake on the desk.
Last time, the present was a gift certificate to a local music store. He never would’ve admitted it, but he’d admired how she’d tried to feed his less-than-illegal and self-damaging vices.
Now, he didn’t know what to think. She was still Chase’s girl, far as House knew, and not working for him besides. So really, why would she even bother?
*~*~*
House didn’t know what lame-brained idiot had taken it into their heads to put a sorry sprig of mistletoe over the entrance to the ER ward, but if he found out who it was, he was going to personally take the time to introduce said person to the virtues of being caned.
The first time House noticed the sprig, he was standing under the mistletoe with Wilson.
Yeah, best not to think about that.
The second time, House and Foreman pedo-conferenced right underneath and past it, before House remembered it was even there (he didn’t bother to tell Foreman, not even as a joke).
But when House found himself under that damned plant with Cameron, well…
At first, House tried to pretend he didn’t realize. Even when Cameron glanced up to look at it, that sly smile back on her face, he played dumb.
She won’t, he told himself. She wouldn’t dare. She’s Chase’s squeeze.
Except he was wrong, as he often had been when it came to her. Apparently, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Blah, blah, blah.
Cameron leaned in, still smiling, and kissed House softly on the cheek, just shy of the side of his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, House,” she said, and then turned to go about her work as if it was no big deal.
House limped back to his office, mind filled with jumbled images of the last time he’d kissed her. Hot tongue action, arms encircling each other…and syringes.
Hell, no. He’d already helped one woman cheat, he wasn’t going to do it a second time.
Good excuse.
*~*~*
House and Wilson were leaving the hospital, on their way to one of the local bars to celebrate the upcoming holiday season, when House glanced through a window into one of the sick kids’ wards. And saw the impossible.
Allison Cameron. In a Santa suit.
House stopped dead, staring. Red suit, check. Big belly that was probably a pillow, check. The trademark red hat, check. Even, for God’s sake, a beard.
Wilson, who had taken a few paces before realizing he’d lost his crippled shadow, strode back to join House.
“What the Hell is Cameron doing?” House asked.
Wilson shrugged. “I heard she lost a bet,” he said. “So now she has to be Santa.”
House could even hear Cameron through the glass, saying ‘Ho ho ho!’ in the lowest register she could manage. House was starting to wonder if he’d had a little too much Vicodin and was maybe hallucinating.
No, Jim was seeing this, too. Scratch that.
Grudgingly, House noted that Cameron didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the strangeness of her position. She was playing with the kids, handing out toys, and indeed, the few nurses in attendance were wearing really idiotic elf caps, so they likely weren’t in a position to poke fun at her ‘holiday-themed cross-dressing’.
“You coming?” Wilson asked.
Thoughtfully, House replied, “Give me an hour or two. I just remembered something I have to do.”
*~*~*
He found Cameron later on in the locker room, working her way out of the Santa suit.
House limped in, shutting the door behind him, and then just stood there and watched her. The beard and a small pillow were already lying discarded on the bench next to her, and Cameron was busy unbuttoning the voluminous red top.
“You saw me, I take it?” She asked, that damned smile surfacing on her face again. “Go on, make fun of me, House, I know you want to.”
But she seemed so serene, so accepting, that House’s snarks died before making their way out of his throat.
If anything, he was more fascinated than anything else. What the Hell was she smiling like that for?
But in the next breath, he changed his mind. He didn’t want to be fascinated by her. She was someone else’s girlfriend, and he’d been down that road before.
Not to mention, this was Cameron. It was weird.
Instead, he asked her, more harshly than he intended: “Going home to give a ‘special’ present to Chase?”
She tilted her head, looking up at him quizzically. The suit was off, and he was uncomfortable to notice the flimsy tank top she had on underneath. And no bra beneath it, either, if the little points of her nipples poking against the fabric were any indication. He jerked his eyes back up to her face and cursed the interested little stir in the general region of his groin.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “We broke up months ago.”
This was news to House. “I thought…I thought you came back here together.” At least that’s what Wilson had said. Or rather implied.
She shook her head, the secret smile back on her face. “No, we just both enjoyed working here. And we’re still friends.”
“Ah,” House said, but then he ran out of words. What could - should - he say to that? Mazel Tov?
“Now why would you care if I was still dating Chase?” she asked, sliding the red Santa pants and boots off her legs.
Caught, House shrugged. “No reason,” he lied. Underneath the red pants, Cameron wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of little blue panties. Floral, of course. He yanked his eyes back up, bypassing Nipple-Gate, but then he had to look into her smirking face, and that wasn’t working, either.
He switched his gaze instead to the flames decorating the bottom of his cane.
“Right,” Cameron said, that tone that House knew meant she didn’t believe a word of his crap. “And you’re trying not to look at me, for ‘no reason’.”
He shrugged. “Is it my fault you’re hot and scantily dressed?” he asked. He meant it as a snark, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew his delivery hadn’t been as snarky as he wanted. More truthful, if anything.
“You think I’m ‘hot’? Wow, thanks House. I think that’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me. I’ll take that as your Christmas gift to me.”
She got up, still wearing The Smile, and sauntered over to him. House kept studying the flame pattern on his cane, until Cameron’s face and body blocked his view.
“Thanks,” she said softly, and kissed him, firmly on the mouth this time.
House’s hands seemed to have a life of their own, because they suddenly dropped the cane and went around her waist, holding her against him.
At least she had no place to hide a syringe this time.
Their first few kisses were nearly chaste, but then Cameron’s mouth opened, her tongue sliding aggressively past his lips, and House gave in, just like last time. She knew him too well by now, had figured out that if she wanted things to progress, she’d have to take the initiative. Smart girl.
Her delicate fingers encircled his wrists, guiding his hands up until he could cup her breasts through the thin tank top. He groaned, fingering the hard little peaks, and shifted his kisses down her chin and across her throat.
“I like you much better without the beard,” he mumbled, and she laughed.
“I think you’ll like me even more without clothes,” she observed correctly. She backed up, away from his greedy hands, but before he could wonder what she was planning she’d stripped her tank top over her head, baring cream skin and dark pink nipples.
“Lock the door, would you, House?” she asked, turning away.
For one split section, as House limped over to the door, he thought about opening it and running (okay, limping) away. This was new territory. Exciting, but full of unknown dangers.
But even as he thought this, his hands continued to defy him, deftly latching the door.
House turned around, and Cameron was bent over the bench, hands planted firmly against it. “Help me off with my panties?” she purred, wriggling her tight little ass at him.
Fuck it. He was single, she was single, she didn’t work for him any more…what was the harm? All roadblocks, save his own stupid self-defeating stubbornness, were gone. He limped towards her, pulling off his blazer and pulling his t-shirt over his head. In for a penny…
He stood behind her, his hands taking the waistband of her panties and pulling them down as far as he could. Past her knees, and he couldn’t push them down any further, not without straining his bum leg, but it didn’t matter. She shimmied (which was damned fun to watch), and the panties dropped to the floor.
He didn’t even get a chance to wonder what the Hell he was supposed to do next, because Cameron had turned back around and was pressed up against him. Bare skin to bare skin, and House nearly moaned like a virgin teenage boy engaging in his first heavy petting session.
“Merry Christmas, House,” Cameron smirked, then took one of his hands in hers and guided it right into the deep warmth between her thighs. He groaned, undone.
She was slick and wet and House completely forgot about everything else. Except her breasts - he managed to get his free hand onto one of those, squeezing and rubbing her nipples. But mostly he concentrated on exploring her, discovering her, delving between the moist folds and brushing repeatedly across her clit.
When she sat down on the bench, House clenched his teeth, aching, but not for long. Still looking up at him with The Smile, Cameron was reaching to unzip his fly. House closed his eyes and gripped her shoulders for balance, while those cool fingers worked their way into his boxers and stroked him up and down. His pants fell to the floor in a musical jingle and rattle of keys and pills, his boxers following more silently.
She was going to take him into her mouth. He knew it, and he knew if she did that, he’d embarrass himself by coming right then and there (teenage virgin boy, check), so for once, he took the initiative.
She let him press her down and back against the bench, crossing her arms behind her head to cushion it, watching him sit next to her, letting him pull her legs over and across his lap. Her eyes closed, the tip of her tongue coming out to slick her lips, as he spread her legs wide and went back to exploring her.
He dared to push two fingers inside her, to touch her as deeply as he could, and he was rewarded by her moan, her muscles grasping at him. He moved in and out of her, slow at first, but then speeding up after he realized that she was fondling her own breasts, wantonly.
Cameron was becoming noisier, her skin shining with sweat now, and when he finally touched her clit again, gently, she came like a rocket, biting her lip and going shockingly silent. But she was shaking and pulsing against his fingers, and House had no problem ‘diagnosing’ the fact that Doctor Allison Cameron had just come all over his hand.
She lay there for a few moments, catching her breath, then took his wrist in a businesslike fashion and slid herself off of his fingers.
“What?” House asked. Was she going to fuck and run? Was he really as stupid as-
“Getting some condoms,” she replied. “I’ve got some in my locker.”
This made House only feel worse. Condoms in her locker? Leftovers from her sexcapades with Chase?
“House,” she said sharply, her bare back and shapely ass facing towards him as she rummaged. “I know what you’re thinking. Just stop it.”
She knew him too well. He wondered if he should feel grateful or afraid.
Before he could decide, she was back, standing between his thighs. The scent of her, hot and honeyed and sated, was too strong for him to brush aside. Who cared if the condoms were Chase-leftovers? She was there fucking him, now. It wasn’t romantic, but there was a certain visceral truth to it.
She rolled the condom onto him, that secret smile back on her face, like she knew his every thought. Then she was straddling him, sliding down his length, burying him inside her. Her breasts were in his face, and he licked the salt-sweet divide between them, trying to distract himself, trying to make this last.
But he couldn’t. It probably didn’t even take ten or fifteen strokes, Cameron’s heat searing him through the latex, before he groaned and shoved his face against her breastbone, emptying himself in a long pent-up flood.
House was still shaking when she got off of him and stepped away, calmly starting to put her clothes back on.
“Where are you going?” he croaked.
“Back to your place,” she purred. “I’ve got more - a lot more - ‘gifts’ to give you. Better call Wilson and take a rain check.” She winked at him. She did know him entirely too well.
And she was still wearing that damned smile - if little else - but House decided that didn’t bother him any more.
Not at all.
FIN
Crossposted to AO3
…yeah, I know I’m waaaaaay over the word limit. But when I hit 900 and hadn’t even gotten to the smut, I knew I couldn’t cut it down all that easily. My Muses are so sluggish lately, I feel grateful even being able to write this at all. Sometimes creativity can't be held to ordinary limits. So if necessary, I submit myself for a spanking for violating the word limit.
He was surprised when Cameron strode into his office and handed him a gift. She wasn’t as shy or unsure as the last time she gave him a Christmas gift.
“Happy Holidays, House,” she said with a little smile. Like she knew a secret, and she wasn’t sharing.
He watched her walk away, ignoring the fact that his new team were watching from the other room. He gazed at the little box wrapped in silver foil paper and blue metallic ribbon, staring at it as if she’d left a poisonous snake on the desk.
Last time, the present was a gift certificate to a local music store. He never would’ve admitted it, but he’d admired how she’d tried to feed his less-than-illegal and self-damaging vices.
Now, he didn’t know what to think. She was still Chase’s girl, far as House knew, and not working for him besides. So really, why would she even bother?
*~*~*
House didn’t know what lame-brained idiot had taken it into their heads to put a sorry sprig of mistletoe over the entrance to the ER ward, but if he found out who it was, he was going to personally take the time to introduce said person to the virtues of being caned.
The first time House noticed the sprig, he was standing under the mistletoe with Wilson.
Yeah, best not to think about that.
The second time, House and Foreman pedo-conferenced right underneath and past it, before House remembered it was even there (he didn’t bother to tell Foreman, not even as a joke).
But when House found himself under that damned plant with Cameron, well…
At first, House tried to pretend he didn’t realize. Even when Cameron glanced up to look at it, that sly smile back on her face, he played dumb.
She won’t, he told himself. She wouldn’t dare. She’s Chase’s squeeze.
Except he was wrong, as he often had been when it came to her. Apparently, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Blah, blah, blah.
Cameron leaned in, still smiling, and kissed House softly on the cheek, just shy of the side of his mouth.
“Merry Christmas, House,” she said, and then turned to go about her work as if it was no big deal.
House limped back to his office, mind filled with jumbled images of the last time he’d kissed her. Hot tongue action, arms encircling each other…and syringes.
Hell, no. He’d already helped one woman cheat, he wasn’t going to do it a second time.
Good excuse.
*~*~*
House and Wilson were leaving the hospital, on their way to one of the local bars to celebrate the upcoming holiday season, when House glanced through a window into one of the sick kids’ wards. And saw the impossible.
Allison Cameron. In a Santa suit.
House stopped dead, staring. Red suit, check. Big belly that was probably a pillow, check. The trademark red hat, check. Even, for God’s sake, a beard.
Wilson, who had taken a few paces before realizing he’d lost his crippled shadow, strode back to join House.
“What the Hell is Cameron doing?” House asked.
Wilson shrugged. “I heard she lost a bet,” he said. “So now she has to be Santa.”
House could even hear Cameron through the glass, saying ‘Ho ho ho!’ in the lowest register she could manage. House was starting to wonder if he’d had a little too much Vicodin and was maybe hallucinating.
No, Jim was seeing this, too. Scratch that.
Grudgingly, House noted that Cameron didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the strangeness of her position. She was playing with the kids, handing out toys, and indeed, the few nurses in attendance were wearing really idiotic elf caps, so they likely weren’t in a position to poke fun at her ‘holiday-themed cross-dressing’.
“You coming?” Wilson asked.
Thoughtfully, House replied, “Give me an hour or two. I just remembered something I have to do.”
*~*~*
He found Cameron later on in the locker room, working her way out of the Santa suit.
House limped in, shutting the door behind him, and then just stood there and watched her. The beard and a small pillow were already lying discarded on the bench next to her, and Cameron was busy unbuttoning the voluminous red top.
“You saw me, I take it?” She asked, that damned smile surfacing on her face again. “Go on, make fun of me, House, I know you want to.”
But she seemed so serene, so accepting, that House’s snarks died before making their way out of his throat.
If anything, he was more fascinated than anything else. What the Hell was she smiling like that for?
But in the next breath, he changed his mind. He didn’t want to be fascinated by her. She was someone else’s girlfriend, and he’d been down that road before.
Not to mention, this was Cameron. It was weird.
Instead, he asked her, more harshly than he intended: “Going home to give a ‘special’ present to Chase?”
She tilted her head, looking up at him quizzically. The suit was off, and he was uncomfortable to notice the flimsy tank top she had on underneath. And no bra beneath it, either, if the little points of her nipples poking against the fabric were any indication. He jerked his eyes back up to her face and cursed the interested little stir in the general region of his groin.
“Why would I do that?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “We broke up months ago.”
This was news to House. “I thought…I thought you came back here together.” At least that’s what Wilson had said. Or rather implied.
She shook her head, the secret smile back on her face. “No, we just both enjoyed working here. And we’re still friends.”
“Ah,” House said, but then he ran out of words. What could - should - he say to that? Mazel Tov?
“Now why would you care if I was still dating Chase?” she asked, sliding the red Santa pants and boots off her legs.
Caught, House shrugged. “No reason,” he lied. Underneath the red pants, Cameron wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of little blue panties. Floral, of course. He yanked his eyes back up, bypassing Nipple-Gate, but then he had to look into her smirking face, and that wasn’t working, either.
He switched his gaze instead to the flames decorating the bottom of his cane.
“Right,” Cameron said, that tone that House knew meant she didn’t believe a word of his crap. “And you’re trying not to look at me, for ‘no reason’.”
He shrugged. “Is it my fault you’re hot and scantily dressed?” he asked. He meant it as a snark, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew his delivery hadn’t been as snarky as he wanted. More truthful, if anything.
“You think I’m ‘hot’? Wow, thanks House. I think that’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me. I’ll take that as your Christmas gift to me.”
She got up, still wearing The Smile, and sauntered over to him. House kept studying the flame pattern on his cane, until Cameron’s face and body blocked his view.
“Thanks,” she said softly, and kissed him, firmly on the mouth this time.
House’s hands seemed to have a life of their own, because they suddenly dropped the cane and went around her waist, holding her against him.
At least she had no place to hide a syringe this time.
Their first few kisses were nearly chaste, but then Cameron’s mouth opened, her tongue sliding aggressively past his lips, and House gave in, just like last time. She knew him too well by now, had figured out that if she wanted things to progress, she’d have to take the initiative. Smart girl.
Her delicate fingers encircled his wrists, guiding his hands up until he could cup her breasts through the thin tank top. He groaned, fingering the hard little peaks, and shifted his kisses down her chin and across her throat.
“I like you much better without the beard,” he mumbled, and she laughed.
“I think you’ll like me even more without clothes,” she observed correctly. She backed up, away from his greedy hands, but before he could wonder what she was planning she’d stripped her tank top over her head, baring cream skin and dark pink nipples.
“Lock the door, would you, House?” she asked, turning away.
For one split section, as House limped over to the door, he thought about opening it and running (okay, limping) away. This was new territory. Exciting, but full of unknown dangers.
But even as he thought this, his hands continued to defy him, deftly latching the door.
House turned around, and Cameron was bent over the bench, hands planted firmly against it. “Help me off with my panties?” she purred, wriggling her tight little ass at him.
Fuck it. He was single, she was single, she didn’t work for him any more…what was the harm? All roadblocks, save his own stupid self-defeating stubbornness, were gone. He limped towards her, pulling off his blazer and pulling his t-shirt over his head. In for a penny…
He stood behind her, his hands taking the waistband of her panties and pulling them down as far as he could. Past her knees, and he couldn’t push them down any further, not without straining his bum leg, but it didn’t matter. She shimmied (which was damned fun to watch), and the panties dropped to the floor.
He didn’t even get a chance to wonder what the Hell he was supposed to do next, because Cameron had turned back around and was pressed up against him. Bare skin to bare skin, and House nearly moaned like a virgin teenage boy engaging in his first heavy petting session.
“Merry Christmas, House,” Cameron smirked, then took one of his hands in hers and guided it right into the deep warmth between her thighs. He groaned, undone.
She was slick and wet and House completely forgot about everything else. Except her breasts - he managed to get his free hand onto one of those, squeezing and rubbing her nipples. But mostly he concentrated on exploring her, discovering her, delving between the moist folds and brushing repeatedly across her clit.
When she sat down on the bench, House clenched his teeth, aching, but not for long. Still looking up at him with The Smile, Cameron was reaching to unzip his fly. House closed his eyes and gripped her shoulders for balance, while those cool fingers worked their way into his boxers and stroked him up and down. His pants fell to the floor in a musical jingle and rattle of keys and pills, his boxers following more silently.
She was going to take him into her mouth. He knew it, and he knew if she did that, he’d embarrass himself by coming right then and there (teenage virgin boy, check), so for once, he took the initiative.
She let him press her down and back against the bench, crossing her arms behind her head to cushion it, watching him sit next to her, letting him pull her legs over and across his lap. Her eyes closed, the tip of her tongue coming out to slick her lips, as he spread her legs wide and went back to exploring her.
He dared to push two fingers inside her, to touch her as deeply as he could, and he was rewarded by her moan, her muscles grasping at him. He moved in and out of her, slow at first, but then speeding up after he realized that she was fondling her own breasts, wantonly.
Cameron was becoming noisier, her skin shining with sweat now, and when he finally touched her clit again, gently, she came like a rocket, biting her lip and going shockingly silent. But she was shaking and pulsing against his fingers, and House had no problem ‘diagnosing’ the fact that Doctor Allison Cameron had just come all over his hand.
She lay there for a few moments, catching her breath, then took his wrist in a businesslike fashion and slid herself off of his fingers.
“What?” House asked. Was she going to fuck and run? Was he really as stupid as-
“Getting some condoms,” she replied. “I’ve got some in my locker.”
This made House only feel worse. Condoms in her locker? Leftovers from her sexcapades with Chase?
“House,” she said sharply, her bare back and shapely ass facing towards him as she rummaged. “I know what you’re thinking. Just stop it.”
She knew him too well. He wondered if he should feel grateful or afraid.
Before he could decide, she was back, standing between his thighs. The scent of her, hot and honeyed and sated, was too strong for him to brush aside. Who cared if the condoms were Chase-leftovers? She was there fucking him, now. It wasn’t romantic, but there was a certain visceral truth to it.
She rolled the condom onto him, that secret smile back on her face, like she knew his every thought. Then she was straddling him, sliding down his length, burying him inside her. Her breasts were in his face, and he licked the salt-sweet divide between them, trying to distract himself, trying to make this last.
But he couldn’t. It probably didn’t even take ten or fifteen strokes, Cameron’s heat searing him through the latex, before he groaned and shoved his face against her breastbone, emptying himself in a long pent-up flood.
House was still shaking when she got off of him and stepped away, calmly starting to put her clothes back on.
“Where are you going?” he croaked.
“Back to your place,” she purred. “I’ve got more - a lot more - ‘gifts’ to give you. Better call Wilson and take a rain check.” She winked at him. She did know him entirely too well.
And she was still wearing that damned smile - if little else - but House decided that didn’t bother him any more.
Not at all.
FIN
Crossposted to AO3