House/Cam labsmut...and they're caught by Stacy! (part two)
Caught with a Hand in the Cookie Jar (Part VII)
Author:
starhawk2005
Date: July 2006
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: Adult, for sex and bad words. OMIGOD, I’m such a sinner!
Summary: House plots to use Cameron, in a bid to get rid of Stacy. But things don't go according to plan. Yum.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn it to Hell and back.
Betas: Many grateful grovellings to
_vicodin and
katakombs. *grovel grovel* I particularly have to thank Kat for the many fruitful discussions which eventually led to the birth of this fic. *hugs*
Author’s Notes: AU, but set during the time of the ‘Acceptance’ episode, so it’s obviously spoilery for that.
Recap - each of the Lab!Smut fics is standalone, so you don’t need to read the other ones to ‘get’ what’s going on in this one. But if you want a refresher or missed the earlier offerings in this vein, here are the links:
Burning the Midnight Oil (prequel)
Almost caught in the act!
Caught by Chase
Caught by Foreman:
Part 1
Part 2
Caught by Cuddy
Caught by Vogler
Caught by Wilson
And finally, now caught by Stacy....enjoy!
(PART TWO)
His leg was threatening to cramp, and he was going to fall over. He needed his cane, but he needed both hands to hold onto Cameron more. He released her and started pushing her back, herding her towards one of the lab counters. She didn’t resist, which was good.
They collided against the counter, his hands pressing against it, and he went back to the business at hand, leaning his weight partially against her slenderness, partially against the unyielding lab counter. Back to kissing her. But it wasn’t really kissing, was it? More like tongue-raping her mouth, to be quite honest. She didn’t seem to mind, however, and he certainly didn’t.
Allison clutched onto him, barely able to breathe from the weight of him pressing so heavily against her. But the need to breathe was overrated, she decided. If this was a dream - and it certainly felt like one - she wasn’t going to let a little thing like anoxia ruin the mood.
Her breasts were pushing against his chest, practically taunting him, and he wasn’t going to stand for that. He wasn’t thinking about Stacy, or the fact they were in a lab - a lab with fucking glass walls - and thus on display for anyone who cared to wander past. The only brain that mattered at the moment was the one located equidistant between his scarred and unscarred thighs, and it was yelling at him that Cameron had too many clothes on. Way too many.
House pulled a little away from her, and Allison couldn’t stop herself from clutching at him, trying to halt what part of her was sure was an escape attempt. Just typical of him - offer a shred of hope, then backpedal like crazy. He had it down to both a science and an art by now. But he didn’t move far, before she felt him shove her lab coat open, and then there was a loud tearing sound, followed by a muted patter. She glanced down, and realized those sounds had been House tearing her blouse open. The pattering noise was her buttons giving up their tragically short lives on the floor underneath them. If he’s planning to leave, that’s one Hell of an exit strategy, she thought, dazed.
But he didn’t leave. He was pressed back against her again, but heated fingers were on her chest now, greedily exploring the geography of her shoulder and collarbone. His mouth rasping across hers, swallowing the gasps and moans she helplessly made in response to his touch. She didn’t know what was going on, how she could be ready to kick his cane out from under him one second and letting him touch her like this the next. How he himself could go from cold and mocking asshole to passionate and demanding lover so quickly. This was never the way she’d envisioned things happening, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to stop. Ever.
He touched her, fascinated by the unbelievably soft skin under his callused fingertips. Even softer skin when he brazenly slid his fingers down and into the lace cup of her bra. There- there was a contrast, her nipple rising up under his fingertips, stiff and hot. He squeezed, gently, feeling her hips spasm against him. Nice. This is a far better way to appreciate lobby art.
Another few squeezes, another few delicious responses from Cameron. But as much fun as this was, he didn’t linger. That insidious lower brain was making its demands again. It wanted to know if she was wet. If she was hot. If she was as excited as he thought she must be. And he was a scientist, after all, so that demanded research. Although having so much blood feeding the other brain made him clumsy, and he fumbled awkwardly with the hem of her skirt, crumpling it with sweaty fingers until he could finally place the palm of his hand on her thigh.
House’s hand left her nipple, and she almost protested - not that it would’ve been intelligible, with their mouths still mashed together like this - but when it dropped to her skirt and then finally slid up her bare thigh, she rearranged her priorities. That was fine, actually. More than fine, in fact.
He molded his hand around the crotch of her panties, and yes, she was indeed hot and wet and willing, pushing herself against his palm, moaning against his mouth. Just a quick movement, and he’d be able to slip his fingers in, see if her depths were as silky smooth as he’d always imagined-
There was a noise, in the distance - the clatter of something falling over - and Allison tore her mouth from his with a gasp, suddenly remembering where she was. And just who was touching her.
“House-” she stammered, “wait-”, pushing weakly at him, trying to get him to back off.
No, dammit. He wasn’t going to. “It’s nothing. Someone tried to play Jenga with a few Petri dishes earlier and some random gust from the AC finally knocked ‘em over. Whatever.” He needed to convince her to stay. Needed to keep on touching her. He leaned in closer, stopping when his lips were merely a breath away from hers, looking into her eyes. “I finally make an effort, and you don’t want to take full advantage?”
She did. God, she so did. Especially when he was so close, so accessible. When he looked almost…vulnerable. And she was aching, she wanted him so badly to continue what he’d started.
Allison made her decision. “Yes. Yes, I do. Want to take full advantage, that is,” she breathed. Her gaze switching to those lips as he leaned in further, about to kiss her again-
“GREG!”
*~*~*
Finally, Stacy had worked up the nerve. Telling herself that she had no need to be afraid of Greg. She could always outrun him. One advantage of ordering the debridement, she thought in a moment of wry bitterness as she rode the elevator down to the appropriate floor.
You’re married, you love Mark, she reminded herself, repeating it over and over as she turned the corner-
And saw Greg and that lackey of his, standing entwined in the lab. Kissing. As she got nearer to the lab, she saw Cameron suddenly startle, trying to push Greg away. And Stacy slowed to a dead stop, watching wide-eyed as Greg leaned in, obviously speaking softly to Cameron, a look in his eyes that she’d seen only rarely during their own time together-
Rage and loss filled her, knocking all thoughts of her husband, of the fact she should be happy for Greg, of the fact that she had no business caring who he decided to involve himself with, clean out of her mind. Jealousy, envy, anger - that’s all that was left.
Cameron was looking up at Greg, smiling a little. As he leaned in, that expression still on his face, Stacy’s control over herself broke clean through.
She strode forward, shoving the door open as hard as she could. “GREG!”
They froze, before both their heads slowly swiveled towards her. “Yes, Mrs. Warner?” House said after a moment of silence.
“What the Hell are you doing?” Stacy snapped, struggling to lower her voice, to mask her feelings. He’d take any opening he could use to rip her apart, if he got the chance.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he shot back, shifting back from Cameron a little. Stacy examined his companion, and felt her ire increase by a factor of ten. From the look of things, House had been doing a little more than just kissing his minion. Cameron’s blouse was partially open and missing its buttons, her skirt disarrayed…Stacy snatched her eyes away from Cameron’s face, with its flushed cheeks and breathless expression. Had Stacy ever looked like that in Greg’s bed? She didn’t want to remember.
Instead, Stacy turned on Greg, who was busy grimacing and leaning down to scoop his cane from the floor. When sudden realization clicked into place-
“Did you stage this?” Stacy said, low and infuriated. “I get a page from you, telling me to meet you here, and I come down to find you- her- this.”
“You’re angry,” Greg said, sounding surprised. “I don’t understand why you would be. Your own husband’s right upstairs, and already in bed. He’s even dressed in nothing but one of those sexy hospital gowns. Half your work’s already done for you.”
Still leaning against the counter, Cameron’s hand rose to her mouth, an expression of shock now on her face. What, you’ve worked for him how long, and you still don’t know when he’s trying to manipulate you? Stacy thought venomously at her.
But Greg wasn’t done. “Hell, the open backs of those gowns would be just perfect for a little hot anal strap-on action with hubby. Just pick up some scented candles from the gift shop, and voila, instant romantic interlude.” He finished these words of questionable wisdom by wiping at his own flushed face, carelessly swiping with the sleeve of his blazer.
“Don’t involve Mark in this,” Stacy spat at him. “This is about you playing games. About trying to make me jealous.”
“I can’t make you feel anything,” Greg pointed out in a milder tone. “And besides, you were already jealous. What, you were hoping you’d be able to nurse your sick husband, all while schtupping me on the side for kicks?”
Damn him. Damn him. The thought had crossed her mind, yes, she could admit that to herself-
But not on only one occasion.
Sudden dismay replaced the rage, the jealousy. God, it’s true. Not only that she’d wanted him. But that she’d thought about it constantly. That she’d wanted to rewind the clock, undo her marriage, go back to being with Greg. Because he was the One, wasn’t he?
Which meant, by definition, that Mark could only aspire to be Two. At best.
“I-” Stacy started to say. But she couldn’t continue. It was one thing to have fantasies about your old flame, and tell yourself that you wouldn’t indulge them. It was quite another to have the evidence that you were lying to yourself about the power of those fantasies so blatantly thrown in your face. To have your own anger and jealousy betray you.
Hardly knowing what she was doing, Stacy turned and abruptly left Greg alone. With his apparent new paramour.
Looked like he hadn’t been ‘waiting’ for her to come back to him all these years, after all.
*~*~*
Allison watched Stacy leave, understanding the other woman’s turmoil perfectly.
Had House come down here with the express purpose of using her to mess with Stacy’s mind? Did he really stage this whole thing? Did he try to convince me to stay, just moments ago, because he knew Stacy was going to show up any second, to put on a good show? She didn’t know how she felt about that. So many emotions, and she couldn’t tell them apart in her current state. Anger. Fear. Shame. Arousal. Need. Although the anger and shame was starting to take over, as she realized that she’d allowed herself to be taken advantage of. Again. One glance from those cyan eyes, one brush of those lips, and she’d been putty in his hands.
She should just fix her clothes and leave. Not risk opening herself up to more hurt, more manipulation. More mockery. Not put herself in a position where her own feelings would betray her, betray her better judgement.
And yet, that last look he’d given her…even House wasn’t that smooth a liar. Was he?
“Is she right?” Allison finally asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of her tone. “Was this all just one of your experiments?”
House tried to buy himself some time, limping over to a nearby stool. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d come down here with that particular ‘experiment’ in mind, yes. It no longer mattered. The experiment had given him a result, not the one he’d expected, and he was fine with that. But he didn’t want to lie to her, either.
He also didn’t want to roll over and expose his soft underbelly, however. He wasn’t about to undo five years of keeping people at a distance, all in the space of half an hour.
Finally he sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. Distracted by the scent of her, still clinging faintly to his fingers.
He decided to do his best to dodge the issue - as usual. “Does it matter?” he asked, rubbing his hand along his aching thigh. He told himself he wasn’t trying to appeal to her sympathy. Her empathy. “You want me. I want you. Why complicate things?”
She wanted to take him at his word. She really did. The look on his face, the seriousness in his voice. But she kept wondering if Stacy was right. If House had really planned to use her. Even if his own plans had backfired and in the end he realized that he’d needed her all along, did this absolve him? Should she forgive him so easily? It was so hard to decide what she should do.
“If you manipulated me, how can I trust you?” she finally said in a low voice, staring hard at the floor by his scuffed sneakers. And after an endless period of time during which he said nothing, she added, “You see yourself as damaged. Well, you aren’t the only person in this room that’s been damaged. You even told me I was. And now you’re surprised that I might find it hard to trust you?”
House wasn’t surprised. But he didn’t know how to talk to her about this. He’d do better reading her a diagnosis off the whiteboard than trying to woo her with pretty phrases that came so naturally to bonvivant playboys like his best bud Jimmy. But he didn’t want to let this go. To discover that he wanted - yes, probably even needed - her this badly, and then to just let her go? He’d never been good at letting things go. His leg, even if it killed him. His Vicodin, even if it wrecked his liver. His anger at Stacy, even if he allowed it to prevent him from ever letting anyone else close to him. For once, he was finally fighting to keep something positive - Cameron - instead of negative in his life.
But he couldn’t talk to her about this kind of thing. He could speak English and Spanish and French and read a little Hindi, but this was a language he wasn’t familiar with at all. Instead, he hauled himself to his feet, wincing, and limped slowly over to her. Sliding his hand around her neck again, trying to pull her into him for a kiss. This had always been his preferred method of communicating how he felt. Even back in the days when he’d had two properly-working legs.
No, Allison thought, catching his wrist this time and moving away. He had to do better than that. He had to talk to her. If he could admit his feelings to her, if he could take that step, she’d believe him. She knew how hard that sort of thing was for him. If he could take that step, it would be significant.
But he didn’t. He only hobbled slowly backwards, eventually falling back onto the stool with a defeated expression on his face. And stared wordlessly at the floor, while Allison continued to watch him.
More seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. It was a frozen tableau, House on his stool with his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. And Allison, clenching, waiting. Until finally she could take no more. “Fine,” she said. “You have nothing to say. You can’t give me a reason why I should trust you. OK, then. See you tomorrow.”
She left, and House made no move to stop her. Spoke no word. He couldn’t. There was a chasm between him and everyone else. There always had been. Even between him and Stacy, when they’d been together. Not a gap a hundred miles wide, not back then, but it had been there. And then losing his leg had made it worse, had widened the gap. And he couldn’t cross it, couldn’t join anyone on the other side. Not Wilson, not Cuddy, not his parents. And not even Cameron.
Even if it meant he’d lose his chance with her. His second chance.
No wonder he didn’t believe in Hell. He was already there.
*~*~*
Allison knew she needed to calm down. Needed to get her head on straight. She headed to the nearest washroom, planning to throw water on her face, stop at her locker for a spare blouse, and then get the heck out of here.
Once there, however, she was distracted by the sight of her reflection in the mirror. The way her cheeks were still flushed. A red mark on her neck that was probably a burn from House’s stubble. An undeniable sparkle in her eyes.
And she realized that she was not only angry, but aroused. Very aroused.
Still, she told herself that didn’t matter. She’d just go home, pull her favourite dildo out of the night-table, and take care of it. She’d probably wind up fantasizing about House, just like she always did, but that was no different than usual-
But why? she suddenly thought. Why should she resort to solitary sex (especially if it was going to be fueled by fantasies of him), which she’d had to do for months on end, to take care of her needs? When House was right here and apparently willing - finally - to give her what she wanted?
Yes, he’d lied. He probably had visited her in the lab with the express purpose of using her. It was just the sort of thing he’d do. And yet, that look he’d given her. Even as good a liar as he was, even he wasn’t able to fake so convincing a vulnerable look.
Besides, once Stacy had caught them and stormed off, why continue the game? Why try to lure Allison back into his arms unless he really wanted her there? If it really was all about Stacy, he would’ve just made one of his sardonic remarks and then limped off to have a celebratory scotch. He wouldn’t have stuck around, obviously undergoing some kind of personal struggle. Why bother, unless she was who he really wanted?
“You’re an idiot,” she said aloud to her own reflection. Had she really expected him to come clean with his feelings? He never had, and maybe he never would. And was that really not enough for her? She knew what he was like. And had always had feelings for him, regardless.
Besides, hadn’t she told him a long time ago that she hadn’t wanted him to change?
Screw running away. He’d started this, gotten her all hot and bothered, now she was going to make sure that he finished what he’d started. He wasn’t the only single-minded person around here, by God.
He was slow, but she’d better hurry if she wanted to catch him before he left. Before he started to have doubts, and changed his mind about what he wanted.
Obeying sudden wild impulse, she reached beneath her rumpled skirt and slid her panties off, stuffing them into the pocket of her lab coat. She rummaged in another lab coat pocket for change, and got two condoms from the dispenser in the bathroom. And then she pushed the bathroom door open, heading back to the lab as fast as she could.
*~*~*
He’d fucked this up royally, on nearly all counts but one. Stacy was pissed, as well as jealous and hurt. If Wilson had been around, House would’ve taken a bet that Stacy and her husband would be gone by the next day. If not the morning.
But the rest sucked. So typical of him, to get close to having an actual relationship again, and then wrecking it before it even began. He cursed, and rubbed at his thigh, digging into a jacket pocket for his Vicodin.
God, this is fucking depressing. Good thing he didn’t have a gun in his desk, or anything-
He heard the rapid clicks of heels approaching, and he straightened up, suppressing a groan of frustration and pain. Stacy coming back for round two? He wouldn’t put it past her.
Allison pushed open the door of the lab, walking quickly towards House. He glanced up at her, an expression of surprise briefly crossing his features. But she didn’t stop or even slow down; she walked right up in front of him, then stopped. Trying not to clench. She was going to have what she wanted from him, now. It was her turn.
He didn’t know what she was doing there. For once, he couldn’t read the expression on her face. Not angry, more…determined?
“Lock down the wheels,” she said to him, her voice low and intense. And- sultry? Huh? he thought, frozen. Until she stepped even closer, body pressing against him, and he got it. Uh, yeah.
He used the tip of the cane to hit the little flaps that would keep the wheels from rolling crazily around, and then glanced at her again. This was a new experience for him, not being in control. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Allison knew what she wanted him to do. Needed him to do, actually. So she pulled up her skirt, watching his eyes widen at her actions. And how they widened even further when her nakedness underneath the skirt became apparent. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and tangled her fingers in his hair, then tugging gently downward on his head until he got the idea and tossed his cane onto a nearby counter, grabbing her hips in strong hands. Bending down until he could thrust his tongue between her folds.
She swallowed a gasp, tangling both hands in his hair and struggling to lock her knees. God, he was doing it. She couldn’t believe he was doing it. But she deserved this from him, for all the cruel words that had come out of that mouth, directed at her. He might as well use that mouth for good right about now.
He’d gotten the shock of his life. Prim and proper Dr. Cameron, stalking in here without underwear. It made his dick spring to instant attention. And then how she’d aggressively pulled him into her. Practically forced him into her sweetness. Fuck, he was going to have a fucking heart attack.
He shifted his hands from her hips to her ass, squeezing her cheeks tightly, pushing his tongue hard inside her. So very hot, so wet. Musk and salt and sweet, his favourite flavour combination. Her fingers were wound so tightly in his hair that the roots were starting to ache, but he didn’t care. Just pulled his tongue out and set off in search of her clit, quickly finding the area in question and sucking hard on it.
Allison threw her head back, biting her lip as his talented mouth toyed with her. She clutched her thighs together, not caring about the prickle of his stubble, about his fingers digging bruisingly hard into her flesh. All she cared about was the suction around her clit, the delicious tugging, the almost inaudible growling sound House was making as he gave her what she needed.
She let him get her right to the edge, before using her grip on his hair to force his head away. She wanted to come with him inside her, wanted to see those blue eyes staring into hers as they both lost control. Make sure he knew he was with her, not anyone else.
He couldn’t believe she’d made him stop. Just when he’d been about to shove his fingers inside her, make her break into pieces around him. Christ. What was she trying to do to him? If this was payback for him using her, it sure as Hell fell under ‘cruel and unusual’-
She was walking away, leaving him there with her scent in his nostrils and her juices all over his mouth and chin, and he watched her in a daze. He was unable to think, to reason, until she turned around, pressing her back against the metal wall. “Well,” she said, looking impatient. “What are you waiting for, House?”
He managed to keep his jaw from coming off and hitting the floor, but it was a near thing. Ignoring his cane, he got up and hobbled over to her. Bracing himself against the wall with both hands as slim fingers attacked his fly, popping open the button, ripping the zipper down. He didn’t know where this vixen had come from, but he wasn’t complaining. Except for his thigh, but he did his best to ignore that.
He was hard and pulsing under her hands, and Allison pushed layers of fabric out of the way, stroking up and down his shaft a few times. Looking up to meet his intense gaze. But she was impatient. This was for her, not for him. Her hand sought out a condom packet from the lab coat she was still wearing, and she tore the packet open, unrolling the latex onto him. Before gathering her skirt up again.
The height difference was going to be a bitch, but he gritted his teeth and crouched as much as he had to, doing his best to ignore the angry spike of pain in his thigh. Then he was closing his eyes and grinding his teeth together for a different reason, fighting for control as Allison guided him into her pulsing depths. He’d done a lot of kinky things in his youth, but having sex when both him and his lover were almost fully clothed, in a public place, with so demanding a female partner? And all this after burning his ex? That had to top everything.
She was moaning, the sound music to his ears, and he opened his eyes again, almost shooting his load right that moment as he saw that she’d slid her hands beneath her blouse, obviously playing with her own nipples.
Allison shoved her hips against him, hard, wanting that orgasm that she’d denied herself earlier. Locking her gaze with his as she stroked her own nipples, as she pumped herself back and forth along his shaft. She wanted to come hard and fast. Yes, they were both almost clothed, but if anyone caught them it would be very obvious what they were doing. So ending this quickly was in everyone’s best interests.
House’s leg was hurting, hurting bad despite the earlier dose of Vicodin, but he didn’t care. He figured at this rate, he’d only last another minute or two, and his leg could handle that. Just as long as Cameron came before him, he’d be a happy man. Ladies first, after all.
Allison was so close, she just needed that little extra to push her over the edge. And she knew House needed both hands to hold himself up, so instead of ordering him to touch her - this time, anyway - she did it herself, sliding one hand out of her blouse and down towards her clit, teasing and pressing. She kept watching the expression on House’s face, watching him watch her.
The pleasure reached a crest, warmth spreading from her clit to her inner thighs and belly, then taking over the rest of her body as she drew in a sharp breath, biting her lip again, trying to be as quiet as possible.
She was climaxing, shaking around him, but her eyes somehow were still open, still looking into his. Her muscles clutching, milking him, and he gave in gratefully, thrusting roughly into her, spilling himself, hands coming down from their position on the wall to grip her shoulders.
His leg wouldn’t take any more. He was going to fall down if he didn’t get off his feet, so slowly, reluctantly, House eased himself out of her. Unmindful of the condom he was still wearing, he limped back to the stool and sat down heavily, stuffing himself back into underwear and jeans and zipping himself up. While across the room, Cameron was straightening her own clothes.
They stared at each other in silence.
*~*~*
House was a happy man.
Stacy, as he’d predicted - hoped - had taken her husband and exited stage left. Now he could focus on his job, without the daily struggle and stress of having to deal with her and of the ghosts of the past.
But that wasn’t the only reason he was happy - well, happy for a cantankerous old asshole, anyway. He’d made progress. Not that anyone other than him and Cameron knew it. That was fine, however. He preferred to have no personal life, at least within the hospital walls.
He’d solved their latest case, too. All in all, a good week. And part of the reason for that good week was coming into his office right now, in fact, heels clicking and skirt swishing. For the first time since hiring her, she’d worn a skirt nearly daily. Ever since their late-night tryst in the lab. Sneaky little minx, he thought with an inner grin. Ah, that Allison was just full of surprises. Lucky him.
“Your place or mine?” he asked, pretending indifference. Already, they’d fallen into a kind of routine. A comfortable one. Go figure.
Allison smiled at him, fulfilling her end of the routine. “Mine has food.”
He grinned then, pleased. Some things changed, and some things stayed the same.
But luckily, some things did change.
FIN
Crossposted to AO3
Author:
starhawk2005
Date: July 2006
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: Adult, for sex and bad words. OMIGOD, I’m such a sinner!
Summary: House plots to use Cameron, in a bid to get rid of Stacy. But things don't go according to plan. Yum.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn it to Hell and back.
Betas: Many grateful grovellings to
_vicodin and
katakombs. *grovel grovel* I particularly have to thank Kat for the many fruitful discussions which eventually led to the birth of this fic. *hugs*
Author’s Notes: AU, but set during the time of the ‘Acceptance’ episode, so it’s obviously spoilery for that.
Recap - each of the Lab!Smut fics is standalone, so you don’t need to read the other ones to ‘get’ what’s going on in this one. But if you want a refresher or missed the earlier offerings in this vein, here are the links:
Burning the Midnight Oil (prequel)
Almost caught in the act!
Caught by Chase
Caught by Foreman:
Part 1
Part 2
Caught by Cuddy
Caught by Vogler
Caught by Wilson
And finally, now caught by Stacy....enjoy!
(PART TWO)
His leg was threatening to cramp, and he was going to fall over. He needed his cane, but he needed both hands to hold onto Cameron more. He released her and started pushing her back, herding her towards one of the lab counters. She didn’t resist, which was good.
They collided against the counter, his hands pressing against it, and he went back to the business at hand, leaning his weight partially against her slenderness, partially against the unyielding lab counter. Back to kissing her. But it wasn’t really kissing, was it? More like tongue-raping her mouth, to be quite honest. She didn’t seem to mind, however, and he certainly didn’t.
Allison clutched onto him, barely able to breathe from the weight of him pressing so heavily against her. But the need to breathe was overrated, she decided. If this was a dream - and it certainly felt like one - she wasn’t going to let a little thing like anoxia ruin the mood.
Her breasts were pushing against his chest, practically taunting him, and he wasn’t going to stand for that. He wasn’t thinking about Stacy, or the fact they were in a lab - a lab with fucking glass walls - and thus on display for anyone who cared to wander past. The only brain that mattered at the moment was the one located equidistant between his scarred and unscarred thighs, and it was yelling at him that Cameron had too many clothes on. Way too many.
House pulled a little away from her, and Allison couldn’t stop herself from clutching at him, trying to halt what part of her was sure was an escape attempt. Just typical of him - offer a shred of hope, then backpedal like crazy. He had it down to both a science and an art by now. But he didn’t move far, before she felt him shove her lab coat open, and then there was a loud tearing sound, followed by a muted patter. She glanced down, and realized those sounds had been House tearing her blouse open. The pattering noise was her buttons giving up their tragically short lives on the floor underneath them. If he’s planning to leave, that’s one Hell of an exit strategy, she thought, dazed.
But he didn’t leave. He was pressed back against her again, but heated fingers were on her chest now, greedily exploring the geography of her shoulder and collarbone. His mouth rasping across hers, swallowing the gasps and moans she helplessly made in response to his touch. She didn’t know what was going on, how she could be ready to kick his cane out from under him one second and letting him touch her like this the next. How he himself could go from cold and mocking asshole to passionate and demanding lover so quickly. This was never the way she’d envisioned things happening, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to stop. Ever.
He touched her, fascinated by the unbelievably soft skin under his callused fingertips. Even softer skin when he brazenly slid his fingers down and into the lace cup of her bra. There- there was a contrast, her nipple rising up under his fingertips, stiff and hot. He squeezed, gently, feeling her hips spasm against him. Nice. This is a far better way to appreciate lobby art.
Another few squeezes, another few delicious responses from Cameron. But as much fun as this was, he didn’t linger. That insidious lower brain was making its demands again. It wanted to know if she was wet. If she was hot. If she was as excited as he thought she must be. And he was a scientist, after all, so that demanded research. Although having so much blood feeding the other brain made him clumsy, and he fumbled awkwardly with the hem of her skirt, crumpling it with sweaty fingers until he could finally place the palm of his hand on her thigh.
House’s hand left her nipple, and she almost protested - not that it would’ve been intelligible, with their mouths still mashed together like this - but when it dropped to her skirt and then finally slid up her bare thigh, she rearranged her priorities. That was fine, actually. More than fine, in fact.
He molded his hand around the crotch of her panties, and yes, she was indeed hot and wet and willing, pushing herself against his palm, moaning against his mouth. Just a quick movement, and he’d be able to slip his fingers in, see if her depths were as silky smooth as he’d always imagined-
There was a noise, in the distance - the clatter of something falling over - and Allison tore her mouth from his with a gasp, suddenly remembering where she was. And just who was touching her.
“House-” she stammered, “wait-”, pushing weakly at him, trying to get him to back off.
No, dammit. He wasn’t going to. “It’s nothing. Someone tried to play Jenga with a few Petri dishes earlier and some random gust from the AC finally knocked ‘em over. Whatever.” He needed to convince her to stay. Needed to keep on touching her. He leaned in closer, stopping when his lips were merely a breath away from hers, looking into her eyes. “I finally make an effort, and you don’t want to take full advantage?”
She did. God, she so did. Especially when he was so close, so accessible. When he looked almost…vulnerable. And she was aching, she wanted him so badly to continue what he’d started.
Allison made her decision. “Yes. Yes, I do. Want to take full advantage, that is,” she breathed. Her gaze switching to those lips as he leaned in further, about to kiss her again-
“GREG!”
*~*~*
Finally, Stacy had worked up the nerve. Telling herself that she had no need to be afraid of Greg. She could always outrun him. One advantage of ordering the debridement, she thought in a moment of wry bitterness as she rode the elevator down to the appropriate floor.
You’re married, you love Mark, she reminded herself, repeating it over and over as she turned the corner-
And saw Greg and that lackey of his, standing entwined in the lab. Kissing. As she got nearer to the lab, she saw Cameron suddenly startle, trying to push Greg away. And Stacy slowed to a dead stop, watching wide-eyed as Greg leaned in, obviously speaking softly to Cameron, a look in his eyes that she’d seen only rarely during their own time together-
Rage and loss filled her, knocking all thoughts of her husband, of the fact she should be happy for Greg, of the fact that she had no business caring who he decided to involve himself with, clean out of her mind. Jealousy, envy, anger - that’s all that was left.
Cameron was looking up at Greg, smiling a little. As he leaned in, that expression still on his face, Stacy’s control over herself broke clean through.
She strode forward, shoving the door open as hard as she could. “GREG!”
They froze, before both their heads slowly swiveled towards her. “Yes, Mrs. Warner?” House said after a moment of silence.
“What the Hell are you doing?” Stacy snapped, struggling to lower her voice, to mask her feelings. He’d take any opening he could use to rip her apart, if he got the chance.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he shot back, shifting back from Cameron a little. Stacy examined his companion, and felt her ire increase by a factor of ten. From the look of things, House had been doing a little more than just kissing his minion. Cameron’s blouse was partially open and missing its buttons, her skirt disarrayed…Stacy snatched her eyes away from Cameron’s face, with its flushed cheeks and breathless expression. Had Stacy ever looked like that in Greg’s bed? She didn’t want to remember.
Instead, Stacy turned on Greg, who was busy grimacing and leaning down to scoop his cane from the floor. When sudden realization clicked into place-
“Did you stage this?” Stacy said, low and infuriated. “I get a page from you, telling me to meet you here, and I come down to find you- her- this.”
“You’re angry,” Greg said, sounding surprised. “I don’t understand why you would be. Your own husband’s right upstairs, and already in bed. He’s even dressed in nothing but one of those sexy hospital gowns. Half your work’s already done for you.”
Still leaning against the counter, Cameron’s hand rose to her mouth, an expression of shock now on her face. What, you’ve worked for him how long, and you still don’t know when he’s trying to manipulate you? Stacy thought venomously at her.
But Greg wasn’t done. “Hell, the open backs of those gowns would be just perfect for a little hot anal strap-on action with hubby. Just pick up some scented candles from the gift shop, and voila, instant romantic interlude.” He finished these words of questionable wisdom by wiping at his own flushed face, carelessly swiping with the sleeve of his blazer.
“Don’t involve Mark in this,” Stacy spat at him. “This is about you playing games. About trying to make me jealous.”
“I can’t make you feel anything,” Greg pointed out in a milder tone. “And besides, you were already jealous. What, you were hoping you’d be able to nurse your sick husband, all while schtupping me on the side for kicks?”
Damn him. Damn him. The thought had crossed her mind, yes, she could admit that to herself-
But not on only one occasion.
Sudden dismay replaced the rage, the jealousy. God, it’s true. Not only that she’d wanted him. But that she’d thought about it constantly. That she’d wanted to rewind the clock, undo her marriage, go back to being with Greg. Because he was the One, wasn’t he?
Which meant, by definition, that Mark could only aspire to be Two. At best.
“I-” Stacy started to say. But she couldn’t continue. It was one thing to have fantasies about your old flame, and tell yourself that you wouldn’t indulge them. It was quite another to have the evidence that you were lying to yourself about the power of those fantasies so blatantly thrown in your face. To have your own anger and jealousy betray you.
Hardly knowing what she was doing, Stacy turned and abruptly left Greg alone. With his apparent new paramour.
Looked like he hadn’t been ‘waiting’ for her to come back to him all these years, after all.
*~*~*
Allison watched Stacy leave, understanding the other woman’s turmoil perfectly.
Had House come down here with the express purpose of using her to mess with Stacy’s mind? Did he really stage this whole thing? Did he try to convince me to stay, just moments ago, because he knew Stacy was going to show up any second, to put on a good show? She didn’t know how she felt about that. So many emotions, and she couldn’t tell them apart in her current state. Anger. Fear. Shame. Arousal. Need. Although the anger and shame was starting to take over, as she realized that she’d allowed herself to be taken advantage of. Again. One glance from those cyan eyes, one brush of those lips, and she’d been putty in his hands.
She should just fix her clothes and leave. Not risk opening herself up to more hurt, more manipulation. More mockery. Not put herself in a position where her own feelings would betray her, betray her better judgement.
And yet, that last look he’d given her…even House wasn’t that smooth a liar. Was he?
“Is she right?” Allison finally asked, fighting to keep the tremor out of her tone. “Was this all just one of your experiments?”
House tried to buy himself some time, limping over to a nearby stool. He didn’t want to tell her that he’d come down here with that particular ‘experiment’ in mind, yes. It no longer mattered. The experiment had given him a result, not the one he’d expected, and he was fine with that. But he didn’t want to lie to her, either.
He also didn’t want to roll over and expose his soft underbelly, however. He wasn’t about to undo five years of keeping people at a distance, all in the space of half an hour.
Finally he sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. Distracted by the scent of her, still clinging faintly to his fingers.
He decided to do his best to dodge the issue - as usual. “Does it matter?” he asked, rubbing his hand along his aching thigh. He told himself he wasn’t trying to appeal to her sympathy. Her empathy. “You want me. I want you. Why complicate things?”
She wanted to take him at his word. She really did. The look on his face, the seriousness in his voice. But she kept wondering if Stacy was right. If House had really planned to use her. Even if his own plans had backfired and in the end he realized that he’d needed her all along, did this absolve him? Should she forgive him so easily? It was so hard to decide what she should do.
“If you manipulated me, how can I trust you?” she finally said in a low voice, staring hard at the floor by his scuffed sneakers. And after an endless period of time during which he said nothing, she added, “You see yourself as damaged. Well, you aren’t the only person in this room that’s been damaged. You even told me I was. And now you’re surprised that I might find it hard to trust you?”
House wasn’t surprised. But he didn’t know how to talk to her about this. He’d do better reading her a diagnosis off the whiteboard than trying to woo her with pretty phrases that came so naturally to bonvivant playboys like his best bud Jimmy. But he didn’t want to let this go. To discover that he wanted - yes, probably even needed - her this badly, and then to just let her go? He’d never been good at letting things go. His leg, even if it killed him. His Vicodin, even if it wrecked his liver. His anger at Stacy, even if he allowed it to prevent him from ever letting anyone else close to him. For once, he was finally fighting to keep something positive - Cameron - instead of negative in his life.
But he couldn’t talk to her about this kind of thing. He could speak English and Spanish and French and read a little Hindi, but this was a language he wasn’t familiar with at all. Instead, he hauled himself to his feet, wincing, and limped slowly over to her. Sliding his hand around her neck again, trying to pull her into him for a kiss. This had always been his preferred method of communicating how he felt. Even back in the days when he’d had two properly-working legs.
No, Allison thought, catching his wrist this time and moving away. He had to do better than that. He had to talk to her. If he could admit his feelings to her, if he could take that step, she’d believe him. She knew how hard that sort of thing was for him. If he could take that step, it would be significant.
But he didn’t. He only hobbled slowly backwards, eventually falling back onto the stool with a defeated expression on his face. And stared wordlessly at the floor, while Allison continued to watch him.
More seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. It was a frozen tableau, House on his stool with his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. And Allison, clenching, waiting. Until finally she could take no more. “Fine,” she said. “You have nothing to say. You can’t give me a reason why I should trust you. OK, then. See you tomorrow.”
She left, and House made no move to stop her. Spoke no word. He couldn’t. There was a chasm between him and everyone else. There always had been. Even between him and Stacy, when they’d been together. Not a gap a hundred miles wide, not back then, but it had been there. And then losing his leg had made it worse, had widened the gap. And he couldn’t cross it, couldn’t join anyone on the other side. Not Wilson, not Cuddy, not his parents. And not even Cameron.
Even if it meant he’d lose his chance with her. His second chance.
No wonder he didn’t believe in Hell. He was already there.
*~*~*
Allison knew she needed to calm down. Needed to get her head on straight. She headed to the nearest washroom, planning to throw water on her face, stop at her locker for a spare blouse, and then get the heck out of here.
Once there, however, she was distracted by the sight of her reflection in the mirror. The way her cheeks were still flushed. A red mark on her neck that was probably a burn from House’s stubble. An undeniable sparkle in her eyes.
And she realized that she was not only angry, but aroused. Very aroused.
Still, she told herself that didn’t matter. She’d just go home, pull her favourite dildo out of the night-table, and take care of it. She’d probably wind up fantasizing about House, just like she always did, but that was no different than usual-
But why? she suddenly thought. Why should she resort to solitary sex (especially if it was going to be fueled by fantasies of him), which she’d had to do for months on end, to take care of her needs? When House was right here and apparently willing - finally - to give her what she wanted?
Yes, he’d lied. He probably had visited her in the lab with the express purpose of using her. It was just the sort of thing he’d do. And yet, that look he’d given her. Even as good a liar as he was, even he wasn’t able to fake so convincing a vulnerable look.
Besides, once Stacy had caught them and stormed off, why continue the game? Why try to lure Allison back into his arms unless he really wanted her there? If it really was all about Stacy, he would’ve just made one of his sardonic remarks and then limped off to have a celebratory scotch. He wouldn’t have stuck around, obviously undergoing some kind of personal struggle. Why bother, unless she was who he really wanted?
“You’re an idiot,” she said aloud to her own reflection. Had she really expected him to come clean with his feelings? He never had, and maybe he never would. And was that really not enough for her? She knew what he was like. And had always had feelings for him, regardless.
Besides, hadn’t she told him a long time ago that she hadn’t wanted him to change?
Screw running away. He’d started this, gotten her all hot and bothered, now she was going to make sure that he finished what he’d started. He wasn’t the only single-minded person around here, by God.
He was slow, but she’d better hurry if she wanted to catch him before he left. Before he started to have doubts, and changed his mind about what he wanted.
Obeying sudden wild impulse, she reached beneath her rumpled skirt and slid her panties off, stuffing them into the pocket of her lab coat. She rummaged in another lab coat pocket for change, and got two condoms from the dispenser in the bathroom. And then she pushed the bathroom door open, heading back to the lab as fast as she could.
*~*~*
He’d fucked this up royally, on nearly all counts but one. Stacy was pissed, as well as jealous and hurt. If Wilson had been around, House would’ve taken a bet that Stacy and her husband would be gone by the next day. If not the morning.
But the rest sucked. So typical of him, to get close to having an actual relationship again, and then wrecking it before it even began. He cursed, and rubbed at his thigh, digging into a jacket pocket for his Vicodin.
God, this is fucking depressing. Good thing he didn’t have a gun in his desk, or anything-
He heard the rapid clicks of heels approaching, and he straightened up, suppressing a groan of frustration and pain. Stacy coming back for round two? He wouldn’t put it past her.
Allison pushed open the door of the lab, walking quickly towards House. He glanced up at her, an expression of surprise briefly crossing his features. But she didn’t stop or even slow down; she walked right up in front of him, then stopped. Trying not to clench. She was going to have what she wanted from him, now. It was her turn.
He didn’t know what she was doing there. For once, he couldn’t read the expression on her face. Not angry, more…determined?
“Lock down the wheels,” she said to him, her voice low and intense. And- sultry? Huh? he thought, frozen. Until she stepped even closer, body pressing against him, and he got it. Uh, yeah.
He used the tip of the cane to hit the little flaps that would keep the wheels from rolling crazily around, and then glanced at her again. This was a new experience for him, not being in control. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Allison knew what she wanted him to do. Needed him to do, actually. So she pulled up her skirt, watching his eyes widen at her actions. And how they widened even further when her nakedness underneath the skirt became apparent. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and tangled her fingers in his hair, then tugging gently downward on his head until he got the idea and tossed his cane onto a nearby counter, grabbing her hips in strong hands. Bending down until he could thrust his tongue between her folds.
She swallowed a gasp, tangling both hands in his hair and struggling to lock her knees. God, he was doing it. She couldn’t believe he was doing it. But she deserved this from him, for all the cruel words that had come out of that mouth, directed at her. He might as well use that mouth for good right about now.
He’d gotten the shock of his life. Prim and proper Dr. Cameron, stalking in here without underwear. It made his dick spring to instant attention. And then how she’d aggressively pulled him into her. Practically forced him into her sweetness. Fuck, he was going to have a fucking heart attack.
He shifted his hands from her hips to her ass, squeezing her cheeks tightly, pushing his tongue hard inside her. So very hot, so wet. Musk and salt and sweet, his favourite flavour combination. Her fingers were wound so tightly in his hair that the roots were starting to ache, but he didn’t care. Just pulled his tongue out and set off in search of her clit, quickly finding the area in question and sucking hard on it.
Allison threw her head back, biting her lip as his talented mouth toyed with her. She clutched her thighs together, not caring about the prickle of his stubble, about his fingers digging bruisingly hard into her flesh. All she cared about was the suction around her clit, the delicious tugging, the almost inaudible growling sound House was making as he gave her what she needed.
She let him get her right to the edge, before using her grip on his hair to force his head away. She wanted to come with him inside her, wanted to see those blue eyes staring into hers as they both lost control. Make sure he knew he was with her, not anyone else.
He couldn’t believe she’d made him stop. Just when he’d been about to shove his fingers inside her, make her break into pieces around him. Christ. What was she trying to do to him? If this was payback for him using her, it sure as Hell fell under ‘cruel and unusual’-
She was walking away, leaving him there with her scent in his nostrils and her juices all over his mouth and chin, and he watched her in a daze. He was unable to think, to reason, until she turned around, pressing her back against the metal wall. “Well,” she said, looking impatient. “What are you waiting for, House?”
He managed to keep his jaw from coming off and hitting the floor, but it was a near thing. Ignoring his cane, he got up and hobbled over to her. Bracing himself against the wall with both hands as slim fingers attacked his fly, popping open the button, ripping the zipper down. He didn’t know where this vixen had come from, but he wasn’t complaining. Except for his thigh, but he did his best to ignore that.
He was hard and pulsing under her hands, and Allison pushed layers of fabric out of the way, stroking up and down his shaft a few times. Looking up to meet his intense gaze. But she was impatient. This was for her, not for him. Her hand sought out a condom packet from the lab coat she was still wearing, and she tore the packet open, unrolling the latex onto him. Before gathering her skirt up again.
The height difference was going to be a bitch, but he gritted his teeth and crouched as much as he had to, doing his best to ignore the angry spike of pain in his thigh. Then he was closing his eyes and grinding his teeth together for a different reason, fighting for control as Allison guided him into her pulsing depths. He’d done a lot of kinky things in his youth, but having sex when both him and his lover were almost fully clothed, in a public place, with so demanding a female partner? And all this after burning his ex? That had to top everything.
She was moaning, the sound music to his ears, and he opened his eyes again, almost shooting his load right that moment as he saw that she’d slid her hands beneath her blouse, obviously playing with her own nipples.
Allison shoved her hips against him, hard, wanting that orgasm that she’d denied herself earlier. Locking her gaze with his as she stroked her own nipples, as she pumped herself back and forth along his shaft. She wanted to come hard and fast. Yes, they were both almost clothed, but if anyone caught them it would be very obvious what they were doing. So ending this quickly was in everyone’s best interests.
House’s leg was hurting, hurting bad despite the earlier dose of Vicodin, but he didn’t care. He figured at this rate, he’d only last another minute or two, and his leg could handle that. Just as long as Cameron came before him, he’d be a happy man. Ladies first, after all.
Allison was so close, she just needed that little extra to push her over the edge. And she knew House needed both hands to hold himself up, so instead of ordering him to touch her - this time, anyway - she did it herself, sliding one hand out of her blouse and down towards her clit, teasing and pressing. She kept watching the expression on House’s face, watching him watch her.
The pleasure reached a crest, warmth spreading from her clit to her inner thighs and belly, then taking over the rest of her body as she drew in a sharp breath, biting her lip again, trying to be as quiet as possible.
She was climaxing, shaking around him, but her eyes somehow were still open, still looking into his. Her muscles clutching, milking him, and he gave in gratefully, thrusting roughly into her, spilling himself, hands coming down from their position on the wall to grip her shoulders.
His leg wouldn’t take any more. He was going to fall down if he didn’t get off his feet, so slowly, reluctantly, House eased himself out of her. Unmindful of the condom he was still wearing, he limped back to the stool and sat down heavily, stuffing himself back into underwear and jeans and zipping himself up. While across the room, Cameron was straightening her own clothes.
They stared at each other in silence.
*~*~*
House was a happy man.
Stacy, as he’d predicted - hoped - had taken her husband and exited stage left. Now he could focus on his job, without the daily struggle and stress of having to deal with her and of the ghosts of the past.
But that wasn’t the only reason he was happy - well, happy for a cantankerous old asshole, anyway. He’d made progress. Not that anyone other than him and Cameron knew it. That was fine, however. He preferred to have no personal life, at least within the hospital walls.
He’d solved their latest case, too. All in all, a good week. And part of the reason for that good week was coming into his office right now, in fact, heels clicking and skirt swishing. For the first time since hiring her, she’d worn a skirt nearly daily. Ever since their late-night tryst in the lab. Sneaky little minx, he thought with an inner grin. Ah, that Allison was just full of surprises. Lucky him.
“Your place or mine?” he asked, pretending indifference. Already, they’d fallen into a kind of routine. A comfortable one. Go figure.
Allison smiled at him, fulfilling her end of the routine. “Mine has food.”
He grinned then, pleased. Some things changed, and some things stayed the same.
But luckily, some things did change.
FIN
Crossposted to AO3