Disclaimer: the author does not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Author's Note: Warning, the following is very naughty indeed.
For NaiveEve, who said, "Nothing is too graphic for me," which sounded like a challenge.
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21
House walked into the living room while Cameron packed clothes for the next day from her closet. With the journal behind him, there was no reason to avoid the comforts of home. She preferred his place too.
Cameron came out with a small bag. To avoid his worrying she was taking the place over she brought only clothes enough for tomorrow.
"All set?" he asked.
She reached out and took it off the bookshelf and slipped it into her bag. "All set."
He hoped his shock was well-concealed. Either he was dead wrong about the contents of the journal, or something even stranger was going on.
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As they entered House's apartment he said, "It's OC night…"
She knew that this tone indicated she was free to veto the selection. However, she had detected his OC jones throughout dinner, and was in no mood to deny him. "I think I'll take a bath."
"I'm sure that's more interesting: I'll watch that."
She kissed him on the cheek. "You watch the OC."
She left him there, and he stood motionless until he heard running water. Then he walked straight to her bag and pulled out the offending document.
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The Story of You and Me
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He turned the page.
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Today you asked me if I like monster trucks and I realized I like you.
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He slammed it closed. 'Holy shit.' He opened it again.
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Today you asked me if I like monster trucks and I realized I like you.
I like you.
And I asked you —like a date?— and you said, "Yeah, except for the date part," and I bought this journal.
I think you like me.
I can't believe I never noticed that I like you. You are so beautiful—and witty and clever and wise—which all mean "smart" but are not the same and nobody is all three.
I asked you —like a date?— and I wanted you to say yes. And now I feel ridiculous because if I hadn't asked it would have been a date and I've spoiled everything. But I couldn't help myself: you steal my impulse control.
If you had said, "do you like threesomes?" I would have said, "like a date?"
I wonder if you actually like threesomes.
I wonder what you like.
I wonder if you like me.
I spent the rest of the day mentally whipping myself for asking that. I stopped off after work to buy this, but before I could write in it:
As soon as I got in the door my hand was down my pants—thinking of you. Picturing your blue eyes when you asked me if I like monster trucks. Replaying it in my mind.
"Like a date?"
"Yeah,"
(In the fantasy you stop at 'yeah' and I come all over my hand.)
-
He closed the book. 'Holy shit.' He flipped through…pages and pages—no dates. Was it all like that? He flipped to a random page.
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Have you ever had a crush on someone you work with?
Today I caught myself just in time, reaching out to touch your hair.
Foreman saw.
I reached out, noticed what I was doing, and slammed my hand down to my side.
It must have been obvious when you looked at me that something had happened, because you looked at me intensely and asked me what I'd eaten for lunch.
Someday I'd like to eat you for lunch.
-
Almost without pausing, he flipped to another random page nearer the end.
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Today you saved someone's life. (Again.) Any other day. Ordinary.
Today you gave me the most spectacular sex of my life.
My life so far. I have a feeling I haven't seen your 'A' game yet. Scary thought.
We were just getting started and you said the sexiest thing: "Close your eyes."
I like when you tell me what to do—gently like that—like there's no doubt in your mind that I'm yours body and soul to do with as you please.
(I am.)
So I closed my eyes, and you weren't touching me. (Yet.)
I couldn't see you or hear you; it was perfectly quiet except I could hear my own breathing. Which sounded incredibly loud in the silence.
Then I felt your breath on me, between my legs. Enough to make my hair move. Torturous.
Usually you tease me for a while, but tonight you went straight for my clit. So good it was uncomfortable. I started to slide back on the mattress, away, but you grabbed my hips to hold me still.
If I'm doing myself and I feel that feeling—too much stimulation to the point where it almost hurts and I taste adrenaline—I back off.
But you didn't and I have never come that hard before.
When I came you backed off, for a moment, but before I was recovered AT ALL you were sucking hard on my clit again.
I said, "No."
But I was wrong.
You must have heard me (it was LOUD) and ignored me. I came again, harder.
Then you slid up to kiss me, and I could taste myself in your mouth which was so hot. I licked your face off, stubble scratching my tongue.
Then you fucked me. Hard.
(You know how I like it.)
You had told me to close my eyes, and I never opened them.
While you were fucking me, I closed my eyes tight because it feels so much more intense when it's totally black. Still some residual light seeps in and I want to cover my eyes with my hand while you screw me. But I worry what you'll think it means.
Everything's a symptom.
(When I do myself:
One hand on the vibrator, one hand over my eyes. And I yell your name.)
You were fucking me so hard and I wanted to tell you, "you're the best I've ever fucking had!" But you might find it cliché, so I hold it in. I don't know how you do that—fuck me that hard. Of course I came again during. Twice.
Afterwards you lay next to me and immediately reached down to touch me. You know how you always do. But I had to grab your wrist and stop you. It was too much.
I crossed my ankles and squeezed my thighs together. Flexed. I came again. Just from pressure and afterglow.
I've never had that happen before or since—orgasm without anything touching me.
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House looked around nervously. His breath was coming fast, pulse racing. He was painfully hard. He heard the tub start to drain, and quickly returned the journal to her bag.
He walked to the bathroom door and knocked with his cane.
"Come in."
He opened the door. Cameron's hair was in a towel, and one foot rested on the edge of the tub so she could finish drying off her leg.
She threw the towel over the rod, and he approached her. He took away her towel, leaving damp hair clinging to her skin. He took her in his arms and kissed her collarbone.
"How was the OC?"
He paused only long enough to say, "You taste like soap."
"Oh yeah?"
He mmm'ed against her skin. "You're delicious." He reached behind her and turned the knob of the second door, leading into the bedroom. He licked her lower lip, slipped his tongue in to kiss her ardently. His right fingers moved to knead her outer lips against her clit, making her gasp. In this way he herded her into the bedroom, flicking off the lights as he walked. "Lie down."
He quickly stripped. Cameron was on her back, and he moved between her thighs so he could resume their kiss. Large, warm hands roved over cool, pale skin. He opened his eyes to watch her expression. Normally they made love with at least a lamp on: there could never be enough of seeing her. But not tonight. He could barely make out the slight pinch of her brow furrowing.
He broke the kiss. "Cameron."
She gave him her wide-eyed, expectant look. "House."
"Close your eyes."
Her lids lowered obediently, and he detected the subtle signs of her heightened arousal. Her respiration was faster and deeper. Goosebumps rose on her skin; nipples hardened; she was flushed. She trembled beneath him.
He traced two fingers across her jaw line and down her neck, between her breasts and lower, to circle her navel and then dip between her folds. She writhed under his touch.
"Cameron, you're wet," he said flirtatiously. He slid the fingers inside her, drawing a gasp. He lowered his mouth to her clit, and massaged it with his lips. He worked it vigorously with his tongue. She was arcing of the bed, moaning loudly.
"Gently," she said.
He paused only long enough to mumble, "No." As he licked and sucked her legs thrashed, but he held tight to her waist.
Her fingers clutched his hair, but she was pressing, not pulling him away. She voiced her mounting gratification—she had never been so loud. She came, flooding his mouth and yelling, "House."
With hardly a pause, he crawled up and sank into her, forcing her mouth open with a rough kiss. He braced his weight firmly between his left knee and right arm. With his right hand he guided her leg up to wrap around his waist. She brought the other up as well and locked her ankles behind his back. She rocked up to meet each thrust.
She was squinting and biting down. 'She's close.'
He lifted his right hand to cover her eyes, and she let loose a little cry, "Ah!" He held his hand their as she twisted and wriggled under his grasp. "Oh, fuck! Fuck!" He felt her ripple and spasm around his hard cock, it seemed to go on and on. "House," it sounded like begging. "Ah, ah. Ungh!" Her body, slippery with sweat, convulsed. His hand was still on her face, and he slipped the tip of his thumb into her mouth. Seeing her suck and bite it as she came triggered House to snarl, "Cameron," and shoot hard into her.
They remained locked together a moment, recovering. He lifted his hand to reveal closed eyes. "Cameron."
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him, breathing hard through her mouth. "Cameron, you're the best I've ever had."