Cameron turned off the taps and slid into the steaming water. Lavender scented bubbles covered her skin, tickling her chin as she let her body relax completely, head resting on the back of the tub. She calculated that she had at least another hour with the house to herself: House was stuck with clinic duty until 5, while she had managed to sneak out of the hospital after stabilizing her patient.

Reaching for the razor and shaving cream, Cameron propped her leg up on the edge of the bathtub, bent her knee and started at her ankle. She had just finished shaving her right leg when she heard the front door open, followed by the sounds of House getting settled in. A few minutes later he entered the bathroom, a bottle of beer in one hand.

"You're home early," Cameron said, adding more lather to her kneecap.

"I am. You're naked." House sat down on the edge of the tub, took a swig of beer, then set the bottle and his cane on the floor.

Cameron grinned at him. "I am." She was rewarded with a returning grin by House. His eyes followed her movements as she glided the razor over her shin.

House dipped his hand into the water, swirled it around before scooping up a handful of bubbles and decorating her breasts with the foam. His thumb rubbed her nipples, drew concentric circles around them. Cameron stopped her movements and basked in his attentions.

"You should always be naked," he said as he stopped teasing her breasts, flicked the bubbles off his fingertips, reached across her leg and took the razor from her.

"Mm, I'll see what I can do about that," she said offhandedly. Her focus was now on House's hand as he dragged the razor over her knee and up her thigh. He moved in long, slow strokes, paying extra attention to the sharp angles of her kneecap. When he reached the top of her thigh, he rinsed the blade in the water before returning for another stroke. Cameron watched House, mesmerized. For a man who obviously rarely shaved himself, he was moving delicately and expertly over her skin. She felt a familiar warmth pooling between her legs, mixing with the hot bathwater.

House saved the soft skin of her inner thigh for last. Placing the flat of his hand on her leg, he spread her thighs to give him better access. With the next stroke of the razor, his knuckles brushed across Cameron's outer lips, and she gasped at the sensation. He stopped his movements and their eyes met. Cameron silently pleaded with him to continue. House's gaze was unrelenting, but not harsh. He knew he was affecting her, and he intended to maintain that sense of power.

With each subsequent stroke, House made sure to brush against her with his fingers, each time with a bit more pressure. Cameron arched her back and attempted to spread her legs wider, to press herself into his hand, but the sides of the tub prevented her from doing so. Instead, House rewarded her by deliberately making contact with her clit, however briefly. He smiled in satisfaction when she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

He was nearly done now. Only one more stroke, and he set the razor aside. He smoothed his palms across her silky smooth skin, from ankle to upper thigh, kneaded the muscle there. Cameron's breath was now coming in gasps; she silently pleaded with House for more, her eyes locking on his. In one swift movement, he grabbed her knee closest to him, pulled it toward him so that it was pressed against his waist, and with his other hand, slid two fingers inside her.

Cameron immediately cried out, momentarily broke eye contact with House before taking a deep breath and meeting his piercing blue stare again. He began moving his fingers inside her, deep, slow strokes. Fucking her with his hand the same way he fucks her with his cock. Hitting exactly the right spot. He has her memorized by now; knows what she likes, what she wants, what she needs. Right now she needs more, needs him deeper. She reached her own hand down. Grabbed hold of his ring finger, directed it toward her entrance to join his pointer and middle fingers, then held his hand firmly against her body as she moved her hips in time with his rhythm.

House never got tired of touching her like this, of watching the expression on her face change subtly as he pushed deeper into her, brought her closer and closer to losing control. He moved his fingers faster now and the water was sloshing around the tub, making waves and threatening to spill onto the floor. Cameron had tilted her head back, bit down on her lower lip, grasped the sides of the tubs with a white-knuckled grip. With his free hand, he lifted her right hand and brought it down between her thighs. She rested her hand on top of his briefly, moving with him, guiding him. And then she began rubbing her clit in small circles, and suddenly she was impossibly tight around his fingers.

He lowered his lips to her ear and started murmuring encouragement. "That's my girl, Cameron," and "Don't stop," and "Come for me Cameron, right now." And she did. He felt a rush of wetness, even in the water of the tub, and she squeezed his fingers and pulsed around him. Cameron was still circling her clit as her hips bucked against both of their hands. House closed his eyes as he continued to stroke her, amazed at the feeling of her coming around his fingers. She arched her back, moaned, cried out his name, begged him not to stop. But eventually, what felt like minutes later, her hips stopped moving, she stopped rubbing her clit, and laid her head back.

House gently removed his fingers and brought them to his lips. She tasted sweet and clean and tangy. He leaned over to place his lips on Cameron's so she too could taste herself. She moaned into his mouth and then sighed, perfectly content. House stood up, dried his hands off on Cameron's towel, and walked toward the bathroom door. He turned to face her before leaving.

"I'll be in the bedroom. And Cameron? Don't get dressed."