Title: Duality
Chapter: 1/1
Authors: jellybean30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Lot's o' lovin' goin' on.
Pairings: House/Cameron
Prompt: "The Hallmark Holiday" & Cinammon Candies (Red Hots)
Summary: Companion piece to Coward & Braveheart – This may be a little weird I'm experimenting. Regular text is House; Bold text is Cameron. Written for the 2/9/08 Saturday Night Challenge at the Fox Forum.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. But if they were, they'd be doing this in every episode.

This is possibly the stupidest thing you've ever done.
This is definitely the worst career move you've ever made.

She tastes so good, you don't care.
He tastes so good, you don't care.

You're in the back of a cab, neither of you has driven to the party, and you've given the driver your address. She is coming home with you. Allison Cameron. Coming home with you.
You're pressed against the door of a taxi, the handle is digging into your back and your shoe is stuck in the cheap floor mat, but you barely notice. He gave the driver his address. You are going to his place. Gregory House. Taking you home.

You throw money at the driver without looking at it. He doesn't try to climb out of the car after you, so you assume it is enough. You limp toward the door and she follows closely behind. You know she is checking you out, because you turn back to get a look at her dress again. You fumble with the keys because she is licking your neck while you try to open the door.
You wait impatiently while he flings a few bills into the open passenger window of the cab. He limps toward the door and you follow closely, but not so closely you can't admire the way his ass looks in his dress pants. You can't wait any longer. You run your tongue up his neck toward his ear, loving the softness of his skin just below his rough stubble. He fumbles with the lock.

You manage to get the door open after what feels like an eternity of her hot breath blowing in your ear. You limp inside quickly, but not as quickly as she does. She passes you in the doorway and pushes you against the door as it swings closed. You drop your cane right there and place both hands on the small of her back, intensely aroused by the texture of her smooth skin against your thumbs and the cool fabric of her dress against your palms and fingers.
You rush past him when he finally manages to get the door open, your intense arousal spurring you to take control. You push him back against the door before it closes. The clatter his cane makes as he drops it so he can hold with you both hands is satisfying, but not as satisfying as pressing yourself against him as fully as possible. Your nipples tighten impossibly harder as they press against his starched dress shirt.

You take a deep, ragged breath, as much to clear your lust hazed brain as to feel her nipples against your chest. If their current state is any indication, she is just as hot as you. You lift one hand from her hip and plunge it into her hair. The few pins holding it in place plink to the hardwood floor as you force her lips to yours roughly.
You moan lightly as he breathes, every movement of his chest causing painfully pleasurable friction against your nipples. He releases your hip and delves his hand into your hair, scattering your carefully placed hairpins onto the floor. You open your mouth to protest, not about your hair but that it hurts a bit, when he closes his lips over yours and takes possession of our mouth. You forget why you were protesting to being with.

Both hands now on her hips, you begin slowly walking her backwards toward your bedroom. Your kisses have become less frantic and more probing, causing you to lose focus a bit and back her into the wall. A mumbled sorry is all the apology she gets, but she doesn't seem to mind as she is kissing you again even as you're saying it.
You are positively tingling with anticipation as he begins guiding you backwards, towards his bedroom. At least, you assume he is guiding you until your back makes contact with the wall. You briefly think it's good you were going slowly. He mumbles sorry but you know his lips can be doing better things and cut him off mid apology.

You don't remember exactly how you made it into the bedroom, but you are there. For the first time since you entered your apartment, you let your hands wander over her body. Slowly up her deliciously naked back, you test her supple flesh against your long pianist's fingers until you reach the clasp of her dress at her neck. You release it, and stare at the glory that it unveils for you.
You're only aware of his tongue and lips until you realize that you've stopped moving. You're in his bedroom. His hands caress your back, causing goose bumps that, this time, have nothing to do with cold to break out over your skin. You feel the clasp of your dress let go and the dress peel away from your body to the waist.

You stare, long enough to make her blush, before taking one rosy nipple into your mouth and teasing it with your tongue until she moans out your name. Your fingers dance across her abdomen, flirting with her rib cage, and then around her back to unzip her dress. It puddles to the floor gracefully, but you barely acknowledge the fulfillment of that wish from earlier in the evening. Allison Cameron is standing in your bedroom wearing nothing but a thong, a pair of killer heels and a smile.
You quake under his intense stare, feeling the blush rising in your cheeks. You begin to wonder whether he is having second thoughts when he lowers his head to your breasts. His stubble is rough but his tongue is magnificent and you cry out his name. His fingers tickle you as he touches his way to your back and unzips your dress. It drifts to the floor at your feet in red satin waves, and you are left in nothing but your thong and heels. You see nothing but him, gaping at you, and you smile.

You shrug off your tuxedo jacket and fling it across the room. You wrench off the noose of a tie and drop it to the floor; it is already forgotten as you unbutton your shirt. She is watching you. She looks hungry. You fumble with the last few buttons, suddenly uncomfortable under her stare.
You watch him undress for you. You know you won't be disappointed when he gets his shirt off, but that isn't the clothing you're waiting for him to remove. You don't even try to hide the lust coursing through you; he already knows how much you want him. Or does he? You frown when his fingers stutter on the last buttons of his shirt. He looks uncertain again, and you don't know if you should reassure him or give him an out.

You finish unbuttoning your shirt, but you don't remove it. You don't know if the distance between you has cooled your desire that much, or if it is your insecurities, but you are suddenly very aware of how huge this is going to be and how many ways it can go wrong.
You want him touching you again, but you don't want him to do something he isn't ready for. You sense this could be huge between you, but only if he'll let it. Otherwise it's going to go very wrong very fast.

You finally look her in the eye, and you know she knows everything you are thinking. "I don't want to screw this up," you tell her.
You can't help but smile at his confession. He at least acknowledges this is something. "The only thing screwed up is you're way over there," you tell him.

You're glad she can keep things light. Nothing messes with your mojo like emotional talk. You take off your shirt and she comes to you, running her hands over your chest and up to your neck, fisting her hands in your hair and making you look at her.
You know now he wants this too, and you can help make it easier for him. You go to him as soon as his shirt is off, running your fingers up his chest and into his hair, grabbing fistfuls and forcing his eyes to yours.

You see everything you've ever been afraid of seeing in her eyes. Lust, longing …maybe even love. But now that you're here, in her arms, it doesn't scare you like you thought it would. Go figure. You kiss her and let thought go.
You see everything you always dreamed of in his eyes. Fear, replaced by longing...replaced by acceptance. You can imagine why he doubted you, but now that he doesn't it feels so much better than you ever imagined. He kisses you, and thought of any kind is driven from your mind.

You try to touch her everywhere at once, shoulders, breasts, back, and hips. You are overwhelmed by the feel of her, the taste of her, and the scent of her. You trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder, licking the hollow above her collarbone and nipping at her skin. You feel her hands at your waist, and then unfastening your pants. A single jealous thought surges to the forefront of your mind…how many countless times has she done this that resulted in such dexterity? You clamp your mouth down on her neck, possessively marking her skin like a dog marks his territory. She is yours now.
You feel his hands everywhere, on your back, your breasts, skirting his fingers in the waist band of your panties. You are panting as he kisses your neck; you need him now. You run your hands from his back around his waist and to the front of his pants, desperate to get them off him. You work quickly, and he seems to approve, if the hickey he's leaving is any indication. Everyone will see it but you don't care. You are his now.

You feel your pants drop to the floor and you toe off your shoes. You bend down awkwardly to remove your socks and as you peel the second one from your foot you look at up and are scant inches from where you long to be. The red satin thong tempts you with its hidden treasures. Still bent at the waist, you grab her hips roughly and force her back onto the bed, keeping your eyes on the prize.
You push his pants of his slender hips and sigh when he bends to take off his socks. You place your hands lightly on his back when you feel him tense. You worry that he has hurt his leg, but you needn't. You look down and he is staring at your panties like they are keeping something from him that he wants very badly. You smile as he grabs your hips and forces you back onto the bed.

You reach up and grab the thong with both hands, sliding it achingly slowly down her endless legs and over her heels. You unbuckle the straps at her ankles and toss her shoes across the room. They make a satisfying thunk when they hit the wall. You kiss your way up her right leg from her slightly swollen ankle nearly to her swollen core and then repeat with the left. By the time you reach her center, she is writhing and moaning a sweet symphony for you.
You lift your hips to let him slide the thong off more easily. You smile at his ceiling as he removes your shoes, but your eyes slip shut when he begins kissing his way up your right leg. When he's nearly reached the spot that longs for him, he abandons his ascent and begins to kiss his way up your left leg instead. You think fleetingly that this amount of foreplay could be considered torture. The closer he gets to your center the more you move and by the time he has reached it you are already moaning.

You slide your tongue over her experimentally. She cries out immediately, and although you didn't think you could want her any more, you do. You want to make her scream, cry, hyperventilate even. You run your tongue over her more purposefully now, but slowly so you can learn her reactions. She moans and whimpers and rolls her hips and you love it. You love her almost crosses your mind, but is driven out by the way she screams your name when she comes.
You can't stop the cry that escapes you when he finally lets his tongue begin exploring. You pant harshly and you think that you'll be in tears of ecstasy before the night is through. He takes his time to learn what you like the best and you love him for it. You love him, and you barely have enough conscious thought remaining to remember to scream out his name and not 'I love you' when you come.

You stand a little shakily, and wish you'd thought more about your leg before you started this. Kneeling there, although totally worth it, is going to cramp your style. You remove your boxers and stare down at her, eyes screwed shut, panting and clutching your sheets in her fists and are struck with an idea. You tilt your head to the side as you work out the logistics.
You lay in a sort of daze, coming down from your climax. You keep your eyes closed tightly, panting as you ride out the last few aftershocks. You realize slowly he's missing in action again, and open your eyes to a familiar sight. He is standing utterly still, head cocked to one side, eyes darting back and forth as he works something out in his mind.

You circle her legs with your arms and pull her to the edge of the bed. She is nearly hanging off the edge, and that's exactly where you want her. You place your right knee on the bed beside her and pull her legs up around your waist. She seems to know instinctively where you're going with this, as she locks her ankles at the small of your back and lifts her hips toward you. With most of your weight on your good leg, you angle yourself into her with a grunt of pleasure.
You aren't sure what he's doing when he starts dragging you toward the edge of the bed. You think you may just fall off completely, and you wonder if he has a thing for doing it on the floor. When he places his right knee on the bed it suddenly clicks, and you are grateful that medical mysteries aren't the only thing his IQ is good for figuring out. You lock your ankles at the small of his back and lift your hips to him.

You begin thrusting into her slowly, but strongly, and you think that kneeling for her was the right way to go, because she might not have time to come otherwise. She feels so good around you, hot, slick and tight. Any doubt left in your mind about this being a one time thing dissolves. She clenches and oh!...you need a distraction. "We're going to have to break up in early February," you say.
You gasp with every thrust as he moves within you, and think that you haven't really recovered from your first orgasm but can already feel your second building. You clench around him, working for that second climax, when he speaks and oh!...he's planning your break up already? "Why early February?"

"I don't do Valentine's Day," you pant, so glad she answered because now you can focus on what she's saying instead of what she's doing to you. You have to get deeper; you take hold of her legs and lift them from around your waist until they are straight against your chest, her ankles resting on either side of your face.
You cry out at his next thrust, so deep you can practically feel it in your chest. You're going to come, and soon, but you have to know what the hell he's talking about and why now? "What's wrong with Valentine's Day?"

You hesitate when she cries out, afraid for a second that maybe you've hurt her. But she asks you about Valentine's Day and you smile. Her voice is hitching as she speaks, and you think she's going to come again soon. Concentrating on V-Day, you begin thrusting with a little more speed. "It's a Hallmark holiday, made up by the greeting card and flower people to scam me out of my hard earned money."
You snort, you can't help it. You have never made love to someone who could make you feel so good and so annoyed at the same time. It is a singular talent, and you can't really be surprised that he possesses it. You want to argue back, but you're so close. You give in to him and tell him the truth without a fight. "I don't like Valentine's Day either."

"Liar," you pant out.
"I'm not …ah! …lying. I only want one thing on Valentine's Day," you breathe.

"Hot, mind-blowing sex?" you ask, smugly.
Smug, you think. You clench around him hard and force a groan from him. "I hope I don't have to wait until Valentine's Day for that."

You smile; she got you that time and you aren't too proud to admit it, at least to yourself. You still have to get deeper; you want to be buried in her. You lean forward, pressing her knees to her chest. "Fine, what's the one thing?"
Your eyes clamp shut when he presses forward, forcing your knees to your chest. Yoga class has never come more in handy. Your legs will still hate you in the morning, but they'll get over it. "Red Hots."

"Red Hots?" you grunt. Somehow that is just so Cameron, but it's so you at the same time. "You may be the perfect woman," you blurt out without thinking, and now you know the distraction isn't working anymore. You've lost control.
You almost don't hear his little confession; your pulse is so loud in your own ears. But that admission from him, although hardly a declaration of love, is all you need to hear.

You feel her clenching on you wildly, bucking her hips as she screams. You stop holding back and bury yourself in her as deep as you can manage. You hold your breath and see stars when you finally reach your climax.
You scream when you come, bucking your hips without any sort of rhythm, and tears run down your cheeks. You gasp when he drives into you for the final time and run your hands over his back while every muscle in his body tenses with his own release.

You withdraw from her and collapse on the bed spent. Your leg will regret this in the morning, but you will not. You feel her move from the bed, but you are too tired to lift your head to see where she is going. You pull yourself painfully around to lie on your pillow, already drifting towards sleep. You hear her coming back into the room and open your eyes. Her dress is hanging over the footboard of your bed. She climbs into bed and hands you your Vicodin and a bottle of water. You take them from her with a silent nod of thanks, the old awkwardness returning against your will.
You lower your legs when he collapses beside you and let them twitch and quiver for a minute before getting up. You tidy the clothes that are strewn about the floor, silly but you can't help it. You know if your legs are this shaky his must be screaming in pain, so you retrieve his Vicodin from his pants and hunt up a bottle of water from the kitchen. You climb into bed and hand them to him, unsettled to observe the silent nod and distant eyes.

You put the water bottle on the nightstand and turn back into her kiss. You tense for a split second, but it's only a split second. You know she can read you better than most, and you know she wants to be reassured you aren't regretting this.
You press your lips against his when he turns back to you. He tenses, but only for an instant. You want him to know he doesn't have to feel awkward around you, he never did.

You finish your kiss and stare at her in the dimness of your bedroom.
You finish the kiss and stare at him in the dimness of his bedroom. "You think too much," you say forcefully. "I like you, you like me, the sex is fantastic. The rest of it will work itself out."

You smile. You like this new Cameron who cuts to the chase. "Yes ma'am."
You smile in return to his smile. "I'm too young to be a ma'am."

You smile again and gather her in your arms. You drift toward sleep, wondering why this took so long.
You smile as he wraps his arms around you. You fall asleep quickly, thinking this had definitely been worth the wait.