The Intruder

After the first shock of waking up not alone, and being held down, Cameron's first thought was of her son. Had this intruder 'looked in' on him? Did he know Greg was here? He seemed to know far more than he should about her. It's likely he knew. If it was possible her pulse quickened more and she whimpered as a tear fell from her right eye, down her cheek.

It was then the man finally spoke. Barely a whisper in her ear, "You said you would know it was me. Calm down, Cameron."

It was then the floodgates opened. It was him. He was here. In her bed. Holding her. Granted it was just a little creepy, but it was exactly what she'd told him she wished for in her messages. She stopped struggling against him as she began to sob and wail. He slid her off him and they turned to face one another and for the first time in many years, blue eyes met green.

He raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheek. His hair was longer but a little thinner, his beard was full and thick rather than a few days worth of scruff. Both his hair and his beard were colored chestnut brown hiding all the gray. His eyes had more lines around them but they danced and looked at her in a way she'd missed since the day she walked out of his life so many years ago refusing to look back.

He smirked his trademark smirk. "You know, I pictured this whole thing being much hotter, sweatier and I expected you to be dripping fluid from an orifice other than your eyes."

"Oh, god! House!" She lunged forward, rolling him to his back and kissing him senseless.

"Hey, hey!" He grunted and groaned as her tongue filled his mouth but they were not noises of pleasure. She pulled back for a moment. "Leg! And I'm not House. House is dead. I'm just a guy that has the same limp."

She raised up to sit on him, smiled, then reached between them to grab his dick through his boxers. "There is nothing limp about this."

Then there were no more words. He nearly ripped off her sweater before she stopped kissing him long enough to toss the offending garment the breadth of the room. Her bra followed in short order. Looking down, she took a moment to observe the man beneath her. He was clad in light blue boxers and a worn out black graphic tee with a nearly completely faded logo for an indy band she'd known was popular for a minute in the mid-90s but couldn't remember the name of. He looked as perfectly fuckable as she remembered.

She leaned forward and resumed kissing him. 'Fuck he tastes just like I remember!'

Needing air once more, she raised from the deep and sloppy kiss. She ran a finger over the collar of his shirt. 'The collar is already ripped in places, and it would be so easy to just...'

In a moment of pure lust-fueled animal-need, she ripped his shirt open from neck to tail. He was wide eyed as he watched, and she took his look to be a positive signal. Her mouth followed the opening licking and biting its way all the way down to the hem of his boxers. Looking back up at him, she found his head thrown back. Pleased, she returned to her destination and sucked his weeping cock through the fabric of his light blue cotton boxers.

A moan seeped from him and she pulled his underwear down, taking no notice of his damaged leg. Her mind was elsewhere — a familiar sight greeted her and she took it in her mouth and took him in nearly to the base of his dick. She'd practiced on his clone enough times to take him deep without gagging.

He laid back fully, allowing her to pleasure him. Occasionally he bucked into her mouth, nearly choking her once, but she didn't let it deter her. His cock was magnificent. She wanted all of it and was more than pleased with the amount of control he exhibited thus far. A lesser man would have blown his load by now. House simply got harder (she wondered how that was even possible) until she reached the point she could no longer stand not having him inside of her pussy.

She crawled by up his body, slid herself over him and positioned his throbbing head at her entrance as she kissed him again. He grabbed her ass with both hands before she could sink down to join their bodies. "Condom. One Little Greg is good for now."

She exhaled and chided herself for becoming so lost with him. She never forgot things like protection when she was sober. Since Greg, even drunk she remembered. Then again, she was beyond drunk on House — this sex god beneath her. She rolled off of him and opened the drawer on the side table. There she found a pack of condoms and eyed them suspiciously.

"These are going to be a tight fit. Please tell me you brought your own."

"My pants are on the floor beside the bed. There's a couple in the front left pocket."

She pulled them out like a pirate who just found the mother load of buried treasure. A moment later she was rolling one on his length and sank onto him, all the while their eyes were locked. The intensity of the moment was second only to the moment her son let out his first cry and was placed on her chest. It was so powerful both had to look away. Despite that, she felt a peace she'd never felt before. And, unless she was so high on him she was imagining things, she was certain she saw the same look in his eyes before they broke contact.

She had never felt so full. His hands guided her thrusts as his mouth latched onto her neck. It didn't take long for them to reach the edge. Afterall, they'd had over a year's worth of foreplay that coalesced in that moment.

They screamed in unison at their climax.

"Fuck that was…" Cameron panted just as a different type of scream echoed from down the hall. She sighed as she sat up and looked down at House. "I have to go get him. I think we scared him."

There was practically negative cuddling, but she couldn't leave Greg to cry in the other room when she was sure their outburst was the cause. She grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a tee shirt, dressing as she moved out of the room to attend her son. The man in her bed, simply lay there exhausted and naked.

"Shhh, hey buddy. It's fine. You're fine. Mommy's fine." She picked him up and he clung to her. He was big for his age and dominated her small frame. He sobbed with his head on her shoulder as she cooed and rocked him. He sniffled and cried out to her "Stuart!" which was the name of his stuffed beanie dog and his security animal. She scooped it up from his bed and he took it with his right hand and curled it into his body all the while still clinging to his mother for dear life.

"You hungry, bub?"

He answered with only a nod and she carried him out of his room, down the short hallway to the kitchen. The closer they got, the more fidgety Greg became. It always amazed Cameron just how short a 3-year-old's memory was. The tears on his check weren't even dry by the time he was running across the kitchen floor shouting "Cereal!" merrily and climbing into his booster seat at the head of her small table.

"How about a treat this morning? Would you like it if mommy put some fruit loops in your cheerios?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Mommy! You da best Mommy."

"Thanks, bub." She smiles. Of late she'd been worried his new step mommy might start winning his heart. Ray had moved on. Anna and he had moved quickly. So much so, Cameron wondered if it had been something before the divorce. Not that she gave a hot damn. She didn't love Ray and there was nothing for him in their marriage toward the end.

Her only hope was that Anna could make room in her home for Cameron's son. Especially if Anna and Ray had more children. Time would tell. For now, things seemed fine.

Cameron finished filling his bowl and poured over the milk then handed it to him with a spoon. "Mommy's gotta get something from her room. She'll be right back," she told him as she petted his soft hair.

Greg continued eating happily, between bites chatting away at Stuart and did little to acknowledge her as she left the room. Two steps into the hall she runs into the other Greg, or whoever he is since Gregory House died. She stopped a few inches shy of bowling him over. He was dressed in jeans, an open oxford button down and no t-shirt. Oh yeah, I destroyed that. She thought happily. God, he still looked good. Better than good.

Sure, he needed a haircut, she missed the gray highlights and he could stand to be a little less hipster with the beard length, but the added age lines suited him. She'd always had a thing for older men. His long lean body was perfect. A pinch of love just about the sides of his waist but toned in all the right places. Strong arms and hands — hands perfectly sized for grabbing her ass.

He observed her assessment of his appearance smugly, then pressed her against the wall of the hall. "I loved that shirt. How are you going to make up for destroying it?"

"I can think of a few things. But first, I think I should know the name of the man I'm sleeping with."

His face lit with mirth as he told her, "Don Johnson."

She stared back a moment with an eyebrow raised. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, come on. You're a child of the 80's. I'm sure you had your elementary school girl crush on Sonny Crockett." He was right. She did. 'What girl didn't?' She mused.

"Okay, then Don," she replied as her hands roamed freely over his lightly haired chest. "I have to get dressed and meet Ray downstairs in 30 minutes to drop off Greg. After which, I have some very interesting plans for your johnson." She rubbed his penis through his jeans to emphasize her point. "In the meantime would you mind keeping an eye on Greg while I shower? Last thing I need to have is that freshly-fucked smell around Ray. He's just looking for reasons to kill all my visitation rights these days."

"Sure. Take me to the kid. I'll make sure he doesn't burn the place down. Got something to eat in this place?"