Cascade reaction

A.N. Everything above the horizontal line is safe. Below the horizontal line is a graphic sex act with more dirty talk. Reader discretion is advised. I'm updating late at night (UK time!) for a reason.

The site is pretty borked at the moment, and I had hoped it would be restored before uploading this chapter, but I can't put it off any longer.

Cameron held her hand under the shower stream. "The water's hot. Go forth into the breach".

"Like you've read Henry V", he scoffed.

"'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead'". She placed her hands on her hips and looked at him.

House was quietly impressed. But he wasn't about to tell her that—after all, he had a reputation to maintain—so he changed the subject: "I guess it was asking too much to go a whole day without washing", he announced, duly stepping into the stall.

"What about our bath earlier, though?".

"Can't speak for you, CB, but I didn't do much washing in that thing. Anyway, showering at night feels backwards".

He spent a moment or two getting wet before sinking into the patent blended toilet seat installed on the hospital's dime a few months ago. The thing had proved remarkably useful and, despite daily use, showed very little wear. He suspected that if or when he regained full mobility he would keep it in place. The crash had effected many unwelcome changes, but the option to shower sitting down wasn't one of them.

"Well, y'know", pouted Cameron, "if you don't want me to run my hands and mouth all over you and suck you dry, then we can just skip along straight to the bedroom". A pause, then she added: "metaphorical skipping in your case".

House wiped water out of his eyes and regarded her, completely naked, leaning against the frame of the open shower door. "Ouch. That's just mean".

She merely grinned at him.

"Look", he conceded slowly. "I've given it some thought and decided that a shower is a good idea. Big fan of showers, actually. Rome fell because they never figured out how to move beyond baths".

"Uhuh. So I'm stepping in?".

House got to his feet and held out his hand. "You're stepping in".

The immunologist took a couple of paces and finished face to face with him. It was certainly a tight squeeze in a stall designed for a single occupant, but that was part of the appeal. Any excuse to be close to each other.

She wet her face and body, feeling his gaze on her. Sure enough, having wiped her eyes of water, she ended up locked under his scrutiny. As she had confessed earlier, nothing made her excited like the looks this man gave her. With no one else had she been so aware, been made so aware, of the multi-faceted nature of attraction. Every previous partner, even her first husband, had appealed in one or two specific ways. The thing with Chase had been straightforwardly physical, exacerbated by her own fragility at the time; that with Sebastian Charles a combination of his ideals and openness, so soon after her rejection by House. Her husband, meanwhile, had needed someone by his bedside, and that itself had appealed.

House was different. Everything that made up his being attracted her, and there was nothing she would change if given the chance. Normal people, perhaps, might call her blinkered for this attitude, or possessed of a pair of rose-tinted spectacles. But even that wasn't the case, since she had long known what he was and how he behaved. Deeply flawed House may be, but so was she. Neither of them were normal people; neither free from the history that had produced them. And it was her desire to learn and love his history, alongside his present and future, that turned her on just as much as the blue eyes and uniquely weird personality.

"What's with the stare?", he asked through the falling water.

The question brought her back from these reflections. Instead of replying she kissed him hard, her tongue entering his mouth as she roamed his flanks with both hands. "Sit", she whispered.

He lowered himself back into the seat carefully.

Though the pain from the crash had largely subsided, his body did still ache. There was no getting away from it: the ketamine had mostly worn off. Nevertheless, this fact wasn't the end of the world simply because there were different coping mechanisms to hand this time around, not least the rehab and Cameron herself. Somewhat to his own annoyance, her presence lessened his pain, thereby proving the validity of psychological explanations. An unfortunate reality.

Cameron squeezed shampoo into his hair and set about creating a lather. While massaging his scalp she stood intentionally close; House needed no second invitation, his hands caressing her breasts before running down her ribcage to her hips. The woman had a body to die for.

But before he could explore any further, she spoke softly: "stay still while I soap you up". Sensing his disappointment, however, she kissed his nose reassuringly. "I promise, I'll let you feel me all over in the bedroom".

"How 'all over'?".

"All over", she repeated while retrieving the shower gel. "Whatever you want to do to me; however you want to, ah, do me, is fair game".

House didn't reply to that. Instead he sat back, allowing the water to cascade over his head and shoulders. Through the jets he could see Cameron watching with her mouth slightly open, her tongue trailing over her lips.

A few moments later she diverted the shower head to the side and started squirting soap directly onto his skin. Then, using both hands, she caressed his shoulders, running her palms deliberately from his collarbone down to his arm before repeating the dose on his other side. More soap soon followed. This time she crouched in front of him, her gaze travelling down his body, taking in the scars and punctures on his chest from the bus crash, the bullet wound on his abdomen. These were his soldier's uniform—the features, along with his leg infarction, that would remain part of him forever.

"What you looking at, girl?", he asked gruffly.

"The man of my dreams". How true this statement was. The nights spent dreaming of this day, both in this apartment and her own, were impossible to tally. This Saturday would be inscribed into her brain.

A year ago a trademark House eyeroll would have accompanied such a response. But now he knew better. Instead he reached out and brushed wet hair from her forehead.

This gesture caused Cameron to resume her work. She soaped his chest then used each hand to caress his pectoral muscles and sternum, feeling the toned definition beneath her prying fingers. When she reached his ribs, the one area of his upper body that bore the brunt of the impact, she lightened her strokes automatically, delicately tracing the contours of his body. A body she knew so well; almost as well as her own.

A slight tickle caused him to shift a little. "Sorry", she muttered. Despite the apology she never lifted her gaze from the movement of her hands.

For his part House remained quiet, examining Cameron's face. A long time living with her had attuned him to her various expressions. She had a natural downturn to the corners of her mouth which could make her appear mournful and serious, especially in times of stress, sadness, or extreme concentration. But this predisposition made it all the more impactful whenever she smiled or laughed. This in turn undoubtedly went some way towards explaining why he loved seeing and hearing her happy. Now, however, there was that same look of intense curiosity he had witnessed their first night together.

Cameron diverted the shower head so that the water streamed off his neck and shoulders. Then her hands drifted past his navel, sliding down his groin to his thighs. These she caressed with feather-light touches, taking special care over the ruined skin of his right leg.

House tensed.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?". She looked up.

"No. It's just…". Even though they had been together for many months in total, and she had touched this area frequently, he still found it difficult not to flinch, especially now that another war wound had joined that left by the infarction. He was out of practice.

Cameron nodded knowingly but said nothing further, washing his legs dutifully. Only when all the soap was rinsed did she, finally, set her eyes on the one part of his body that had remained untouched.

She took her time soaping up her hands, her gaze never leaving his cock. Without any further delay, she reached out and grasped it in both hands, running her fingers up and down his shaft, feeling it harden. After a few moments she moved to his balls and caressed them tenderly. "Yes", she whispered.

House inhaled.

Cameron had enjoyed her fair share of boyfriends, but truly no man she had experienced could rival House in this department. Size was one thing, of course, but it was more than that. As a doctor, she had often thought that aspects of the human body had been designed as if by a confused committee: the superfluous appendages like the coccyx and the appendix, for instance, both causing far more problems than they solved. But House's creator had been having a good day indeed.

When he was hard, as she liked to do, she sat back on her haunches to examine him. "Hello. Have you missed me? Because I've missed you".

"It's…it's a penis, Cameron", he pointed out. "Can't talk".

"That's not good. You think I should perform CPR?". She looked up under hooded lashes, grabbed the shower head, and rinsed him thoroughly.

House reached down from his seat and touched her legs which, thanks to her crouched position, were pressed against the shower floor. "You don't need to do this here. Your knees-".

"-my knees are fine. Tell me…should I perform CPR?". She edged forwards, and tilted her face in such a way that she was looking into his eyes while jerking him against her cheek, almost absentmindedly, as if she were rotating a pen in any number of differential diagnoses. It was the combination of sexy, willful innocence that most turned him on.

"Yes", he responded harshly, twisting his right hand in her hair.

"Well, alright, then". Cameron licked with the flat of her tongue from balls to tip, watching House watch her. She repeated this motion several times, tilting her head to access different angles. Everything about how he felt beneath her tongue was familiar even though it had been so long. Yummy.

While she reacquainted herself with an old friend, he grabbed the shower head and sprayed her body so that it remained shiny. He had always enjoyed seeing her wet, in all senses of the word; wet from water, wet from sweat, wet from herself. His hand trailed all over her skin as Cameron engulfed him without warning.

"Yes, good girl", he growled, stroking her cheek with his thumb before sitting back, every now and then spraying her with the shower head. "Don't talk until you make me come".

Gambit accepted. Needing no further prompting, Cameron played with his length, flicking it back and forth inside her mouth, alternating long, languid sucks with light kisses of the tip, using his involuntary murmurs to guide her efforts. He liked it best when she massaged him with her lips immediately after taking him deep, a contrasting pattern.

Despite the fog of lust, each time she withdrew slightly, just before consuming him again, her eyes darted habitually to the scars on his leg and abdomen, symbols of past eras in which she had nearly lost him. Right now, on her knees, in his shower, she swore she would do everything in her power to protect him. He would not need to fight to survive anymore; not if she had anything to do with it.

One of Cameron's hands was glued to his cock. The other rested on his knee. This hand House clasped in his own, intertwining their fingers as she started bobbing her head vigorously in his lap. Even over the sound of the water she could hear his whispered words: "maybe you do like sucking dick".

"Mmmnhh" was the only sound she could muster as she purposefully jammed him against the inside of her cheek before swirling her tongue over his head. She could discern his first fluid clearly now and it made her wet. But her hands were occupied, and there was not a chance she would break contact with him to pleasure herself.

"Maybe you are my willing slut, after all", he wondered.

Cameron couldn't resist popping him out of her mouth to answer: "fuck, yes".

House's response was immediate. The hand in her hair tightened. "I told you not to speak. If I have to tell you again, I'm not screwing you tonight. Suck me".

Her eyes widened with arousal, and she obediently resumed her task. This situation turned her on so much, and she had not had sex with House for so long, that she could feel herself begin to smoulder even though he had barely touched her.

House's gaze perceived all, though, and the hand which had been lost in her hair stroked her brow, forcing her attention to his face. "How desperately do you want to touch yourself now, hmm?".

Recognising this as a test, she didn't answer, instead licking once again from his balls to the tip of his cock. This wasn't about her, she knew. This was for him. She was on her knees willingly, completely, for him.

"Mmm", he nodded approvingly. "Well done, Dr. Cameron. Of course, you are not just a pretty face".

The immunologist's jaw ached and her knees hurt but there was not the slightest chance of stopping until he exploded into her mouth. Beneath her tongue she could feel his entire length seem to quiver it was so hard. The hand not entwined with his she used to jerk his shaft for a few moments, before moving down to caress his balls. The doctor in her recognised the signs of his impending climax and relished them.

"Stop". The order came suddenly, and his hand in her hair tightened once again. Holding him still, just inside her lips, she looked up at him questioningly, imploringly. "Show me how deep you can go. Can you take it all?", he asked.

Cameron nodded immediately, albeit through the slightest frisson of fear. Though she had taken him deep plenty of times, it had always been on her own terms, and even then the final inch or so usually remained free.

"Hmm". House's blue eyes burned, but despite his own excitement he didn't wish to hurt her. "Place both your hands on my knees. If you want out, drop your hands. Do you understand?".

She nodded again. Her hands went to his knees.

"OK. Keep your mouth closed for a second". House splashed both of them with water before placing his hands either side of her head. He pulled her towards his cock, rubbing the head against her pursed lips, enjoying the complex of sensations as his arousal built towards the end. "Now open. Keep your eyes on mine".

Cameron obeyed, losing herself in the blue of his eyes, dark as a storm. These were the moments for which she had waited so long. These were the moments for which she lived. Moments intensely private and completely theirs.

Very slowly he pulled her towards him, watching his shaft disappear into her mouth. He observed her lips stretching gradually as she took more of him inside, inch by inch. The sight caused a sudden tremor and he had to hold still for a second to bring himself back from the edge.

"Cameron", he muttered after a moment. "Do you know how unbelievably sexy you look right now?".

She looked up at him with lust-filled eyes and her hands stroked his knees. And do you know how many nights I've dreamed of doing this for you again?

House resumed their progress, her head sinking deeper into his lap. At this point, about three-quarters in, she usually flicked him from side to side, keeping her airway clear. But now, of course, all she felt was his inevitable advance. This thought brought the first stirring of apprehension.

He noticed, forcing another stop. "Take a breath. We're nearly there, beautiful".

Though House had called her beautiful before, he had never used it as a freestanding term of endearment and her eyes widened even as she breathed deeply through her nose.

"OK, drop your hands if you want out, remember? You're going to gag in a second".

The way he said this, as if it were completely unavoidable, made her resolute as House's hands on the back of her head pulled her completely into his lap. Though her mouth was now utterly full, her lips wide, her eyes beginning to water, with an iron will she suppressed her gag reflex, making the gentle force applied by his hands superfluous as she took him in to the hilt.

"Don't hurt yourself, Cameron. It's too far".

She ignored him, literally gargling against his length.

"Fuck, you're so-", he whispered, "your mouth is perfect. You're so hot, Camero-".

And that was it.

With no further warning, House exploded into his lover's mouth with an audible groan as the most blissful contractions pulsed through his cock. He tried to pull out, but her grip on his knees prevented the break in contact and she swallowed every last drop as it arrived.

Only when he was completely soft did she, finally, allow herself to withdraw, licking him softly all the same.

House's hands slipped to her own, and he pulled her up. She almost laughed at the expression of complete and total satiety on his face. He looked drunk on satisfaction. "Cameron, that was…".

"…amazing?", she supplied with wink. A job well done needed no false modesty.

House allowed her to tug him to his feet. He fixed the shower head in the holder. Then he placed both his hands at her waist and brushed his nose to hers. For some reason, the song from the bar that fateful night came back to him: "baby, I'm gonna keep on lovin' you 'cause-".

"-it's the only thing I wanna do", she offered immediately.

House eyes showed surprise at her knowledge of the lyrics, but he soon resumed the verse as their gazes locked: "I don't wanna sleep…".

"I just wanna keep on lovin' you…".

"And I meant every word I said…".

"When I said that I love you…".

"I meant that I love you forever", he finished.

With that, House and Cameron kissed tenderly through the steam, water cascading all around them as they lost themselves in each other.