For a long time, neither of them makes a sound; their kiss soft, but no longer shy. For House, this stark contrast to how he usually goes about things - how he has always gone about things since Stacy left - is almost unbearable as it forces him to consider that he's perhaps the more vulnerable of the two of them right now, and this isn't a position he often finds himself in when dealing with Cameron. Still, he allows the moment to last for just a little longer; everything that he had said to her back in the lab playing through his mind, and when he reaches up to cup her cheek, he does so gently.
Finally, she pulls back, and he thinks for a moment that she's going to tell him that this is a mistake, but she tastes like liquor and everything forbidden, and her pupils are blown as she studies him intently.
"Is this going to be comfortable for you on the sofa?"
Is all she asks, confirming where this is leading, and House stares her down as he contemplates the fact that for someone so slight, she feels wonderfully heavy - wonderfully real - sitting on top of him. Her question is both reassuringly and infuriatingly true to character, and he pulls her back down to taste her roughly; warning her not to ruin this by scaring him off.
Because that's a very real possibility right now. I want this; I shouldn't, but I do, we both do, but if you let me think about this - about you - too hard, I'm afraid that I'll do something unforgivable.
Unforgivable. He has never associated the term with the blonde before, simply because he has always basked in the belief that she will allow him anything. Now though, he's a little less certain. He's wary. He doesn't want her to say things - Cameron things - that force him to consider their past and their relationship, because, unlike the spite that so often drips from his tongue before he can stop it, this is an act he has always kept separate from the blonde. Sure, he has made numerous quips and suggestions, but he has done so mostly to irritate or embarrass her. Sex, for himself, for a great many years now, has been a practice of self-loathing and regret. It has been paid for, and meticulously uncaring. It's selfish and later tainted with a veil of disgust. He doesn't feel that way about Cameron - has never felt that way about her - and so all jokes and innuendos aside, he realises now just how nervously he has held her at arm's length in the past. It hadn't simply been to keep things from getting complicated and therefore aggravating; she'd actually meant something to him.
Her earlier revelation that she has offered herself up to him on several occasions burns in his skull as he nips the tip of her tongue lightly, and he finally understands how they've ended up where they are now.
He'd told her just now that he likes her, and he realises with some surprise that this is the absolute truth, and he hopes that if she doesn't say or do anything he would usually berate and chide her for, then maybe - maybe - he can refrain from hurting her.
Fortunately, she seems to have understood at least a little of what's going through his head, as she doesn't prompt him for an answer. She had asked her question out of simple consideration, but she'd regretted the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She'd asked to be kind, and knows that House is perfectly aware of this, but her words had carried the silent suggestion that they might otherwise retire to her bedroom, and she'd stiffened momentarily; afraid of what he might say to her to tease her.
So now, she says nothing, simply allowing him to deepen their kiss as she threads her fingers into his hair and presses against him suggestively. House takes the hint and lowers his hands from her face in order to explore more intimate regions, grinning against parted lips as he catches a shudder of laughter when his hands single-mindedly move to her ass. Responding to her amusement with a pointed squeeze, he feels her laugh harder - shaking with it, but silent - and suddenly wonders if this might all end up alright.
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't envisaged doing that once or twice."
He admits gruffly, and she smiles - he can feel it against his lips, still pressed to hers - and replies smartly
"Likewise."
"Wait, me doing that to you? Or have I been underestimating you?"
"Grievously, and a little of both."
"You've fantasised about groping me?"
"What, I can't have dirty thoughts because I'm a woman?"
"No. You can't have dirty thoughts because you're you."
"Oh, dear. This is going to be very educational for you."
The blonde smirks, sitting back and pulling her sweater off over her head, leaving her in just a thin scrap of cotton through which her bra is clearly visible. House swallows, thrown by her gall, before allowing his attention to wander south. It occurs to him that he has only studied her in such a way recently in order to irk her. Most often when he watches her, he does so curiously rather than hungrily.
Now though, he drinks her in intimately; assessing angles and curves usually hinted at but better covered. When she had worked for him, she'd shown a penchant for closely fitted shirts and sweaters, but her chosen style while on the job had always remained demure and professional, bordering on prim. The top she wears now is flimsy and hides very little, and after a moment's consideration, he helps her out of it.
"Well."
He states, his fingers travelling to her bra and touching the narrow band of lace encircling her ribs almost tentatively. He's aware that this proclamation is fairly lacking, and Cameron calls him on it with a small smile.
"Well?"
His eyes flicker up to meet hers, flashing irritably at her request that he elaborate, and he notes that her smile is wary but not shy, for which he is grateful; he doesn't want to have to reassure her in case he accidentally discloses too much. In case he says something or calls her something that he knows he shouldn't, because it would mean too much to her and he could never live up to the shift it would inevitably cause to their relationship.
Not that things aren't shifting drastically as it is...
Stop. Don't think about it.
This is sex - just sex - but if you tell her how she looks to you right now, it becomes more than that, so drop it.
"So far, so good."
He smiles dryly, and he pretends not to notice the way the softness of her expression becomes just a little more guarded.
Still, when she leans back in to kiss him before working down the buttons of his shirt, he allows his thumb to stroke over delicate lace gently as his other hand disappears into her hair. Such tentative affection is short-lived, however, as she surprises him with a bite to his lip and he responds by lowering his attention down to her throat; breathing in the familiar smell of her and of her apartment as she shifts her weight to make him groan.
"Okay, take off your jeans before we get ahead of ourselves."
Cameron instructs, and House studies her with amused curiosity; the blonde's tone politely assertive as though simply asking him to read off the figures on one of his charts. He almost teases her for it - fairly sure that this particular topic won't be one she'll take offence to - but then she pushes herself off of him so that he can comply with her demand and his gaze is level with her waist.
Level with the deep incision that had started the strangeness blossoming between them.
She has removed whatever gauze might have covered the injury after getting it stitched for the second time, and his eyes trail the thin, curved line that runs inside the peak of her hip. The stitches that have replaced the initial ones are less tidy than his own had been and he frowns as he'd guess she's going to end up with a more prominent scar. He supposes this might have happened either way given how she'd deemed it a good idea to abuse the laceration with a scalpel in the bathtub, and when he pushes himself up off the sofa, instead of removing his jeans, he touches his finger gently against her hip.
Green eyes flicker down and Cameron holds her breath, watching as House traces the wound; featherlight. She opens her mouth to ask him what he's doing, but he cuts her off; this kiss different from the rest as his hand buried in her hair keeps her there with something deeper than sordid hunger.
And for this, she is elated, but she knows better than to say anything or allow herself to give in to him, so she simply enjoys the taste of the bourbon on his breath before moving her hands down and unfastening his jeans herself. She pushes them down, along with his underwear, and feels him stiffen against her. For a moment, she imagines he does so out of pleasure, but then it occurs to her that House's thigh remains an unspoken discomfort, especially between the two of them as he perpetually recoils from her ingrained concern.
Stepping back, she gives the uneven surface of his flesh a brief but pointed glance, before shrugging and returning her gaze to arresting blue.
"Has that Vicodin kicked in?"
"Why, do you want one?"
House replies a little aggressively, but she simply smiles and confides
"No thank you, I'm already a little inebriated."
And with that, she reaches back and unclasps her bra before pushing down her jeans and underwear and regarding him expectantly.
"I was only asking so I'd know if it was alright to do this."
She explains, guiding him back onto the sofa none too gently and straddling him once again. It doesn't take much effort for her to do so as House remains momentarily dumbfounded by this swift progression; recalling all of the times back when she'd openly fawned over him and his presumptions that she'd require a far more delicate hand than he was ever likely to possess.
"Was that not okay?"
She asks, sensing a slight change in the vibe between them, and the faint note of uncertainty in her voice brings back the familiarity recently lost through the pale offering of her body.
A thousand answers dance through House's mind, most of them arguably amusing, but he's unsure if she'd appreciate any of them, so he says nothing. He simply pulls her in to taste her hungrily and trusts the physical reaction to her lack of attire will assure her that she needn't worry so much. His heart races as she takes him in her hand and blindly explores his length, before she lifts her hips and guides him with a shuddered breath as she lowers herself back down.
And then she begins to move.
Slowly at first, and House studies her intently as she keeps her eyes shut; noting minute changes in her expression as she gets used to him. It's not something he can recall a girl doing since the days when he'd first started experimenting as a teenager, and there is something sublimely intimate in watching the flicker of a frown touching her brow and the twitch to the side of her mouth as she remains otherwise silent and serene. He considers asking her if she's okay - wondering if this is something normal people do - but it seems preposterously out of character, and so instead he simply carries on watching her; mesmerised.
Finally, she begins to move faster, interrupting his voyeurism as she brushes her lips against his, and he reciprocates aggressively; striving to push away thoughts on the fact that he rarely feels the necessity - nor the inclination - to kiss his sexual partners as it only delays his release and asking them to leave. With Cameron, it's different. She tastes of liquor, and a little of salt, and he knows that every small noise that escapes her mouth to get lost in his is entirely genuine.
Genuine, and intoxicating. She had been telling the truth when she'd professed not to scream or moan when he'd teased her back in the examination room, and he finds himself relishing the fact. It's so far removed from his experiences over the last few years, and he reciprocates her more guttural expletives in kind as a warm ball of ecstasy begins to build in his gut.
Moving his hand down the flat plane of her stomach - careful to avoid the cut to her side - he increases her pleasure as he begins to fear she'll ruin him before long. She jerks violently in response, before laughing huskily and House groans, as the way this causes her inner muscles to flutter leaves him feeling light-headed. Picking up on this, Cameron grins; slowing her movements almost entirely in favour of simply flexing her stomach hard without warning and enjoying the positive reaction growled into her hair. At first, she does it on purpose - taking charge of his bliss - but as House continues to tease her with a similar cruel slowness, she tenses and flexes at the mercy of his fingers as her nails dig desperate crescents into his shoulders.
Reaching the point of no return, House accompanies his release with a sudden roughness to his touch and the blonde shudders with a low cry before tensing up completely; her head bowed with her teeth clamped over her bottom lip as House's hand grips her thigh hard enough to bruise.
"Fuck."
She breathes when she finally relaxes, and while he has heard her cuss out the others on a couple of rare occasions, it still tickles him to hear profanity fall from the blonde's lips.
Kiss-swollen lips; reddened by his scruff.
He regards her warily as she sits back and looks down at him with a sudden guardedness; her eyes obscurely dark with their pupils blown, but also nervous.
"Cameron..."
House starts, but he has no clue how to continue. His tongue burns with the taste of whisky - and a little hint of gin - and her flesh is warm and soft weighing over his.
"I know... Don't tell Wilson."
She tries to grin before silence engulfs them damningly.