karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,

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What happens when a H/W slasher invites herself to a H/Cam smut-a-thon?

Title: My Aim is True
Author: Karaokegal
Word Count:3891
Rating: NC17
Paring: House/Cameron
Written for the hc_smut_a_thon
Extra-special thanks to Beta-Goddess Carol for services above and beyond the call of duty.
Written for soniced_up

What she wanted to see wanted to see in her story:
1. Wilson watching the action and maybe 'enjoying' himself. *nudge nudge, wink wink*.
2. A sex toy. Can be anything, conventional or unconventional.
3. Cameron making House work for it.

Three things she didn’t want anywhere near the story:
1. Stacy
2. OOCness. But I'd prefer season 1 House to the uber!evil House of season2
3. Lab!smut. It's just been overdone

It had been a long night, so long that it was nearly morning. House had finally cured Ester in the guise of a spooky-eyed child named Ian. Almost as gratifying was Wilson’s victory in the charity poker tournament, not that he’d actually tell Wilson that. Now they had the last table to themselves. They were playing for real money as the janitors vacuumed around them, trying to get the hospital ready for the day that was dawning outside.

House had used his patented “barnacle penis” line to throw off Wilson’s concentration. The broad smile and barely repressed giggle made House grin back in pure delight. For a few minutes life was almost not too bad.

He’d just raised when he saw Wilson’s focus change to a point past House’s shoulder. He looked that way and found Cameron standing there as if she expected something. He turned back to Wilson and found a familiar expression on his friend’s face.

Cameron did look stunning in that red dress. Earlier in the evening, House had taken the opportunity to stare open-mouthed and feign only a bit more interest than he actually felt. It was cruel to tease Cameron, but the moment seemed to warrant it.

Wilson had seen her in the dress, too. He’d come upstairs to consult on the case, when Cameron’s makeup was still fresh and her hair wasn’t starting to break out of its intended coif. Maybe he’d been too busy thinking about the patient and issuing dire pronouncements about white whales to fully appreciate Cameron’s appearance.

Now Wilson was openly staring and she seemed inclined to bask in his appreciative gaze. House needed to break this up right away.

“Cameron, I thought you’d left already. Why don’t you sit your pretty little tush down and watch me relieve Wilson here of some of his inflated salary.”

“No, thanks,” she replied with a yawn that carried her chest upward enough to display more cleavage than he would have given her credit for. The girl wasn’t over-endowed, but what she had was certainly getting Wilson’s attention. “I stayed to keep an eye on Ian. He’s doing much better.”

She walked away from the table the way a woman walks when she knows men are looking at her. She passed Wilson and took a few more steps before turning around.

“Dr. Wilson. I hear you won the poker tournament. Congratulations.” House could practically feel Wilson’s body temperature go up. “’Night, House,” she tossed over her shoulder before sweeping out in her Cinderella dress. If her slippers weren’t glass, they were probably equally uncomfortable.

House waited for Wilson to snap out of it. When he deigned to return his attention to the poker table, House threw his cards down in disgust.

“What?” Wilson asked, oblivious to the smitten grin he was wearing.

“I know that look. That’s the ‘time to get involved with a completely inappropriate transitional woman’ look. Last time I saw that look it was the stripper in Atlantic City.”

“She was a cocktail waitress.”

“You shacked up for three days and would have proposed if I hadn’t shown up at the door pretending to be your jealous gay lover.”

“Did I remember to thank you for that?”

“Not till I mentioned it in my best man speech. Are you going to ask Cameron out?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Wilson’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and defiance.

“You’re a mess but you impersonate a healthy human being with great skill. She still wants me. You two would just be consolation prizes for each other.”

Wilson laid down his own cards. The game was over. “And the ego has landed.”

House knew when he was being an ass. Right now he was just stating facts. “I could get her in bed on the first date.”

“You already had a first date. You blew it.”

House brushed off Wilson’s words with a girlish wave of his hand. “Oh, I was on the rag. You know how I get at that time of the month.”

“Then there was the time you practically waltzed into the office wearing a t-shirt that read ‘I just slept with Stacy’.”

“Those were the days.”

“Was that before or after she ended up sleeping with Chase? I think her lingering affection for you has been pretty well cured. She’s not stupid.”

“But she is persistent. And very bad at knowing when a cause is lost. You both need to be saved and I’m just the bastard to do it.”


She turned him down flat.

It was possible that blurting out “Hey, Cameron, want to go out with me Friday?” while she was answering his mail wasn’t the smoothest approach of all time, but this was Cameron. She was supposed to curl up at his feet the minute he stopped scowling.

“No way,” she said, squinting as though he were a particularly strange microbe that had turned up at the end of her microscope.

He tried again the next day. First he made sure to compliment her for a good suggestion during differential, after Chase and Foreman were safely out of the room. Then he offered to take her to a Seventy-Sixers’ game. She considered for a moment. House figured that her love of him was greater than her hatred of sports. After all, they’d had a good time at Monster Trucks. Then a look of disappointment crossed her face.

“Do you actually think I’m that stupid?” she asked sadly, to which there was no answer.

On Wednesday, he followed her into the ladies’ room and stood outside her stall while fending off glares and outraged shrieks.

“You know, ‘The Rules’ is so five years ago. This year, it’s ‘He Just Not That Into You.’.”

“I get that you’re not that into me,” she called from inside the stall. “Now leave me alone.”

“You’re making me work for it. I’m impressed. Now be a good girl and go out with me.”

Two boneheads from security showed up to escort him out. He could have fought one off with his cane and the other with his wit, but it wouldn’t be polite to show up two guys at the same time. He saluted and used the cane to march out under his own steam. He bumped into Wilson striding down the hall with one of his purple stickered folders and a serious look, which changed to near glee as he quickly assessed the situation.

“So how’s that ‘Win a Date with Cameron’ thing going?” Wilson asked in the voice he used when he was narrating life instead of living it.

“Come with me. I need reinforcements.”

“You’re actually asking for help?”

“Taking a page from my old man’s book.”

“You’re scaring me, House.”

They arrived at diagnostics to find Foreman and Chase playing Tic Tac Toe on the whiteboard in a rebellious statement of their profound boredom. He’d make them pay for abuse of his markers later. Right now he needed them. Beavis and Butthead looked up expectantly.

“Do we have a case?” Foreman asked. When would they learn that the goal was to avoid work?

“Hold your horses. We don’t have a minyan.”

Cameron arrived seconds later. House ushered her into the office with a bow of mock-courtliness.

“Welcome back, my friends, to the show that never ends. We’re so glad you could attend, step inside, step inside. “

“We still don’t have a minyan,” Wilson pointed out.

“Minions will have to do.” House shot back. “Atten-tion!” he bellowed in the style of an army drill instructor. “OK, men!” He did an eye-contact circuit of Foreman, Chase and Wilson. “I’ve been trying to get a date with Cameron and she has stubbornly refused. Naturally, if I take any sort of retaliatory action, Cuddy will be in here with her new legal beagle and we’ll all be giving depositions in a sexual harassment suit. You guys on the other hand….” He trailed off meaningfully. “If she doesn’t go on a date with me, I will devote myself to finding new and exciting ways to make your lives miserable.”

“And this would be different how?”

House had his cane poking at Chase’s chest before the words were even out of his insolent mouth. “You don’t want to know.”

“Fine,” said Foreman with a glare of exasperation. “Cameron, just say you’ll go out with the guy so we can actually get some work done around here.”

Chase leveled his best puppy-dog eyes at Cameron and Wilson shrugged, raising his hands in a gesture of supplication. Cameron shook her head at the Three Stooges before returning her attention to House. She met his eyes for almost five seconds before he managed to stare her down.

“OK.” She shrugged her shoulders as if agreeing to a trivial matter.

“OK?” House couldn’t believe she’d given in that easily.

“OK. You order the food. I’ll bring a movie. Eight o’clock good for you?”

House looked at Wilson who appeared equally nonplussed.

“You don’t want the whole restaurant and roses deal?”

“I screwed up before,” she admitted matter-of-factly. “I tried to drag you out of your comfort zone.”

“So now you propose to invade the heart of darkness?”

“You always tell us it’s better to make new mistakes.”

“You do realize that Wilson is still sleeping on my couch. Not nice to bounce him out just so we can watch ‘Death Race 2000’.”

“Wilson should be there. Without him, you’ll feel uncomfortable and take it out on me.”

House found himself staring. Cameron was wearing her usual work clothes, including one of the lace front blouses and a lab coat, but he felt as befuddled as he had pretended to be when she wore the red dress. If she really understood him that well, he might have to marry her or kill her. Luckily Cuddy showed up with a case before either one could occur. He snapped his fingers to get the team moving.

“What are you guys just standing around here for? There’s work to do.”


He ordered Thai. She brought “Mr. & Mrs. Smith.”

“What, they were out of ‘Gigli’?”

“Brad for me. Angelina for you.”

“What about Wilson?”

“I’m sure there’s something in there for him.”

She wore a denim jacket over a white sundress with sandals that laced up her ankles. When she removed the jacket, House was forced into awareness of her shoulders. He couldn’t concentrate on Angelina’s lips with that smooth skin just inches away on the couch. Even more frustrating, she was paying more attention to Wilson than to him. They were hogging the popcorn and sharing whispered comments. This was supposed to be his date, dammit. He couldn’t make his point if Cameron wasn’t even looking at him.

He leaned over to brush his lips against her shoulder. Her skin was warm and the heat instantly increased. Her body froze and the giggling turned into a gasp. Her head turned, slowly, as if she were afraid that moving too quickly would make him disappear back into indifference. Finally she faced him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes full of the same adoration he’d been trying to discourage for over a year. He told himself he was doing this for Wilson, that he had a purpose in kissing Cameron’s soft, sweet lips and pressing his hands against her sleek hair. He felt her fingers stroking his jaw as though trying to convince herself that her dream was coming true.

House pushed the kiss further, feeling like a bastard and more excited for feeling that way. Cameron moaned and melted against him while House gripped her shoulders. Her hands started moving down his body, appreciated the contours of his chest and stomach through the fabric of his t-shirt. She ran her hands along his arms, making the hair tingle with the lightness of her touch.

By the time she arrived at his hips, House was already hard. Her hands pressed against the denim over his erection, coaxing a groan that was stifled only by the fact that their mouths were glued together. Either the kiss was making him dizzy or Siam Palace was overdoing the spices in their pad thai. Either way he needed to come up for air.

When he did, Cameron slid out of his grasp and knelt before him on the floor, pushing the coffee table backwards slightly to make room. House tilted his head towards Wilson to remind Cameron they were not alone.

She grinned and shrugged. Her smile shouldn’t have been so innocent, considering she was undoing his jeans and reaching into his boxers. If Cameron, who could act like such a prude at work, had a private need for exhibitionism, who was he to argue? He and Wilson had been in similar situations before although it was usually House watching while Wilson got the goodies. This was a happy switch.

The only light in the room came from the TV set where Angelina was trying to run Brad over for some reason that couldn’t be half as important as his cock in Cameron’s hand. She brought her face down to rub her cheek against the head, smoothness touching smoothness.

“You were wrong,” she said softly, before blowing warm air onto his shaft.

He had no idea what she might be talking about. This would be a very odd moment to contradict his cold assessment of her reasons for being interested in him.

“Twelve years ago, I had a Nirvana t-shirt and I was in love with Kurt Cobain. Frankie Goes To Hollywood was a bit before my time.”

“Allison, are you sure this is the best time to remind me exactly how young you really are?”

“Yeah, Greg. I am.” It wasn’t until he heard his own given name that he realized he’d used hers.

So now it was Allison on her knees, wrapping her lips around his cock. Allison who was much too young for him and knew what she was doing because that thought excited him even more. He wanted to push her head down and make her suck in earnest instead of teasing. She didn’t have the skills of a professional, but enthusiasm counted for a lot. He could barely make out her features. For that moment, all that mattered was her mouth making him regret all the times he’d rejected her. He closed his eyes and focused on the smoothness of her lips against his skin. The juxtaposition of hard and soft made his legs tremble. He thrust up involuntarily and felt her gag.

“Sorry,” he whispered

“’S OK,” she gasped, holding him out of her mouth to get her breath back.

House glanced at Wilson. He was still facing the television set while doing an imitation of one of those deep-sea fish that have both eyes on one side of their head. With the break in action on his side of the couch, House could hear the distinctive sound of a hard-on being rubbed through the crisp fabric of suit pants. Their eyes met. The mixture of guilt and arousal on Wilson’s face made House’s cock twitch against Cameron’s hand.

She took a determined breath and soon House’s senses were flooded by her mouth moving up and down, maintaining rhythm and suction, and the awareness of Wilson’s increasing tempo, even though he was still too polite or too shy to unzip.

There were gunshots and explosions on the TV, but House knew he was far from his own detonation. Another reason he liked professionals. He paid them for patience and stamina. He let Cameron continue until he sensed the beginnings of the inevitable change from “Oh my god I’m sucking House’s cock” to “my jaw’s getting tired.” He touched her shoulder, signaling her to stop. She laid her head on his left knee.

Wilson’s strangled breathing filled the room, louder than what was passing for dialogue in the movie.

“You know, Wilson, if you need a friend, Trudy’s still in the bedroom closet.”

“Who’s Trudy?” Cameron asked, slightly out of breath herself.

“Inflatable sex doll. Left over from Wilson’s second bachelor party.”

“Third,” Wilson managed to gasp.

“I have an idea,” said Cameron, sounding a little too much like the smartest girl in school. “We’ll visit Trudy in the bedroom and leave the couch for Wilson. I think it’s his bedtime anyway.”

“What if he gets lonely?”

“We can leave the bedroom door open. “

House started to rise and realized exactly how stiff his bad leg had gotten. Even with the cane, it was going to be hard to get up. He looked down into Cameron’s face, searching for signs of pity, proof that he had correctly diagnosed her pathology. She gracefully rose from her own knees and waited while he did what it took to lever himself up with a grunt and a grimace.

“Sorry I can’t carry you into the bedroom.”

“You’ll make it up to me once we get there.”

He let himself drape an arm around her shoulder while turning to wink at Wilson. He made the walk look less painful than it was and he could feel Cameron struggling to give him less help than she wanted to.

Once in the bedroom, he sat down on the bed, legs slightly apart, gripping the cane tightly. He watched her do some magic trick that caused the dress to fall at her feet, revealing her slender body, followed quickly by her panties, which, he was happy to note, didn’t appear to have flowers anywhere.

In spite of cruelty, indifference and rejection, there she was. Approaching him with a tremulous smile and too much love in her eyes. He gave his mind one more chance to list the reasons he should not do this and then he told it to shut the hell up while he dropped the cane beside the bed and took his clothes off.

He caught her by surprise as she was gingerly getting into bed. Maybe she thought adding weight to the mattress would cause him pain. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her onto her back, pinning her with his arm strength and body weight.

“House?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t worry. I won’t break. How about you?”

“No breaking here.”

She wrapped her long legs around his back, raising her hips, looking for the connection. He reached his hand between her legs and found her slick, wet, wanting. He decided to tease her. He positioned his hips so that Cameron could feel just the head of his cock and then pulled back.

“House.” This time it was a whine of frustration.

He did it again, giving her a slightly bigger taste and pulling away. A re-enactment of their relationship.

“House!” Louder. Slamming her fist against the mattress.


“House, you bastard!”

She thrashed under him, chest heaving, face contorting with need.



Wilson must be enjoying this no end, he thought. Maybe he could get Cameron to let loose with some really foul language.

“What was that, Dr. Cameron? I can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me now, you son of a bitch!”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

He filled her completely, making her arch her head back in pleasure, screaming so loudly that Wilson might come running in to make sure he hadn’t killed her. Nah, Wilson was probably too busy, as was he. He thrust into Cameron again. And again. Making up for the teasing and rejections and cruelty. Giving her what she wanted. Their bodies slammed together. Her nails dug into his back. His leg would pay the price but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the sounds and sensations and her screams and eventually his as the realization hit him. He was fucking Cameron, coming into her, even, god help him, yelling her name as he felt the surge of pleasure wash over and through him.

For a moment, nothing hurt and nothing bad was going to happen.

“Allison,” he moaned again, before collapsing on top of her as his leg begged him to let go.

Her arms folded around him and he heard a deeply satisfied sigh. She must think he was finally letting her take care of him. Or maybe he was just a great fuck. He hoped Wilson had enjoyed the performance as much as he and Cameron had.


He woke up to his pain and Vicodin, but no sign of Cameron in his bed. He found his cane in easy reach and put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before carrying the pills into the living room. It was still dark outside.

Wilson had pulled a blanket over himself. His pants were folded and draped neatly over the back of the couch. House didn’t bother muffling his steps or the thump of the cane as he headed for the kitchen to raid the fridge for leftovers. He heard Wilson stir.

“Is she gone?” House asked, putting together a plate of food to accompany his pills.

“She’s not an idiot, you know.” Wilson sounded sleepy, but amused.

“She must be an idiot. She loves me. You still want to ask her out? Make her Mrs. Wilson #4?”

“After that performance? You’re damn right I’m taking her out. We’re going to the Franklin Museum on Sunday.”

House nearly dropped a spring roll in mid-bite. All that for nothing. Wilson was still going to…wait a minute. Wilson hated museums. Julie had been a docent and…it suddenly struck him that taking Cameron to the museum was the equivalent of filing through House’s cane.

He turned on a light and found James Wilson grinning in utter smugness.

“You almost had me,” he admitted. “You’re getting better at this. There will be retaliation.”

House took his snack to the piano along with a beer. He sat down feeling pleased with the night’s work. Wilson would find another object for his boundless affection, but it wouldn’t be a member of House’s team unless Foreman held some charm that House wasn’t aware of. Wilson would never date Cameron. Even that other time – “What makes you think I haven’t put the moves on her?” – had been a joke.

House played a few bars of a song with her name in it, before stopping cold. He reached quickly for a pill and downed it to try and short-circuit the pain of what his brain was telling him.

Wilson wasn’t going to date Cameron last year, he wasn’t going to date her tonight, and he had no intention of asking her out a week ago, red dress and all. House had been played.

“You manipulative bastard! Do you realize what happened here tonight?”

“Well, unless my ears were malfunctioning, you had really great sex with a beautiful woman who’s crazy about you. God, that must have been awful for you.”

House tried to put the pieces back together in his mind. Wilson’s smitten face. Cameron’s uncharacteristic feistiness.

“How much did you coach her?”

“I told you, she’s not an idiot.”

House started playing again. Thinking the lyric to himself. “I know this world is killing you.”

He’d slept with Cameron. It didn’t mean anything, but sex changes everything. He told himself he didn’t care about her, but everybody lies.

His aim had been to save Wilson and Cameron from each other. Now who was going to save him?
Tags: house/cameron, housefic, nc17

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  • Oh joy, oh rapture…

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