| |
Soft Focus
by Vita
Chase thinks that perhaps, if he tries very hard, perhaps claps his hands and really believes in fairies, he might just sink into the floor. Cameron, on the other hand, seems sort of nonplussed. More concerned about the files in the trash can than anything else. She's probably thinking about how they need to be shredded instead of dumped in the garbage, because Cameron is professional, constantly focused on whether or not she is being taken seriously...and yet, she appears surprisingly unrepentant about having her boss catch her in a closet in a compromising position, a fact which immediately leads Chase to a conclusion that he hates more than he really should, considering his less-than-sterling motives in this situation.
"I can't believe you," Chase splutters, and Cameron furrows her brow. "Was that really all you wanted? To get caught?" Her eyes narrow dangerously, and Chase realizes how little he cares right now if she's mad at him.
"What do you care? You just wanted to get laid!" she scoffs.
"I wanted to get laid without endangering my job," Chase snaps. He pulls his shirt back on and almost stomps out of the closet, until he realizes that few things could possibly be more conspicuous than stomping out of a closet followed closely by another person.
"You're overreacting."
Chase whirled around as Cameron stood there with her arms crossed. "Overreacting? Do you like being unemployed?"
"We're not on duty right now. Other than clean-up-the-table duty, and apparently House took care of that. He's not going to fire us." God, Chase hopes she's right. He opens his mouth and closes it again. She turns and starts heading for the locker room.
Cameron looks at him sideways as he catches up to her. "You still look worried. I think you need a distraction."
"I think we've had enough distractions today," Chase says. Are people looking at them? He can't tell.
"I'm sure I can think of something." She stops, and grabs his arm. "The sleep lab's free. We had it signed out in case we needed to run more tests on John."
"Are you insane? Were you not just in that closet with me?"
"Oh, please," Cameron rolls her eyes. "There's no way we'd get caught twice."
"You go ahead, I'll just watch," Chase replies. He's only gone three steps before he hears Cameron's voice again.
"We could do that." He turns and sees Cameron smile wickedly. "Sounds like fun, actually."
Ten minutes later, he's back in the control room of the sleep lab, looking for a headphone jack.
"Like you said," says Cameron. "I can't keep it down." She leaves the room, and Chase wonders if making the same bad decision twice in a 24-hour period is some kind of record.
Cameron reappears a minute later on the screen in front of him. Anticipation sends a shiver up his spine. Sex with Cameron is just sex, and by definition that's all it will ever be. Maybe freedom from the weight of building a relationship infuses the situation with an extra thrill, even when they're just in one of their own ordinary beds. Flaunting the hospital rules just adds an extra layer of forbidden excitement...despite, or perhaps because of, that little voice at the back of his head telling him that this is completely insane.
Cameron smiles up into the camera's slightly fish-eyed gaze, a glint of defiance in her eyes. She pulls the headband from her hair and shakes out chestnut locks, already looking wilder than the workday Cameron he thought he knew. She turns around, peeking over her shoulder with a theatrical wink before tugging off her sweater. Chase laughs at the touch of burlesque; he never would have taken Cameron for a performer, but she constantly surprises him by proving seductive in unexpected ways. She'd draped her sweater over the lens before, but this time she backs away, stepping out of her shoes and letting her trousers pool on the floor. The only light in the room is dim, softening the lines of Cameron's body into someone Chase isn't sure he knows at all.
She sits on the bed in profile, leaning back to roll off each trouser sock with her legs in the air, little feet elegantly pointed. She turns her head to the camera and smiles, like she's his personal pin-up girl. She twists her slender body until she is kneeling on the bed before the camera - before him - as she toys with the straps of her bra.
"I guess you want me to take this off, too," she says, her voice low and warm. Her eyes are a mystery from this distance; if they held any hesitation he would never know. With a flick of her fingers, she opens the clasp and the straps slide from her shoulders, and Chase swallows against his suddenly dry mouth.
"Any requests?" Cameron asks, brushing her hair away from her shoulders to give him the best view.
"Just...pretend I'm not here." This brings a lopsided smile to her lips for some reason, but she nods firmly all the same. He watches her hands glide smoothly over her hipbones, over the edge of her ribs to her breasts. Each caress is slow, deliberate, and seems to draw her into a trance of concentration. Her mouth falls slightly open as she rolls her thumbs over the darker circles of her nipples, her eyes closing briefly. The sound of her breath over the headphones quickens slightly, and he responds in kind.
When he accidentally spins a dial on the console, he realizes that the camera's controls are in his hands: a little focus, a little zoom. Nothing cinematic, but he still feels like he's directing a pornographic film, as the lens' view scans over her slim body. On the other hand, this is actually better than porn, because if Cameron was just a movie he'd be left to imagine how warm and velvet-soft her skin would feel beneath his hands. Instead he knows each inch of her flesh like a perfumed atlas of the world, so that with each brush of her thumbs, he remembers gooseflesh rising on her skin as her rosebud nipples hardened at his touch while Cameron lay on that very bed, not even 24 hours ago. A gasp from Cameron's lips snaps him out of his own reverie and he realizes that he's grown hard just watching her.
Her fingers hook into the thin elastic of her underwear and she slides them off while easing herself onto her back in what Chase can only conclude is some kind of exotic ninja sex trick: she's been holding out on him. He'd teased her for the ruffles and lace when they had disappeared for "lunch". It seemed so uncharacteristic.
"I thought you'd like them," she'd said with a wicked little smile, and he'd had to lean over and catch her bottom lip between his teeth.
Now Cameron's knees fall to the side before her hands trail along her thighs to the very spot where he knows her skin is softest. He whispers a curse as the fingers of Cameron's right hand stroke between the shadowy folds of her labia and the soft moan that follows fills his ears. He knows how she tastes there, and he remembers that she had hesitated the first time, as if going down on her was somehow more intimate than having sex on every available surface. Maybe there was something to her uncertainty, because if forced to confess, he wants personal knowledge of every inch of her body, through every physical sense.
Possession should lead to satisfaction, except that with Cameron's body mapped out almost to the nerve, he still craves something else that he can't yet define. Experimentally, he makes the camera zoom in on her face. The fluttering of her eyelids and the flush of arousal passing over her cheeks captivates him. No amount of flexibility will change the fact that he can't see her face when he is kneeling between her thighs, exploring with tongue and teeth. Chase wonders if he's used her own game to catch a glimpse of her that he was never meant to see. In this moment the camera seems meaningless; the walls might as well have crumbled to the ground.
Chase takes off the headphones and checks to make sure the door really is locked. When he puts them back on, he pans the camera back just in time to see Cameron plunge two fingers into her core. His cock throbs at the memory of sinking into that heat over and over again. He unfastens his trousers with trembling hands, breathing a sigh of relief as his erection finally has room to move. Cameron's hips shift on the bed, and Chase remembers the way they lift, the way her hands make snarls out of his hair when he curls his fingers into the right spot. She works her fingers in and out of slick heat, until Chase can't help gingerly stroking himself in hopes of soothing the ache in his groin. He can tell from Cameron's panting and breathy moans that she's in that perfect, suspended phase where he forgets about mutual agreements and the extensive list of things he shouldn't be doing if he wants to keep his job. The taste of salt on her skin comes to mind so vividly that it dances on the border between memory and hallucination.
Cameron whispers to a God she doesn't believe in as her fingers dance over her clit and Chase's head swims. By now her nails would be scraping his back, or he'd be gripping her hips as he thrust upwards, trying to lose himself in her body. He grips the cold metal edge of the counter, seeking any contrast to the alluring image on the screen. He needs to anchor himself in the real world, before he loses control to an imagined sensation.
"Allison," he whispers hoarsely, and he abruptly remembers that she can hear him when she freezes in place, her eyes darting nervously around the room before she settles into place again. Apparently she forgot she could hear him, too.
For a moment the rise and fall of her breath transfixes him, and he wonders if she expected him to have already joined her. By all logic, he should have been in there at least five minutes ago, when the sound of his own heart pounding from suspense and arousal almost drowned out her voice, but part of him wants to see where this will lead, if she will really follow through to the end of her own game. Honestly, he's not sure he could even stand up if he tried.
Cameron recovers from the interruption quickly enough. She looks directly at the camera, challenging him with her most unyielding gaze.
"Thought I was pretending you weren't here?" Her voice blends both irritation and invitation into a heady combination.
"I didn't tell you to stop," Chase drawls, drunk enough on arousal to see what happens if he sasses her a little. Objections can make Cameron dramatic, but she nods this time, seemingly pleased that somewhere in a back pocket, he's still got teeth.
A stretch, a slow undulation of Cameron's body and she begins again, her hand sliding furiously against her clit, the fingers of her other hand moving only slightly now, buried inside her. He is certain that if he reached out to her he would feel the quivering of her thigh muscles as she nears her climax.
He suddenly can't stand the thought of that happening without him, and he doesn't have long. He stumbles his way out of the door and practically falls through the door of the sleep lab room. Cameron smiles when she sees him.
"Thought you'd never get the message," she says warmly, "Get over here already."
"No," Chase replies, and the word sounds utterly foreign on his tongue. Cameron tilts her head on the pillow, her eyes narrowing slightly while she rests her hands on her thighs. He leans against the wall, shifting in place because he can't really stay still, and it takes pinching the web between his fingers and biting the inside of his cheek not to chuck it all and ravish her.
"I still want to see," he explains, "I just wanted to be closer." For a fleeting instant, Chase notices a flicker of the cool mask her features seem to form lately.
"Then come closer." She sits up and leans back on her elbows while she moves over on the bed, leaving him room to sit down beside her. She waits for him to get comfortable, which is sort of a joke considering his current state, but he appreciates the sentiment. Once they are settled, she smiles up at him while letting her hands resume their work.
"You can touch me if you want," Cameron hints, and she makes a sound of satisfaction when he complies, dragging his fingers on her pink-flushed skin in a leisurely tour of her breasts and her belly, until he reaches the crisp, damp curls between her thighs and their fingers are nearly entangled. The musky scent of her body floods his senses, blending with the sweet vanilla perfume she'd sprayed on after their lunchtime disappearance.
Her eyes shine with shameless pleasure as they meet his, as well as a vulnerability that he doesn't recognize at all. Her caresses turn frantic until a shudder finally passes through her body. Where he expects a cry, her mouth seems to simply fall open, only a whispered "yes". She seems to ride the wave for what is probably only a few more seconds but seems like an age to Chase as she draws out every sensation of bliss, her body quivering. Finally, she lifts her hands away and rolls onto her side with her eyes closed, exhausted and sated. Her face is half-buried in the pillow when Chase finds his ability to speak again.
"I don't know what you need me for," he manages to say.
"Maybe I don't," she counters, opening one eye. "Maybe I just have more fun with you." She reaches for the glaringly obvious bulge in his underwear and he tries not to moan too loudly. "Right now, I think you need me."
"Yeah. Definitely," Chase nods. He kicks off his trousers and boxers, then remembers to dig the last condom out of his wallet. If he hadn't already had sex twice in the past 24 hours, he probably would have had an orgasm just trying to roll the damned thing down his shaft. He vaguely remembers the camera, but Cameron doesn't look like she's up for any position that will involve her doing anything other than remaining prone. She rolls to her other side, facing the wall, and yes, Chase thinks, that appears to be a splendid idea. He doesn't even bother taking off his shirt before he presses himself against her back and slides one leg between hers. She helps him get into position and he groans with relief as he finally sinks inside her. He doesn't wait to start thrusting, and strokes her thigh with his free hand. She turns her head for a lopsided kiss when he nips at her shoulder; somehow even the taste of her mouth is more exciting now.
Waiting and watching took a toll on his patience. Chase isn't going to last. She probably won't care, but he wants to feel her muscles twitching around his cock. He reaches around to the silky pearl of her clit, stroking gently at first to make sure she's ready (he only made that mistake once), then quickens his caress until Cameron's hips jerk and she trembles from head to toe again with the sheet crumpled in her hand. He closes his eyes and focuses on pleasure, thrusting harder and murmuring Cameron's name as the wave of release finally hits him, spreading like electricity from his cock through his body.
He doesn't want to open his eyes, or even consider moving, even though he's sweaty, his shirt is probably disgusting, he has to dispose of the condom, and oh yes, they're in the sleep lab. The thought that gets him moving, in the end, is the recording he's left running in the control room. He kisses the nape of Cameron's neck one last time, and slips out of her with a feeling on the edge of regret. She disappears into the adjoining bathroom with her rumpled clothes while he pulls on his trousers. He strips the bed, then peeks outside the door to run the bundled sheets over to a laundry bin.
Cameron is waiting for him when he comes back with a smile on her face and a DVD in her hand.
"So, was it a good show?" she asks.
"Probably the best I've ever seen," Chase replies. She grins wolfishly, and steps close enough to him that if they weren't swimming in rumors before, they will be now.
"Then I think we should take it back to your place, and watch it on that nice, big television in your living room," Cameron suggests salaciously, tapping him on the chest with the jewel case. "What do you say?"
He'd been annoyed with her, not even an hour ago, and tomorrow is probably going to be even worse, once House has an audience. For now, though, maybe he should just let all of that slip his mind.
"Lead the way," Chase says, and when he holds the door for her on their way out, he wonders what it would be like to lay his hand at the small of her back for everyone to see.
Please post a comment on this story.
Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
|
|
|