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All Tied Up
by phineyj
Cameron was feeling much better. She was lying in a steaming hot, geranium and orange-scented bath, feet propped up on the tap end, while reading a magazine article ("Ten top tips to manage your boss"). She had poured herself a large glass of red wine, which was currently balancing precariously by the soap dish. Carefully, she draped the magazine across the side of the bath so it just cleared the bubbles, and took a large gulp.
She decided that this afternoon had just not happened. Denial was a marvelous thing. And she thought Richard might have had the hots for her. He'd been eyeing her up when she arrived for the meeting. Hopefully, he hadn't noticed anything amiss. She had his card - perhaps she might suggest he recommended in his report that House put his team's overtime rates up. This was a happy thought and she focused on all the clothes she could buy with a little extra cash each month.
Cameron had nearly drifted off to sleep when she was rudely woken from her reverie by an insistent knocking at her apartment door. House. No-one else would knock that loudly. She picked the magazine up again and determinedly turned to another article. He continued to knock. She continued to read. Then she heard voices in the corridor. Oh no. Mrs. Doney. She couldn't hear what her elderly neighbor was saying, but House's voice was coming through loud and clear.
"I'm a little worried about Allison," he was telling Mrs Doney, "She seemed off-color at work today, so I thought I'd come check on her, but she's not opening her door."
Cameron swore to herself and leapt out of the bath, accidentally dumping the magazine into the hot water, where its pages instantly stuck together. The last thing she needed was for her neighbor to offer to call the building superintendent.
She threw her robe on and walked quickly to her front door, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor. She flung the door open.
"Can I help you, Dr House?" she asked. Mrs. Doney said, "Allison! Are you all right my dear? Your colleague was just telling me..."
"I heard," said Cameron, cutting her off. She instantly felt bad. Mrs. Doney had always been extremely nice to her. "I'm absolutely fine," she said, softening her tone and looking the older woman in the eye, "but it's very sweet of you to be concerned about me. Now, are you coming in, Dr. House, as you're so worried?"
House made no further comment, but limped into her apartment. Cameron smiled again at her neighbor, and shut the door firmly behind them. She was shivering now - she hadn't bothered to towel off before putting her robe on, and her wet hair was dripping down her back in an unpleasant fashion.
"So, you've come over to apologize? " she said, looking at him coldly, as he wandered around her apartment, picking books and CDs up, inspecting them and putting them back down as though he were in a second hand bookstore. He didn't come over there very often; somehow they invariably ended up at his place.
"Yeah, because it didn't look to me like you were enjoying yourself earlier," House said, dropping into a chair, picking up the remote and switching the TV on. "Anyway, you started it. I always knew finance turned you on."
Cameron gave up, went into her bedroom, toweled off, got dressed - not bothering with underwear - and blow dried her hair fiercely until it was curly and shiny again. She walked silently through into the other room, where she watched with amusement as House, now stretched full length on her couch, threw a Vicodin in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth, while continuing to watch The OC. The tablet fell on the rug twice before he managed to capture it on his third attempt.
She cleared her throat. House rolled over and looked up at her, examining her low cut black v neck and short denim skirt with interest. "You put clothes on," he said, sounding disappointed, and added, "you left these in the hallway," holding out her maroon stockings.
Cameron reached out her hand and took them from him. She regarded the stockings thoughtfully and knelt down in front of House, between him and the television, making sure he had a good view of her cleavage. "I like this program better," he commented. Cameron reached out and ran one finger down the bulge in his jeans. "Oh yeah?" she said, in as sultry a tone as she could manage, "Then I think you'll enjoy what's on next."
She got up and walked back into her bedroom, trying not to giggle at the expression on House's face. She heard the couch springs creak and House hauled himself to his feet and limped after her. She turned to face him.
"Going to finish what you started earlier?" he asked, stopping a pace short of her.
"That depends," she said, thoughtfully. "Are you going to do what I say?"
House looked intrigued. "Unlikely," he said, "What do you have in mind?"
"Lie on the bed," Cameron said, in a commanding tone. House looked surprised but did as she asked, propping his cane against the nightstand. He laid back, hands behind his head, looking smug.
Cameron climbed on the bed, dropping the stockings on the pillow, and knelt over him, carefully, undoing his shirt and then motioning for him to slip it off. Then, she tied first one of his wrists to the bedpost with a stocking, then the other, making sure the knots wouldn't come undone.
"Have you been taking lessons from Chase again?" he asked, his expression highly intrigued, and then a little ashamed as he watched sadness flicker over her face. It had proved harder to forget about that little incident than he would have thought.
House watched as Cameron crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head.
"Now, that's more like it," he said, greatly enjoying the sight of her tits only inches from his face. Cameron shifted back a little, reached down and unzipped him, smiling to herself at how hard he was already. Then, she got up and fetched the chair from the corner of the room, throwing her still-damp robe off it onto the floor. She set the chair to the side of the bed, where House had a fine view of it, sat down, wriggled out of her skirt and spread her legs.
"Um, Cameron, sex normally involves a certain degree of physical proximity..."
"I know," she said calmly, "but you were enjoying watching so much earlier on, I thought you might like to carry on."
She closed her eyes as she started to touch herself. She hadn't ever done this before with an audience. Blocking out House's comments would be no problem - it was what she did every day - but she didn't want to watch him, watching her. She was wrong though; he didn't say a thing. All she could hear was the gentle burble of the television in the next room and the occasional creak as House shifted position on her bed.
As she used two fingers on her clit and flicked the thumb of her other hand across her nipple, Cameron thought about the first time she'd been with him; his surprising strength as he pinned her to the bed; the scrape of his stubble against the thin skin on her neck; how good his cock felt inside her. She was nearly there now; she could see flashes of light behind her closed eyelids. The chair was getting damp; she increased the pressure and cried out as her body pulsated around her fingers.
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House's phone was ringing. Cameron reached over, retrieved it from his pants pocket and read the caller display. She flipped it open. "Hi Wilson," she said, cheerily, still out of breath. "No, I'm sorry; he's a little tied up right now. Can he call you back?" She hung up.
Oh, he was going to make her pay, and pay big, for that.
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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 Fox Television, 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.
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