with a violin and a song to sing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
origamiflowers) wrote2006-10-20 04:59 am
origamiflowers) wrote2006-10-20 04:59 am
fic: House: Tangled - House/Cameron/Wilson
Title: Tangled
Fandom: House, M.D.
Characters/Pairings: Cameron, Wilson/Cameron, House/Cameron
Spoilers: none in particular, I think
Rating: R, mostly language and some sexuality
Word Count: 700-ish
Author's Notes: Done for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
backsexy challenge. My prompt was this picture. Warning: Amateur use of symbolism ahead.
*
She stands in front of the floor-length mirror, clad only in bra and panties, examining herself.
It always comes back to her. Like she's in some stupid fucking circle.
She trails a fingernail over it lightly, tilts her head to the side, sighs.
She thinks about dark lines, about intersections, about negative space, and it strikes her that it kind of looks like a spider web. Isn't that nice and fucking symbolic.
*
She can only see the top of his head, his dark hair brushing lightly over her skin as his mouth trails down her bare stomach. His touch is light, deft, experienced, as he handles her; with one hand he unbuttons her jeans and pulls the zipper down smoothly, in a single movement, and she registers a faint feeling of surprise. She should have known, she thinks, she should have known better.
Her head jerks up as he stops all of a sudden, his head rising, and she props herself up on her elbows and glares down at him, green eyes bright. Her unbuttoned shirt falls down by her sides, exposing her black cotton bra to further scrutiny.
"What was that for?" she asks, clearly annoyed.
He presses his lips together, hiding a smile, and moves his head silently toward - ?
Belatedly, she realizes what has caught his attention.
"I was nineteen and stupid," she says by way of explanation.
James quirks an eyebrow and keeps smiling that ridiculous half-smile of his, like he knows her, knows what goes on inside her head, like he's under her skin. It does nothing to soothe her irritation.
She glares at him, at his inactivity. To speed things along, she yanks down her jeans, exposing a generous amount of skin, and looks at him expectantly. Waiting.
He chuckles and dips his head toward the dark stain on her hipbone, tongue darting out to trace the edges. "I like it," he murmurs against her skin, and she shivers.
And then they don't talk.
*
A smirk plays over Greg's mouth when he sees it for the first time.
"Were you just feeling rebellious one day? Thought you'd show Mommy and Daddy just who was boss?"
She rolls her eyes and leans back, away from him, sitting back. "I'm not having this conversation." He hears the demand in her words, loud and insistent, but behind it there is a plea, too, softer but still there.
"How very Degrassi of you," he continues, as though he hadn't heard her. He's still examining her [even now, in the bedroom, he's no less a doctor].
"What's even more interesting is that you know what Degrassi is," she snaps, her patience unraveling with every passing moment that he continues to stare at her hip. She crosses her arms over her chest: her default posture around him. Safety in defiance.
He doesn't answer that, just pinches the skin around the tattoo lightly between his fingers, rubs a thumb over the rapidly spreading red. He can't stop looking; she has seen this look on his face - eyes narrowed, intense gaze, concentration - too many times not to recognize it.
Intrigue.
And when he looks up at her face again, the look doesn't leave his eyes.
He's fascinated by me, she thinks, and the thought slams into her gut with the force of a brick. She swallows, hard, and splays her fingers across his stomach, arching forward again, angling to distract him.
It works on him, but not her. [Never her.]
*
She's careful, careful, always careful. The sense of power, she learns quickly, is heady, almost dizzying. She tries not to let it make her stupid, but -
One day they exchange glances over a file, and their eyes both flick over to her for a second, and she thinks suddenly, a wild thought -
Maybe they're not the ones being played.
*
Cross-posted tobacksexy, housefic, house_cameron, house_everyone, cameron_wilson, and youmeandher.
Fandom: House, M.D.
Characters/Pairings: Cameron, Wilson/Cameron, House/Cameron
Spoilers: none in particular, I think
Rating: R, mostly language and some sexuality
Word Count: 700-ish
Author's Notes: Done for the
backsexy challenge. My prompt was this picture. Warning: Amateur use of symbolism ahead.
*
She stands in front of the floor-length mirror, clad only in bra and panties, examining herself.
It always comes back to her. Like she's in some stupid fucking circle.
She trails a fingernail over it lightly, tilts her head to the side, sighs.
She thinks about dark lines, about intersections, about negative space, and it strikes her that it kind of looks like a spider web. Isn't that nice and fucking symbolic.
*
She can only see the top of his head, his dark hair brushing lightly over her skin as his mouth trails down her bare stomach. His touch is light, deft, experienced, as he handles her; with one hand he unbuttons her jeans and pulls the zipper down smoothly, in a single movement, and she registers a faint feeling of surprise. She should have known, she thinks, she should have known better.
Her head jerks up as he stops all of a sudden, his head rising, and she props herself up on her elbows and glares down at him, green eyes bright. Her unbuttoned shirt falls down by her sides, exposing her black cotton bra to further scrutiny.
"What was that for?" she asks, clearly annoyed.
He presses his lips together, hiding a smile, and moves his head silently toward - ?
Belatedly, she realizes what has caught his attention.
"I was nineteen and stupid," she says by way of explanation.
James quirks an eyebrow and keeps smiling that ridiculous half-smile of his, like he knows her, knows what goes on inside her head, like he's under her skin. It does nothing to soothe her irritation.
She glares at him, at his inactivity. To speed things along, she yanks down her jeans, exposing a generous amount of skin, and looks at him expectantly. Waiting.
He chuckles and dips his head toward the dark stain on her hipbone, tongue darting out to trace the edges. "I like it," he murmurs against her skin, and she shivers.
And then they don't talk.
*
A smirk plays over Greg's mouth when he sees it for the first time.
"Were you just feeling rebellious one day? Thought you'd show Mommy and Daddy just who was boss?"
She rolls her eyes and leans back, away from him, sitting back. "I'm not having this conversation." He hears the demand in her words, loud and insistent, but behind it there is a plea, too, softer but still there.
"How very Degrassi of you," he continues, as though he hadn't heard her. He's still examining her [even now, in the bedroom, he's no less a doctor].
"What's even more interesting is that you know what Degrassi is," she snaps, her patience unraveling with every passing moment that he continues to stare at her hip. She crosses her arms over her chest: her default posture around him. Safety in defiance.
He doesn't answer that, just pinches the skin around the tattoo lightly between his fingers, rubs a thumb over the rapidly spreading red. He can't stop looking; she has seen this look on his face - eyes narrowed, intense gaze, concentration - too many times not to recognize it.
Intrigue.
And when he looks up at her face again, the look doesn't leave his eyes.
He's fascinated by me, she thinks, and the thought slams into her gut with the force of a brick. She swallows, hard, and splays her fingers across his stomach, arching forward again, angling to distract him.
It works on him, but not her. [Never her.]
*
She's careful, careful, always careful. The sense of power, she learns quickly, is heady, almost dizzying. She tries not to let it make her stupid, but -
One day they exchange glances over a file, and their eyes both flick over to her for a second, and she thinks suddenly, a wild thought -
Maybe they're not the ones being played.
*
Cross-posted to
backsexy, housefic, house_cameron, house_everyone, cameron_wilson, and youmeandher.
no subject
"What's even more interesting is that you know what Degrassi is," she snaps, her patience unraveling with every passing moment that he continues to stare at her hip. She crosses her arms over her chest: her default posture around him. Safety in defiance.
That is such a perfect House/Cameron paragraph that it could been place in every circumstance. And it says so much. Brilliant, brilliant work. :D
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That last paragraph - am I getting all confused and tangled up, or is it House and Wilson it's on about when it says
"One day they exchange glances over a file, and their eyes both flick over to her for a second"
xxxxxxxxx
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And the last line is so heartbreaking...
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One day they exchange glances over a file, and their eyes both flick over to her for a second, and she thinks suddenly, a wild thought -
Maybe they're not the ones being played.
Spectacular ending!!!
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I've been waiting to read sexy!Wilson for a loooooong time, and I love how you different his reaction from House's. Both were perfectly in character.
Bravo! This would make a great smut!series!
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You're not only a great writer, but you've definitely gotten in the heads of these people. Completely in character! Great job!
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