NOTES: The NC17 version of this fic is posted at my LJ (link in my profile). If you're going to read this, I highly recommend you read that version, since it was intended as an NC17 fic when I wrote it. The next chapter of Numerary Logic will be up in the next week, I promise. Just had to take a quick break to write this fic, which was a birthday request from a friend.


It isn't really a surprise when Chase gets the text. There were no cases today, so he's home before dinner for once, though the prospect of yet another frozen meal seems vaguely depressing compared to the hospital cafeteria. The food might be of equal or lesser quality, but at least there are people there, instead of the quiet of his apartment. Cameron, being Cameron, spent the entire day doing honest work in the clinic, so Chase found himself stuck in the office with Foreman, who is allegedly working on a new article.

He's just finishing the microwaved excuse for macaroni and cheese, and searching for the remote to channel surf when his phone vibrates in the back pocket of his jeans. Chase jumps, having almost forgotten that it's there, and then scrambles to pull it out and open it, with the ridiculous and fleeting thought that someone has remembered what day it is and taken the time to call him. Instead, he finds a message from Cameron, though it isn't exactly disappointing, either.

My place, ASAP. You'd better not have other plans.

Smiling a little to himself, Chase snaps the phone shut and tosses the remains of his dinner in the trash, stopping only long enough to shrug into his coat and dig his keys out of the pocket.

It takes Chase barely twenty minutes to make it to Cameron's apartment after getting the text, fast enough that he spends a moment on her doorstep wondering whether this is too soon. He doesn't want to appear overly interested, after all. Still, she's seemed more lax on her rules of late, like maybe she's started to forget exactly what their arrangement is supposed to be, and enjoy it for what it's becoming. Taking a breath, he knocks on her door, remembering, as always, that night from over a year ago.

It takes Cameron a moment to answer the door, leaving Chase to hold his breath in nervous anticipation. When she does open it, he realizes that the lights in her apartment are off, and she's staying uncharacteristically hidden in the shadows.

"Hi," Chase breathes nervously, suddenly not sure what she has planned. Their arrangement has always been under her control; if he's honest with himself, he likes her calling the shots. But this seems unlike any other time he's been to her apartment, and little tendrils of anticipatory adrenaline begin to uncurl themselves in the pit of his stomach. "Can I come in?"

Cameron nods, though he can just barely see the motion of her head in the dimness, then steps back. As soon as Chase is inside, he realizes that the living room is dark because it's filled with candles, on the shelves leading toward her bedroom. They usually restrict their activities to her couch, but he isn't about to question this development. Then he catches sight of the cake on the coffee table, and his heart skips a beat.

"What's this?"

"Happy birthday," Cameron breathes, suddenly close to his ear. Chase jumps a little, having gotten so distracted by the cake that he's failed to notice her closing the distance between them.

"I—what?" Chase stammers. "But—how did you—I didn't tell anyone."

"House knows," Cameron says simply. "I was cleaning off his desk the other day. He had copies of all our personnel files." Chase tenses for a second, but Cameron just laughs. "Don't worry, I shredded them. God knows what he was doing."

"So—you found out about my birthday, and you decided to..." Chase trails off again, swallowing when he suddenly notices the reason for her having stayed concealed in shadows on the doorstep. She's dressed in a silky robe, and he can just begin to see a sliver of red peeking out the top.

"You have a very important decision to make," Cameron says coyly, ignoring his fumbling for words.

Chase raises his eyebrows, trying to regain some semblance of composure. He's used to her being aggressive, but never quite like this. Usually she's distant, focused, like sex is more of a competition than an act of intimacy. "What's that?"

"Cake now..." Cameron pauses, pulling at the drawstring of her robe until it falls open, revealing nothing but red lace underneath. "Or later."

Chase swallows hard, mouth suddenly very dry. "Later," he manages.

Cameron grins. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Then Cameron is kissing him, and the only things he's aware of are the minty-sweet tang of her lipgloss and the intricate texture of lace beneath his fingers as his hands find their way instinctively to her waist. She winds her arms around his neck, rocking her hips just enough to draw a low groan from the back of his throat. His body knows this routine, knows how to respond to her.

Pausing for a moment, Cameron presses him against the wall, flicking her tongue along the edge of his ear before delicately catching the lobe in her teeth. Chase runs his fingers along the feathery lace edges of her top until he reaches the familiar curve of her breasts.

"Come on," she breathes against his ear, and for a second he expects her to start ripping his clothes off right here in the hallway. A month ago she wouldn't have thought twice, wouldn't even have taken the time to give him any kind of a show, or to buy lingerie, for that matter. In the beginning, it was all about efficiency, getting the greatest amount of physical pleasure for the least emotional investment. But tonight, she simply grabs his hands, propelling him toward her bed once more.

Pausing with the edge of the mattress against the backs of his knees, Chase pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, dropping it in an inelegant heap on the floor. Cameron is already working on his jeans, deftly undoing button and then zipper, and he grunts appreciatively when her hand brushes his erection before shoving pants and boxers down with one movement. Chase steps out of the whole mess plus his shoes, not caring that everything is going to be horribly wrinkled when they're finished. Kicking his pile of clothes to the side, he sits heavily on the bed, swinging his legs up onto the mattress and lying back against the pillows to watch Cameron in the low light from the candles on her dresser.

Smiling devilishly, she climbs onto the foot of the bed and crawls up his body, all milky skin and curves of shadow accentuated by red lace in the golden glow. She moves slowly, almost feline, and Chase sucks in a fresh breath of anticipation. When she's practically covered his body with her own, knees to either side of his waist, Cameron stretches up to whisper in his ear again.

"It's your birthday. What do you want to do?"

"You—you're letting me choose?" Chase asks uncertainly. Her cardinal rule of this arrangement has always been that she is the one in charge. But everything seems different tonight, softer somehow. If he didn't know better, between the cake, the candles, and the lingerie, he would think she was being almost romantic.

"That's the idea," Cameron purrs, and the cadence of her voice makes him shift his hips impatiently.

"I want--" Chase swallows, trying to make sense of the million thoughts currently racing through his mind, which is no easy feat with Cameron's lace-covered body so very close by. "I want to go slowly."

Cameron raises her eyebrows, looking a mix of interested and amused. "Really? You don't want to be on top? I thought you'd jump at the chance."

Chase grins. "That too."

Stretching her arms above her head to give him the best possible view, Cameron rolls onto her back and sinks into the pillows, looking up at him with eyes that seem to reflect the candles' flames. Taking a moment to convince himself that this is actually real, Chase moves to hold himself over her, trailing a delicate line of kisses along her jaw and neck, but avoiding her lips when she makes a soft noise of frustration. Watching her face contort with need is secretly his favorite part of sex with Cameron, and Chase resolves to elicit that look from her as much as possible tonight.

Pushing up the lace of her top, Chase finds her breast again, this time with his mouth. Cameron squirms beneath him in response, one hand curling into his hair. Encouraged, Chase continues, bringing his thumb to her other breast to mirror the action of his tongue. She arches her back in response, tugging a little roughly at his hair, and Chase groans again, grinding himself against her hip a few times.

"Fuck," Cameron breathes huskily, and Chase snorts.

"That's the idea," he parrots playfully. Moving lower, he tickles a line down her stomach, watching goosebumps spread before following the same path with his mouth. Cameron shudders as dips his tongue into her navel, then veers off to press a gentle kiss against her hipbone.

"What are you doing?" she asks softly, sounding at once aroused and curious.

Chase looks up at her through his eyelashes, smiling wolfishly. "What does it look like?"

Cameron takes a moment to answer, choking when he brushes his fingers down her abdomen, stroking her very lightly through the lace. "I said—you could do whatever you wanted," she says at last, then makes a soft noise as he slides her panties down, lifting her hips eagerly. "Why are you--"

"Why are you complaining?" Chase kisses her to shut her up, not wanting to answer that question. Sex is his territory, the thing he knows how to do well. Real relationships are more uncertain, and Cameron would disapprove besides. "Maybe I just want to hear you beg."

Her eyes widen at that, but Chase doesn't give her a chance respond. Leaning down he grazes his teeth along her neck, groaning into her shoulder. She runs her hands along his back in response, groping his ass lightly before moving down to his hips, trying to urge him lower. Taking her cue, Chase sits back on his heels, then settles on his stomach, kissing the crease where her hip meets her thigh.

"Chase." It's a mix between a request and a command, impatient, though she's certainly not begging yet.

"What?" Chase asks innocently, ghosting his fingers over her to make her squirm.

"I'm not begging."

"Oh, no?" He breathes the words with his lips against her skin, watching his breath raise a fresh swath of goosebumps along her lower abdomen. Cameron bites her lip as he starts to stroke; it's an expression he's seen from her many times before, but tonight, like everything else, it seems different. Just a little deeper, just a little more alive.

"I think you're wrong," he challenges gently. He knows her breathing, knows the feel of her muscles contracting beneath his touch, knows the sounds she makes just before climax. He continues with his mouth and fingers until all the signs are there, then abruptly pulls away, sitting back on his heels again.

"Chase!" Cameron cries out, flushed and panting. She looks as though she's about to say something else, then realizes what he's doing and glares. But she can't hide her desire even through irritation, obviously still desperate for this to continue, and Chase laughs, feeling a surge of sudden confidence.

"Still not begging?"

"No," she insists, but her hands are fisted in the sheets, and she can't quite seem to keep her hips still, though he's not touching her anymore.

"No?" Chase drawls, cupping her breast again. "Well, I guess you won't mind if I want to go eat cake now, then."

"Chase!" she cries again, this time sitting bolt upright in the bed and grabbing his shoulders like she can pull him into doing what she wants. It's not quite begging, but the desperation in her voice and eyes is enough to remind him of his own needs.

"Well, if you don't want me to do that..." Letting go of her breast, he strokes himself a few times, lazily, groaning.

"I want you," Cameron growls. "Now."

"Okay," Chase agrees after a moment, but the game isn't over yet. Getting into position, he kisses her once more, before plunging himself into her. Cameron sucks in a breath, and it's all he can do to keep his hips still. Every fiber of his being is screaming with need now, demanding fulfillment, but he's come too far to give in without winning this challenge now. More than anything else, he wants her to admit that she needs him, wants him, if only just for sex.

"Come on," Cameron prods, though it's more of a demand than a request.

"What?" Chase asks innocently, stroking at an agonizingly slow pace. It's an exercise in self-control, but watching her face, there's nothing else he wants to be doing.


Ignoring her, Chase continues at the same pace, kissing her neck again. Cameron moans when he sucks on the sensitive spot just below her ear. "I think this is good. It's my birthday, right?" He smiles slowly, then grazes his teeth lightly over her clavicle.

"You're mean," Cameron chokes out, breathing harder again, and trying to drive her hips up to force a faster pace.

"You said it was my choice," Chase reminds her.

"Oh, god." Cameron rolls her head back on the pillow, fisting a hand in his hair and tugging. Elated by her reaction, Chase stills again, insisting on denying her what he knows she's desperate for by now. "Please."

It's the magic word, what he's been waiting for all night, or if he's honest with himself, much longer. It sends a dizzying wave of need over him, from his chest straight down to his groin. Stretching up, he whispers in her ear. "Sounds like begging to me." Chase doesn't wait for an answer before rolling them over, ignoring Cameron's confusion. "Your turn."

She doesn't waste a moment before starting to move, fast and hard, such a shocking change of pace that he finds himself almost overwhelmed. He can tell he's not going to last long now, not after drawing this out for so long already. Cameron reaches her climax a few moments later, moaning into his neck. Finally focusing on nothing but his own pleasure, Chase thrusts upward one final time before he comes with a strangled noise that sounds strange in his own ears. The orgasm rips through his body, release like he's the one who's been waiting, hoping, begging this entire time. Falling back against the pillows, he wraps his arms around Cameron, who is now limp and panting against his chest. It's moments like this that he's forced to savor, when she's sated and spent and too exhausted to remember her boundaries.

"So," he says playfully, when he can speak again, "time for cake?"

"Sure." Cameron laughs without lifting her head, her breath tickling his neck, and Chase can tell she has no intention of moving yet. "Just make sure you save at least one slice."

"What? Why?"

Cameron lifts her head just enough to look him in eye. "I've got big plans for that icing later tonight."

Chase sucks in a breath, mind suddenly flooded with new images. "Happy birthday to me."

Feedback is always appreciated!