This is written for a recent ficathon challenge I signed up for in LJ. I want to thank mikki13 for being such a patient Jedi master and to lafuego, bmax67, and goodshipak for being such awesome godmothers of fic!

The prompt I wrote for it can be found in my Livejournal.

You cannot sleep.

It is one of those nights when your body denies you the right to sleep. You've already downed a couple of pills and followed it up with a long swig of Scotch to help them along. Sometimes, the buzz from the Vicodin and the alcohol is enough, but you are not so lucky tonight.

(Well, they did do the job of numbing the pain.)

Unbidden, uninvited, your mind wanders to thoughts of her. Your tongue begins to move this way and that inside your mouth, reenacting the little love play she instigated in her attempt to distract you from her real motive. As a distraction, it ALMOST worked.

(If only the Scotch hadn't gotten in the way of the memory of her taste.)

You realize that recalling that kiss has ignited your baser instincts. Nothing new for you where Cameron is concerned (though it was a challenge to tone it down while Wilson was your house guest). The only question is what you'll have to do to set your little soldier "at ease" again.

(Annoyingly, your last case and recent round of dodging-the-annoying-questions has left you no time to surf for new porn.)

You have decided to call on the old stand-by…

You close your eyes, then move yourself and Cameron from the office into your bedroom. You let Cameron wear nothing but her doctor's coat, her glorious tresses loose and framing her beautiful, flushed face. You always cast yourself in a better light in a better light in these fantasies. Here, you didn't have a hideous scar causing you pain.

Fantasy-Cameron moves to the center of the bed, shedding her lab coat along the way, exposing a body you can only conjure in fantasy. The limbs, shoulders, and skin are definitely Cameron's--the images of her in her skimpy workout clothes and in that red dress have been permanently branded into your mind. You are forced to improvise the more intimate parts. You already have an idea of the shape of her breasts (that workout top she wore really defined those delectable little beauties) but the color of those peaks, you can only imagine.

(Sometimes, they're rosy pink; other times, they're light brown. Nevertheless, their sizes are always constant.)

Lying prone on your bed, Fantasy-Cameron gives you a sultry smirk as she raises her hands up over her head. She raises a shapely leg and traces a path upwards on your good thigh. You enjoy the view she inadvertently shows you as she moves her other leg in order to balance herself.

(Strangely enough, her ass reminds you of Cuddy's ass, albeit a lot paler, but that was another lifetime ago.)

Her big toe gently makes contact with your groin, eliciting a groan from you. You moan louder when it continues its progress up your engorged shaft, stopped to tweak the tip playfully...

(You could give Larry Flynt a run for his money…)

You can take it no longer. The scene shifts to you pushing her legs wide and entering her in one thrust. Your hands travel up to her outstretched arms, threading your fingers with hers before pinning her arms down on the mattress as your hips and hers undulate in rhythmic harmony. You thrust harder, putting all of your unsatisfied sexual hunger for Allison Cameron into this paragon. She takes it all in, accepting all of your forcefulness while begging for more.

(The moans of ecstasy spilling from her lips are products of your overactive imagination as well.)

(If only, if only, if only…)

You climax first. You stop moving, waiting for Cameron to climax as well, but it doesn't come. She raises her head up from the bed and whispers into your ear, "You did it again."

That's when you open you eyes--and feel the end results of masturbation while lying down on your stomach. Your arms are positioned over your head, your fists crumpling the dark blue sheet.

It looks like you got some sleep after all.