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Curbing the Pain
by mylexie
Curbing the Pain. This fic was written for Elicia8, and inspired by her wonderful drawing.
This was not how Wilson had envisioned it would happen. On the few occasions he'd thought about it (not that he's admit to that), they'd be sitting on the couch, and House would lay his hand on Wilson's thigh, and then make a rude but arousing comment. Or perhaps they'd be in House's office, and House'd have a bad cramp. And for once Wilson wouldn't be detered, and he'd massage House's leg until he noticed that this did more than just take pain away. And he'd quickly back away, and stare at House, and flush. And House would grin roquishly, grab him by the tie and kiss the living daylights out of him. He'd protest, of course, they were at work after all, but House would drag him home... No, he'd hardly thought about it at all.
Nor was this how he'd wanted it to happen. It should have been a happy occasion, not born out of desperation and pain and fear. Yet here they were, kissing, frotting, and it doesn't look like House is going to let go of him anytime soon. Not that he minds, because oh god, it felt good.
If you'd ask House, he'd tell you that yes, of course he fantasizes about Wilson, are you blind? The man's a walking wet dream half the time, and adorable the other half, so yes, he frequently tosses off thinking about his best friend. All right, so he imagines himself with Cuddy relatively often, as well, and with Carmen Electra and Catherine Zeta-Jones as well, but there is just something about Wilson... Still, this had not happened in any of his fantasies. Probably because it is one of the worst days of his life, and he'd really not thought about this at all yet. After all, his mum hadn't been that old yet, had been fairly healthy as far as he'd been aware, and really...
House snarles and kisses Wilson with some more force. As long as he is kissing Wilson, touching Wilson, fucking up his relationship with his best friend, he doesn't have to think about his mum, who is right now lying somewhere on a morgue table... He fists his hand into Wilson's hair, and catches the moan his impromptu lover is making. Kisses the open mouth as if to breathe in his friend's arousal, needing desperately to stop thinking.
He pushes Wilson into the wall and, after divesting him of his tie, starts opening the other man's shirt. Wilson's not being helpful at all, having shoved his hands under House's T-shirt, touching his belly, his chest, his nipples... With a groan, House rips open his friend's shirt and pushes it from his shoulders, causing Wilson to lose his grip on House's sides and stumbles back. House makes use of this an finally gets rid of the shirt, then stares at his best friend who's stripping off his undershirt and suddenly stands there, half naked. His chin is already slightly reddened from stubble burn, his hair is sticking out and House feels victorious when he notices how quickly he got his prim and proper friend so disheveled.
Wilson blushes under his friend's scrutiny, and decides to take advantage of the situation. They can't keep standing here for long, he knows, or sooner or later House's leg will ruin this completely, so he grabs his friend by the belt and gently drags him into the bedroom. In one move he pulls off House's T-shirt, but then House takes hold of his pants and suddenly he is distracted from undressing is friend because he flush up to the other man and his hard on is pushed into House's erection. He bucks his hips forward, causing House to tumble onto the bed, and leans forward to kiss his friend again.
This, he thinks dazedly, as House grabs his butt and massages it through his pants, is not going to take very long. Suddenly he's on the bed as well, with House half underneath him, sliding his hands into Wilson's pants, under his underwear, cupping his bare cheeks. He groans as House suckles on his right nipple, then lets go. The moment stretches, and suddenly Wilson remembers why they're doing this, that his friend has just lost his mother, the one person who loved House since he was born, loved him unreservedly, even though she couldn't protect him from his father. He kisses House on the forehead, a desperate gesture meant to convey his love and sorrow but his friend can't take it and hisses something, in a tone that makes clear that Wilson should stop worrying and instead distract him some more.
House bites a trail of kisses along Wilson's sides. He doesn't want to let go of his friend's fabulous ass but knows that if he wants to get further he's going to have to, at least for a moment to open Wilson's pants. His own jeans feel almost painfully tight around his erection by now, and he wishes that Wilson would do something about it. As he's demonstrated so often before, Wilson can read his mind, because the next moment fingers are running over his crotch, undoing the button and zipper... and then getting stuck because the jeans won't budge with House in this position. House has more luck, and gets Wilson's pants and boxers down with a minimum of fuss, then pushes up his hips so Wilson can help him out of his.
As these things go, both men still have their shoes and socks on, and they have to take a moment to get them untangled from their pants legs. House doesn't want to think about his mum - he isn't thinking about his mum! - so he focuses his attention on Wilson's prick. It's hard, the circumsized head a beautiful shade of red, and as he watches, House sees a drop forming on the tip of it, so without concious thought he leans forward and licks it off. Next to him, Wilson moans loudly and falls back onto the bed.
With a grin, House climbs on top of him. He's got to be careful now not to disturb his leg, but if he does this right... Yes! With a careful shove he's placed himself on his friend's body. His hard on is touching Wilson's, and if there's anything more amazing in the world than this feeling, House doesn't know what it is. Wilson responds by throwing his arms around him, one hand on his back and going down, the other taking hold of the back of his head. He lets himself be pulled into a kiss, and pushes his hips into Wilson's.
The sounds that are coming from Wilson are driving him crazy, and he responds in kind. Apparently his moans have the same effect on Wilson as Wilson's do on him, because his friend starts bucking his hips and pulls his mouth from House's to get air.
Wilson is going crazy. There's so much sensation he's sure he's going to overload. So much of House's skin to touch, House's scent to smell, the sounds his friend is making, and oh, the sight of him. Wilson kisses him frantically, and kisses him again. Moves his mouth to House's ear and breathes in it, bites the earlobe which causes House to tighten his hold on his shoulder and his nipple, which is now being painfully twisted. It turns him on more than ever.
House isn't thinking about anything at all anymore, because he feels the telltale tingle that says he's going to come soon. Neither of them has spoken since that first kiss, not even Wilson to ask him if he was sure, but suddenly House feels the need to say something. "Gonna come," he grunts, and feels Wilson going rigid under him. He pushes a little harder, slams him mouth to Wilson's and feels how his friend comes under him. It is enough to set him off as well.
Distantly, he thinks he wants this to go on forever, and then it's over and he's lying on top of Wilson and they're sticky and he's already getting cold. He shivers, and Wilson carefully rolls him over, climbs off the bed and goes to the bathroom, presumably to get a towel. House closes his eyes and slings his arm over them in an attempt to stave off the thoughts that are trying to intrude on the bliss he wants to keep feeling. Then Wilson is back and wipes him off with such tender movements that for a second he thinks he's going to burst into tears.
House hears the towel fall to the floor and feels Wilson getting into the bed and rearranging the covers until they're lying under them, but the doesn't remove his arm. It's only when Wilson moves them around so he's lying with his head in the crook of Wilson's arm that he looks at his friend. He attempts a glare, but it doesn't really seem to be working because Wilson stares at him sadly and presses another kiss to his forehead.
House swallows, and swallows, and he hates this and he can't take it and he feels the grief build and morph into anger, when Wilson rescues him once more.
"Want to tell me what that was about?" he says in the tone of the-suffering-best-friend-of-Greg-House. House seizes the return to normality with both hands, and responds, sounding like it's the most obvious thing in the world:
"Hey, it was your own fault! You hugged me!" He hopes that Wilson won't press him about his mum now, because he's tired and sad and he absolutely hates the helplessness he's feeling. Wilson doesn't disappoint.
"You'd just told me your mum's dead! Of course I hugged you! You're not going to tell me you have sex with anyone who hugs you!"
"Well, Chase wasn't very good, but I guess you could technically label it sex," he immediately retorts, and they look at each other and burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry about your mother," Wilson whispers softly, carefully, after the laughing spell has ended.
House just nods. He knows he doesn't have to say anything, just like Wilson knows there's really nothing to say. So Wilson just tightens his grip a little, and carts his fingers through House's hair. House wraps and arm around his friend. He doesn't know what the future will bring; whether this was a one night stand, whether they'll be able to look each other in the eye tomorrow (though he thinks so. Wilson is good at giving comfort and he is good at wanting Wilson, so for the moment, it works out.). He doesn't know yet when the funeral is going to be, or how he is supposed to meet his father without his mum present. He does know that Wilson will come with him, without him having to ask, probably even if he told him he didn't want him there, and that knowledge is comforting, and makes the whole situation just a little more bearable. So for tonight, he holds onto Wilson. It curbs his fears about tomorrow.
End.
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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 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.
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