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Aqua
by Tiberias
Aqua
He's needy ... he's needy and greedy for my attention ... for me to look after him because he wants to ... he wants to hear, to know that I'm here. I'm here for him, only him ... possessive man he is ... and no matter what ... what ... what? Yeah, I'll always be here for him, and he will always be able to catch my hands, white knuckles wrapping tightly around my wrist as he pulls me against him and kisses me. Breathing ... breathing as he's stealing my own breath from my lungs, my tongue, my lips ... mixing saliva, something vaguely humid and sweet as he's kissing me, torturing my chin with his stubble and he doesn't care ... he doesn't even care that his fingers are pressing hard into my skin and will leave soft reddish bruises ... he doesn't care, does he? Eheh ... or maybe he secretly enjoys the fact that I will wear, that I will have his bruises, his marks ... his, his, only his ... and it's like a little electric discharge running through my whole body while thinking that in some ways I'm owned by him, by his instinct.
And his smell is intoxicating as I let him devour my neck, his wet and warm lips against my skin ... licking and biting each inch of my skin ... and he's my world ... right now he's my world, he's like an extension of myself as he keeps on sucking my skin ... delicious wet sounds that make me shiver and entwine my fingers in his short grey hair ... pulling a bit and hissing as he bites hard on my shoulder joint ... and the bastard ... eheh, the bastard just sniggers pulling away a bit to stare at the red marks that his sharp teeth left on it.
"Want me ... want me like I want you," he hisses against my lips, hot humid breath caressing my lips as he stares at me ... waiting, waiting for an answer ... and he knows that I truly want him, that I often can't deny anything to him because ... because he's House, he's Gregory and the water is hot ... maybe much too hot but I don't care ... little reddish whippings that are starting to form on our skins as water is deliciously hitting us ... and still ... still I find myself crying against his chest my fingers slippery and so needy for something to catch them ... keep me ... keep me safe, please ... don't be a hunter again, don't be a hunter again ... don't want to let you go ... don't want to let you leave ... no no no ... don't want to ... to ... stay and stay, don't be a hunter again.
"Don't cry, please," he softly whispers. "You don't have to ..." he then adds after a long pause of silence as he leans against the cold and wet tile to support both our weights and I know that his leg is driving him mad ... I know that a light black fog is descending over his eyes as he keeps breathing normally ... tries to stay focused on ... on us.
"It's just that I ..." he shushes me with a kiss like asking me to just not talk and still ... still, I don't know if it is the water that is wetting my face or my tears as I gaze up at him and he stares down at me ... and it's like a flash of light running through his crystal blue eyes and for a brief moment it's like ... like I can't see any malice or justification behind them ... behind his blue eyes.
And still ... still, we are under this driving shower ... foggy humid air swirling around us ... water hitting our battered reddish skin like it wants to clean ... to just hide our secret ... water that will wash away our sins, that will hide what we did. Water ... just water that wants to hide lies and sins ... that wants to wash crimson proofs of the way that, lately, we choose to act ... to just say, I ... I care about you ... I care maybe ... maybe, more about you.
He just hisses something and slams one flat palm hard against the tile and I know that he needs to take that damn Vicodin ... but still he doesn't spill a word and I'm about to say something when he stops me and he whispers in a rough and husky voice, "Jack me off ... just ... just wrap your hand around and jack me off," and then he captures my lips in a needy kiss, like he senses my early cold shoulder and wants to recuperate me before I just push him away and silently ask him to stop.
"Don't think," he breathes ... delicious and so sinful under the spray ... under hot water that slicks his form ... and pain is making him plastered or maybe its my presence ... of the idea of just submitting to one of his wants.
"It hurts," he barely cries out against my humid lips and I close tight my eyes.
"I know," I softly whisper into his ear while wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock, "but water can't wash this away," I then add slowly, like picking the right words ... like wanting to mean something ... more ... more meaning behind those words of mine.
He barely nods as I start to jack him off. "Look at me," I demand and he opens his eyes to me.
Pain mixes with pleasure in a macabre dance that I can see behind his blue eyes ... one of his hands grips my shoulder as I speed up my strokes fingers digging into my skin as his breath is coming more rapidly and I know that he's almost on the ragged edge ... just almost ... just almost there, ready to slip into the dark, cold waters of his libido ... but before he can let himself drown inside those deep, calm waters I slam my hand flat against the shower mixer valve shutting off the water and for a moment I feel like I did something I shouldn't ... like I just crossed a line and broke something that I shouldn't have touched ... water is still dripping down, little sounds that remind me, us that yes I just did that, I just slammed my hand over that shiny metal shower valve.
"I love you," I find myself crying as I cup his balls, heavy and tightening for the rising orgasm that he's going to have.
"No," he says digging his nails deeper into my skin and then he comes shuddering and panting while hot spurts of cum stain my fingers.
"Yes," I reply leaning forward to capture his lips as I keep milking out the last fragments of his orgasm ... as water is not washing away what we did ... as water isn't washing the sticky and cooling proof that is dripping slowly down my fingers and onto the floor.
"Water can't wash away what ... what we've been doing," I say leaning my head against his chest and hearing his heartbeat trying to recover from the orgasm ... I start to softly kiss his nipples ... then slowly licking them as he tenses for a moment and water is drying off our heated skins.
"Wilson you stupid," he says hoarsely as a tiny drop of water just slides quickly down over his cheek and ... and then I close my eyes as warm water starts to fall again on us.
"I love you, too."
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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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