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Hydrotherapy
by Michelle Christian
There were two major selling points when he had looked at this condo:
one was that, while it was relatively close to the hospital, it was
fairly difficult to find. Unless, of course, you were an over-achieving
doctor with a mothering complex and a daddy fixation, and House figured
Cameron used a bloodhound and GPS to find him.
The other was a remnant from the previous owner, who'd apparently thought of himself as something of a love machine. The mirrors in the bedroom he could have lived without, but the sunken Jacuzzi that could comfortably seat four people instantly won House's heart.
Which was why, at the end of a long day, and with his leg throbbing, he was stretched out in the almost-too-hot water, the tub's jets on at full.
He was trying not to slip into unconsciousness when he heard someone at his front door. Since there was only one person who had a key, he didn't even open his eyes.
"If you're a burglar," he shouted as the bubbling water relaxed him muscle by muscle and his toe poked at his dead rubber duck, "you can have the stereo, but leave me my TiVo and my virtue."
"What if I'm not a burglar?" Wilson asked from the doorway.
"You still can't have my TiVo," House said.
"Does that mean I can have your virtue?"
House opened his eyes to look at him. Wilson leaned in the doorway, having apparently discarded his jacket in the living room. "If you can find it, it's all yours."
Wilson walked over to the tub and knelt down beside it, rolling up the cuffs of his shirt and looking at House like he was an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Now let me see, where did I leave that?" he asked, reaching into the tub.
Wilson had a small smile on his lips. House liked to think that one was just for him. It wasn't Wilson's "Relax, I know what I'm doing" smile he gave his patients, or his "How could you not like me?" smile that everyone saw and was charmed by. It wasn't even his "I am cute and sexy and will give you lots of orgasms, then read you poetry and listen while you talk about your day" seduction smile that most women in the Tri-State area between the ages of 20-60 had seen and fallen for. No, this was Wilson's most honest smile, the most real one: It just said, "Let's make trouble."
House loved that smile, even if he'd never admit it.
Not as much, however, as Wilson's hand working its way slowly from his knee up his thigh, the knuckles brushed his stirring erection. The hand stayed on his left leg, merely moving back and forth as if petting a favorite dog's flank. House slitted his eyes open and looked at Wilson, who was staring straight at House's face. The smile had taken on an even more evil edge. And as much fun as that was, House was also ready to cut to the chase.
House grabbed Wilson's perfectly knotted, yellow silk tie and pulled his head in for a kiss and didn't let go. Every time he saw Wilson in one of his shiny, immaculate ties, House had to resist the urge to wrap it around his fist and drag him around for the rest of the day. It might even be worth the bitching from Wilson for the look on Cuddy's face.
The problem with anticipation of any kind is that it tends to cause your muscles to contract, even if you are in a very relaxing hot tub. House ignored the tightening in his leg just a little longer for drawing Wilson further into the kiss and getting his shirt as wet as possible.
At his third tug on the tie, Wilson pulled back.
"Oh, no," he said, more than a little breathless. "You are not getting me in this thing with my clothes on."
"There is an easy way around that," House said, easing his grip so that he could reach up and loosen the tie at the knot. It was too bad, though, and not just because peeling a thoroughly wet Wilson out of his clothes would have been fun. He would have enjoyed watching Wilson try to figure out how to get home with his wonderfully boring and expensive suit ruined. House wondered how Julie didn't already suspect her husband was sleeping with someone else, just from the number of times he came home from a "boys' night out with House" wearing different clothes.
Wilson pulled out of reach to remove his own clothes in a much neater and drier fashion.
"I can name quite a few nurses who would pay good money for this show," House said, pretending not to watch as intently as he was.
"And diagnosticians?" Wilson asked, leaning against the counter to remove his shoes.
"And fiscal specialists," House jibed back.
Wilson rolled his eyes and sighed loudly as he began to unfasten and remove his pants. "I told you, she was just helping me with paperwork."
And the day House believed that.... "Yeah, whatever. I think your accounts are messy enough as it is. Now get your ass in here."
Wilson stood up straight, completely naked, but with his hands on his hips and staring down at House for all the world as if they both were fully clothed and standing in House's office. "Have I ever told you how wondrous your seduction technique is?"
House smiled smugly and suppressed a grimace as his leg spasmed. "Why mess with what obviously works?"
His leg gave an involuntary jerk as the muscle spasmed again, splashing the water more than the jets were already doing. Wilson's smile dimmed, but he said nothing, simply slipped into the tub across from House.
Instead of moving closer to House, however, Wilson stayed on his own side of the tub, and grabbed House's foot.
"Kinky. But I was thinking of a more direct solution to the problem."
"You have the patience of a four-year-old," Wilson pointed out, slowly rubbing the foot in his hands before moving on to the ankle.
"I seriously hope you haven't been in a Jacuzzi with any other four-year-olds," House commented, barely repressing a moan.
"Not since that mixer in pre-school, no."
The massage stopped briefly, as Wilson picked up the rubber duck that kept pecking him in the chest. "You really are four years old. I can't believe you use this thing."
House tried to look indignant. "It was a present from you," he said huffily. "I wouldn't want you to think I didn't like it."
Wilson looked at him as if he'd suggested they vote Republican, then dropped the duck before continuing the massage.
House gave up trying to appear impatient as Wilson's hands worked up his calf, palpating the muscles into submission. The initial pain was generally followed by such incredible pleasure that it made it worthwhile.
Perfect metaphor for their relationship, really. If House believed in metaphors.
Dropping his head back onto the lip of the tub, House stretched out, closed his eyes, and moaned. "You should have been a masseur. You're wasted as a doctor," he said.
"I'll try to take that as a compliment." The hands didn't stop, however, even when House's body suddenly tensed completely in pain. Several minutes of intense work, though, led to the spasms lessening into a more tolerable constant ache instead, and soon House was much more relaxed and starting to enjoy himself again. Especially when Wilson stretched up and over him, laying his own body the length of House's.
"This muscle seems especially tight," Wilson said into his neck while palming House's erection.
"Can we lose the cheesy porn dialog?"
"You love the cheesy porn dialog," Wilson said confidently.
"No, I love what happens after the cheesy porn dialog. The plumber starts talking about his tools and how he has a really big plunger, you know the good stuff is coming soon. We're two doctors, naked and wet in a hot tub. We are living the porn. Get on with it!"
Wilson sighed without stopping his nibbling of House's jaw. "There's no romance anymore." Then he kissed him, moving over on top of House, careful not to jostle the leg he'd worked so much on, and settling down between House's knees.
There wasn't enough room or enough cushioning for anything acrobatic, so it was fortunate that wet skin on wet skin was enough. They rubbed against each other, hands slipping against flesh, mouths moving with laughter and kisses, and erections bobbing and bumping with each other again and again. They were like two kids playing on a stationary, pornographic Slip 'n' Slide. It was fun in a way sex should always be, but which House hadn't known in years. The sound of a rubber duck being thrown across the room into a door merely added to the mood.
But after a while, the lack of friction was hindering the fun of it all and desperation won out. House reached down and grabbed his and Wilson's cocks in one hand, and squeezed. Wilson gasped and gripped the only thing offering any kind of resistance: House. Wilson wrapped his arms around House's back, hands tight on his shoulders. They thrust together, churning the water more, clinging to and battering against each other until they both climaxed.
"Better than 'From Here to Eternity," House gasped. "No sand, no seaweed."
They lay in the tub for a few moments, panting against each other as they regained their awareness of the rest of the world. House knew he would have to move soon because of the crick in his neck and the bump he could feel growing from where he'd thrown his head back against the fiberglass of the tub.
"Get up." House finally pushed against Wilson's shoulder none too gently. "Both of us are going to look like Phyllis Diller without the surgeries if we don't get out of here."
Wilson moaned, but stood up, far more spryly than made House happy.
"You could at least pretend to be more pathetic in the wake of an orgasm," House said.
"Sorry, I'll work on being paralyzed once we get to the bed," Wilson offered, reaching for a couple of towels and waiting for House to make his own way out of the tub, knowing help would be neither appreciated nor accepted.
"We seem to have flooded your bathroom," Wilson said, walking carefully back to the tub as House stepped out, masking a steadying hand as one assisting in a rather personal drying attempt on House.
"Next time we should pack the life jackets," House agreed as he leaned forward to grab another kiss.
A few minutes later, they were lying in bed, dry, comfortable, and very much not snuggling. If their bodies touched more than two men not snuggling generally did, well, it was drafty in the bedroom, and there was no one there to see it. And they weren't in the mood to mock each other about it.
"I should go soon," Wilson whispered, the way people always did in darkened bedrooms, as if they were afraid the room was bugged.
"The missus expecting you," House said in a normal tone of voice, refusing to whisper, refusing to look at Wilson.
"Don't," was all that Wilson said, sounding tired.
For once, House listened, but as Wilson sat up to get out of the bed, he reached for his hand and didn't let go.
"Stay," he said, not looking at him. But he could still feel the Wilson looking at him, tense and curious.
"Why?" he asked.
House squeezed the hand harder, sure he was causing pain and not caring. "Stay," was all he said again.
Wilson lay back down without a word.
--30--
End note: FYI, House's rubber duck is absolutely real and available from McPhee.com. It's also pretty much the only thing I can imagine House putting in his bath aside from Wilson. I can also totally see Wilson giving it to him as a housewarming present. *g*
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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 Fox Television, 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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