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Cat's Cradle
by Taima Hiroshima
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Prepare yourself for cheesy sex...
"So are you just going to sit here and stare at the phone until it rings?" Greg asked. He was sitting on the couch, feet up on the table. As usual, James was surprised at how sexy he looked.
A layer of soft demin covered his long legs. There was a black AC/DC t-shirt stretched taunt across his chest. He was sprawled out on the couch, head thrown back as he looked up.
"I'm not waiting for the phone to ring." James snapped defensively. Greg lifted his head and raised an eyebrow.
"So you're what? Just trying to see if you have super powers to melt the phone?"
"Shut up," James tossed a pillow at him. Greg caught the pillow and settled it behind his head. They were quiet for a few minutes more.
"What are you so anxious about anyway?" Greg asked curiously.
"I am not anxious," James said through clenched teeth.
"Are too. Look," he pointed to a plate on the coffee table. "You heated up a slice of pizza, picked off all the toppings, ripped up all the bread, and then left it there to sit. If that's not anxious, then I'm the Queen of England."
"It's just---," James sighed. "I just really hope your count is high enough. That's all. I really just want all of this to go perfectly."
"That's your problem, Wonderboy." House sat up and stretched. "You want everything to go perfectly. I wish that you would just realize that not everything in life is going to go perfectly. And sometimes screwed up things are better."
"Name one,"
"One what?" Greg grabbed his cane and stood up.
"One screwed up thing that's better."
"Well," Greg scratched his chin, feeling the bear pricklies. "Me, for one." He limped quickly out of the room after that, leaving James with his mouth wide open.
**
House lay curled on his side. He had his arms wrapped around the pillow that he rested his head on. James was on his couch. The only sound was the click of the ceiling fan House had switched on to ward off unnecessary heat.
His breath caught in his chest when he heard the door open. He knew the sound of those feet, picking their way to the bed. He knew, before he even felt the body heat next to him who it was.
"You're not screwed up." Was the first thing James said as he settled the covers around him.
"If you're going to pick a fight, you and your cheesy smelling toes can just shuffle out of my bed." Greg didn't bother to turn around to look at James.
"My feet don't smell like cheese! If anything your feet smell like rotten banana peels."
"What did I just say about picking a fight?" Greg said in a singsong voice. He heard James's exasperated sigh. They each lay on their own side of the bed, like children who stand rigidly on their side of the gym during dodge ball.
Right before the whistle blows, anyway.
And James was the one who blew it.
James reached across the line and put his hand on Greg's shoulder. Greg rolled painfully over. With a smile, the younger man scooted closer to his lover. He buried his face in the crook of the older man's neck, ignoring beard itch.
"You're not screwed up." He murmured.
"I am," Greg's hand came up to tangle in James's hair. "But maybe that's not such a bad thing. You seem to like me anyway."
"I'm the only one," James reminded him dryly. House chuckled.
"You hang out with a crusty old prick. What does that say about you?"
"No one said your prick was crusty." James said softly. House could feel his lover's face get hot as it always did when they spoke like this.
"Oh?"
"I can prove it," James lifted his face, slightly pink. House smiled. James reached up and kissed him gently, gingerly like a virgin lover. It made House want to laugh out loud, the way James carried on. House knew just how many women he had taken to his bed, but James acted so shy around him, the one man.
They kissed for a few minutes until James's healing hands got restless and rubbed against his chest. They slid down his abdomen and up his shirt, finding the nipples to tweak and tease into nubs.
James eased the shirt up off Greg's body. When Greg settled back down, James left a trail of wet kisses down his neck and to his chest. He found one of the nubs and suckled lovingly on it. His hand played with the other nipple, torturing it and sending shivers down Greg's spine.
Greg stopped James's other hand, though, when it reached into his sleep pants.
"No,"
"What? Why?" the brown haired man looked up sharply, concern lacing his big eyes.
"That's not what I want tonight."
"Oh, well what do you want?" James blinked. Greg looked up, wondering how to put this delicately, without scaring the other man.
"I want to be inside of you." God, he sounded like a little boy asking for a candy bar. This was too pathetic. They needed to think up some kind of cheesy code word or something.
"I-Greg, I..." James swallowed. He slithered up so his head was next to Greg's. "I'm scared," he finished lamely.
"Of what? You know that I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally." The words warm James deep down in his soul. That was the closest he had ever heard to Greg saying he cared about him.
"I just want it to be perfect."
"Hey," Greg took James by the chin and turned his face so their eyes locked. "I told you. Not everything in life is perfect, James. I wish that you could let it go and relax. Just relax."
Greg took over from there. He pulled James into a bone-melting kiss. He felt James lose himself in the feeling of the kiss and reached into his boxers, caressing the erection he found there. He held it in his palm, stroking slowly.
James released Greg's lips. His head rolled to the side and his eyes screwed shut. Greg reached over into the nightstand and pulled out a little packet and a tube. He didn't stop his ministrations on James. When he did stop, the younger man cracked open his eyes.
"You didn't have to stop."
"Yes I did," he nodded. "Because if I was doing that, I couldn't be doing this." He nudged James, who rolled onto his stomach and folded his arms under his head. Greg poured some of the gel from the tube onto his fingers. He slid down James's underpants to his ankles. James kicked them off the rest of the way.
Greg's non-lubed hand rubbed the small of James's back. He reveled in the softness of the skin there. When he felt James relax, ran his fingers up and down the cleft between two perfect white globes.
"Will it hurt?" James sounded like a small child. Greg smiled.
"The same way being with me hurts." And with that, he slipped his fingers in. James froze and pressed his face into the mattress, gripping handfuls of sheets.
"Ssssh, shhh," Greg hushed him. He slowly drew his fingers out and pushed them back in. he had o admit that it was heaven, to feel the heat like this. He thrust in and out a few more times until James wasn't clutching the sheets quite so tightly.
He angled his fingers, knowing he would brush against a certain little space that was sure to drive his lover insane. Sure enough, James did a full body shudder. Greg stopped.
"Do that again," his voice was hoarse. With a smile, Greg obliged. James shuddered again, and this time he had fists of the sheets for a different reason.
"Are you ready?" James felt slick now. His lover sucked in his breath and nodded. Greg smiled and undid the wrapper. He took off his own pajama bottoms and slid the rubber object onto his already stiff penis. He poured some lubricant into his palm and bit his lip while he slicked himself up.
James squirmed impatiently. House smirked to himself. For someone who was so scared, James sure seemed to be enjoying this. He carefully positioned himself at the small virgin entrance.
He kissed the base of James neck just as he thrust in. His lover cried out in pain and buried his face in the mattress. Greg pulled at his hips so he was on his knees. He kissed James again and waited for the pain to ebb away. When James squirmed again, he knew it was time.
He slowly began to push in and pull out, giving the oncologist a chance to get used to the feeling. With a devilish grin, he pushed against the sweet spot, eliciting a howl from James. Greg took that as his cue to push in and out as fast as he could, hitting the prostate over and over again.
James moaned and began to move his hips in time with House's. House lost himself in the feeling of virginity being given to him. He reached around and began to pump James's dick to the thrusts. James moaned again. He seemed torn between wanting the feeling on his dick and wanting the feeling of House's dick inside of him.
"Come for me," House said in his ear, his breath hot and moist. With a scream that sounded almost like Greg's name, James spurted all over House's hand. The sigh of James coming was enough to push House over the edge.
When James came to, House was cleaning him up and pulling the blankets back over him. James blinked.
"Was it what you expected?" he asked softly. James thoughtfully shook his head.
"No, not at all." House nodded and lay back down, close to James. "It was better."
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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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