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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.