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  Slick 
 by Tiberias  

 Slick 

It's so relaxing ... yeah, it's so relaxing the way his hands are gently
cupping both my ass cheeks ... spread fingers gently caressing my skin and
I lean forward to kiss him ... just a wet and lazy kiss as his stubble is
scratching my chin.

Outside it's raining and he's still wet, his damp hair is only a reminder
of what I don't like ... what he shouldn't do because ... because he knows
... he really knows that I don't want him to race in the driving rain with
that motorbike of his ... something that for him means more ... something
that I'm really trying to understand ... this sense of freedom, of being
different and equal at the same time ... that motorbike that is hiding so
many secrets, so many fragments of his tormented personality ... and I'm
trying, each day I try, to understand a new side, a new particular of
Gregory House. Each day it's a good day to learn something new about him
... uncatchable man that he is ... Gregory, who likes to fly above ...
above us, me.

And now ... now the house is quite. Everything around us is still and even
the silence has its thickness, its own personality ... yes, you can almost
paint it, you can almost touch it ... silence only broken by the gentle
murmur of the rain hitting the window glass; overflowing rain that is
smothering its secrets like he does ... and God he knows how to trick me
... how to just show me tiny fragments of what he really is and then,
again, back ... back to his mask ... back to his own farce where he likes
to see us whirl around him, to just play with us and see what kind of
reaction he can receive as feedback from his little, dirty mind games.

But he knows ... yeah, he knows that with me ... with me he can take down
his mask, he can let me see what he truly is, he can let me understand who
Gregory House is. I love him, oh God, I love him, and just a few hours ago
he whispered ... he softly whispered, I'm afraid that it's too late to
apologize ... too late ... and I just stayed sitting on the very edge of
the bed looking at him, cold hands, pale fingers, wet black leather jacket
and that kind of look that nobody's ever seen ... that is only mine, that
he gives just to me ... only me, and who said that it's too late to
apologize? Who said that I don't want him? He can ... he can take another
chance because he knows that I'm willing to give it to him, he knows ...
he really knows that it's not too late to apologize ... and he slowly
licked his dry lips and he was standing there all wet from the rain and
lightly shivering with the cold that was quickly crawling inside his body
... and I knew ... I knew that he needed to just take his Vicodin, that he
just wanted to take one pill and get rid of the increasing pain but still
... still he was standing there unmoving waiting for me to say something
... and nobody but me has this kind of power over him.

Just a few hours ago he kissed me after a violent fight ... he kissed me
and my lips are still burning from the sensation of having his pressed
against mine, his manly scent and his stubble a strong reminder of who was
kissing me ... he kissed me without saying a word, without me
understanding what he was ready to do, where he wanted to push this thing
... a kiss and then I just licked my lips ... tasting ... tasting him, a
revelation ... but ... but I walked past him without saying a word and his
eyes were burning holes into my back as I was walking away ... he didn't
even try to call me, to say something because ... because he was still
burning like me ... he had just crossed the line of our relationship ...
pushed further, and silently asked for something more. 

He wanted to apologize, to say something and I know that it was hard for
him just to come here, to pretend that he needed to apologize ... even if
... even if I know that House never says I'm sorry, that he never bothers
to ask himself if he's wrong or right, because for him the good dances
with the evil and the right with the wrong ... he likes to see them dance,
swirling around him ... staring at them with amusement. 

"I love you," I whispered and he just closed his eyes tight gesturing me
to just stay quite and not say another word.

"I want more," instead I found myself still speaking, "and I'm not
afraid."

"You don't know what you really want," he snorted with water still
dripping down onto my carpet.

"I want you," I clearly answered standing up from the bed. "It's quite
simple, Greg."

"House," he remarked scratching his chin.

"Greg," I sighed walking toward him ... so close, so close to him. "You
kissed me."

"I know," he barely answered as lightning lit the room.

The air was so thick it was almost suffocating as we were standing there
so close ... so close, damned close. "You ... you are schizophrenic ...
you ... oh, you kissed me just a few hours ago and now what? You are
standing there ready for to apologize."

He sighed leaning against the wall while shaking his head. "I should go."

"No ... no, you aren't going anywhere," I hissed slamming shut the door of
my bedroom. "You ... you don't want to apologize ... you didn't come here
to apologize, House never feels the need to apologize," I babbled as he
was now looking at me with a sort of melancholy in his cold, blue eyes.

We remained in silence for long minutes and I wanted to say many things
... to ... to let him stay ... to just reassure him that I wanted the same
... I wanted more but my mouth was dry and I was feeling empty and nervous
... I was searching for something to say but I ... there ... there I was
standing with my hand still pushed flat against the closed door ... still
waiting ... still waiting as the rain started hitting the window hard. 

"It's raining hard," I barely whispered as I was feeling weak ... as he
was making me feel weak and ... and needy.

And then it was an instant ... a little instant as his black backpack hit
the floor and he leaned closer to me ... capturing my lips in an urgent
kiss. "So ... so make me stay," he huskily whispered against my lips, warm
and humid air against my wet, slightly opened lips.

At that time I didn't even bother to reply ... I just kissed him back with
more passion and enthusiasm because ... because I wanted more, because he
didn't even needed to apologize for something that he didn't mean to
happen ... because I didn't want to hear him apologize ... it's not House
... it's not what I wanted. 

Fast ... fast like his motorbike ... fast like his burning genius as he
grabbed my face, fingers softly caressing my cheeks. "Make me stay," he
repeated and I could only stare into his glacial eyes ... I could only get
lost and nod slightly... and his fingers were cold and still wet ... and
outside it was raining hard and ... and ... and it was difficult, it was
heavy to just ... to just decide to let myself go to just ... just accept
the fact that I wanted more, that both of us wanted more ... to have him
as a lover ... to have him as ... as more than a friend ... cosiness that
I was willing to share with him ... and his thumb was now tracing the line
of my lips and his breath was heavy and loaded with awareness ... he was
just stepping, stepping over into strange fields ... into a new dimension.

"Make me stay because ... tomorrow it will be too late," he whispered
kissing me again this time with more need, then he stepped back, limping a
bit and he took off his jacket then his t - shirt ... and ... and it was a
rush, simply a rush of pure emotions and actions because I let him undress
me ... I let him undress then push me down onto the mattress ... yeah, it
was a rush and maybe ... maybe even a strange situation but nothing
stopped me from spreading my thighs to let him slip between ... to let him
cover my body with his ... and he was erect I could feel the slick
sensation between my thighs ... he was erect and leaking for me ... for
me.

"I like the rain," he huskily told me as his hands were caressing my cheek
in a way ... in a way so tender and caring that ... that it almost wasn't
House. "I like the rain because when it comes ... when it comes it has the
power to wash and clean everything."

"Does it hurt?" I whispered into the darkness of my bedroom while softly
kissing his jaw ... stubble a strong reminder of who was above me ...
between my spread legs.

"Yes ... always," he breathed leaning toward my lips to receive more
kisses.

"You can ..."

"No, I want to stay clear ... for now," he whispered shifting his weight
onto his good side and I nodded while cupping his balls massaging and
rolling them ... and he sighed deeply while closing his eyes.

Closed eyes ... just relishing the way he's touching me ... the way I
later decided to straddle his hips and ... and I wanted to just ride him
... I wanted to have more ... to ... to ... I wanted him ... all,
everything that he was able to give me because I was needy ... I'm needy
and his attention on me is like water for a thirsty man ... his attention
on me, I want that ... I want his devotion.

Loosing myself in him, I was loosing myself into him as I kept riding him
... as his fingers were leaving trails of fire on my skin and I was so
close ... so close to just step ... step further into a new stage of our
relationship ... to just cross the line and draw a new one ... he caught
one of my nipples and I shivered as he bit it softly, then lightly sucked
it as my fingers entwined in his hair ... and then he just kissed his way
back toward my lips passing over my throat, jaw and chin. "James," he
barely moaned and ... and hearing my names is enough ... is enough to set
me off ... to make me blow my mind, loosing myself in my orgasm ... bright
and burning orgasm that evades each fucking scientific explanation.

James ... and not Wilson ... just that whispered name, my name on his lips
so ... so intimate and full of meaning ... new meaning. "Gregory," I cried
out as I rode my orgasm and he just bit his bottom lip hard till a tiny
drop of red liquid just spattered outside and he came hard ... he threw
back his head and arched off the mattress, nails scratching my chest like
he was searching for something to hold on to ... and it's intense and
blind ... and perfect. 

After a long moment I find myself massaging his scarred thigh and he sighs
softly while leaning closer to my shoulder, his head resting under my chin
... and outside the rain stopped to fall and the bedroom is enveloped in
silence and darkness as I hear his breath slow down and I know that he's
asleep.

  
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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.