For you who were left hanging by the ending of Toxicity, I'm sure this first, fluff-filled chapter will set the scene in your head. (:
Blasphemous Rumours
Monday morning, the middle of autumn.
Through the many doors and windows of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital a steady, bright gaze of sunlight filtered to the floors, casting off the gloom and shadows that lingered from the heavy storms of the night prior. People bustled too and fro, moving from ward to ward with the soft light accentuating their features. It glossed over imperfections, somehow boycotted the stains and taints that afflicted every soul to walk to floors, bringing an odd sense of calm, of satisfaction to each one of them.
Perhaps, just perhaps, in the light of that morning, life wasn't so bad.
Staring out of one of such windows, through the blinds of his office, even Dr. Gregory House could be said to have been in a better state of mind than usual. No frown or worry nor scowl of disapproval creased his brow, while neither anger or sadness was visible in his eyes. There was no pain to be seen over his features, and no sarcastic comments pulling at his lips.
It was, for possibly the first time, peaceful. Everything seemed so quiet, so passive. He had been in his office for three hours, and not once had he been treated to Cuddy's nag of the week. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of his Ducklings, and nobody had spoken a word about Clinic Duty. If it hadn't been for the light pressure of a hand against his stomach and the soft melodies stemming from his iPod, House may have been tricked into thinking he was still in a state of slumber.
"Greg?" Wilson whispered softly into his ear, standing close to House's back. His hands were rest upon the man's stomach, holding him. Against his chest, Wilson felt House shift a little as he spoke, as if the voice had cracked into the bliss of the silence. Nuzzling into his shoulder, Wilson pulled himself a little closer.
"I'm fine." House muttered, still staring out of the window. Several floors beneath them, he could see pinpricks of people swanning about in their daily lives. They looked too small to be real, too small to have illnesses. Too small to need their help.
"I know." A slightly world-worn smile took to Wilson's lips, and he shifted his balance a little to let his lips brush over House's stubbled jaw. As House twisted his head back, however, Wilson was given the satisfaction of a full kiss, releasing his grip on Greg's stomach to allow the man to turn and face him.
It had been months since they had first touched, first kissed, and yet James was still able to find something in them that gave him chills. As Greg guided him back into the desk, he felt the familiar tremble shoot down his spine, shoulders jutting outwards slightly in their usual, vain attempt to counteract the movements. In his customary way, House noticed, smirking at the fact his actions were still able to elicit such reactions.
If they were settling into a pattern, it wasn't showing through. Wilson's breath was trapped in his throat as House moved away from his lips and started on his shoulder. Hot, rapid breath pounded as his skin as the other sucked on the skin, pleasure amplified by the sensitive arc of muscle that clenched beneath. Tilting his head back some, James allowed a small muttered 'yeah' fall from his lips, now aching for House to move lower still.
His wish was easily granted, and – before he had an opportunity to to think about what was happening – House's fingers were toying around his groin, heightening his arousal with each gentle touch. For a man whose appearance and thoughts were so crude and abrasive, he was able to work with a certain fineness. Pressing himself back into the desk, the edge biting deep into his lower back, Wilson was subjected to the downside of such a fineness. It felt like an endless torment, just waiting for him to finally stroke the right spots.
"So impatient." He heard House mutter, slowly tugging down the zipper on his pants. The glare of the sun was very evident against his neck, and House found himself uncomfortable in his very clothes. Too warm, too hot... they were in a glass cube, more or less, but nobody would be checking in on them...
"Oh!"
Looking up sharply, House was somewhat startled by the voice. For a start, it wasn't coming from Wilson. Secondly, it was female. Thirdly, it was far too familiar for his liking. Dr. Cameron, standing in the doorway and acting like she'd never read slash on the Internet.
"I...erm—yeah..." She averted her eyes, hair falling over her face a little as she tilted her head to hide the flush of her cheeks. She heard House grumble something to Wilson, he sighing in return.
"What is it?"
"I, erm... I got a, uh, a message. Cuddy." Cameron blinked rapidly at the floor, wishing she could just rewind and completely bypass this increasingly awkward situation.
Another grunt.
"Well?"
"She, uh... she wants you down in the Clinic. She told me to say, erm, If you aren't down there in five minutes, she'll – uh – circumcise you and your boyfriend."
Surprisingly, a wry smile spread over House's lips, yet he made no move to pull away from Wilson's tensed body. Afterall, he had all of five minutes.
As Cameron left, he raised an eyebrow before giving her his final words.
"No need. He's already been done."