Warning: The following story contains House/Wilson first time slash. Other than that and one use of profanity, it's pretty clean. Rated M for sex and swearing and alcohol use.
House shifts on the couch, picking up the pillow (my pillow) and placing it under him. Oh well, I can swipe one of his later.
"How long do you suppose that tape is going to hold for?" I ask. House shrugs. He doesn't even look away from the TV.
"You should probably know that I spit into something in the refrigerator. More specifically, something with one of your little labels on it." I can't stop myself from grimacing.
"Well in that case I'm not sleeping on this couch tonight. It's all yours, frat boy," I manage at last.
"What, are you kidding?" He reaches for the cane and raps it against my knuckles. "You know, you're the one who asked for the couch anyway," he says getting up and heading for the fridge. "You want one?" he asks, pulling a beer from the bottom shelf.
"Nah," I say as I turn to watch. House pulls the cap off. Beer foam goes everywhere. House is absolutely soaked. He laughs.
"You do know that you are the one who bought this six pack, right?" He picks up the bottle and drinks what's left inside. "I'm gonna take a shower," he announces, limping out of the room. I wait until I hear the water running and sneak into the bathroom. House is standing there, still wearing the beer soaked t-shirt and jeans.
"I was just, going to—flush the toilet." Silence. "You started it." He smiles, and grabs my hand as I turn to leave.
"I could have slipped and fallen," he says, hands skillfully unbuttoning my shirt. "Could have been hurt."
"Now that, would have been funny," I tell him, pulling the wet t-shirt over his head. Greg's fingers reach around and grab my shorts from the back of my pants. One word: wedgie. "Fuck! What was that for?" House says nothing but continues to undress himself, and we climb into the shower. His fingers run down the front of my body face, chest, gut, thighs and finally, when I think about to die, my cock. He wraps his hand around it, and slides up and down. We move from the shower to the bed almost seamlessly and he's on top of me.
It's awkward at first as Greg tries to find a comfortable position. After that everything is perfect. It happens the way I have always imagined that it would. Once or twice I pictured it with me on top, but I've always known he'd never allow that. The most amazing part is how little preparation I need. It does hurt a little when he first enters me, but it feels good very quickly. Afterwards, we lay on the bed House leaning back and sighing. I turn to face him, with a pretty stupid smile on my face, but I don't care how stupid I look. I feel great.
"That's more like it," he says patting me on the shoulder and laughing. And for the first time in what seems like an eternity (certainly as far back as I can remember) I feel happy, truly happy.