by Makai Goddess Ookami
Pairing(s): Gregory House x James Wilson
Rating: K+
Warning(s): Slash
Disclaimer: I have yet to own this series, so please, don't sue me. However, I can not tell you who does happen to own it as I really have no clue. Sorry.
Summary: "House." I repeated, softer. "Stop. Please." (House x Wilson)
Rants: Sadly, I have discovered that lately I've been rather fond of House x Wilson stories. Which is uncharacteristic for me. Meh. However, when a bug bites, a bug bites, right? All you can do is play along. (Wait, I think I got that wrong...) Not so fond of this, but I don't hate it either. Heh. I'm an idiot, ignore me, and read this.
We tumbled to the floor, just missing the bed, and the hard reality came back. He had me pinned, warm lips and wet tongue attacking my neck, hands roaming up my shirt, brushing up against every inch of skin he could reach. His lips moved to my collarbone and I stifled a moan, biting down on my lip. He managed to get me to wiggle out of my shirt and undershirt, and his lips trailed even lower, his facial hair tickling ever so slightly. I squirmed under him, but it did no good; I was exactly where he wanted me. I felt his fingers brush against my lower stomach, and attack my belt.
"House!" I gasped, and he looked up at me surprised, and I clenched my eyes shut. "House." I repeated, softer. "Stop. Please."
Though I'm not sure why, it amazed me when he did, straddled on my waist, hands pressed against my chest, and that desperate look on his face. But I knew the look wasn't for me, it was just for the human contact, the need to satisfy his urges. I couldn't look at him, but I knew his face must be a mix of confusion, hurt, and soon to be annoyance. Maybe, if I didn't leave fast enough, their would be rage in his eyes too, and that was the last thing I wanted to put up with at this minute.
"Wil-"
"Get off."
Right, I saw the hurt in his eyes there. I bit back any apologetic words I knew would follow if I wasn't careful. Not that I didn't want to apologize, I didn't have too. This was all House's fault to begin with (at least that's what I kept trying to tell myself). After a moment of silence large enough to re-sink the titanic, he finally shuffled off of me, and the absent of his weight made me want to cry out. He didn't stand though, just sat next to me, still watching me with uncertain eyes, though I avoided making contact with them. Just pulled on my undershirt and shirt, though my hands were trembling as I tried to button it.
House saw. I took a breathe, and re-attempted to get it buttoned, but the damn buttons wouldn't go through the damn button holes. I bit my lower lip again, and said nothing, just gave up. I was going to put my jacket on again anyway. I cast a weary glance at House, and saw the distant look in his eyes, the one he got when he was thinking, mentally debating something. Ignoring it as best as I could, I used the bed as a prop, and stood, and walked out of the room. I managed to slip on my shoes and get them tied, and was almost out the door before I heard House's voice again.
"Why?" He asked simply, but I knew the mental war would still be raging in his mind.
I took a breath, and sighed. I didn't even look at him when I replied.
"I'm not gay," I said softly, and with that, I stepped out of the apartment and left.