Eheh...I know nothing about House. This is just a Birthday present for my bester pal Peachmelba, so sorry if it's full of errors.
Hands fumble in the darkness of the deserted supply cupboard, grasping and clinging. Lips crush together, desperate and needy, tongues dancing, soft moans echoing around them. Against the shelves of bandages, one body forces itself up against the other.
They are here in secret. Some would say in sin.
Neither of them is ever quite sure why they continue this sordid affair, why time after time they find themselves drawn into each other again. But they are. They are, and they can't stop.
They try to keep it outside of work, but if the need gets too great, if the desire overpowers them, there is always somewhere to sneak off to.
And this time it's the supply cupboard. They are touching each other unashamedly, getting as close to each other as they physically can. The one against the shelves decides he has enough support and frees up both hands, using them to slip between the pristine white coat and thin shirt of the person he's with. Sly fingers untuck the shirt, slipping up against warm skin. A gentle touch out of place in the aggressive passion they are expressing. But soon it is more than gentle, it is teasing, one hand forcing itself round to reach a taut nipple.
A grunt, a shift of hips against his own and he smirks into the kiss. The hand is now crushed between them, but that still leaves his other hand free to slip firmly about his partner's waist. This is wrong, but so right. The body he is hard up against belongs to someone else, some woman, but for now, for now it's his. And he savours it, pulling away from the kiss to take in the sight of his lover, panting and flushed. "What?" The other man's chest heaves as he waits for a reply that isn't coming. Suddenly the man against the bookcase freezes, smile dropping from his face.
A finger points over to the door, where voices are drifting in.
"We need some..."
"...Be in there?" The muffled voices make both of the men in the cupboard hold their breath, sharing a look.
"Nah. It can..."
"Yeah, leave it a while." The two voices are gone, and with them is the desire.
Though not enough to stop the man leaning against the bookcase from admiring his partner's backside as he bends down and picks up a cane, handing it over with a soft smile. Tucking in his shirt quickly he leaves, off to be a good little doctor again.
House watches the door close, thinking about the next time.
When he thinks enough time has elapsed, he leaves the quiet of the cupboard and goes back out into the real world.
Halfway down the corridor he runs into Wilson. Neither speaks, but they both know that the next time will be in the next cupboard along. But when? Now there is the question. As Wilson walks away, House suddenly realises, changing his direction and following Wilson's backside to a cupboard that hopefully has nothing in it that anyone will need in the next hour or so...
Yeah, R&R but if you flame, I'll use it to roast turnips.