068. Lightning

(Just a note – This ficlet is not part of the Christmas story arc!)

House Call

The storm began with a rumble of thunder and the sudden crack of a lightning bolt hitting the ground to House's left. The surprise of it caused his hands to jerk and the bike to slew across the road and it was just his good luck that the country road was empty of other cars right now. Almost immediately on the heels of the lightning bolt, the rain started pelting down. It almost seemed as though someone had tipped a bucket full of water over the place.

House grimaced then flinched as another lightning bolt slammed into the ground, this time to his right. It left a strange, crawling feeling in the air and he began to feel like he'd made a very bad decision to go riding this afternoon. He squinted through the rain and slowed the bike down, the last thing he needed was to have an accident. Apart from the whole pain and inconvenience part of it, Wilson would have a field day saying 'I told you so'. A smile flickered briefly across House's face at that thought; Wilson always looked…he didn't want to use the word but it was the only one that really fit…adorable when he was doing his exasperated disapproval act.

Another lightning bolt cracked through the air followed by a deafening rumble of thunder and House hunched slightly on the motorbike. He really needed to get off the road before either a lightning bolt hit him, a car hit him or he slid off the road. He'd driven up this road a number of times since he'd gotten the bike and he was fairly sure he wasn't far off a small town where he'd often stopped for a coffee. The town had a small motel where he could stop until the rain eased enough to let him get home.

Five minutes later his memory proved correct when the first signs indicating the town loomed out of the rain-darkened landscape. By this stage House was soaked, his clothes plastered against his skin, and he'd been startled once more by a lightning strike close to where he was riding. If he were a paranoid man, he'd have said the lightning was out to get him. He shook that thought out of his mind as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel and gingerly climbed off the bike. He grabbed his cane and quickly limped into the reception area of the motel and rang the bell on the desk, pulling off his helmet as he did so.

An elderly man came out of the back room, wiping his hands on a cloth and looking over his shoulder.

"How can I help…"

The man's voice trailed off as he turned to face House then he chuckled, his gaze seeming to take in everything at once.

"Well, you do a good drowned rat impression, son. Room three's available. I've probably got a clean robe back here somewhere and my wife'll be happy to throw your clothes in the dryer if you like. M'name's Clem, by the way."

House was a bit thrown by the unexpected offer. "Thanks, Clem," he said with surprise.

The old man chuckled as he turned to the computer and slowly tapped at the keyboard. "You ain't the first who's come in here caught by a storm. Name, son?"

"House. Gregory House."

The old man tapped that laboriously into the computer as House fidgeted in his wet clothes, getting colder and more uncomfortable. The old man caught this out of the corner of his eye.

"Damn computers," he muttered. "Ain't never been good with 'em. Tell you what, son, give me your credit card and I'll get that side done while you write your details down. Ain't no reason why you've got to stand here freezing your butt off."

House quickly dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed over a credit card, taking the pen and paper the old man offered in return. He quickly scrawled down the information needed then signed the credit card slip. The old man then handed over the key and told him he'd come round in a minute with the robe and pick up House's wet clothes.

House limped along the covered walkway, eyeing the continuing storm with displeasure until he got to his room. He let himself in and was impressed with what he found. The room was small but it was scrupulously clean and furnished with all the usual suspects you'd expect to find. He ignored it all as dumped his helmet on the table and headed for the bathroom where he awkwardly pulled off his clothes. He hung the leather jacket on the back of the door then wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up his sodden clothes. A knock came at the door and he carried the clothes out into the room, fumbling a little with both the clothes and his cane. He dumped the clothes on the small table then cracked the door open a fraction.

"Found a robe, son," said the old man. "Let me have those wet clothes."

House opened the door and accepted the white terry cloth robe, draping it over the chair before handing over his wet clothes.

"Thanks for this," he said gruffly.

"No problems," the old man said with a grin. "Be about an hour."

With that the old man shuffled off and House shut the door. He grabbed the robe, which actually looked like it might be a little too big even for him, and headed for the bathroom again. He still felt cold and clammy and his leg was aching badly. He fished his bottle of Vicodin out of his jacket pocket and quickly downed one. He tipped a second pill into his hand and debated the matter for several minutes before swallowing that one as well. His leg hurt and if he felt like he couldn't drive, well, he already had a room for the night.

House turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, noticing for the first time that he'd been given a room with hand rails in the bathroom. He grumbled for a moment at that then shrugged it off. Clem was just being helpful and he did actually need them sometimes; that was why Wilson had installed them in his bathroom in the first few days after he'd been released from hospital after the infarction.

He stood for a long time under the hot water, mostly letting it beat down on his neck and shoulders, only climbing out when his good leg began to complain about standing for so long. He dried off and wrapped the robe around himself, raising an eyebrow as he realised that it really was too big for him. He grabbed his cane, his bottle of Vicodin and his cell phone and limped out into the room, easing himself down onto the bed. He propped his cane against the bedside table and settled himself comfortably before hitting the speed dial on his phone.

"Hey, Wilson," he said lazily when his friend answered.

"Jesus, House! Where are you?" Wilson demanded, sounding both relieved and frantic.

House raised an eyebrow as he grabbed the remote off the bedside table and turned on the TV, thumbing the volume down and flicking through the channels until he found a Discovery channel show he'd seen before. He then tossed the remote back onto the bedside table.

"Why? Has someone died? I don't have a patient last time I looked."

"House, I was worried about you," Wilson said angrily. "It's pouring and you're out on that damn bike! There have been lightning strikes and at least four accidents bad enough to be reported on the radio. Where are you? Are you alright?"

A slow smile curved House's lips.

"I'm fine," he said, letting that smile colour his voice. "I'm at a motel."

He heard the sigh of relief from the other end of the phone.

"You're going to stay there?" Wilson asked, his voice much calmer.

"Yeah, for now," House replied. "It's still raining and Clem's wife is drying my clothes."

He approved of the baffled silence he got for that comment and grinned to himself.

"Who's Clem?" Wilson asked carefully.

"The guy who runs the motel," House replied. "Apparently I was doing a good impression of a drowned rat. Steve'll be pleased."

"And his wife is drying your clothes?" Wilson asked carefully.

"Yep," House replied. "Clem's a real friendly guy."

Wilson finally laughed and House smiled at the sound of it in his ear, his mood shifting almost instantly.

"You should come and join me," he said in a low, heated voice. "It's a nice room. The bed's comfy."

There was a moment of silence before Wilson spoke again.

"I wish I could. Are you in bed?"

House felt himself relax at the question; Wilson was going to play along.

"Lying on the bed," he corrected. "Clem found a robe for me. Must have belonged to a giant because it's big on me."

Wilson chuckled and House heard the sound of a door closing through the phone.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"In my office," Wilson replied.

"Locked the door?"

"Yeah," Wilson said a little breathlessly then he laughed self-consciously. "We're not really going to do this, are we?"

"You could always come and join me," House suggested as he wriggled down on the bed a bit more.

"I can't," Wilson said, sounding a little frustrated. "There's a board meeting tonight. Besides, it's insane out there."

"Then we can do this," House replied lazily. "What do you want me to do?"

There was a moment of silence at the other end of the phone then Wilson said hoarsely, "Is the robe tied up?"

"Mm-hm," House replied.

"Undo it and open it," Wilson ordered.

House propped the phone between his ear and shoulder as he did as Wilson asked. He then took the phone in his hand again.

"Done. What now?"

"Are you hard?" Wilson said, his voice a mix of embarrassed and aroused.

House glanced down at himself. "Mostly. Took a couple of Vicodin but the pain was enough to burn off most of it. Keep going. I'll get there."

Wilson took a deep breath and House heard the sound of shifting cloth.

"Run your fingers around your right nipple," Wilson said intently. "Nothing else, just that."

"'Kay," House replied his voice becoming just the tiniest bit shaky as he slowly dragged his fingertips across his nipple, shivering at the sensation.

"You like that," Wilson said. It was not a question.

"Yeah," House said in a low voice, answering it anyway.

"Wish I could see it," Wilson said. "Wish I could kiss you."

"Later. Tomorrow. Whenever this rain stops and I can get back," House said, swallowing hard.

"Switch over to your other nipple," Wilson said suddenly. "Don't touch anything else."

House let a sharp laugh as he obeyed, slowly circling his nipple, his hips twitching slightly as he sensation ran straight down to his groin.

"You tease, Jimmy."

He got a throaty laugh down the phone and his dick twitched at the sound.

"You love it when I tease," Wilson said with amusement.

"Yeah," House said fervently, his breathing rate picking up slightly. "Christ, Jimmy."

He heard a low moan from Wilson and he was surprised when it dragged an answering moan from his own throat.

"Jimmy," House said in something which was definitely not a plea.

"Run your hand down your stomach…slowly…then along the inside of your thigh," Wilson ordered hoarsely.

House let his hand drift down his stomach then along his hip. It took every ounce of his self-control to bypass his now very hard cock and trail his fingers along his inner thigh. He shifted absently on the bed, spreading his legs slightly and making a strangled noise. He heard a low muttered curse from the other end of the phone and the sound of shifting material again.

"Whatcha doing, Jimmy?" he said with a mix of lazy amusement and arousal. "You jerking off in your office?"

"Yeah," came the hoarse answer.

An image of what that would look like seared its way through House's mind and he whispered a low, "Fuck!" His free hand clenched into a fist against his thigh as he momentarily struggled for control.

"Play with your balls," Wilson ordered, his voice sounding a touch breathless.

House shifted his hand eagerly and moaned as he rolled the soft sac around in his hand. His head fell back against the bedstead and he panted, his hips moving almost involuntarily.

"Fuck, Jimmy," he gasped. "So good…feels so good."

"Can you come just from that?" Wilson asked intently.

House shuddered. "N…no. Not…not enough. Not now. Need…need more."

"What do you need?"

"Ungh, more than this," House said with a moan.

"What do you need?" Wilson demanded. "Tell me."

"Need you!" House gasped. "Need you, Jimmy. Your hand, your mouth, anything!"

He heard a deep groan from the other end of the phone then the sound of soft swearing.

"Wish I could," Wilson said roughly. "Wrap your hand around your dick but don't move it."

House did that and tried unsuccessfully to stifle something that definitely wasn't a whine.

"Jimmy," he demanded.

"What?" Wilson said, his voice tense but amused.

"Jimmy," House said again.

"Say it," Wilson demanded.

"Please!" House growled. "Fuck, Jimmy! Please!"

"You can move your hand," Wilson said quickly. "Keep it nice and slow."

House moaned as he started slowly moving his hand. Something hot and feral was curling in his belly and he knew that in spite of the pain and the Vicodin he'd taken, he was going to be able to come, not something that was always possible. Then his attention was captured when Wilson began speaking again.

"Can't believe I'm jerking off in my office," Wilson said, his voice taut and tense with arousal. "Haven't done this in years. Going to need to take a shower before the damn board meeting tonight or everyone's going to know what I've been doing. Wish I was with you. Wish I could see you, touch you. Wish that was my hand wrapped around your dick. Or my mouth. Fuck, Greg, I love blowing you. Rather have you buried up to your balls in my arse though, pounding away, giving me something to remember during the meeting every time I shift in my seat."

Wilson suddenly broke off with a low groan that House recognised and it was that as much as the words or his own hand on his dick that had him coming with an inarticulate cry, semen spurting up onto his stomach and chest. He slumped back against the bedstead, his hand falling to his side and he gasped for breath, hearing that echoed down the phone.

"When did you develop the ability to talk dirty like that?" House said as soon as he was able to summon enough brain power.

"Necessity is the mother of invention," Wilson replied with a breathless laugh. "I take it you liked it?"

"Definitely," House said with satiated amusement. "And I know what we're doing now the next time one of us has to go to a conference."

He got another laugh then Wilson swore.

"Just as well I have a spare shirt here," Wilson said with a sigh.

House chuckled. "Now that's a mental image I like. Next time you jerk off in your office I want to be there to watch."

"Jesus, Greg," Wilson said after a brief moment of silence then he said hurriedly, "Only if you reciprocate."

House felt a flash of arousal run through him. "Yeah, okay," he replied.

"Damn," Wilson said suddenly. "I have to go. The meeting's in forty minutes and I really need to clean up." He paused and laughed. "You'd better clean up too. Clem will be back with your clothes soon."

House shifted slightly upright and grinned. "So much for the afterglow."

"Get back here and I'll show you afterglow," Wilson replied and House could hear him moving around. "When will you be back?"

"I'll wait until the rain stops," House replied. "The roads were pretty slippery and contrary to your opinion, I'm not stupid on the bike."

There was a slight pause then Wilson said, "Good. Let me know."

"Sure," House said then he hung up.

He tossed the phone onto the bed beside him and smiled lazily as he listened to the sound of the rain outside.