Pain & Pleasure

Title: Pain & Pleasure

Rating: R

Pairing: House/Wilson

Summary: What blurs the line between pain and pleasure?

"House, are you alright?" Wilson's thick eyebrows were arched in what House would probably call his "Mother Theresa-esque" display of being a motherhen. However, House had been steadily gripping at his thigh with both hands for the last twenty minutes that they'd been home. House didn't say anything this time, though, his head dropped down on his chest and his eyes shut tight against his skin. He's trying to resist groaning in pain but sometimes you just can't help it. It's been steadily getting worse all day, then it gets better, then it gets worse..Chronic pain is a mystery sometimes even to the patients themselves. Especially neuropathic pain, which is one of the least understood types of pain there is. At House's lack of response, Wilson's eyebrows knit together in another look of concern before he finally he's walking towards the couch and sitting down next to him. He smiled, sadly, and reached forward at House's hands. At this, he looks up. "Wha--" But he's cut off.

"For once, in your life, shut up." But it isn't said meanly, and House sighs and relents, letting his hands be moved. And then Wilson's are on him, the pads of his fingers so gentle and light and almost feather like. The touch makes House's head lean back against the couch, and then all of a sudden Wilson's hands are both on him, pressing firmly against the indent of muscle, and House's magnificant eyes are slipping closed. It's only then that Wilson begins to look at his face, shifting his hands right there and watching how he tries to stifle a groan, a groan that goes straight through Wilson and into his groin. Wilson closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation pass before continuing, rubbing lazy circles into his thigh and brushing long strokes down from his knee almost up to his groin, and House is loving it. He hasn't got the heart to tell Wilson to stop, even though he's almost painfully hard at the sensations. And then Wilson's hand accidentally brushes right there and all of a sudden it's House's lips against his.

Wilson can't believe it. All that he's been wanting is here, in front of him. For thirteen years they had been friends and he's wanted this the entire time. He's wanted House, that warm tongue sliding against his and teeth nipping at his lips. Wilson's pulled down on the couch, and House opens his legs to allow Wilson to settle there. "Do you know how long I've wanted this.." He breathes it against Wilson's neck, before reaching up and biting the conjuncture between carotid and shoulder, causing Wilson to gasp and writhe in pleasure and pain. "Fuck-- House.."

"Mine." The word is spoken so softly it's almost like he didn't even say it, like a whisper. But still, it hangs over the room, until finally Wilson looks down at him and gently starts to slip his shirt up over his head, smiling. He ducks his head down, swirls his lips against a hardened nipple, causing House to surge against him, grabbing at his hair. Harder. Faster.

"Yours." The words that Wilson says are accompanied by his hands, sliding down against House towards his boxers. Whatever happened to being in pain? Wilson had massaged away the angry beast, but all at once he seemed to have awakened a new one. With those simple touches, he has House's hips bridging to meet his hand, pushing it against him more firmly. Wilson frantically pushes his jeans down, pushes his boxers down. House's eyes widen only for a moment, because Wilson doesn't care about the scar. Slowly, he bent his head over House's throbbing cock, breathing hotly against it. "Christ, fuck, Wilson..James." The words are said almost like a moan, and Wilson can't resist that tone of voice. He wants to hear his name breathed like that, over and over. Wilson reached towards his naked thigh, pressing a soft kiss against the gruesome flesh. He looks at House, who has this sort of strange look on his face, almost smiling at him.

And then Wilsons' doing it again, that gentle puff of air against his cock, the way his hands slowly encircle it. House's hands are at his head now, hands fisting in his hair, House's desperate need not to cry out. Wilson is amazed, amazed at how gentle Greg's hands are, how insistent. Well, that part wasn't that amazing. He sticks his tongue out, and tentatively he presses it against his erection. House gasps, this time, his bright eyes beginning to darken and dilate with pleasure and lust. "Please.." And it's that word, said that way, that makes Wilson swallow him down. It's not like he hadn't ever done this before, he had experimented in college just like probably everyone else he knew, but for some reason when he'd met House he knew that whatever he'd experienced in college was nothing like this.

Wilson is practically humming his appreciation, which makes House groan something like "Ohgod," and Wilson slides his finger in his mouth delicately before tracing it to House's ass, which is practically bridging from the pleasure he's feeling. House's eyes widen as he realizes what Wilson's going to do. And then his finger is there, against his puckered hole, and then it's -in- and House can't stop a noise resembling a growl escape him, his hands becoming harder in Wilson's hair, pulling at it, not knowing what else to do. Wilson searches for a moment, before getting the angle right there, and House is uncontrollably making noise, now, as Wilson massages his prostate, waves of pleasure rolling over him starting from the base of his spine and spreading out to his cock and his fingers and toes.

"Oh, -- James -- .. Fuck -- Love this .. -- Love you .." And Wilson's breathing is hot, and he's sucking harder, and House is practically slamming into his face with need, and Wilson's gently pulling away and whispering things like, "God-- Come for me, Greg. Come on me, I want you.." that makes something inside of him snap and melt, and suddenly he's going stiff and hot semen is being shoved down Wilson's throat and he's taking it all down, his hands against his ass almost gently rubbing there, and House says something like, "Unghh, James.." and then he's flopping almost bonelessly back against the couch.

Wilson is almost painfully hard, the hardest he thinks he's ever been, and House just smiles at him sleepily and reaches towards his pants, pulling them down with a bit of difficulty before his hand is wrapping around his length, squeezing artfully and causing Wilson to gasp loudly. Wilson leans forward at House's insistence, and then he's being kissed. House's lips against him are soft, but that doesn't matter because the kiss is rough, needy. Desperate. He bites his lips hard enough to draw blood, he shoves his tongue in against wet warmth and searches Wilson's mouth, explores.

And Wilson is no submissive in this, his hands are roaming House's head, his hips frantically pistoning against House's hand, and House breaks the kiss to trail rough, hot kisses across his neck and suddenly he's coming with a half-stifled "Greg.." that's breathed against his chest because now he's so completely boneless he can't even bring himself to get off of the older man. Wilson is so exhausted he falls almost straight to sleep, but not before feeling Greg's hands gently against his head, soothing him into blackness.