Author: cryptictac PM
The darkness and the stillness in the room makes James focused on Greg, on those slow hands caressing him. HouseWilson. Slash.Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Romance - Words: 450 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 7 - Published: 11-05-05 - id: 2647607
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with House, M.D. or its affiliates.
Greg's hands feel warm and soft as they begin to slowly travel up the length of James' naked back.
The room is dark, shards of late afternoon sunlight streaming across the expanse of House's bed from the slight parting in the curtains. The darkness and the stillness in the room makes James focused on Greg, on those slow hands caressing him. House touches him with precision and gentleness, with care that he never shows with words or in the presence of anyone else. It's a rare moment that Wilson cherishes in silence.
Greg starts from the base of James' back; his fingertips dimple into his flesh as James feels him lean in and place a chase kiss upon his bare shoulder, Greg's stubble grazing briefly across his skin. Those warm hands glide down over his hips first before they slowly begin to climb upwards.
There are many things James would like to say but this is a time where they don't speak. Many more things are expressed with clarity in the sound of their quiet, deep breathing and within the gentle touch of House's palms upon his skin than any words could ever offer.
He feels Greg's fingers spread as he leans in closer, and James closes his eyes and takes a deep, slow breath, bowing his head as another kiss is placed on his shoulder, closer to his neck.
He craves to be touched. He never feels hands this gentle touch him at home. Julie's hands are always cold and sterile, as though merely touching him is just another chore to do. House touches him with i care /i ; until he had ever felt House's hands on him, Wilson had almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared about.
Greg's hands move up steadily higher and James can feel each finger ghosting over every ripple of his ribs, thumbs trailing up along the curve of his spine. House's hands travel higher, over the shape of James' shoulder blades and then over the contour of his shoulders, Greg's fingertips briefly dipping into the canyon of his collarbones.
He feels Greg's lips brush against the side of his neck, warm breath upon his skin and, with his eyes still closed he lets his head lean back on House's shoulder. House's hands squeeze his shoulders briefly before they let go and Greg slowly begins to map his hands back down the length of James' back.
House silently touches him with slow hands until the sun goes down.