REMEMBER ZION

Part XIV

By GeeLadyf

Time-line: Sequel to Gone With the World & Riddled With Heavenf

Summary: "Take what you like and pay for it, says God." (Spanish proverb)

Pairing: House/Wilson/Multiples.

Rating: NC-17, Adult, +18, Mature. Alternate Universe. Language. Rape. Sexual situations. Implausible medical conditions. SLASH.

Disclaimer: I will never have House, but others in this story certainly do!

NOTE: If you want to enjoy this story or its prequels, suspend your disbelief.

"Sausage Party" had taken on an entirely new and sexier meaning. No one missed Cheeto's and Trivial Pursuit.

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"I feel like I gave birth to a rhino." House stared at Eli with brows drawn together into an eagle-eyed glare and a frown on his lips that reached to China. "A black rhino."

"They're not actually named for their skin color." Eli said.

His left side ached with every shift on the mattress and his back hurt. It was the hardest labor he could remember so far.

Deeply sarcastic - "Thank you, Mutual of Omaha." House lay back against the pillows. The minute he had felt strong enough to sit up, like Houdini Eli had magically appeared out of thin air and lovingly piled the softest pillows behind him. His massive bodied impregnator had been waiting on him hand and foot ever since.

In the large bedroom, Eli hovered between House and the new baby crib containing his new son. The big man was a flitting bee forever buzzing back and forth between House, his son and the kitchen to fetch whatever food, drink or any other want House demanded at any and all unpredictable moments.

House gestured to his new son, and Eli fetched him for House to hold. Two or three times an hour, House wanted to hold his new baby, as though he was afraid if he didn't keep a close eye on him, the tiny thing might vanish from his sight.

Eli loved seeing his baby in the arms of the man who gave birth to him. "You both look beautiful." Eli said, his heart soaking up the domestic scene like a dry sponge in the rain, looking at House with big, happy eyes.

"Oh my god." House groaned. "I am not beautiful! Would you go find a kitten to rescue or something - you're driving me nuts. Wilson'll do your hair if you praise his meat loaf."

Eli sighed. He had almost gotten used to his lover's strongly anti-sentimental, almost juvenile peculiarities to anything that smacked of feelings. "Just telling it like it is, babe'. You look sexy as hell with my baby in your arms."

House threw a shoe at him as Eli left on cloud-lifted size fourteens.

"And stop calling me babe'!"

Eli returned with a cool drink of water and a bowl of stew.

House grudgingly handed the baby to its sire father and gobbled the stew, grateful to Wilson's magic fingers that could turn any ordinary lunch fare into a work of culinary art. He set the bowl aside and muttered a thank you to Eli.

This time free of sentimentality. "How are you feeling?" Eli asked. "Really?"

House felt much stronger, but his abdominal muscles had done a thirty-three hour marathon and he still felt the remnant sting of his split perineum. At two days post-labor, that's all he needed to be convinced that this baby was the last pregnancy ever. He was too old, too impatient and too damn sore to put up with any more. "My ass is killing me." He confessed to Eli. "And by ass, I don't mean ass. Feels like someone with feet twice your size kicked me in the nads."

His lower half then, was sore. Eli felt useless. He could fluff pillows and fetch food and try not to bore his educated doctor-lover while he kept him company. The pain he could do nothing about. "Can I get you anything else, babe'?"

House scooted lower in the bed, tossing some of the pillows aside. He was bone tired, and didn't bother to correct Eli yet again on the unwanted term of affection. "No. I just want to sleep."

Eli pulled the thick quilt lovingly sewn by Grannie from some other decade up to House's shoulders, but hovered by the bed longer than he needed to.

House sensed the big guys presence from behind closed eyelids. "What?"

"What do you want to name 'im?"

House's eyes snapped open. Between the uncomfortably heavy pregnancy, the being shot and his extra painful labor, he had not even put aside a minute to think about it. He puzzled for a few seconds and drew a blank. Finally looking at Eli, he spotted the quiet hope in his new mate's eyes. "What do you want to name him?"

Eli opened his mouth but House interrupted. "If you say Kunta, you're a dead man."

Eli smiled a little at that and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped so low under his weight, House rolled toward him a little. He was endlessly surprised by the sheer muscled bulk of the man. No wonder his lower quarters felt like someone had roto-rootered him. "Just spill it."

"I was thinking maybe Reuben."

House was pleasantly surprised. "Hmm. Better than I thought you'd come up with." A damn sight better. House rolled it around on his tongue. He had half expected some tongue twisting African moniker or, even worse, some goddawful label the kid could never live down, like Abner or Virgil. "Suppose that'll do I guess."

No argument. Eli had come to recognize that no mocking meant House-approved. He leaned over and kissed House on the mouth, taking his leisure.

When he was done, House narrow-eyed him. "If you're thinking of crawling in here with me, you can march that dick to the door and close it behind him."

Eli smiled. "No, I 'aint." Eli did march to the door. "Not until you're all healed up, babe'. Then - watch out."

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Reuben was settled into the routine of feedings, diaper changes and play-time that Wilson and House had long established. Eli felt a little disappointed that he couldn't spend as much time cuddling Reuben as he wanted to.

"The kids have to follow a schedule or they get spoiled." Wilson explained. "No one here has time to spoil anyone. They get play time, they get all the food they need and they get loved, but they don't get coddled."

Over the next two months of sweating fall chores, Eli came to understand how such regimented child rearing was not a decision of choice but, rather, of no-choice. There was simply too much to do on a daily basis to fuss over anyone.

The sole exception to that rule was House. They all liked to fuss over him in one way or another. But, for all the gentle competition between his house-mates for House's particular brand of affection, no one displayed any significant marks of jealousy. For one thing, Eli believed House would never have tolerated it and secondly, such behaviors would do more to drive House away than flatter him.

House was no fool. He despised sentiment, though Eli was convinced the BM loved every one of his mates to some private degree or other. What those degrees were, House kept very much to himself.

Eli hoped he figured somewhere in the calculations.

As to House's physical displays of affection, it was clear that House held all the power there. Some time ago, as Chase had explained (in fact, he'd pulled out the pencil-checkered graph), House had drawn up a chart of which nights were who's with him, and which were his alone. No one tried crossing the BM on it because House was adamant. And if he wanted you an extra night, no one questioned that either. If he didn't want you for a few weeks, you sat on your balls until House tossed a casual nod your way and spent half the night convincing you that he had missed you so badly, he would have died if it had been one more minute. He re-introduced himself to your cock and you knew he loved yours the most. Your driving, pounding penis was the biggest and the hardest. You were the best fuck in the whole state.

Eli liked those nights the most. The times when his night was put off a while just made him anticipate it all the more when the night came around when House nodded his way. The BM sent him to heaven those nights. Those nights Eli was a king. The condoms he was made to wear dulled the sensations a little but the wisdom of them was obvious.

The work to make those condoms was like party night at the bar, only instead of drinking beer and playing cards, they'd sit around he kitchen table downing home-made vodka, tyeing off one end of dried sections of wild pig entrails. Chase had nurtured and bred a pair of captured wild hogs into a sizable herd of swine for the dinner table. And for the condoms.

The fun lay in the conversations as to size and strength of the dried pig intestine and who would be using this bigger section or that stretchier one. House came up with ever more insulting jokes on their behalf over the terms related to pig, penis, condoms and their collective shameless lechery.

"Sausage Party" had taken on an entirely new and sexier meaning. No one missed Cheeto's and Trivial Pursuit.

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"Do you love him?" Wilson asked.

House spread a layered triangle of cotton under Reuben's adorably tiny but chubby backside. He folded the three corners and fastened it together at the front. Chase had carved fifty small wood buttons and Wilson had fastening a single button to one corner of each diaper. House passed that button through button holes on the other corners, holding it all in place with a loop of string Wilson had also painstakingly attached to every diaper in the house. Three sizes of diapers so far were in use. Soon the babies would need clothes.

Eli had suggested a foray on the motorcycle to some nearby farms to procure a larger wardrobe for everyone. He and House had taken off one morning and brought back a huge duffel bag full of clothing of all sizes. No baby clothes, but some younger child's clothes that Wilson could easily take in when the boys were big enough to wear them. In the meantime, they crawled around in diapers, Chase's smallest t-shirts on their tiny backs and man-socks on their little legs to keep out the chill. The ensembles were no fashion statement, but they served the purpose and were, in a strange way, heart-tickling.

Wilson was learning to be grateful that Eli had come home with House, and with the motorcycle. The man was a useful and reliable companion. His one glaring fault was he spent way too much time with House. Even worse was that House let him.

House was sick of the question. "So what if I do? Are you going to pout about it?"

Wilson knew he sounded like a frivolous teen. "It hurts me."

House shook that off like dandruff. "You hurt you. I haven't done a thing to you for a year."

"I missed you."

Sighing, House finished Reuben's diaper change and tossed the soiled one into a nearby wash bin sitting in the corner of the living room. The smell of baby poop permeated the air. "Can you open a window?"

Wilson complied automatically, but wasn't dropping the discussion. "I don't mean that, exactly, I-."

"What do you mean? Exactly? Your feelings are hurt? I didn't hurt them. You feel lonely? There are five adults and seven kids in this house. You don't want me sleeping with Eli? Sorry, been there, done that. Got a baby to prove it even. And by the way, if not Eli, then not Foreman and not Chase, and not you. Anything else, or should we divvy up the kids too?" House crossed his arms. Wilson had been acting squirrelly since he got back. Part of it was Eli. Most of it wasn't, and true to Wilson fashion, the idiot wasn't boning up to the thing that was really bothering him.

Wilson looked like a kicked puppy. House rubbed his face. All the women may have died, but there was still one girl in his life. "Wilson. I don't read minds. Even yours."

"I want another baby."

House had not expected that. He stared at the idiot he loved more than anyone. Another baby. All this was about was Wilson wanting to knock him up one more time and get rewarded by another baby with a Pinocchio nose? Not that he didn't want to see another Wilson-type infant. He just didn't want to be the deliverer anymore. It was too much work.

Wilson waited for his answer with his head hanging like he was waiting for his own execution. House frowned at his most annoying mate. Wilson was such a frustrating six feet of idiot. Good thing he was a nice idiot who loved House stupidly. But another baby was out of the question.

"No more babies. I'm retired." House wasn't sure why, exactly, Wilson wanted a second child with him but, knowing Wilson, the reason was all choked up in emotions he wouldn't be able to explain if asked. "We've got David."

Wilson nodded. "I love David. I love him so much. Like I love you but, I just . . .I want another. I just do. Please? One more?"

Yup. Inexplicable, sopping wet emotions. House wished he could say yes just to shut him up for a few weeks. But that would mean he'd eventually have to pony up his

belly and provide Wilson a baby somewhere down the short road.

He was tired of being pregnant. He was tired that his only purpose seemed to be spreading his legs for a herd of rutting penises and popping out child after child for them, while they stood around smoking home-made cigars, patting each other on the back for their virility, and plotting their next seduction of his various and sundry sex organs. "No."

No point in trying to explain or justify his decision. That kind of defining no wasn't taken lightly no matter how you buttered it. "I'm sorry."

Wilson looked heart broken. To his frustration, House suddenly felt guilty. Wilson was all sad and forlorn like a lost sheep, and it wasn't even House's fault. There was no reason to feel guilty. Damn, damn damn!

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House vented his frustration out on a keen need for sex and drew Foreman and Eli into his bedroom for an unscheduled night of love-making. He needed to slake his stress in another man's body and Foreman and Eli were the toughest challenges. To get those two horny bulls satisfied meant some heavy duty ass clenching as twice as much for each.

Foreman pumped madly, his teeth clenched, an excited whine escaping between his lips as he felt the deep and urgent ache in his balls nearing the apex of the long climb to glory. Suddenly the world fell away beneath him and he groaned long and low, humping furiously to empty as much of himself as possible. Finally, after he was too flaccid to continue, he withdrew and collapsed on House, soaked in sweat and spent from fucking House like a crazy man. "God that's good." He said and sucked on House's bottom lip. The condom dulled sensation somewhat but at least he could still come while inside House, even though his juice wasn't going to produce anything but a need to flush out the home-made rubber.

House had already taken his pleasure of Eli and sent him on his way. He was angry at Wilson and felt the sharp need to take someone, two someone's, for his own selfish craving - to use them - rather than be taken. A rare reversal of roles.

But the sex, as good as it was, was at an end. House didn't kiss back and Foreman got the hint. Love-fest over. Lights out. Foreman stood and dressed himself while House lay on his side and stared at the wall.

Foreman had sensed the unsettled emotions in House the moment he touched his skin, drawn tight over muscles so tense they may as well have been corded steel. "Not that I think you'll give me a straight answer, but are you okay?"

House wanted to tell him to fuck off, but didn't have the energy. He settled for "Then why ask?"

Foreman sighed too. "Because I'm hoping you'll answer."

House didn't have the heart to explain it all. It was too complex and made his blood pressure spike. It was too stupid to take seriously or worry over. Except he couldn't stop worrying about it. He hated it when Wilson was sad or sulking. Putting back together or comforting an irrationally emotional Wilson was like trying to herd porcupines. They turned their back to you and you always got stuck. "Wilson's being an ass."

Foreman thought he understood. "He's not taking to Eli like we have. And absolutely not like you have."

"He's acting like a child."

"He loves you."

"I know. And he's acting like a child."

"Give him time."

"He's had three months. Eli's not going anywhere. Wilson should stop being such a girl and just accept things the way they are."

"You mean like you accepted Chase?" Foreman laughed ruefully. "Come on. You were an even bigger jerk."

"I was pregnant. Accommodations must be made for preggies."

"Like excuses must be made for the men in love with the preggie. You know Wilson, he wants to be as reasonable as Mister Brady Bunch, but he's more like Elvis on pills. He either gets the girl or wants to shoot the guy who did. And you're his Priscilla, so-"

"-Your metaphors really suck. Shut-up before I hit you with a stiletto."

"I'm just saying Wilson can't help but be jealous when a new man enters your life. And you've got to admit, Eli is a weird sort of choice. He was one of your kidnappers."

"I told you, he didn't know."

"Right. And when he found out, it only took him another eleven months to bring you home." Foreman belted his dusty jeans. "Look, don't get me wrong, I like the guy, but Wilson's got to have more time. And you spending more time with him wouldn't hurt, you know."

"Wilson's problem with jealousy isn't my problem."

Foreman was tired of the circular discussion. "You're completely right. Not your problem. That's why you're not worried or upset or talking about it to me. Because it's not bothering you in the least."

"Your reverse psychology isn't going to work. Not even if you backed up."

Foreman dropped the whole thing. "Look, House, just be you. Act like a jackass. Tell Wilson he's being an idiot, then screw his lights out. Works for me every time."

"You're an easy lay. Wilson I have to romance."

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"Hey." House took Wilson's arm and lead him to the yard. It was a sunny September day.

"Where are we going?"

"We need to talk."

Wilson followed his mate obediently. "Look, House-"

"Shut up and listen." House spoke fast, like the words were tumbling out of a ticker tape machine. "I love you, in case you forgot. I like Eli a lot. I was lonely. He helped me. I got pregnant and had his baby. End of fairy tale. You I love, baby or no baby, help or no help, under all circumstances until the day I die." House stopped abruptly in the middle of the yard, half way to the tumble down barn, and caught his breath. Wilson had been keeping his distance since House said no to another bouncing bundle of joy, and it had thoroughly pissed him off. "Now, can you let those facts soak into your jealous, reason resistant mind and appreciate the difference?" His fingers were clamped so tightly on Wilson's arm, his fingers ached. Loving Wilson was a pain in the ass.

Wilson did. "Yes." He still craved to have another child with House. It ate at him. It was a brain-stemmed, retro-evolutionary hunger and he couldn't quell it with reason.

"Then-"

House was about to say he was willing to have one more baby with Wilson, but he felt something - something like a bump or a nudge from inside his body, trying to tell him something - a nudge that stopped the words in his mouth. Stopped them dead. One moment the sensation wasn't there, and the next minute it was. One moment he was feeling perfectly normal, the next altered. Changed. Added to.

A heat, a heaviness at his groin had arisen out of no where, and it wasn't because he had to pee. House did a calculation in his head. Two days since sex with Eli and Foreman. The timing was right, but they'd used condoms. This should not be happening. The warmth settled in like a tiny coal-fired furnace, a pleasant tickle in his loins. He could almost feel the hormones gathering for the migration to his brain to drive him crazy with food cravings, emotional upheavals and the thirst to let anything with an iron-hard cock slide into him and leave behind its hot liquid brand.

"House?" Wilson looked at his friend who went weirdly silent and stood rock still, staring at the ground. Like House was hearing something no one else was hearing. Wilson lay a hand on his mate's sharply tense shoulder. "Hey. Are you okay?"

House swallowed. "Uh, yeah. Just feeling a little under the weather." He turned, gently brushing off Wilson's hand of concern. "Can we take this up later?"

Wilson nodded, his preoccupation with baby-making thrust aside for more urgent worry over House's sudden blanching face and the sweat beading on his forehead. "Sure. Go lie down. You look like you're going to be sick."

"Eventually." House muttered.

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Wilson felt nauseous himself. "You're pregnant?? Again?"

House was furious with all of them. "Don't you idiots know how to knot a string? What did you do, make little bow ties? This isn't my fault."

A chorus of protests was halted by House's satanic glare. He figured it was Eli's and had announced so at the breakfast table the following morning. "There's a chance it might be Foreman's, but Eli's dick was..." House paused, looked at Wilson with transparent uncertainty, licking his lips, "first in line."

If Wilson had looked broken heart before, now he seemed desecrated, his face shouting Whore! whenever he looked at House.

House tried to ease the tension in the room and the anger in himself by attacking the man he perceived to be most at fault. "I should have known your Goliath worms could push their way through a common knot." Then to them all, "I want double tie-offs on the next batch, or this nursery's closing its doors for good."

Wilson stood, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself and squelch his outraged feelings. "Was I ever "in line" at all?" He strode quickly from the room lest he make more of a fool of himself than he already had.

"By all means, run off and stroke your depressed dick." House yelled after him.

Foreman held his head in his hands to drown out the hub-bub and ease a mounting headache.

Chase tried to disappear into his morning tea cup. But "I made my knots properly." he said pre-defensively, nodding at Foreman and Eli. "One of you guys must have got sloppy."

"Shut-up Chase." Foreman said.

Eli ignored it all. House, as angry as he was, was pregnant again, and it was probably his. Eli didn't give a damn what the others felt or thought at that moment because he felt like the king of all cocks.

It was a perfect morning. "I'm going to be a daddy."

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XXXXXXX

Part XV asap