Title: See You Tomorrow
Warning: Severe brain injury, non-con.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them. Or worse.
Wilson looks with desire at House's naked body: sensual mouth, wide shoulders and narrow hips, long shapely legs, elegant feet. He should be used to it by now, and yet the sight always takes his breath away. Then Wilson's hands and mouth start performing their magic, and soon the shriveled penis is standing erect. His fingers trace the vein climbing along it, his lips push down the foreskin and his tongue teases the slit, his other hand circles the soft silk of the balls.
Time for condoms and lube. After doing it almost every day for months he doesn't need preparation anymore; he just straddles House, one knee on each side, and slowly lowers himself, gently guiding his lover inside him. A deep breath as his body admits the welcome intrusion, and then he pushes down all the way, moaning as he feels his own balls resting on House's skin.
For a moment he wishes he could see the blue of the closed eyes. Then he starts pushing himself up and down, slowly increasing the rhythm while he kneads House's nipples. When he feels that his lover is close to the edge, he moves his left hand to his own body, synchronizing its movements with those of his thighs. With practiced ease he brings them both to orgasm simultaneously, his ring muscles contracting around House's throbbing cock.
He quickly cleans them both up and disposes of the condoms. "We can spend the whole weekend together, I have no urgent case." Once he's dressed and everything is tidy again, he unlocks the door, then checks one last time House's monitor. "See you tomorrow," he adds as he leaves the Vegetative State Patients room.
He tarries a moment before closing the door, hopelessly waiting for an answer. As he does every day.
Author's note: This ficlet is inspired by Pedro Almodovar's movie Talk To Her.