enlee

***

He had been understandably dazed and exhausted when I helped him get dressed and brought him back here, barely saying five words along the way. The closet we were sleeping in was small, almost too small for the both of us as well as a bit stuffy, but it was nice and dark and that’s what really counted. We could certainly put up with it for another night or two.

The need to protect House, to make sure he was okay swelled up in me, ready to burst. I hugged him closer, as if he could ever be too close. He was curled up around me, his face buried in the crook of my neck, pretty pinning me in place. Fine with me, I thought and rubbed the back of his neck. He was still dead to the world while I was wide awake. But I wasn’t going anywhere just yet; no need for a clock to tell me that sundown was still forty-five minutes away. I threaded my fingers through his coarse hair, enjoying the feeling of it, like a cat’s tongue.

The first night in our forever. I wondered if House ever thought about how long forever is, about all the things we can do together now that nothing stood in our way. No more pain. No more addiction. No more annoying ex-wives. No more alimony payments. Nothing. Just the two of us. Wonderful, I thought and grinned like an idiot in the pitch black of the closet.

A low groan from House as he began to stir, his beard scratching my neck.

“Wilson?” He sounded tired and confused. His grip around my tightened.

“It’s okay, House,” I assured him, running my hand up and down his back in what I hoped was a soothing gesture.

It seemed to work as I could feel him loosen up a bit and let out sigh of immense relief.

“Not dark yet?” he asked.

“In a little while.”

“Are we sleeping in here again?”

“Probably.”

“Can we at least get some damn pillows and blankets in here?”

I laughed quietly and promised that there would be plenty of pillows and blankets just for him.

“Damn right,” he muttered, then brought his hand up to my cheek as he began to work his mouth against my neck, his tongue tracing out patterns against my skin.

“A little early for that, isn’t it?” I asked, even as I tilted my head to the side to give him better access.

“Never too early,” he muttered as his mouth became more insistent, the nipping and sucking on my neck getting more intense.

Another groan filled the air and at first I didn’t realize it came from me. I felt his fingertips trace the planes of my cheek, trace the shape of my lower lip before they worked their way down my neck to my shirt. Those skillful fingers made short work of the buttons, undoing them without even looking. My shirt was pushed open and those fingers of his were all over every exposed inch of my skin. Another groan from me only seemed to fan the flames of his craving as his hand skirted lower and lower from my chest to my belly, finally stopping to grab my crotch.

I grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he could shove that wandering hand inside my pants. He looked up, irritated at the interruption. Both of us could see quite clearly in the dark and I could see very well that his eyes were stormy with lust.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled.

“Stopping you.”

“What the hell for?”

“You do know the rules have changed now, right?” I said.

“Since when?”

“Since last night.”

He scowled. “How does that work?”

“I made you what you are, therefore I’m in charge.”

That revelation seemed to amuse him more than anything. With his scowl twisting into a wicked grin, he asked “Is that a fact?” with a snort.

“It is.”

Those words were barely out of my mouth before House swung his leg over my hips, straddling me, and had my arms pinned above my head.

“Since when did I ever give a fuck about the rules?” The lust stormed back into his eyes with the strength of a Category 5 hurricane. He was the wind, I was the seaside shack and I was about to get blown off my foundation, leaving behind nothing but a concrete slab.

“Since never,” I answered, my voice weak and shaky.

“Exactly. And just what makes you think I’m going to start now?”

“I thought--”

“Do us both a favor for the moment, Wilson, and don’t think.”

I made a feeble attempt to struggle and he laughed.

“Willing to hurt a cripple to make your great escape?”

“You’re not crippled anymore,” I reminded him.

“I’m still missing a muscle in my leg. Unless that great big hickey you gave me last night will magically make it grow back, the scar is still there and it always will be.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No. Do you want to know what does bother me?”

“What?”

“Your nagging questions.”

He bent down and claimed my mouth with a brutal kiss. My eyes fluttered shut as his tongue slipped past my lips. He paused long enough to rip open my pants; I swore I heard a faint tink as the button hit the wall. Then he picked up right where he had been interrupted: his mouth crushing mine and his hand down my pants, those long, talented fingers wrapping around my cock and stroking up and down the length. His attack on my mouth continued, it was like he was starved for this and maybe he was. My brain began to short-circuit as his hand managed to find every sensitive area, every last nerve that was quickly sending me into a frenzy, reducing me to nothing but a bundle of raw sensations. He just kept stroking and stroking and I could feel every last ridge of his fingertips, every twist of his wrist, every flick of his thumb across the head. The pressure was building and building and I would have begged for relief if I could have spoken but all I could do was just lay there, shamelessly groaning and writhing underneath him as he fucked me with his hand and fucked my mouth with his tongue.

Every lit fuse eventually reaches its destination and blows something apart; I was no different. I cried out, my voice bouncing off the walls again and again as I came. From far away I could hear House’s voice but it was only jumbled nonsense that was drowned out by the roar of white noise that was exploding in my head.

Slowly but surely the everything swam back into focus. The first thing I saw was House and his smug grin.

“Welcome back, sunshine,” he said, without even making a token effort to hide the gloating in his voice, and gave me a chaste kiss on the mouth.

“Sure,” I muttered. “Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“And you’re an ass.”

“You just figured that out?” House and his damnable smirk looked down at me. “You should have thought of that before deciding that spending the rest of forever with me was a good idea.”

“I never said it wasn’t.”

“Of course not. That would be admitting defeat and you’re just too damned proud for that.”

“If you say so.” I wasn’t the mood to argue with him. There were more important things to worry about, like getting my fill of both blood and him. “The sun’s down.”

“Good,” he said, getting to his knees. “Lets go.”

I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down and said, “Not so fast.”

He tried to protest but his words were cut off when I thrust my hand between his legs and squeezed.

With my own wicked smirk I looked him right in the eye and declared, “It’s my turn.”

It was a relatively quiet New Year’s Eve, the first at our new loft. I figured it called for a little something special so I cooked up a fabulous spaghetti dinner while House supplied the champagne. Then we stuffed our faces with cheesecake while we watched the countdown on television. If chowing down about five thousand calories isn’t a great way to start off a new year and new decade, then I don’t know what is.

We drank but we didn’t get rip-roaring drunk. House usually gets depressed during the holidays and uses it as an excuse to down the booze, thus starting off the new year with a bitch of a hangover. But not this year. Things are different now. For the first time in a long time he has control of his addictions and demons and not the other way around. Another great way to start off the new decade.

I figured he deserved a little treat, a nice surprise to wake up to. So I fixed him some blueberry muffins and a glass of orange juice, setting them on a tray. A bottle of aspirin was added in case he had a hangover. Feeling like a butler, I brought the tray of food and over-the-counter medicine to the bedroom.

He was sprawled on his side of the bed, drooling all over the pillowcase. For a second I thought about taking a picture with my camera phone but decided one silly picture wasn’t worth getting my ass kicked over.

“Good morning!” I declared in a ridiculously chipper voice.

His eyes flew open and took a few moments to focus. Once he realized who I was and where he was, he began to pull himself up into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

“Nearly ten. I bring gifts.”

“Gifts? Christmas was last week, you scatter-brained Jew.”

“I brought you some breakfast.”

He looked up and blinked, a wry grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Breakfast in bed? Seriously?”

I held out the tray for his inspection.

“I see,” he said, sounding pleased as he propped himself up on a mountain of pillows. “Just what have I done to deserve this?”

“You’ve come a long way since Mayfield,” I replied while setting the tray on his lap, then sitting on the edge of bed.

“Have I?” He tore the top off a muffin and waited for my response.

“You’re off the Vicodin, we have this new loft here…I think we’re starting off the new year on the right foot.”

“Yes, we are.”

More than satisfied with his words I made no attempt to hide my face-splitting grin.

After a huge gulp of orange juice, House said, “You know I’m going to expect breakfast in bed every day now, right?”

“And you know this is only reserved for those rare special occasions.”

“So when’s the next super-duper ultra special occasion?”

“You’ll find out when I bring you breakfast again.”

“You didn’t bring any for yourself,” he noted, sounding a bit amused.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You lie like a rug,” he snorted, then handed me a muffin.

I blinked in amazement. “What’s the occasion?” I had to ask.

House smiled. “It’s a new year, Wilson, and I guarantee it’s going to be full of surprises.”

Title: Belong
Pairing: House/Wilson, slash
Rating: R
Word Count: ~2200
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada.

I held him, threading my fingers through his short hair as he slept on since I knew that always made House feel better, and that made me feel better as well. His head rested on my shoulder, and I could smell the salt on his skin, the bourbon he had enjoyed earlier, the faint coppery smell of his blood as it pulsed through him; the taste of it was still on my tongue. The marks on his neck were fading. By morning it would be like they had never been there.

A glance at the clock told me I had to leave soon. A pang of regret roiled with the fresh blood, turning it sour for a split second. I could stay here on sofa with him for a hundred more hours, just watching him sleep. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to be with him. We were meant to be together. I was going to see to that.

But nothing was ever that easy.

I had scared him.

The last thing I ever wanted to do was scare House and yet I still did. And badly. The horror in his eyes when he turned around and saw me and what I had become…it would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been so real. His blue eyes wide with horror, stumbling backwards, his frenzied declarations that I wasn’t Wilson anymore, that I was a monster, well, I couldn’t have that. It was wrong. Then he turned and ran from me. At least he tried to run. That damned bum leg of his wouldn’t let him get very far. The scream he let out before I could clamp a hand onto his mouth still rang in my ears. And the struggling. He had flailing and thrashing, trying to get away from the monster I had become. I couldn’t have that, either. I couldn’t have him be terrified of me, not now, not ever. Our eyes met and he couldn’t look away because I wouldn’t let him. With him under my spell, so to speak, he would do whatever I told him without question. Gently, I told him that I wasn’t going to hurt him. I told House to calm down and he did. The fear drained away and was replaced with more than a little understandable confusion. I put my arm around him and led him to the sofa.

He sat there and listened as I told him everything--what I was, how it happened and why I had come back for him. He didn’t say a word, just nodded like this sort of thing happened every day and he understood completely. I told him how this wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t want him to be afraid of me. So he wasn’t coming with me, not just yet. Tomorrow night.

I leaned in and kissed him, tasting him, craving him. He belonged with me. He knew that. I knew that. I kissed my way down to his neck, feeling the heat roll off him in waves, hearing his blood pulse through his artery, so close, so close. My teeth sank into his neck before I could stop myself. The sweet, warm liquid flooded my mouth, poured down my throat. His gasp of shock and arousal sounded faint, far off, as his body went rigid. Just a taste, that was all I could have right now. I had to force myself to let go.

The sound of his gasping filled the room. He was dazed and giddy; he would have let me have every last drop. But I didn’t want that. I just wanted a taste and a connection. We now had a permanent connection and nothing would ever, ever break it.

I wasn’t going to drag him into this kicking and screaming, scared to death of becoming a “monster” like me. Cupping his face in my hands I told that any memory of being terrified of me was now gone. A nod from him. Licking the last of the crimson smears from my lips, I told him to go to sleep. And that’s just what my friend did.

Come morning House would wake up without a concern and stumble to the kitchen for his coffee as per usual. But I would remember. I would remember it all, every last detail, and that’s not how I wanted us to begin our new life together.

It was time to get going. I lay him back on the sofa, and find a pillow and blanket for him. He didn’t so much as flinch. He was dead to the world. I could set off a grenade in the room and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash. At least he would get a good night’s sleep.

I left.

~~~~

The last of the daylight was still clinging to the sky when I woke up. I couldn’t move just yet so I listened to his thoughts. House was watching television and trying to let his mind go blank and far off. His leg was bothering him. He was rubbing his thigh--I could hear and feel the soft scraping of the denim beneath his palm--and washing down a couple of Vicodin with some bourbon. Too much pain. Too many Vicodin. That was all going to change very soon.

I heard the glass of bourbon shatter on the floor. No need to ask if he heard me.

His response was almost immediate: I’ll be waiting.

It was the longest few minutes I ever experienced.

~~~~

He answered the door before I finished knocking, as if he had been standing there, listening for me. He was wearing my McGill sweatshirt. I smiled at that, then at him. No sign of fear in his eyes, just nervousness. Perfectly understandable. I stepped inside.

House closed and locked the door, then stood with his back against it, watching me, waiting for me. Waiting for me to make the first move. I liked that. Anticipation now mixed with his nervousness; he was nearly panting, his pupils were blown, the size of dimes. Well, who was I to keep him waiting?

Two steps and I was toe-to-toe with him, my mouth crushed over his mouth, the faint taste bourbon still lingering there along with the deep, rich taste of House. His hands tearing at the buttons of my shirt--one or two clattered on the floor--then swarmed up my back. His skin, his heat, it was intoxicating. House was my drug, my addiction, what I craved the most. I could never get enough.

He broke away, breathless. The sight of his face now burning red with lust, his mouth swollen from my kisses, my sweatshirt clinging to his sweaty skin…it was almost too much. It took every last ounce of self control to hold myself back. This was something worth taking my sweet time, something to savor. Sure, I could take the quick and dirty way and suck the life out of him right there against the front door, but where was the fun in that? Both of us deserved better.

I took his hand and led him to the bedroom, peppering his face with soft kisses along the way.

He slowed down as well and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. For a while we simply stood by the bed and held each other. I loved the feeling of it, the closeness. I could feel each warm puff of his breath against my neck, could feel House revel in the intimacy he craved but so rarely found. House’s actions may have slowed down but his thoughts were like a tornado barreling down a highway: Don’t you dare leave you can’t leave me don’t want to be alone I love you stay here stay with me forever please don’t go…

I came back for you, House. You will never be alone again.

His arms wrapped tighter. I heard what could only be called a muffled cry of relief come from him.

Gently, I pushed him back until he was sitting on the bed. I took the hem of the McGill sweatshirt and began to pull. Without a word he raised his arms and let me peel it off him. Shedding his old life, preparing for the new one he was ready to start. He climbed on the bed and sank back into the pillows, quietly watching as a undid the last few buttons he hadn’t torn off and shrugged out of my own shirt. I crawled on top of him, planting kisses along his belly, his chest. Feeling him shudder beneath me, because of me, surrendering to me, it was exquisite. I swung a leg over his hips, straddling him, looking down at him. So beautiful. The word beautiful couldn’t even begin to describe him as he lay underneath me. His bright blue eyes never looked away. No trace of fear left in them; they were full of anticipation, full of lust, love, awe, impatience, carnality. His erection pressed into me.

I leaned and brushed my lips over his. His affection for me, his lust, his love; I wasn’t making him do any of it. This was of his own free will. He was laid bare in every sense of the word and letting me take in every last detail. Letting me see him vulnerable. Dropping his mask. No wonder I wanted to savor this, and I did, just as I savored of his kisses as I committed the taste and texture of him to memory, the sound of his moans as I ground my crotch into his as his legs wrapped around me like a vine, listening to him murmur my name.

It couldn’t last. Nothing this good ever does. My kisses found their way down to his neck. His blood just underneath the skin. I could smell it, could see his pulse. The marks from last night had faded, and they would again. It was time to do what I came here for.

The pain was something I couldn’t help as my teeth tore into his artery and didn’t let go. The pang of regret as I heard him cry out was gone in a heartbeat as his life poured down my throat. It was everything, it was too much, it wasn’t enough, it was mine. House was mine. He belonged to me. He struggled but couldn’t break free even if he wanted to and if I let him. His instinctive efforts to get away grew weaker and weaker with each mouthful I took. Then his arms fell away onto the soft blankets beneath us.

His face was chalk white, eyes half-open and dull. Crimson dripped from my chin and dribbled along his chest. With my sharp nails I ripped open my own throat, feeling the very thing I had just drained from him flow free. I pressed House up against my open wound and urged him to drink.

At first he didn’t, and I was terrified that I had taken too much, that he was gone beyond my reach. Then his lips moved, his tongue was lapping it up, and he was drinking, swallowing each mouthful like a man starved. I held him there, letting him relish each drop; the sweet, rich liquid that couldn’t be found in any bottle.

Enough. I had to wrench him away. His chin and mouth were dripping with it, his blood, my blood, our blood. He looked around the room, then at me, as if seeing it all for the first time. There was a new fire in his eyes, a roaring blaze that could reduce the whole city to ashes.

I brushed my thumb along his scruffy cheek. He leaned into my touch and sighed.

You know why I came back for you, House.

I know why you came back. He laughed softly, his sharp teeth glinting against the faint amber glow from the street. I know.

--The End