misanthrope_md | for Jack

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jack

for Jack

For two days now, House had been taking Vicodin. Not as much as he'd been taking when he'd left Princeton - having cleaned it out of his system, it didn't take as much to make the pain go away. Though he knew it was only a matter of time before he started to build up a tolerance again.

In the meantime, he saw no reason to tell anyone. Certainly not Wilson or Chase, who would probably try to talk him out of it. What did they know? They didn't understand. Sure, he functioned. And he might be a jerk, but he still came off as a normal human being most of the time. But he was still in constant pain.

And he hadn't told Jack just because... well, he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just easier if he kept it completely to himself. Like it didn't really exist. Because then he wasn't doing anything potentially stupid or selfish.

But despite all the misgivings, he felt great. Better than he'd felt in six months.

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Jack was finishing up a new pendant, rubbing the mother-of-pearl he'd been chipping at until it was shining bright.

"Hey, Greg? Could you grab me that punch?" he called from the porch. "I left it on the table."

It wasn't as if the hut was very big, so House didn't bother to get his cane as he crossed the room, grabbing the glass of punch and then opening the door and holding it out for Jack.

He'd been hot earlier, so the sleeves on his blue oxford shirt were rolled up, buttons all undone, baring his chest. And he was giving Jack a look. Unintentional, perhaps, but a Look all the same.

He was rewarded with a slow smile and a Look in return. "Thanks," he purred, trading the glass for the pendant (http://www.becass.co.uk/catalog/images/beck%201-12-05-036363.jpg). "What do you think?"

"It's nice," House said appraisingly. "Who's it for?" He looked back up at Jack, gaze settled on his eyes.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just made it."

He drank down all of what was in the glass and set it aside, standing up. "Have I told you how good you look today?"

"No," said House, a slight smirk on his lips. "You failed to mention it." He held the pendant out.

He took it without looking away from Greg's eyes and tossed it down by the glass.

"You look good," he purred, stepping closer and sliding his hands inside Greg's open shirt. "Really good."

"I feel good." House caught Jack's wrists and then turned in an almost ballroom movement so that Jack was the one against the wall, on the other side of the door frame.

"I can tell," he grinned. "Past couple days. You're...I don't know."

And he didn't care. Not when they could be kissing.

House really didn't want to believe that he'd been acting that differently, but maybe it was just how he acted when he wasn't in pain. "I'm just having a good day with my leg," he murmured as he lowered his mouth to Jack's neck. "Seemed like a good reason to fuck you senseless."

"Nnngh," he moaned, tipping his head back. "Like there even needs to be a reason."

He was already undoing Greg's fly.

House smirked. "Here? On the porch?" He licked a line up Jack's neck and then reached down to cup his groin. "Slut." He purred the word, reverently. "Wanting everyone to see me fucking you into the wall."

Jack shivered and hooked his fingers into Greg's waistband blindly. "I don't care who sees. Everyone knows I'm yours," he rasped, rocking his hips forward into his palm.

"Is that how you want it, baby?" House growled against Jack's ear, pausing to pull his earlobe between his teeth. "Hard and fast and dirty?"

"Jesus, Greg...are you high?" he asked, fully aware that he wasn't. There wasn't even the hint of pot clinging to him, and he dind't taste like it either, but he knew the different nuances of the man and this was definitely how he acted when he was feeling good.

"Nevermid. Just..." he managed, dropping his chin and turning his head to find Greg's lips. "You know what I like," he groaned into his mouth.

"Inside," growled House, grabbing Jack's wrist and hauling him through the door. Once there, he pushed Jack back against it, face first, and yanked at his pants.

"Oh, God," he groaned, knwing just what Greg was doing and only a little shocked. It was hard to be surprised when this was what turned him on to the point that he couldn't do much but beg.

"Please, Greg..."

House smirked a little and pulled down Jack's pants as he sank to one knee. Then he settled his hands on Jack's hips and dragged his tongue up the line of his ass.

This...just didn't happen. Part of him thought it might be a good idea to question if Greg was really up for this.

The other part didn't give a shit.

"Christ, Greg," he moaned, canting his ass back for more.

House pushed his tongue in deep as he dug his fingers into Jack's hips.

Jack cried out and spread his arms wide, chest against the door. At this rate, Greg would have him begging for anything the man wanted...Jack wouldn't care.

After a few more moments of that, House kissed his way up Jack's spine as he carefully got to his feet. Then he yanked down his pants, kicking them out of the way.

He pressed himself flush against Jack's body, his erection firmly against Jack's hip, and licked the back of his ear.

"Greg," he groaned, writhing back against him. "Fast....dirty...promised," he whispered, the picture of desperation.

"Dirty," House repeated against his ear before positioning himself. He was still careful to keep the weight off of his leg, but with the Vicodin in his system he didn't have to be as careful. As he slid inside, he rasped, "So fucking hot, god, I love your ass."

"...much as I love you fucking it?" he asked, pushing back once, then trying to step out of one leg of his jeans so he could spread wider for Greg.

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