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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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.

"More," insisted House as he started to fuck him, slowly at first, then harder. He grabbed Jack's arms and pinned them up over his head, then with one hand held his wrists there.

Jack moaned lewdly, not bothering to struggle.

"Much as I love your cock?"

"Tell me," House whispered, and lowered his head to sink his teeth into Jack's shoulder.

"Christ, I love when you fuck me like this," he said softly, aching for more. "Just fucking take me and make moan and use me, so thick and hot and...God, Greg, do that again,please," he baegged.

House started to thrust harder as he bit him again, this time in a more sensitive spot, hard enough to leave teeth marks and just barely taste the tang of blood. He moaned at the sound Jack made.

A shock of pain and the force he had to will himself to keep still for left Jack wordless, gasping and moaning, spead eagle and held to the door.

He couldn't even beg anymore.

"Come for me," House gasped against Jack's neck. "Want to feel you come."

"Touch me," he whimpered, turning his head, even though he couldn't see the man behind him. "I'll keep my arms up..."

House chuckled softly, at himself - he'd gotten so caught up in the moment that he'd forgotten he had Jack's hands pinned above his head.

House reached around and wrapped his hand firmly around Jack's cock. "I love you."

"Nnnngh..."

Jack had the same old dilemma. Thrust into Greg's hand, grind against his cock. Such choices.

He found a rhythm to do both, so close to coming his thighs shook.

"Oh god, Jack, fuck..." House groaned, getting to the point where he couldn't really hold out himself. The nails of his one hand dug into Jack's wrist as the other pumped his cock furiously.

His voice rose in pitch and volume, his whole body shaking, hips bucking, cock thrusting for more, a little more...

"Greg, fucking fuck!" he screamed, pulsing suddenly and hard, shooting off against the door.

As soon as House felt Jack come, he slid both his hands down onto his hips, holding him fast as he started to thrust as hard as he could, so fucking close, grunting with each thrust that practically knocked Jack against the door.

He spread his hands again, using them to take the brunt of it as he dropped forward, pushed his ass back, and took it, letting Greg use him.

It had been way to fucking long sine he'd felt this good.

"God Jack," House gasped, barely able to get the words out. "Oh god, oh fuck, that's - oh fuck - "

He came, harder and better than he could remember in a really long time. It seemed to go on and on, Jack's perfect ass milking his cock, House's pulse pounding in his ears.

Just as the rush of wet heat filled him, Jack's shoulders and spine started to prickle with sweat. He had his cheek pressed to the wood, gulping deep breaths to try to bring himself back.

"Love..." he muttered, the rest of it implied.

House nodded breathlessly and staggered back a little. "I think I need to lay down."

He sank back onto the bed, looking exhausted, but sated and happy.

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