Houseficlet: Torchlight
Drafting. Just to clarify -- this is the AU of an AU; a slightly alternate universe to The Annals ficverse.
This is for purrlia, who stumped the writer and asked for Roman slash.
ETA: Done. It still hasn't told me its name yet.
ETA 2: Named. Adding stats.
TITLE: Torchlight
AUTHOR: nightdog_barks
PAIRING: Gregorius/James
RATING: NC-17.
WARNINGS: Yes, for two guys making love.
SPOILERS: No.
SUMMARY: James has an unexpected visitor in the night.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own this AU version of House and Wilson. Never will.
AUTHOR NOTES: What could happen if the Annals-verse ever goes slash. Written for purrlia, who stumped the writer and won a drabble. She asked for Roman slash, and this is the result. Many thanks to perspi for coming up with the title.
BETA: Nope.
for purrlia
Torchlight
James opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the half-light of the single torch that burned overhead. He'd been dreaming -- he had been back in Ario's tent, the warrior chieftain straddling him, pinning his wrists to the floor. A shadow moved above him; there was a warm, solid weight on his ribs and full wakefulness returned with a vengeance. He struggled to sit up, to throw off his attacker.
"Shhhhh. James, it's me."
The slave held still, suddenly uncertain. "Gregorius? My lord, what are you doing?" He started to throw the blankets aside. "Are you in pain? Do you need another infusion of white willow bark?"
A strong hand pressed gently on James's chest, settling him back down into the soft nest of furs.
"I'm fine, James," the Roman said. "I'm simply doing something I should've done a long time ago." The callused hand lifted from his chest and moved to the slave's forehead, brushing back the unruly brown hair. A rough thumb traced the line of James's left cheekbone, following the arch under his eye. Gregorius leaned forward; James shivered as the surgeon lightly kissed along the same path his thumb had just taken.
"My lord," James whispered.
The Roman's lips slipped lower; his teeth nipped gently at the slave's throat. James arched his back, pressing up against Gregorius's weight and moaning softly.
"I will not order you to submit," the Roman murmured. "Although it would please me greatly if you did."
"My lord," James whispered again. Carefully, cautiously, he wrapped one hand around the back of the surgeon's neck. "Your pleasure is my own."
The Roman's teeth gleamed in the twilight; he seemed to growl deep in his throat. "I was hoping you'd say that," he replied roughly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a full, lingering kiss. The surgeon lifted up James's tunic; the slave moaned again as Gregorius's long fingers began to rub gently over his nipples, teasing and tweaking the sensitive nubs of flesh. He whimpered in disappointment as the Roman's mouth left his, then gasped as it fastened over his right nipple and began to suck.
James arched again, trying to increase the contact. The surgeon chuckled softly; his left hand took hold of James's hair and tilted his head back, allowing the slave to lift his chest up a little further. His other hand continued to tease and rub James's left nipple; his tongue caressed and licked at the right with slow, maddening strokes. Then suddenly he'd switched; James drew in a quick breath as the Roman's mouth closed over his left nipple and his thumb began tracing lazy, saliva-slick circles around his right. He whimpered again, and writhed under the surgeon's weight. There was a familiar warmth blooming in James's groin, and he strained upward with his hips.
The Roman shifted and sat back on his haunches; he'd taken off his sleep tunic, and the dark blond hair on his chest caught the flickering torchlight and reflected back as coarse-spun gold. James ran his fingers over the surgeon's ribs, then lifted his hands higher and thumbed gently at Gregorius's nipples. The Roman let his head droop backwards at the touch, and he moaned softly at the slave's feather-light brushes.
James's gaze drifted downwards and smiled; the surgeon had wrapped a simple towel around his waist, and the bulge beneath the Egyptian cotton was obvious. He took one hand from the Roman's nipples and stroked gently at the erection; his smile grew as it twitched appreciatively under his fingers.
"Ah," the Roman murmured. "Ah." He bent forward again, resting his forearms on either side of James's head. His tongue thrust roughly into James's mouth; the slave bucked, hands grabbing at the surgeon's biceps. Without lifting his head, Gregorius drew his arms back and gripped James's wrists, pinning them to the ground. The slave struggled for a moment; the Roman simply tightened his knees and pressed in harder. When he broke the kiss at last, both men were panting. Blue eyes stared into brown, then the brown eyes closed and James yielded, baring his throat in submission.
The Roman growled in triumph; he nipped again at the slave's neck, letting his teeth linger on the warm pulse of the carotid. Then he was gone, kneeling between James's legs and untying the slave's cotton towel.
James moaned as Gregorius exhaled softly, the Roman's warm breath eddying in little currents about the slave's already-erect penis. Long fingers gently cupped his balls, and James found himself drawing his knees up and opening his legs a little further. The warm breath suddenly grew hot, and the slave gasped as the Roman's tongue traced a slow, langorous path the length of his cock, from the root to the glistening tip. James whined and clutched at the furs beneath him; his legs began to tremble as the licking continued.
The tongue darted in and out, tasting the slave's balls, his groin, the thin, delicate skin between the two. James shivered and made small mewling sounds as the tongue gently explored the tiny slit at the tip of his cock, lapping at the pre-ejaculate droplets there. He arched his back and tried to thrust as the Roman's mouth closed tightly over his penis, but the surgeon's strong hands wrapped around his thighs and held him firmly in place. All the while Gregorius's tongue continued to work, flicking like butterfly's wings, like bird's feathers, up and down and around his cock.
"Oh, God," James whispered. "Please, my lord .."
The Roman hummed softly, and the slave writhed and twisted beneath him. Still the surgeon's hands held him down, his tongue relentlessly licking and suckling. James threw his head back; the exquisite pressure was building in his testicles, and the constant warm, wet friction was about to send him over the edge. Suddenly the Roman was forcing his thighs even further apart; the surgeon's fingers were stroking his perineum, and the mouth closed even tighter around his cock. The slave jerked; the Roman was sucking hard and swallowing him down even as he toyed with James's balls. The sensory overload was too much, and with a low, keening cry the slave came.
Gregorius continued to suckle, holding James still even as the slave's cock pumped the briny taste of the sea into the Roman's mouth. Only when James flinched at the unremitting pressure did he release his hold.
The slave watched, dazed, as the Roman straddled him again. The surgeon lifted James's left hand; bringing it to his mouth, he licked the slave's palm, covering it with saliva and the slave's own come. Then, his eyes fixed on James's, he placed the hand on his own erection, wrapping the slave's fingers around it, and his own fingers around James's. He began to pump, slowly and evenly, the double fist sliding smoothly over his cock.
A look of concentration came over the Roman's face; his eyes squeezed shut and already James could feel the surgeon's balls beginning to contract.
James tightened his grip a little. The Roman grunted softly and sped up his stroke.
The torch above them sputtered, throwing off tiny comet trails of sparks; somewhere an owl called. The only sound in the tent was that of the Roman gasping, panting for breath as he rocked back on forth on the slave's body. Then the surgeon's back was arching; he cried out something in a language James didn't understand as hot come spurted over the slave's chest and throat.
The Roman held still for a moment, still panting, then slowly lowered himself until he was lying beside James, his right arm draped across the slave's damp chest. He nuzzled gently at James's shoulder.
"Good," he murmured. He made no move to help as James gathered what he could of the blankets and furs and tucked them around himself and the Roman. He brushed an errant curl from the surgeon's sweat-slick forehead and smiled a little. The Roman had already fallen asleep, his face relaxed and strangely innocent as it always was during slumber.
"Yes, my lord," the slave agreed softly. "Very good."
~ fin
Vita non est vivere sed valere vita est.
- Life is more than merely staying alive.
This is for purrlia, who stumped the writer and asked for Roman slash.
ETA: Done. It still hasn't told me its name yet.
ETA 2: Named. Adding stats.
TITLE: Torchlight
AUTHOR: nightdog_barks
PAIRING: Gregorius/James
RATING: NC-17.
WARNINGS: Yes, for two guys making love.
SPOILERS: No.
SUMMARY: James has an unexpected visitor in the night.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own this AU version of House and Wilson. Never will.
AUTHOR NOTES: What could happen if the Annals-verse ever goes slash. Written for purrlia, who stumped the writer and won a drabble. She asked for Roman slash, and this is the result. Many thanks to perspi for coming up with the title.
BETA: Nope.
for purrlia
Torchlight
James opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the half-light of the single torch that burned overhead. He'd been dreaming -- he had been back in Ario's tent, the warrior chieftain straddling him, pinning his wrists to the floor. A shadow moved above him; there was a warm, solid weight on his ribs and full wakefulness returned with a vengeance. He struggled to sit up, to throw off his attacker.
"Shhhhh. James, it's me."
The slave held still, suddenly uncertain. "Gregorius? My lord, what are you doing?" He started to throw the blankets aside. "Are you in pain? Do you need another infusion of white willow bark?"
A strong hand pressed gently on James's chest, settling him back down into the soft nest of furs.
"I'm fine, James," the Roman said. "I'm simply doing something I should've done a long time ago." The callused hand lifted from his chest and moved to the slave's forehead, brushing back the unruly brown hair. A rough thumb traced the line of James's left cheekbone, following the arch under his eye. Gregorius leaned forward; James shivered as the surgeon lightly kissed along the same path his thumb had just taken.
"My lord," James whispered.
The Roman's lips slipped lower; his teeth nipped gently at the slave's throat. James arched his back, pressing up against Gregorius's weight and moaning softly.
"I will not order you to submit," the Roman murmured. "Although it would please me greatly if you did."
"My lord," James whispered again. Carefully, cautiously, he wrapped one hand around the back of the surgeon's neck. "Your pleasure is my own."
The Roman's teeth gleamed in the twilight; he seemed to growl deep in his throat. "I was hoping you'd say that," he replied roughly, and allowed himself to be pulled into a full, lingering kiss. The surgeon lifted up James's tunic; the slave moaned again as Gregorius's long fingers began to rub gently over his nipples, teasing and tweaking the sensitive nubs of flesh. He whimpered in disappointment as the Roman's mouth left his, then gasped as it fastened over his right nipple and began to suck.
James arched again, trying to increase the contact. The surgeon chuckled softly; his left hand took hold of James's hair and tilted his head back, allowing the slave to lift his chest up a little further. His other hand continued to tease and rub James's left nipple; his tongue caressed and licked at the right with slow, maddening strokes. Then suddenly he'd switched; James drew in a quick breath as the Roman's mouth closed over his left nipple and his thumb began tracing lazy, saliva-slick circles around his right. He whimpered again, and writhed under the surgeon's weight. There was a familiar warmth blooming in James's groin, and he strained upward with his hips.
The Roman shifted and sat back on his haunches; he'd taken off his sleep tunic, and the dark blond hair on his chest caught the flickering torchlight and reflected back as coarse-spun gold. James ran his fingers over the surgeon's ribs, then lifted his hands higher and thumbed gently at Gregorius's nipples. The Roman let his head droop backwards at the touch, and he moaned softly at the slave's feather-light brushes.
James's gaze drifted downwards and smiled; the surgeon had wrapped a simple towel around his waist, and the bulge beneath the Egyptian cotton was obvious. He took one hand from the Roman's nipples and stroked gently at the erection; his smile grew as it twitched appreciatively under his fingers.
"Ah," the Roman murmured. "Ah." He bent forward again, resting his forearms on either side of James's head. His tongue thrust roughly into James's mouth; the slave bucked, hands grabbing at the surgeon's biceps. Without lifting his head, Gregorius drew his arms back and gripped James's wrists, pinning them to the ground. The slave struggled for a moment; the Roman simply tightened his knees and pressed in harder. When he broke the kiss at last, both men were panting. Blue eyes stared into brown, then the brown eyes closed and James yielded, baring his throat in submission.
The Roman growled in triumph; he nipped again at the slave's neck, letting his teeth linger on the warm pulse of the carotid. Then he was gone, kneeling between James's legs and untying the slave's cotton towel.
James moaned as Gregorius exhaled softly, the Roman's warm breath eddying in little currents about the slave's already-erect penis. Long fingers gently cupped his balls, and James found himself drawing his knees up and opening his legs a little further. The warm breath suddenly grew hot, and the slave gasped as the Roman's tongue traced a slow, langorous path the length of his cock, from the root to the glistening tip. James whined and clutched at the furs beneath him; his legs began to tremble as the licking continued.
The tongue darted in and out, tasting the slave's balls, his groin, the thin, delicate skin between the two. James shivered and made small mewling sounds as the tongue gently explored the tiny slit at the tip of his cock, lapping at the pre-ejaculate droplets there. He arched his back and tried to thrust as the Roman's mouth closed tightly over his penis, but the surgeon's strong hands wrapped around his thighs and held him firmly in place. All the while Gregorius's tongue continued to work, flicking like butterfly's wings, like bird's feathers, up and down and around his cock.
"Oh, God," James whispered. "Please, my lord .."
The Roman hummed softly, and the slave writhed and twisted beneath him. Still the surgeon's hands held him down, his tongue relentlessly licking and suckling. James threw his head back; the exquisite pressure was building in his testicles, and the constant warm, wet friction was about to send him over the edge. Suddenly the Roman was forcing his thighs even further apart; the surgeon's fingers were stroking his perineum, and the mouth closed even tighter around his cock. The slave jerked; the Roman was sucking hard and swallowing him down even as he toyed with James's balls. The sensory overload was too much, and with a low, keening cry the slave came.
Gregorius continued to suckle, holding James still even as the slave's cock pumped the briny taste of the sea into the Roman's mouth. Only when James flinched at the unremitting pressure did he release his hold.
The slave watched, dazed, as the Roman straddled him again. The surgeon lifted James's left hand; bringing it to his mouth, he licked the slave's palm, covering it with saliva and the slave's own come. Then, his eyes fixed on James's, he placed the hand on his own erection, wrapping the slave's fingers around it, and his own fingers around James's. He began to pump, slowly and evenly, the double fist sliding smoothly over his cock.
A look of concentration came over the Roman's face; his eyes squeezed shut and already James could feel the surgeon's balls beginning to contract.
James tightened his grip a little. The Roman grunted softly and sped up his stroke.
The torch above them sputtered, throwing off tiny comet trails of sparks; somewhere an owl called. The only sound in the tent was that of the Roman gasping, panting for breath as he rocked back on forth on the slave's body. Then the surgeon's back was arching; he cried out something in a language James didn't understand as hot come spurted over the slave's chest and throat.
The Roman held still for a moment, still panting, then slowly lowered himself until he was lying beside James, his right arm draped across the slave's damp chest. He nuzzled gently at James's shoulder.
"Good," he murmured. He made no move to help as James gathered what he could of the blankets and furs and tucked them around himself and the Roman. He brushed an errant curl from the surgeon's sweat-slick forehead and smiled a little. The Roman had already fallen asleep, his face relaxed and strangely innocent as it always was during slumber.
"Yes, my lord," the slave agreed softly. "Very good."
~ fin
Vita non est vivere sed valere vita est.
- Life is more than merely staying alive.