Once again, I wrote for Porn Battle instead of my Big Bang story. Bad Dee.

posted to gate_house and housefic

Title: Purple
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Sheppard (House/SGA crossover)
Rating: NC-17
Words: 752
Summary: Stoned sex with a young random stranger, years ago (Porn Battle V, prompt: haze)

Greg House sits sprawled across two cushions of -- whoever the hell was hosting this party's couch. He's more stoned than he's been in years. Really fucking great weed.

He's looking at the ceiling because his head's tilted back, resting on the back of the couch. Back, back, not going back. He has passed the goddamned tests and he is a goddamned doctor and he is never going back to his childhood home ever again.

His muscles are too warm to move, and his mouth is dry.

"Hey," says the kid who's suddenly straddling his lap. "You with anybody?"

House looks to the left, then to the right. No one in this entire back room, except him and the kid with the thick black hair. "You seeing double?" he asks. "What'd you take?"

"Nothing," the kid replies, and begins to move rhythmically, up and down, back and forth. Pressing into House's groin, sliding against House's chest. "Just want to make sure your boyfriend's not going to kick my ass for this."

"What makes you think I won't?" House says, but it's a feint because warm turns into hot so very, very easily, and the kid's mouth is on his. Lips almost dainty in their fullness - kid maintains good hydration. Tongue strong and sure, determined without being too forceful.

They kiss for long minutes, and the kid keeps moving, same steady pace. House's arms are stretched across the back of the couch (not going back), as if not touching the kid will convince anyone that this wasn't his idea.

"You're jailbait," House mumbles. His lips don't seem to want to move away from the kid's.

"I'm John," the boy says, and he can pull his mouth away just fine. Hands on House's shoulders, he rides a few more times, up and down, eyes closed. He's fucking gorgeous. "And I'm legal."

"Don't think what you're asking for is legal for anyone in this state," House replies.

John grinds down one last time, then stops. "I didn't take you for a rule follower."

House's hands move then, right to his fly, button undone, zipper unzipped, jeans down, hips up, jeans pushed down to his knees. He thought he was fast about it but maybe he's more stoned than he thought, because by the time he's done, John's naked from the waist down with two fingers up his own ass. It looks clinical and sexy at the same time. House hopes his first prostate exam's on a really, really old patient, because otherwise this'll be the only image in his brain and he'll have to hide a hard-on.

Speaking of, the kid's rolling a lubed condom onto House's erection, and House can hardly breathe. His legs spread eagerly, but John shoves them together and climbs back on the couch.

"Maybe," House says, but there's no end to that sentence because the kid's sliding down House's dick. Slow, slow, centimeter by centimeter, the heat and pressure squeezing him like the humid summer air in Bangkok from a million years ago.

House grunts with the exertion of staying still, but John's on his own lazy schedule. Until the kid's ass hits House's pelvis for the first time, and then the pace picks up considerably. It's almost frantic, the way John moves, like they're going to win a medal for speed. The angle can't be doing the kid any favors, though, so House grabs his hips, adjusts their position, and starts to thrust.

"Oh," John says in a surprised little gasp. His eyes widen and his hands clamp harder onto House's shoulders. Could he really not have experienced this before?

"Your tops before sucked," House comments, and the kid gets into the rhythm, letting out hard little snorts on each thrust.

Dragon, House thinks with a smile, and then John's stammering, "Touch, touch, touch," and House's hand is wrapped around John's dick. The kid lets out a groan to wake the dead, and shoots onto House's favorite shirt, and clenches so hard that House has no choice but to orgasm.

"Oh, like flying," John moans. He has the decency to haul himself up and off before crushing House completely, so House decides not to write him off as entirely stupid.

Until John follows that up proudly with, "I'm a pilot." As if some random stranger's going to be impressed by that. As if, after you've already given said random stranger an orgasm, you need to worry about impressing him.

"I'm a doctor," House says, and the kid grins.