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One Good Reason
by Little Miss GG
It was a stupid fight over something altogether not really worth it. But Greg House is a stubborn son of a bitch and doesn't back down even when he knows, he knows, this is going to end with him alone in his bed tonight.
"Give me one good reason to stay, Greg! Just one!"
And there James is, standing in the bedroom doorway screaming down the hall at him and looking for all the world like he's going to burst into tears and if he does Greg's leaving, hobbling out of here like a bat out of hell. But then his shoulders slump and he gets this defeated sort of look on his face like he shouldn't be surprised. His hand rests at the back of his neck and House knows he's won but can't seem to feel all that pleased. House can't even think of something to say when James pulls on a coat over his bare chest and he can't bring himself to watch as Jimmy storms out and slams the door behind him.
* * * * * * *
When Wilson doesn't return that night House decides that maybe he was wrong and maybe it would be worth swallowing all that pride and apologising if it meant that Jimmy would just come back and get into bed. Maybe then he'd be able to sleep instead of laying here staring at the ceiling holding his breath every time a car drives past and feeling a little bit like sinking into the mattress when none of those cars stop.
* * * * * * *
He marches into James' office without a word or hesitation. He doesn't even wait for the door to close before he pulls Jimmy to his feet by his tie and kisses him, and this is not a 'I-think-I-like-you-kiss' or even a 'I'm-sorry-kiss,' this a 'I-should-have-given-you-a-reason-to-stay-and-this-would-of-been-it' kiss.
And when they finally pull apart, both breathless and staring, it only takes a second for the look of mild shock on Jimmy's face to shift into something altogether more welcoming. It's a smile that makes House smile despite his anger and frustration and humiliation and vague pain somewhere beneath all that and the fact that he's smiling only makes him angrier.
Before he can complain Jimmy's on him again, only this time it's a 'You're-reason-enough' kiss and if House was a girl he might get a little bit choked up by the way that Jimmy clings to him. But he's not a girl so he goes on kissing right back, pushing Wilson back so that he ends up trapped between his desk and House. There are hands now, Wilson's overeager and tripping all over the body pinning him down, House's gripping Wilson's hair so hard it'll probably part company with his scalp in a minute. His other hand tosses his cane aside and grabs Wilson's hip and pulls him close, snakes round to the small of his back and forces their bodies close, chests rising and falling bumping together as desperate breaths are caught between kisses.
"You're still wrong" Wilson manages as House's kisses slip down his throat, a hint of stubble, probably slept here all night House thinks. He doesn't try and respond to that statement, weighing up the outcomes and deciding that if he wants this to get anywhere he's better staying quiet. Wilson gives up trying to get through to House, instead opting for tipping his head back and letting House continue. House grins into Wilson's skin, pulling at the tie until he can pop the top button of his shirt and get at a little bit more of that skin that tastes faintly of sweat and cologne. That's when Wilson's hands find his head, fingers pulling through House's hair, pulling his mouth closer, a moan escaping when House finds a particularly sensitive inch and bites down.
Another breathless laugh from House as he pulls back and takes a good look at Saint Jimmy all debauched and beautiful. "You're such a slut." Said with that grin on his face that makes Wilson wish they were back home because if they were he'd be begging by now. Wilson can't find a sensible response so settles for slipping to his knees and undoing House's belt with one hand. House's eyes widen just a little and Wilson realises that he's just confirmed that, yes, he is a bit of a slut, and no, thank you, he doesn't care all that much.
He fumbles with House's zip and is greeted by a growl as his finger tips brush against House's cock through his pants. When he finally gets the damn jeans open wide enough he gives House a few slow pulls just to see him get all flushed and heavy-lidded. And damn, but Wilson's getting all flushed himself, looking away from House's intent gaze and back to the job at hand. So to speak.
He's had plenty of practise at this in the last four months, House can't seem to get enough of seeing James Wilson (curer of the sick, comforter of the dying, general saint) with his kiss-swollen lips wrapped round House's cock. He makes this little moan as he takes the head of House's cock into his mouth that just gets Greg every time, and this sigh as he slides those lips down, down, down. House's fingers curls into Wilson's hair again, trying with every drop of will power he can muster not to push forward. Generally make up sex goes better when you don't choke your partner - unless you're with Chase and then maybe...
Wilson has gotten pretty good at this, when it comes to sex he's always found he picks things up pretty quick. He pays particular attention to swirling his tongue over and over the heated flesh in his mouth while one hand teases House's balls and pushes further back. His free hand squeezes at the base, not wishing to end the show too early.
House is leaning against the desk with one hand while the other tangles in Wilson's hair, leg protesting meekly but giving up when the endorphins flood his system and beat the pain to death with a proverbial baseball bat. "God!" Is all he manages as Wilson slips his lips round the head tightly and sucks hard and looks up catching House's eye. It shouldn't be the eye contact that sends him over the edge but it is, gripping Wilson's hair painfully he tilts his head back and fills Wilson's mouth.
Wilson's mostly used to the force House exerts during orgasm as well, but still protests as he climbs to his feet and rubs at his abused scalp. House just grins like an idiot and pulls him close, kissing him gently, less desperate and more affectionate now.
Weren't you supposed to be making it up to me?" Wilson says with a smile on his lips that says he's not all that mad. House slips his hand down Wilson's chest and right down to cup his crotch through his slacks. Wilson gives a little approving moan and leans into the touch. With a quick hitch of his eyebrows that indicates he has a Machiavellian scheme House unbuttons Wilson's slacks and pulls both the pants and the boxers down in one tug.
Which is when the door opened.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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