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Sunday
by Teyla
AN: Betaed by Housepiglet. She's a saint.
Wilson felt pleasant warmth surrounding him and sighed contentedly, turning his head to the side and snuggling into the pillow without opening his eyes. Sunday, he thought, and smiled a little to himself. It had been an exhausting week, but today there was nothing on the schedule. He was determined to keep it that way.
He was about to drift off again when he felt a whiff of cool air on his thighs, and then felt something scratchy brush over the skin of his leg. He blinked and opened his eyes, raising his head. "House?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
The fact that House was with him wasn't all that unexpected, considering the fact that this was House's bed in House's bedroom in House's apartment. Wilson had stayed after last night's Hitchcock marathon when House had decided that he was too drunk to drive. Not that Wilson had needed much convincing.
What was unexpected, though, was that House was not lying next to him. He'd moved a bit further down on the bed and had pushed Wilson's blanket aside, resting his chin on Wilson's thigh. He was now looking up at Wilson, eyebrows raised.
"Morning," he said, and then bent down to press a soft kiss on the tender skin inside Wilson's thigh. Wilson felt the tingling sensation from the touch move up to his groin, making his half-hearted morning wood perk up.
He licked his lips. "What're you up to?" he asked, and House smiled.
"Never mind me," he said, and he went back to nuzzling the inside of Wilson's thigh, this time running the tip of his tongue over the skin and upwards, pushing Wilson's boxers aside.
Wilson laid his head back down on the pillow and swallowed, closing his eyes as he felt his cock hardening fully at House's touch. There was some movement, and then Wilson gasped softly as he felt the light pressure of House pressing his mouth against his erection. Warm moisture touched the tender skin as House exhaled through the fabric of Wilson's boxers, and Wilson bit his lip.
Then he felt a pair of hands at his waist, tugging at his pants, and he was only too willing to lift his hips to allow House to pull his boxers down and free his now fully erect cock. The cool air made him shiver, but then he felt the brush of House's stubble against his skin and he gasped as he felt House run his tongue across the base of his cock.
He heard House chuckle softly, but was too distracted to react when House began to nuzzle his balls. He opened his eyes, his fingers curling into the bedding, and he felt his heart pounding against his ribs. House was gently caressing his balls with his lips and tongue, and Wilson had to keep himself from reaching down to touch himself.
House seemed to notice his impatience and for once didn't seem out to torture him. Wilson felt House's tongue work its way up to the base of his cock, and then House licked along the shaft once before taking Wilson into his mouth.
As he felt the warm heat of House's mouth close around his cock, Wilson moaned softly and closed his eyes again. He had to keep himself from thrusting into House's mouth and force himself to wait for House to set the pace instead. House took his time, swirling his tongue along Wilson's cock, slowly dragging his lips over it and applying gentle pressure. He drew back until his lips were circling the head, and then slowly moved downwards again. Wilson felt a surge run through him as he felt House's lips sliding along his cock, further and further down, while House's tongue ran from side to side, circling his erection. House was moving agonizingly slowly, and Wilson fisted the bedding in his hands, his breathing getting faster by the second.
The sensation of the head of his cock brushing against the back of House's throat made him gasp, and then House finally sped up, drawing back more quickly this time, his teeth grazing Wilson's skin. Wilson closed his eyes and couldn't keep himself from moaning as he felt himself approaching the edge.
His orgasm made him arch off the bed, and he felt himself come into House's mouth; long, hard pulses surging through him until all the tension was gone from his body and he slumped back, his heart racing. He was dimly aware of fingers brushing over his stomach, slipping his boxers back into place, and then the mattress bounced and he felt a warm body snuggle up to him, and an arm sneaking over his chest. He opened his eyes and looked across at House, who was grinning at him, his expression rather smug. Wilson smiled.
"Morning, House," he said. House's smirk broadened.
"Morning. Sleep well?"
Wilson nodded. "Very. I'm feeling so relaxed, in fact, that I don't think I'll be able to get up for, say, the next four hundred years."
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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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