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The Care And Grooming Of Wilson
by Topaz Eyes
"I can't believe I'm letting you do this."
"Relax, Wilson, I'm not going to hurt you," House muttered absently, as he set out his needed implements on the bedside table.
Wilson frowned, tugging at the handcuffs on his hands and feet, that kept him slightly spread-eagled and tethered securely to the bedposts. He was dismayed that there wasn't much give at all, especially for his feet. "And yet I'm being restrained for this because--?"
"Just in case you move at the wrong time." House met his gaze, and smirked. "We definitely don't want that." He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed by Wilson's hip.
Wilson watched House's appraising gaze travel up and down his naked body, and he shivered, though not with cold. House was still fully clothed, though he had (graciously, for him) turned the furnace up for this. Outside the snow was settling in thick blankets of white as it had for the past several days; but inside House's bedroom it was as warm and close as a cocoon. His breath caught and he felt his cheeks burn as he watched House's wet pink tongue dart out to lick his lips.
"I hate you, you know," Wilson said, in a slightly reedy tone.
"Why? This was your idea. Your suggestion." He stuck his finger in the bowl of water on the night table. "Perfect."
"I just showed you the article! I never expected that you would actually follow up on it!"
"Why not? It's a good one," House said affably. "Besides, I have a few hypotheses I want to test."
Wilson glared daggers at him, though House didn't see them because his back was turned. "On me?"
"I don't have the same access to my other two male lackeys as I do to you." Wilson rolled his eyes, but House continued. "And I can't very well test them on Cameron. Or Cuddy, for that matter. Though that might also prove some things." House surveyed the various instruments on the nightstand, all laid out with surgical precision. "That should do it," he said to himself. Turning back to Wilson, he smirked. "OK, Jimmy, it's show time."
The air between them crackled with an odd mix of expectation and dread. Wilson shrank back into the mattress at the oddly intense look on House's face. "You're enjoying this far too much," he accused.
House reached over for a clean, fluffy washcloth and dipped it into the bowl of warm water. "I could blindfold you, too," he mused. His mouth twisted, as if he were considering the thought. "Besides, it's not a matter of my enjoyment."
"Why do I want to beg to differ?"
House wrung the washcloth out. "Comfort is another matter." He then leaned over, and lay the warm wet cloth over Wilson's lower abdomen.
Wilson closed his eyes at the slight friction of damp cotton, as House gently swiped the terrycloth over his skin, just below his navel, down to the pubic hair above his penis. He felt himself twitch pleasurably with the touch. He grinned at House's words. "You just don't like my hair getting in your mouth when you suck me off," he replied huskily, and was pleased at House's answering hitch of breath.
"Choking on your pubes does leave something to be desired," House replied, his voice a little rough. He removed the cloth, and Wilson shivered once more as the air cooled his skin.
He heard the sounds of the cloth being dipped into the water again, somewhere near his right ear, though he did not turn to look. He shifted against the mattress, feeling the softness of the towels beneath him as well as the faint crackle of plastic underneath that. He'd insisted on at least those precautions to protect the bed.
He bucked up when he felt a heavier, very warm wetness drape around his genitals, and sighed despite himself. House had soaked the washcloth this time, and didn't wring it out. "Too hot?" House asked; playful enough, but with a definite undertone of arousal.
Wilson shook his head and met his eyes, noting with satisfaction how House's pupils were dilated; how much fuller his lips appeared, and how quickly he was breathing. "Just--about perfect, actually," he replied, slightly breathless himself.
House nodded and swallowed. "Good," he replied gruffly. "Let that soak and soften the pubes a bit."
House looked away then, and both fell silent for a moment. "So, while we wait, is this is where we talk about sports? Or the weather?" Wilson offered.
House rolled his eyes. "I knew I should have gagged you."
"I'm surprised you haven't yet," Wilson retorted, suddenly shocked at hearing those words from his own mouth. When had this gotten so--kinky?
House stared at him, obviously thinking the same question. "Why, Jimmy, you perverted wanton slut! I'm just doing a trim here."
"One I can do very well by myself, by the way, in the comfort of the bathroom and the shower. Without the handcuffs," Wilson said, pulling again at the silver to hear it clank.
"As I said. I don't want to commit a Lorena Bobbitt on you."
"Yes, because you have such a vested interest in what's down there."
"Damn straight," he leered.
"Did you ever think that I might have more of one?"
"And here I thought this was for the both of us." House laid his hand over the wet cloth, noting its temperature. "Almost there." He squeezed gently, and Wilson twitched again. "Don't get too aroused, that can make things a little difficult if I slip."
"Now that would be the unkindest cut of all," Wilson agreed. "I've been circumcised once already." They both chuckled at that. "Just--wait, are you planning to slip?" Wilson pulled reflexively at the restraints.
"I'm just preparing you for all the possibilities." House laid a hand on Wilson's stomach. While the weight was somewhat soothing, Wilson still felt apprehensive.
"I--I think I want that blindfold now."
"You don't want to watch?" House gazed at him steadily, a puzzled look on his face. "I thought that was half the fun."
"It--it might be better if I didn't," Wilson admitted. "The idea of sharp cutting implements--" He cringed inwardly at the thought.
It must have showed, because the grin that spread across House's craggy face was positively feral. "So you do trust me?"
"Do I have a choice here?" Wilson hated how his voice rose an octave; worse, how House smirked at it.
"Nope." House half-rose, and leaned over to the night table to pluck a piece of rolled fabric off. He sat back down and slid up closer to Wilson's head. "Lift your head."
Wilson frowned when he saw it was one of his own ties, but he complied. "You have a tie fetish, do you know that?"
"That's only if I start masturbating in one," House replied amiably. He tied the brown-and-beige striped silk around Wilson's eyes with a deft knot then laid his head back down onto the pillow.
"You mean you haven't yet?"
"Do you want me to? God, that's kinky. Now shut up or I will stuff the next one into your mouth." He whispered the last into Wilson's ear.
With most of the light blocked out from the blindfold, Wilson noticed more of the non-visual cues: a light draft from the window across from the bed, the softness of the towels and the bed around him; House's lightly shuddering breathing close to his neck, the smell of musky arousal emanating from him; and the prickling sheen of sweat on his own skin. Wilson licked his lips nervously, tasting salt. He felt a brief brush of stubble on his chin, and a soft pressure on his lips; then the heat moved off and he shivered, missing it intensely. The weight on the bed shifted again, back closer to his hip.
"Talk to me, House," he said, suddenly nervous and needing to hear his voice. "Tell me what's going on."
House's hand was back on his stomach again, palm pressing lightly over his navel. "I'm going to remove the washcloth now," he said, "then check to make sure it's all soft." House's voice took on an almost clinical tone, though Wilson also heard the submerged desire.
Wilson felt the now-room-temperature cloth lift off his groin, and the air dry his skin. He then felt House's fingers scrabble gently through his hair, down to his balls with a deft caress, and back up again. His cock, which had shrunk with the Lorena Bobbitt comment, now twitched pleasantly.
"Geez, your pubes curl up like a girl's with the humidity. No wonder you go through so much mousse and hair gel."
"Humidity dries out the hair--HEY! It's not like I use them down there!" Wilson protested, then heard House's low rich chuckle.
He felt the weight by his hip rise, then settle back down. Wilson's mouth twisted in puzzlement when he felt something small, hard and plastic being laid down, suspiciously beside his penis.
"House? What the hell is that?"
"The ruler. Now I'm going to take the before picture."
"What the fuck--?" Before Wilson could protest further, he heard a brief mechanical ticking followed by the snap of a camera shutter. "You took a picture of my penis? I'll kill you, House!" He pulled at the cuffs without any effect.
"That newspaper article you showed me says, a trim or a shave adds a good optical inch to the equipment. Just testing to see if that's true."
Wilson grit his teeth. "If those pictures ever get out, I'll--"
"You'll what? Maim the cripple? God, Wilson, that's cruel." House snickered and lifted the ruler off; Wilson heard a small dull thud, as if it had landed on the bed beside him. "This is strictly a private study."
There was the sound of a printer whirring, a crinkle, and a tear. "OK, photo's printed," House announced. "Looks good."
Wilson fell back into the mattress, subdued. "I hate you," he repeated weakly.
"Yeah, Stacy always used to say that too. Until the sex part. Boy, did her tone change then."
Wilson groaned, realizing he wasn't going to win. "Let's--let's just get on with this, OK?"
"Good boy," House agreed, and Wilson felt his hand slide lower. "You'll feel some lifting and tugging in your groin. That'll be me pulling on your hair. I'll be using a small comb to lift it away from your skin. Like this." Wilson felt a gentle yank on his skin at the top of his groin, and he shuddered. "Try not to move, because you don't want me to pull too hard."
"Believe me, I won't," Wilson said under his breath, finding himself panting just a bit.
"I have a pair of barber's scissors in my hand. They're small, but they are sharp, so whatever you do, don't flinch. You'll hear a whish and a snip. That'll be the scissors cutting your hair. Don't worry, I won't cut too close. I'll leave about a half-inch. Then I'll drop the hair into this small bowl so it won't get all over the bed and make me itch."
Wilson tried to take comfort in House's even tone, even as his penis fell completely flaccid. He felt a trickle of sweat slip down his temple. "You're enjoying this," he accused again.
"I won't let the blade touch," House continued, as if he hadn't heard, but Wilson felt the smirk underneath. "Just don't move, and you'll be fine."
Wilson stilled at the soft snip, a tug, and another snip. He then heard the strangest, softest thud, of hair hitting plastic. House was moving slowly, methodically, down from his abdomen, towards the juncture of his thighs.
Silence reigned for several minutes, underscored only by the whishing and snipping sounds of the scissors further down the bed. House, despite his cheery sadism, was being almost exceedingly cautious. And surprisingly tender, too, Wilson noted--every so often he felt the soft feathering of fingers, patting his thigh, his hip, his stomach, almost reassuring. Now he wished he wasn't wearing the blindfold, just to see for himself whether House indeed looked as affectionate as his touches felt.
Although Wilson, on his part, had no intentions of moving at all otherwise; his penis obeyed especially, lying completely limp even as House gently lifted it out of the way to reach the area beneath the shaft. Wilson heard his own heartbeat thumping in his ears; he simply concentrated on the ticking of the clock from the kitchen and controlling his breathing--anything to avoid thinking of those tiny silver shears cutting so close to his most vital body parts. Especially when he felt House's hands touch the exquisitely velvet-like skin on his scrotum.
House broke the silence. "Didn't you say you used to trim before? I don't think you've trimmed at all for a while--there's a good couple inches here." He kept his tone purposely conversational, not stopping his ministrations.
"Not recently--not since the divorce," Wilson replied slowly. "I thought I'd--let it hang for a bit. It saves on time in the morning."
"I bet it does. Saves on clogging my shower drain, too."
"But it feels--I don't know, cleaner, somehow, when I trim. Less itchy and sweaty after a long day. Less smelly, too. You know, maybe you should try it."
"I revel in my manly scent," House said. "You just want to turn me into a girl like yourself, who's obsessed with cleanliness."
Wilson smiled widely at that. "Maybe I just don't like the smell of your rancid groin sweat in my nose when I'm blowing you." He felt the flesh-warmed metallic blade brush his thigh and he tensed, hissing in sudden fear. "Dammit, House!"
"Oops, maybe I did slip," House said cheerfully.
"WHAT?"
"Just kidding. You're fine, Jimmy. There's no blood. You're fine, just relax. Almost done."
"How can you expect me to relax with several inches of sharp steel so close to my--my bits?"
House laughed out loud. "Your bits? How old are you, ten? Cock, dick, balls, sac. Didn't your peeps teach you the proper euphemisms in middle school?"
"Shut up, House."
He heard the snipping noise stop, and a warm hand tenderly cup his groin. Wilson thrust up into the touch, and the hand squeezed gently. "All done the trimming. Unless--do you want me to shave you? Don't have the Bodygroom but I can bring out the straight razor--"
Wilson shuddered at that. "Haven't you done enough down there for now?"
"Chicken?"
Wilson scowled at the deigning concern in House's voice. "You've had enough fun."
"OK then," House replied, sounding rather disappointed. "Just have to wipe up the strays."
The weight on the side of the bed shifted again, and Wilson heard the sound of a washcloth being dipped in water. "Hmm. The water's cooled off," House muttered to himself. He heard the water drip back into the bowl.
Wilson felt House lay the cloth, cool and wet and soothing, over his groin, and he sighed with relief. He wasn't exactly sore, but the skin did feel a little irritated with all the tugging. He then felt House lift the washcloth up and swab it around the whole area, from his lower abdomen to below his balls. When House finished, the air on his skin added to the wonderful cooling sensation.
"Lift your butt," House ordered. Wilson obliged, and the towels and underlying plastic were pulled out from under him. He settled back down, relishing the feel of the smooth sheets.
Wilson felt the bed shift again. "OK, time for the after picture!" House said heartily. Wilson grimaced, but said nothing as he felt the ruler being laid back beside his penis, and heard the ticking and snap of the camera shutter for a second time.
"Well, how about that?" House said after a minute, punctuated by more whirring of a printer, crackling, and tearing. Wilson could almost see him rubbing his prickly chin in thought. "Why Jimmy, how you appear to have grown."
"What?" Despite himself, Wilson was curious. "I want to see."
"Well, looking at it objectively, there's very little difference in measurement before and after." House snickered, and Wilson tried to shoot a murderous look at him through the blindfold. "But the optical illusion is striking. Truth in advertising. How about that?"
"I want to take the blindfold off now." Wilson struggled to rise but he felt a firm hand press on his chest.
"Uh uh, Slugger. Stay there a bit. You can see the photos later."
"How do I know you're not lying about them?"
"Polaroids don't lie. Now, which would be more appropriate, the Annals of Improbable Research or the Journal of Irreproducible Results?"
Wilson bristled and gritted his teeth. "If you even think of sending those photos in, I will surgically remove your bits, grill them and serve them to you for breakfast."
"The stuff of which IgNobels are made," House said placidly, as if he hadn't heard. Then Wilson felt a strong, slender hand patting his cheek, stroking his jawbone. "I'm kidding, Jimmy. Would I do that to you?"
"Nothing you do surprises me anymore." Despite that, Wilson turned his head into the hand and nuzzled it.
"Then I'll be sure to mention your contribution in my acceptance speech."
Wilson groaned against House's palm. "Could there be a stronger word than hate to describe what I feel for you right now?"
"Don't know." Wilson felt humid breath at his ear as House whispered, "But remember what I said about Stacy? We haven't gotten to that part yet."
Wilson trembled at the promise in the low growl and he hardened almost immediately. The weight shifted yet again, the mattress creaking, and Wilson felt House maneuver between his legs. He felt House's hands tracing down his body, slow and broad and smooth, eventually cupping his butt-cheeks; and he arched and moaned, sighing as the wet heat of House's mouth finally enveloped him--
Only to break out in a fit of wild giggles as House pulled off, coughing and retching. "Jesus H. Christ! I'm still getting your pubes in my mouth!"
"Serves you right, you bastard," Wilson wheezed between spasms of laughter. "Hoisted on your own petard. Clean up better next time."
House leaned his head down on his thigh, and Wilson felt his chuckling reverberate through his body. "Next time you're doing this yourself."
"House?"
"What?"
"Shut up and finish what you started?" He bucked his hips up.
House complied, surprisingly with no further complaint. And as House's mouth slid down over him again, Wilson thought that maybe the specter of Lorena Bobbitt was indeed worth it, if it led to this--before the white-hot pleasure shut down his conscious thought completely.
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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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