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The Benefits of Dental Hygiene
by bironic
Eric pushed open the door to the men's room, already reaching in his pocket for his floss. The wings here packed serious heat, but the stringy bits were always hell on his teeth. He nodded to a tall dreadlocked guy at one of the sinks before taking a sink of his own and snapping off a length of string.
As he worked, he glanced at the other guy in the mirror and saw that he was flossing, too. The dude was seriously buff, all sleek muscle and smooth skin under a sleeveless brown leather vest. He had a small dots-and-lines tattoo on his neck and another half-sleeve on his forearm under a wide leather cuff. Eric didn't recognize the designs.
When his gaze returned to the guy's face, he found himself being watched.
"Hey," Eric said around the floss. It broke the unspoken men's room rule, but so did checking out your neighbor. "Nice tats."
"You wanna fuck?" the guy said.
Eric almost sliced his gum open. "Excuse me?"
"Sheppard said when a guy gives you a look like that in a place like this, means he wants to fuck." He had a deep, no-nonsense voice, but it was softened by the amused eyebrow he'd raised.
Whoever Sheppard was, he was smart. Still, that was moving a little fast. "That's not what I meant," he finally answered.
"'Kay." The guy turned back to his reflection. After a moment, Eric did the same. He tried not to feel disappointed.
He finished flossing without injuring himself, rinsed and spat. The other guy crossed behind him on his way out. Eric lingered, washing his hands, to let him out first.
But the guy didn't leave. Instead, he leaned on the wall beside Eric's sink, giving him a glimpse of defined pecs. Eric looked up. The guy was a good head taller than him.
Dreads jerked his head and said, "Wanna fuck anyway?"
Eric took a longer look while he thought about it. He hadn't had much action lately, and the guy was hot, dressed in brown from head to foot--hair, goatee, vest, shirt, wrist cuffs, two belts, worn leather pants and scuffed boots. They weren't likely to be caught by anyone who mattered; Chase had taken a trip to piss after the last round, and Cameron only came into men's rooms when she was stalking House. If he took a while, they'd just think the spice had gotten to him.
"Yeah," Eric said.
At least the stalls here were clean. They took the handicapped one, rattling the door when Dreads pushed him up against it and kissed him. That was unexpected, but definitely not bad. The guy kissed exactly like he looked like he would, hard and deep and with teeth nipping at his lip. Eric gave as good as he got, enjoying the scratch of Dreads' longer goatee against his chin. Dreads' shoulders were warm and smooth under his hands.
Even better was the press of their hips together; he shifted his grip to Dreads' firm ass, rocking them to hardness.
Dreads pulled his head back. "Uh. How d'you wanna do this? You want to fuck, or...?" He made an expressive gesture.
"You can do me," Eric said.
The guy went right for his belt; Eric got the lubricated condom out of his wallet just before his pants dropped to his ankles. Dreads went to his knees along with Eric's boxers and sucked him in, hard and slick.
Eric hissed out a breath and closed his eyes. Christ, it'd been a while. The minute or so he spent reaching full hardness in the guy's mouth wasn't nearly enough.
When he pulled off, Dreads flashed a wicked smile up at him. Unsurprisingly, he had nice teeth.
They repositioned themselves, Eric bending over the stall's small sink while Dreads readied himself behind him. Eric undid his already loosened tie and the top few buttons of his shirt before handing the condom back.
Eric braced his hands on the wall, spread his legs and took a breath against the pending penetration. He got fingers first, two maybe; thick and spit-wet and good, if perfunctory.
Dreads had one hand on Eric's hip and the other next to his on the wall as he lined up and pressed in. Christ, yeah, he'd missed this. He groaned as quietly as he could when Dreads got all the way in. A minute to adjust, and then he pushed back, and Dreads started thrusting. He went slowly and steadily, but it was fierce somehow, intense. Eric let his head hang and pushed back until Dreads' grip tightened.
They were quiet, breathing heavily, Dreads' hair brushing the sides of Eric's face, heat building between them, sweat beading on the small of his back, and when he bent lower, the angle got even better. The guy let out soft grunts sometimes, and Eric hissed again when Dreads reached down to jerk him off ruthlessly.
It didn't take long; Eric came first, shooting into the guy's confident hand, and Dreads followed a couple of minutes later with a few quick, hard thrusts and a high sound like a whimper.
They cleaned up just as wordlessly. Eric finally saw the cock that had just fucked him: shorter than his, but thick enough and nicely flushed. Then it was tucked away behind soft leather.
"You good?" Dreads asked as he did up his belts again.
Eric tossed the wet paper towel he'd used to wipe his face. He felt satisfyingly used. "Yeah, man. Thanks." He smiled, and that earned him a swat on the ass and another mischievous grin before Dreads unlocked the door and stepped out.
"Okay," Eric said under his breath, but he couldn't help the spring in his step as he followed.
While he checked his tie in one of the mirrors, Dreads took out his floss again. Maybe the sixty-second blowjob necessitated a touch-up.
"Guess I'll see you around," Eric said, one hand on the door.
"I don't live here," the guy replied. "Nice, though."
Eric raised an eyebrow. "On vacation?"
"Friend's giving a lecture at the university." He spat and chucked the floss, then stood just shy of Eric's personal space, staring down at him with an unmistakeably pleased glint in his eye. "We done here?"
Eric nodded and went out. Dreads clapped him on the shoulder and jogged off. Eric glanced around as he made his way through the throng. Dreads had folded himself into a booth next to a fortyish guy with a mess of spiked black hair, one arm over the back of the bench and one leg out in the aisle. Across from them were a gorgeous woman in a brown leather bodice and a chubbier, sullen-looking guy in a suit. The dark-haired one laughed and Eric thought he heard him say something about sending in a search party, but it was hard to tell with all the noise in the place.
He shook his head, fighting a smug smile, and reclaimed his seat where Chase and Cameron were waiting.
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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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