| |
Hundred Bucks Says
by Jaryn
They sat side by side, eyes closed, comfortably sprawled on the wooden benches with their backs against the wall. Identical white towels wrapped around their hips as their only coverings. Condensation and drops of sweat clung to their skin and beaded on their hair while clouds of steam wallowed around them like lazy ghosts.
Wilson breathed in, forcing his lungs to expand as far as they could go, before releasing the air slowly. Sensing movement, he opened his eyes and looked across at House through the haze to see that he was flexing his right hand spasmodically.
"What's wrong?"
"Cramp," House grunted, expression pinched. "I told you this wasn't going to work."
"You don't want it to work," Wilson said and pulled House's hand over to rest on his thigh. He started massaging it, working his thumbs gently into the tight muscles.
Wilson could feel the weight of House's gaze and knew what it meant, that he was pushing the boundary-that-is-not-to-be-pushed but House didn't say anything or take his hand back. After a moment he just looked away again, resting his head back against the wall and seemingly content to let Wilson do what he wanted.
Dipping his head down and leaning forward a little, Wilson concentrated on his task with a fervour he didn't usually adopt over anything, not even bald cancer kids. It wasn't long before he heard House sighing softly and sensed him relaxing. He took this as a sign that the cramp had abated but he didn't let House's hand go.
Instead, Wilson traced the lines of House's palm with the tip of his index finger, lingering over the tough calluses formed from his cane before pressing his hand flat on top.
House's fingers were thicker but other than that their hands were very similar in size.
Glancing over at House, Wilson couldn't deduce anything from his expression, not that he really expected to. Gradually, Wilson pushed his fingers down in between House's until he could feel the softness of his towel and then he curled them under to press against the back of House's hand. House didn't reciprocate the hold, his hand remaining lax, but it was enough for Wilson that he allowed it.
"How much did you pay to get this place to ourselves?"
Wilson smiled faintly. "I told you. A guy who works here owed me a favour. Do you really still need monetary proof that I care about you?"
At that House turned his head to meet Wilson's eyes. The gaze went on for some time until House looked down at their hands and then away. Wilson squeezed his hand.
"We need to go, it's been fifteen minutes," Wilson said and House nodded but didn't move.
Reluctantly, Wilson let go of House's hand and stood up, putting his hands behind his head and stretching his heat-relaxed muscles. He didn't need to look to know House was watching him. Knowing better than to offer help, Wilson waited patiently while House got up before clamping his hand on Wilson's shoulder.
They made their way out of the room and into the men's showering area at a slow but steady pace. Somehow, even though he was relying on Wilson to walk, House managed to lead them over to the disabled shower cubicle. At the door, Wilson expected House to let go of him but what House did do was to shove him inside.
"House--what?"
House stepped in and pushed the door closed behind them, giving Wilson an indecipherable look. He moved around Wilson, sitting down on the bench under and a little to the right of the shower head. With only a brief pause, House tugged his towel free before tossing it past Wilson so it landed on top of the door. Wilson quickly snapped his eyes away and then hesitantly looked back at House's face.
"I don't know wh--" Wilson started to say but was cut off when House snapped the lever on and a blast of cold water shot out from the showerhead.
Wilson immediately stepped back, just out of reach of the spray. He watched House fiddling with the lever until the water was apparently to his suiting before he shifted so the spray was raining down on him.
"Are you just going to stand there and watch? You voyeur," House smirked but he was still giving Wilson that look.
Swallowing thickly, Wilson moved a hand to his towel, paused for moment, and then pulled it free. He threw it so it landed on top of House's. Looking back at House again, Wilson stepped slowly forward. House's face was still impassive but there was an almost physical intensity in his eyes that Wilson could feel down to his bones.
Stopping just in front House, Wilson met his eyes as the water spattered onto his chest before running down his body. The coolness was refreshing after the hot mugginess of the sauna.
"What...is this?" Wilson asked, surprised at how low his voice came out.
"I think it's called a shower," House said, quirking an eyebrow.
Wilson frowned before he reached up to grab the showerhead, angling it so most of the water was hitting him.
"Hey!" House struggled to stand up while pushing Wilson's hand off the showerhead and down to his side. There was barely an inch of space separating them now. Their eyes met and they froze, breathing in each other's air. House's hand moved up from Wilson's wrist to his shoulder and Wilson shivered suddenly.
"House--" Wilson began but his words died when House suddenly leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, the shock of it too much for Wilson to even process what was happening.
"This is what you want isn't it?" House asked quietly against Wilson's jaw before kissing a scratchy, soft trail across to his neck.
Tingling pleasure travelled over Wilson's skin, making him feel raw. His eyes slid shut and he tilted his head up without thinking about it, moving his hands to rest on House's hips and holding them there uncertainly. "You think...you think this was one big seduction plan?"
Nudging his nose under Wilson's ear, House chuckled, though there was a strained edge to it. "Your lack of conscious seduction has always been seductive," he said and then pulled back, raising his other hand to grip Wilson's chin.
They stared at each for a long moment before coming together in a proper kiss, lips against lips, a little too much too fast before they settled comfortably into a pace that they fit.
Their bodies pressed together, wet and cool and hot, skin against skin. Wilson's grip on House tightened and the kiss deepened, their tongues meeting hesitantly. One or both of them lost balance and they stumbled a little, laughing into each other's mouths before steadying themselves. House flipped the shower off without looking at the lever and pushed Wilson against the wall.
"Why now?" Wilson couldn't resist asking.
House stroked the sharp line of Wilson's cheekbone with his thumb. "Why not?"
Wilson started to get annoyed before he realised what House really meant by that. Why not? Why not... There wasn't an answer. A smile spread on Wilson's lips and he pulled House closer against him. "You ass," he muttered and kissed House again.
They fumbled against each other, hands at once exploring and steadying each other. Wilson was getting hard against House's hip and felt a mirroring hardness against his own. Sliding his hand down between their bodies, he found House's cock and wrapped his fingers around it, generating a choked off moan from House's throat.
The angle was a little awkward so Wilson nudged House back a bit, while still keeping their lips together, before starting to stroke him firmly, concentrating almost fiercely on the most sensitive area at the head. He knew House wouldn't be able to stay up like this for long.
Breaking the kiss, House pressed his face in against Wilson's neck, breathing hard, and grabbing onto him for support. It didn't take long, a few minutes, until House shuddered and came over Wilson's stomach and fingers. He started to sag forward and Wilson caught him before urging him back onto the bench.
"Christ, Jimmy," House muttered, resting his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. After a moment he opened his eyes again and looked up at Wilson, his gaze travelling over his body. "Sit down," he said, shifting over on the bench to make room.
As soon as Wilson sat, House turned towards him, hand sliding down Wilson's chest to grab his cock. Wilson gasped and pressed his forehead against House's shoulder while House jerked him off, fast and rough. One of Wilson's hands held onto the bench tightly, his knuckles going white, while the other settled gently onto House's thigh. He came with a muffled sob of sheer pleasure, the sensation so overwhelming it felt like it was going to escape through every inch of his skin.
House turned the shower back on to rinse them off while Wilson was still in a state of mental vacancy. When he finally managed to lift his head and crack his eyes open, House was looking at him with a small frown.
"Hundred bucks says we fuck this up inside of a month," House said.
Wilson leaned in until his lips were just brushing House's shoulder. "You're on."
Please post a comment on this story.
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.
|
|
|