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Laundry Day
by l57371
Mornings at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital were a bustle of frenetic activity. Shift changeovers meant twice as many nurses and orderlies and cleaning staff on the floor as usual, exchanging patient information and doctor's orders and general gossip. The clinic also opened then and the morning stream of patients all clamouring to be the first in, or at least quickly out, rushed the desk and seating area.
Lurking in a far corner, close enough to a potted palm to be unobtrusive but not close enough to actually be hiding, stood House. So far nobody had noticed him. To be fair, nobody expected him to be at work that early. He almost never arrived that early without there being a death threat involved, either in the form of his patient taking a turn for the worse or Cuddy promising surgical alterations to his anatomy if he didn't show up on time. He sipped coffee from a Styrofoam take out cup, grimacing as the cooling bitterness hit his tongue, and watched the door intently.
Finally the door opened to admit the fresh-faced and smiling form of James Wilson, snappy dresser, healer to the sick and all 'round nice guy. House snorted. Little do they know, he thought, he's a sneaky bastard at heart, just like me. He noted that Wilson was wearing his first-thing-in-the-morning-smile, the one that said, ''Nobody's died yet and I really am a good guy, this will be a nice day.'' Time to wipe the smile off his face.
House emerged from his hiding spot - not hiding, surveillance - and made his way over to where Wilson had been stopped by a solicitous nurse who was doing her best to flirt with him. Wilson, however, was distracted by his attempt to handle both his briefcase and his overcoat in one hand while flipping through the file the nurse held with the other. House sidled up behind her and bent to speak directly in her ear.
''Too early. He's not open to pick up lines until at least lunch time.''
The nurse jumped and her hands flew to her throat as she whirled around, then jumped backwards when she saw how close House actually was to her. ''I wasn't ... I didn't ... I mean, he ...'' she stammered and finally closed her mouth as a flush crept up her face.
''House, she wasn't doing anything. Leave her alone,'' Wilson said, the smile sliding off his face and exasperation taking its place.
House peered down at the nurse's face until she got the hint and turned to walk away. ''Yes she was,'' he said, watching her retreat.
Wilson returned his gaze to the man in front of him. ''What are you doing here? What are you even doing out of bed at this hour? Usually you're still fast asleep for another couple of hours at least.'' He closed the file and tried to add it to the load in the other arm, then realized there was still a briefcase in it and gave up.
House turned and started slowly for the elevator, waiting for Wilson to catch up before he spoke. ''I was reading my employment contract, and it turns out I'm actually supposed to come to work in the mornings, not the afternoons. Can you believe that?''
''Why no, how astoundingly unreasonable of Cuddy to expect a full work day from you. I'm frankly appalled,'' Wilson retorted dryly.
House looked away to hide the impending grin. ''I know, it's crazy, isn't it? This being made a slave to time thing really is inconvenient. Cuts into my internet porn downloading in a huge way. I may have to hire someone to catch it up for me.'' He stopped before he got to the elevator and turned to face Wilson again. ''So, lunch today?'' he inquired.
''Um, yeah, I think so, I'll just have to check my calendar.'' Wilson started trying to shift the overcoat to the other arm so that he could open the briefcase a bit and dig out the dayplanner that he kept in constant reach.
House took the opportunity to snatch a quick look over his shoulder and spied a runaway toddler heading almost straight for him. Deftly he took a small step sideways to place himself directly in the little diaper bomb's path. As expected, a second later, he felt the blow to the back of his knees, throwing off his balance and pitching him forward, directly into Wilson. He squeezed the Styrofoam cup to pop the lid off and landed right on Wilson's chest.
The surprised man dropped his briefcase, which scattered files and papers all over the floor, and dropped the overcoat on top of it to free up his arms to catch House before he fell completely. House smirked a little as he felt Wilson's arms grab him and stabilize him against his own body. He'd never let me fall, unless it was him doing the pushing, he thought just before completely flattening the flimsy cup between his own large hand and Wilson's chest, soaking the man's shirt and tie with coffee.
''You okay?'' Wilson said, almost directly in House's ear.
''Yeah, I think so,'' House replied, injecting just the right amount of breathless fear and annoyance into his voice. He got his cane back under him and pushed off of Wilson's chest, achieving vertical once again. ''Now where is that little monster?''
Wilson pulled at his shirt with the tips of two fingers, looking more like he was holding medical waste than his own clothes. ''I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose,'' he said absently, looking at the mess of files on the floor. Already a candy striper and the child's mother were scrabbling to pick up the files and other detritus from the briefcase and shove it all back in.
''I'm sorry, oh, I'm so sorry!'' the mother was saying as she herded the child with one hand and pushed the files closer with the other. ''He just broke away and I didn't catch him in time. You know how kids are, sometimes they don't listen. I'm really sorry, he didn't hurt you, did he?'' She looked up at House from the floor, her expression contrite.
''Not this time,'' House growled. ''But I don't hear an offer to pay for Dr. Wilson's shirt yet. Or my coffee.''
''House, really, it's okay. I'm sure it'll wash,'' Wilson protested.
''The tie won't,'' House said, eyes still boring into the mother's.
''Yes, of course, I'll pay for the tie,'' she grimaced.
''No, it's fine.'' Wilson glared at House. ''It's fine!'' He grabbed his stuff from the two women and stalked over to the elevator, viciously stabbing the button with his finger.
''I was just trying to help,'' House said, eying the stain on Wilson's shirt speculatively.
''By making a young mother feel guilty about her kid? That's supposed to help?'' Wilson kept his eyes on the floor indicator lights.
''Actually I was hoping she'd pick out a tie for you herself so that I wouldn't be subjected to any more of your hideous collection.'' House glanced sideways and saw a faint smile just beginning to curl the edge of Wilson's mouth. Score!
''Well now you're going to have to be subjected to one of the spare ones I keep in my office.''
''And the punishment never ends,'' House said. The elevator arrived and the two men boarded.
''You sure the kid didn't hurt you when he hit you?'' Wilson asked, watching House's face for any signs of pain.
''No, he just got my knees. Knocked me off balance, that's it.'' House could be honest about that one. The doors opened and the men exited. Wilson turned to head for his office and House followed, barging right through the door after him.
''House, I have to change,'' Wilson said, dropping the brief case and rummaging through a gym bag under his desk.
''Don't go changing,'' sang House, ''To try to please me!''
''Okay, that's disturbing. Stop it.''
''Oh go ahead. It's nothing I haven't seen before.'' House flopped down onto the couch and waved a hand in Wilson's direction. ''Come on, take it off.''
''If you reach for your wallet and pull out a handful of singles, I'll beat you to death with the cane,'' Wilson said, starting on the buttons. House snorted a chuckle.
''Did you know,'' began House, letting his mouth run without thinking so his brain could concentrate on the show in front of him, ''that neckties can be traced all the way back to Emperor Chin's terra cotta warriors in China?''
As he spoke he watched Wilson undoing his buttons and loosening the tie from his collar. He pulled the shirt tails from the waistband of his pants and shimmied it off his shoulders and down his arms, pausing to undo the cuff buttons as well, then finally letting it slide off his arms completely. He dropped it in the bag and then dropped the tie on top. House felt the familiar stirring in his groin and the low burn building in his stomach, and reminded himself to breath normally lest Wilson notice.
He kept talking. Wilson had noticed the stain had gone straight through his undershirt as well and made a disgusted face as he pull it up and over his shoulders and head, dropped it too in the bag at his feet. Now Wilson was half naked in front of him and House trailed off and stopped talking.
House raked his gaze over the other man's body, taking in everything at once and then looking away quickly, out the balcony door. He gazed out at the morning but saw none of it. Instead he saw smooth skin and defined muscles, the beginnings of love handles, the sprinkle of chest hair, the outline of pectorals and deltoids. He imagined running his fingertips over the muscles and watching them quiver. He imagined outlining the muscles with his tongue.
''...after the colon cancer remission and then we could - House? House, are you listening to me?'' Wilson looked up at his friend.
House shook himself mentally. ''Colon cancer, right. And lunch after that. Got it.'' He glanced back at the younger man, who was in the midst of knotting his spare tie, expertly and without a mirror. He briefly mourned the loss of the view, but then inspiration struck. ''Why don't you give me the clothes? You can run them through the washer at my place tonight and save yourself the wait from the hotel laundry service. You can bring pizza too.'' He snagged the handles of the gym bag with the handle of his cane before Wilson could protest and pulled it close. He pushed himself up from the sofa and grabbed the bag.
Wilson gave him an odd, sideways look. ''O - kay. Since when have you been worried about the state of my laundry?''
''Not worried. Just need pizza,'' House said over his shoulder as he exited the office quickly, leaving no time for argument.
Wilson chuckled and shook his head.
* * *
Two hours later and in the midst of a particularly rambunctious differential, Wilson opened the door to House's conference room. House was examining the whiteboard while yelling to his Fellows about conflicting test results.
Chase stood at the coffee station, fuming quietly in the direction of the industrial maker and viciously stirring his drink. Wilson decided not to interrupt and sidled quietly around the outskirts of the room, carrying his coffee mug and intent on swiping a cup he could drink instead of wear. Just as he reached the counter, Chase spun around and opened his mouth to speak, but instead ran straight into Wilson, splashing his drink all over his new shirt, tie, and lab coat.
''Oh! Doctor Wilson! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were behind me!'' Chase stammered as he attempted ineffectually to mop up the mess with a paper towel.
''It's okay, Chase, no problem. It's not the first time. Hell, it's not even the first time today.'' Wilson sighed and closed his eyes, shoulders slumping a little. Three pairs of eyes swung directly to House.
''It wasn't my fault! A kid ran into me,'' House protested. He narrowed his eyes and sniffed. ''At least this time it isn't coffee.''
Wilson looked down at himself and sniffed as well. ''No, it's not. Tea?'' he asked Chase.
''Yeah, oh god, I'm so sorry, Dr. Wilson! Tea stains really badly, too,'' Chase said, still rubbing the paper towel over Wilson's shirt.
Wilson grabbed his hand. ''It's okay, Chase. Stop that.'' He began to pull at his shirt again as he had early that morning. ''I'll just go ... Oh damn, I don't have any more clothes.'' He lifted his eyes to Chase.
''I have a spare shirt but I don't think it'd fit you,'' Chase said, eying Wilson's body speculatively. House shoved down the urge to punch him. Wilson turned to Foreman.
''Sorry, I had to take my spare home to wash yesterday,'' Foreman said with a shrug.
''I can go find you some scrubs,'' Cameron offered, rising from her chair.
''Never mind,'' House interrupted. ''Wilson, come with me. You flying monkeys, redo the tests!'' He limped quickly through the door adjoining his office. Wilson followed.
House dropped into his chair and opened a bottom drawer in his desk. Within a few seconds he pulled out a t-shirt and handed it over to the dripping Wilson.
Wilson unfolded it and held it up in front of himself. ''Jethro Tull?'' He questioned disbelievingly.
''Oh, it'll be fine. Just put another lab coat on top and button it up and nobody'll know.''
''But,'' Wilson began, but then didn't seem to know which direction to go in. ''But ... Okay, first of all, when was the last time I wore a t-shirt to work? And second, I can't wear a tie with a t-shirt!''
''First,'' House echoed, holding up one finger in front of him, ''I wear t-shirts all the time and you don't see me complaining, and second,'' he held up another finger, ''of course you can't wear a tie with a t-shirt, that would look silly. But you don't have any more ties anyway, and that one is now a tea-stained Martha Stewart creation, so it doesn't matter.'' He thought for a moment. ''And third,'' another finger, ''it's your only real choice outside of a scrub shirt. Put on my t-shirt.''
Wilson hesitated a moment, then shook his head and began stripping for the second time that morning. House meandered over to the glass walls and began closing the blinds. Wilson raised a questioning eyebrow.
''Privacy!'' House defended. Wilson merely rolled his eyes and went back to his buttons.
House hobbled back to his desk and sat down again, ready to enjoy the second show. He watched from under his eyebrows as Wilson again stripped off the stained lab coat, then the shirt and tie. Too bad there's no undershirt this time, he thought, holding his cane out by the base and catching Wilson's shirt on it, bringing it back to himself and dropping it in the bag with the other clothes. Wilson smiled at the maneuver and then donned the t-shirt. ''Well, how do I look?''
House's breath caught at the sight of Wilson wearing his, House's, clothes. Inwardly, he thought, like you've just spent the night in my bed and are getting ready to make us breakfast. He said, ''Like a reject from a monster truck show.''
A knock sounded on the glass door. ''Dr. Wilson?'' Cameron's voice came through as she opened it up. ''I brought you another lab coat.'' She extended her arm through the doorway and handed it to Wilson.
''Thanks, Cameron,'' he said, quickly pulling it on over the t-shirt.
House glowered. ''Try to keep your clothes on for the rest of the day, eh?'' he growled at Wilson.
''Hey, I'm 0 for 2 here, neither of those were my fault,'' Wilson laughed as he turned to leave. ''See you for lunch?''
House nodded, and then watched the man disappear down the hall.
* * *
The cafeteria at lunch time was, if possible, even busier than the clinic first thing in the morning. The crush of bodies milling through the lineups and then making for open tables or searching for lunch companions was nearly impossible to get through without bumping into at least one person. Miraculously, Wilson had made it through the hordes without spilling anything on his tray, and he plunked it down triumphantly on the table in front of House with a smirk.
''There you go, chili cheese fries, as ordered. Just keep them far away from me,'' he said, pulling his own packaged salad and bottled water from the tray. ''Any more mishaps today and I'll have to walk around here naked.''
House nearly choked on his pop, and his mind went to very naughty places. He managed to dredge up a suitably offhand reply from somewhere. ''Well the nurses wouldn't object.''
''Cuddy might,'' Wilson replied.
''Nor would most of the patients,'' House continued, ignoring him. ''And come to think of it, most of the doctors too.'' He eyed the younger man appraisingly. ''The cleaning staff, the orderlies. The accounting department. I could go on.'' He saved a fry loaded with chili in Wilson's general direction.
''Please don't,'' Wilson interrupted, grabbing House's hand and redirecting the fry back to the tray. ''And don't point that at me. I just said I'm out of spares. I'm taking no chances.''
''Spoilsport,'' House muttered. He looked around the large room casually, scoping out the trajectories of the people coming close to them. Finally he selected a target, a very young man who looked like he could be right out of junior high, but was probably a first or second year med student. He was carrying a tray with two baskets of chili cheese fries and looking off to his left, not paying attention to where he was going. House stuck out his cane and the boy tripped spectacularly, sending both baskets of fries directly into Wilson's lap. A hush fell over the room.
Wilson scooted the chair back in an attempt to avoid the mess but was just a hair too late. He ended up with both baskets upturned on his legs, sending melted cheese and gravy all over his pants, the borrowed t-shirt, the lab coat, the chair and the floor. He surveyed the disaster with dismay, then squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply and harshly.
''You're not going to have an aneurism or anything, are you?'' House inquired evenly, pulling his cane back to his body, removing the evidence. The boy dropped the tray on the floor with a clatter and raced off to the tills, hollering for napkins at the top of his lungs.
''I'm considering it. Why do you ask?'' Wilson said through his hands, his voice almost manic in its calmness. House could tell he had his teeth clenched tightly.
''Well, I'd just like to be warned of any psychotic breaks or impending brain damage, so I can be prepared,'' House continued, backing up slowly in his chair. The boy came running back with a mountain of paper towels in his hands and began trying to clean the mess off of Wilson's lap. Wilson grabbed the boy's wrists as they swiped ineffectually at his groin and held them in what had to be a vice grip, considering how white the skin of Wilson's fingers was. House raised his eyebrows as he observed the interaction.
Wilson turned to the boy, whose face had drained of all colour and whose eyes were round as saucers. ''It's fine. Don't do that. Go away now.'' His voice came out in a low growl. The boy stammered half words that may have been apologies and then reeled around and fled.
House pulled out his cell phone and dialed quickly. ''Cameron, you can bring Dr. Wilson those scrubs now. Men's medium. We're in the cafeteria. Bring them to the men's room here, I'll meet you there.'' House spoke quickly and quietly, keeping his eyes on Wilson. ''None of your business, just be quick!'' He flipped it closed and rose to his feet. ''Come on, let's get you cleaned up.''
Wilson stood, letting most of the mess glop soggily to the floor, and trailed after him, his movements slightly jerky and erratic. This time there was no hesitation, and as soon as he went through the door House held for him he started stripping off the offending clothes and dumping them unceremoniously onto the floor. In a moment a knock sounded at the door and House stuck his hand out for the scrubs. He waited as Wilson swiped at the grease that had soaked through to his skin and then handed them over. Wilson dressed quickly and then fled the bathroom, making a bee-line for the elevator, and leaving House in the dust. House gathered up the clothes and left as well.
* * *
Later that afternoon, House hopped over the low balcony wall and peered in door at Wilson. He was sitting in his desk chair, poring over a chart and sipping something from a paper cup, water or pop, House couldn't tell. Wilson leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes, then stood and reached for one of the books on the top shelf of his bookcase. He brought the cup with him, still sipping.
House opened the door softly, trying not to startle the man more than necessary. ''Hey,'' he said, ''you've managed...'' he broke off as Wilson startled and jumped around to face the intruder, tipping the glass down his front as he did so. Ah, House thought, soda after all. Coke, unless I miss my guess.
''Shit, House!'' Wilson cried, looking down at the brown puddle spreading out from his shoes.
''Well, I was going to say you've managed to stay dry for two hours, you deserve a treat. I guess that's out now, eh?'' House smiled.
''Lucky for you I'm not wearing my new shoes. These ones are older, and now they're ruined.'' Wilson blinked mournfully at his feet. ''And I'm officially out of clothes.''
''No problem, I have some spare runners in my office.'' House went back through the door and over the wall again, returning with a pair of old runners in his hand. ''Try these on for size.''
''Actually I think they're a little small,'' Wilson said after he'd shucked his sticky dress shoes and socks.
Lucky me! House thought, and stomped down the smile that threatened.
''They'll work for the rest of the day, I guess. Thanks,'' Wilson said. ''I'm just going to stay in here and do paperwork for the rest of the day. Let me know when you're ready to leave, and I'll try to sneak out the back way and avoid anyone who could possibly spill anything on me.'' He smiled up at House. ''I think it's just safer that way.''
''Probably right, yeah.'' House took a deep breath and looked away. ''Actually, I can leave whenever you're ready. Patient's stable, the minions are treating him like they have a clue what they're doing, and I've finished my clinic time for today.''
''You.'' Wilson made it a statement rather than a question. ''You did your clinic time. Without a fuss. Without a huge production and song and dance number and histrionics fit for an opera house. You did.'' He cocked a disbelieving eyebrow as he finished tying the laces.
''Yes, I did,'' House responded, widening his eyes and doing his best to look innocent. ''Cuddy never thinks to look for me in the clinic.''
''And Cuddy was looking for you because...?'' Wilson straightened the stacks of files on his desk.
''Oh, who knows this time. Something to do with a paperwork backlog.'' House flapped his hand in dismissal.
Wilson smirked. ''And you chose the lesser of two evils. Interesting approach.''
''Not lesser, just different evils.'' House turned to the door. ''You ready to go then?''
''Yeah. I'm going down the back stairs. I'll meet you at your place.''
''Paranoia will destroy ya!'' House sung as he limped out the door and headed to his own office. Quickly he gathered his toys together and snagged the bag with Wilson's clothes and then made for the elevator. While he waited for the car to arrive, he thought back to the sight of Wilson's bared skin and a shiver of excitement thrilled through him. He hoped the evening would go just as well as the day had. For an off-the-cuff plan, it was sure coming together nicely.
* * *
A perfunctory knock sounded at House's apartment door and House waited a few seconds, then heard Wilson holler a hello. ''In here!'' he called back. He was standing at the washing machine located in the alcove just off of the kitchen, studiously reading the label on the bottle of detergent. The gym bag lay at his feet and the clothes had been stuffed into the machine randomly. He heard Wilson make his way through the apartment, dropping pizza and beer bottles in the living room and arriving behind House, peering over his shoulder. He was still wearing the scrubs.
''What do you think you're doing?'' Wilson asked, a disbelieving note in his voice.
House blinked at him. ''Laundry?'' The 'well, duh' was unspoken but heard in the tone of voice anyway.
''Oh, give me that,'' Wilson said, feigning annoyance. ''I didn't even think you knew where the machine was.''
''It takes up space that could be better served with bookshelves, of course I know it's here.'' House did his best to sound offended as he went back through the kitchen to the couch. He doubted it worked. He soon heard the sound of the washer tub filling with water and Wilson followed him to the living room.
House opened the pizza box and the mouth-watering smell of pepperoni and way too much cheese filled the room. Wilson pulled two beer bottles from the case and set one in front of each of them, snatching a piece of pizza from the box. Both men sat back and ate in silence, the only sound that of the washer agitating.
In tandem they reached for the beer bottles, opening them and taking a long pull. House decided to break the silence. ''It's been a while since I've seen you in scrubs.'' He figured that was a safe opening.
''Well, heads of departments are supposed to dress the part, y'know. Shirts, ties, jackets, that sort of thing.'' Wilson turned a speculative eye to House. ''Hey, aren't you the head of a department?''
''Small department,'' House said quickly, cutting off that train of thought. ''Less formality.''
Wilson smirked. ''Uh huh. I'm sure that's it.'' He took another sip from the bottle.
''You know,'' House said, turning to Wilson and gesturing with the bottle, ''It wouldn't hurt you to be a little less formal on occasion too. I mean seriously, look at what happened today, the coffee, the tea,'' he pointed at Wilson's chest with the bottle, ''the fries,'' and this time he pointed down with the bottle, pouring the contents of it all over Wilson's lap.
Wilson tipped his head back against the back of the sofa and sighed loudly. ''Not you too!''
House just sat there, looking at the liquid pouring out of the bottle and soaking the scrubs, outlining the seams of Wilson's underwear over his thighs. Quickly he righted the bottle and put it on the coffee table. Wilson merely pulled off the shirt and tried to find a dry bit to soak up the beer that had made it all the way to the sofa cushions.
''That's it, I give up.'' Wilson stood and toed off the runners and stripped off the scrub pants. ''House, I'm using your shower. Don't finish all the pizza.'' He slid past House and walked down the hall to the bathroom. House watched his ass move in the wet underwear as he did so, then once the bathroom door was shut, blew out the breath he'd been holding and tipped his own head back, shutting his eyes and willing down the erection that was threatening to break through his zipper.
He stayed that way while the shower ran and stopped, images of what a naked, wet and frustrated Wilson would be doing in his shower running through his mind at breakneck speed. The hard on was not going away. Finally the door opened and he heard Wilson start to make his way back to the living room. He launched himself to his feet and hobbled into the kitchen as fast as he could.
''House, where're you going?'' Wilson called after him.
''Just putting the beer in the fridge,'' he called back.
''Then wouldn't it have made more sense to bring it with you?'' Wilson asked, his voice coming from right behind him. House whirled and found Wilson standing so close he could count the hairs in his eyebrows, and holding the rest of the case of beer. He reached around House and carefully put it down on the counter behind him. House looked down and saw Wilson wearing just a towel, if wearing could be the right word, since it was threatening to slip off his hips if either of them breathed the wrong way. There were still water droplets clinging to Wilson's skin, as if he'd toweled off only enough to stop dripping on the floor before he'd left the bathroom. House's words left him and his breathing became harsh and a little ragged.
Wilson looked down and took in House's growing pants problem. ''Really, House, if you wanted me without my clothes on, all you had to do was ask,'' he said softly, a small smile playing about his lips. He took his hand off the beer case and put it on the small of House's back, nudging him close, and reached the other hand up to House's face, holding his chin as he moved in to kiss House's lips.
A low moan ripped from House's throat when their lips touched, and he reached his hands up to Wilson's face, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss, forcing his tongue between Wilson's lips. Their tongues met and slid along side one another, exploring, touching, tasting everything they could reach. House's head felt light and dizzy, but he felt that if he fell, he'd float and never touch the floor again.
House trailed a hand over Wilson's shoulder and down his back to the swell of his ass where the towel still clung precariously. Impatiently he shoved it down and it let go immediately, sliding off Wilson's hips and pooling on the floor, leaving the younger man flushed and utterly naked in House's kitchen. He thought vaguely that he'd never seen a more beautiful sight as he pulled back and looked at Wilson, took in the long expanses of skin, the shapes of his muscles, and most spectacularly, the hard, flushed cock that bobbed in time to Wilson's harsh breaths.
The shoes weren't lying, he thought, then had to stamp down a completely inappropriate laugh, fearing misinterpretation.
Wilson broke away from the embrace and bent to pick up the towel. 'Come with me,' he said, the grin back on his lips.
'Where?' House asked.
'Bedroom. Where else?' Wilson retorted, wrapping the towel around House's lower back and pulling on both ends, forcing him forward. He took a step back and pulled on the towel again, forcing House another step. Another step back, and this time House didn't wait for the towel to pull him. He stepped forward enough to bring him back up against Wilson and caught his lips in another kiss, pushing him backwards and towards the door of the kitchen at the same time. They walked like that, kissing, pushing, step by slow step, House only stopping once to pull off his own t-shirt in a fevered attempt to feel Wilson's flushed skin on his own.
Finally, they reached the bedroom and Wilson turned House so that his back was to the bed and pushed lightly. House fell back and pulled Wilson after him, but Wilson caught himself before he fell down and kneeled instead over House's thighs. He quickly unbuttoned and unzipped House's jeans and pulled them down over his hips, sliding back off the bed to pull them the rest of the way off, then pulled down the boxer briefs as well, carefully lifting the elastic over House's straining cock and then over the scars on his thigh.
Wilson looked at House with a wicked gleam in his eye, then knelt on the floor in front of him, pulling lightly at House's hips to get him to shift forward a little. As soon as he did, Wilson lowered his head and ran the flat of his tongue up House's twitching cock, root to tip, then swirled his tongue around the head, prodding softly at the slit and lapping up the fluid there, and then ran it back down again, top to bottom.
House's eyes rolled back in his head and he panted uncontrollably. His hands went to Wilson's head, tangling in his hair and trying desperately not to push, not to pump. The feel of that tongue and those lips on him was indescribable, absolute joy and sheer bliss all rolled into one, and House was sure it wouldn't last nearly long enough. He spread his thighs a little further apart in encouragement and moaned, stomach muscles fluttering twitching.
Wilson took the hint and wrapped his lips firmly around the head of House's cock, lowering his mouth over it, taking him in inch by slow inch until House thought he would explode from the tension. What he couldn't fit in, Wilson stroked with a tight fist in time with his lips, using the fingers of his other hand to fondle House's testicles, stroke his perineum, swirl lightly against the tight ring of his anus.
House forced his eyes to open and peered blearily down at Wilson. The sight of the younger man's head, bobbing up and down, taking him in, letting him out, taking him in again, sucking hard as he did so, was enough to tip him over the edge, and he could no longer restrain himself from pumping, forcing his dick upwards, fucking Wilson's delicious mouth. He tapped desperately on Wilson's shoulder in an attempt to warn him, but Wilson only sucked harder, and House gave in, gave up.
With a guttural cry he exploded, coming in hard shots, filling Wilson's mouth with his seed. House watched as Wilson swallowed around his cock, feeling the suction and pressure of each swallow drawing the orgasm out of him until he was spent and limp, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.
He felt the bed dip with Wilson's weight as he clambered back up and slid along House's side, running his hand over House's stomach and chest, tracing the line of his jaw with his lips and tongue until he came to House's mouth. Wilson kissed him, long and deep, and he tasted himself on the other man's tongue. It was quite possibly the most erotic thing he'd ever done. He felt his stomach clench and briefly regretted his age, wishing for the quick recovery time he'd had in his youth.
When he was fully coherent again, House noticed that Wilson had taken himself in hand and was slowly jerking himself as he kissed House. He quickly batted Wilson's hand away and pushed him over onto his back. ''No fucking way,'' he growled, pulling Wilson's hands up and over his head. ''That's my job. Sit back against the headboard,'' he ordered. Wilson jumped to accommodate, scrambling quickly backwards and grabbing a pillow for his back, spreading his thighs as House crawled awkwardly between them, feet hanging off the bed.
''Are you sure you ... Aaahhh!'' He cut himself off as House opened his lips wide and took Wilson's quivering, leaking cock into his mouth, sliding down until he felt Wilson's head hit the back of his throat, then swallowing around it. He felt Wilson's hands land heavily on his shoulders and his fingers dig into the muscles. He dragged his lips up Wilson's cock to the ridge of the head and then lowered back down again, swallowing at the bottom. Wilson choked out a moan and squeezed House's shoulders again, one hand coming up to the top of House's head, pushing slightly.
House would have grinned had he been able to. Wilson was trying to guide him, which meant he wanted this as much as House wanted it. Or that he was pushy when it came to blow jobs. House chose to believe the former.
He used his fingers in the same way Wilson had, fondling his balls, pushing against the tight ring of anus, until he heard Wilson's breathing coming in gasps and his movements stilling. He felt Wilson's cock start to pulsate.
''House! Gonna...come!'' he grunted, pulling slightly at House's hair. House merely hummed and sucked harder until he felt the shots of hot come hitting the back of his throat. He swallowed again and again until Wilson had finished shaking and shuddering and yelling through his orgasm. House gave one final long lick to clean him off and let the softening member slip from his lips.
Slowly, he crawled up Wilson's body and turned over to sit beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling the younger man close. He waited for Wilson's breathing to slow down again and felt Wilson's heart racing where his chest was pressed against House's side. Finally, his eyes fluttered open and the dark brown met House's vivid blue. He smiled a slow lazy smile.
''That was ... that was ...'' he breathed, flapping a hand randomly in the air.
''Yeah, that was,'' House said softly, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes.
They were silent for a few long minutes, listening to each other's hearts beating. Finally House spoke again. ''There's still pizza left.''
Wilson snorted laughter against House's chest. ''The way to man's heart is through his stomach, eh?'
''No, the way to a man's heart is directly through his chest, using a ten blade and a rib spreader. But in this case, the way into a man's pants is through his stomach. And I'm still hungry.''
Wilson nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut.
''And if we intend to that again anytime soon, I need sustenance.''
Wilson's eyes snapped open. ''Good point. Pizza it is.'' He turned over and began to rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor, then realized that none of them were actually his. ''Um, can I borrow a pair of boxers?''
''Nope,'' House smirked, ''You said all I had to do was ask. I'm asking.'' His eyes grew dark, and he raked his gaze over the other man's body.
Wilson shuddered lightly and let out a small laugh. ''Naked pizza it is. Come on then.''
House grinned and followed.
* * *
The pizza was most excellent.
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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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