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Telecommunication
by cryptictac
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House searches through his phone for Wilson's mobile number. Presses call when it comes up on the screen and lifts the phone to his ear.
The phone rings. Rings again. Stops in mid-ring as it's picked up and House hears Wilson clearing his throat faintly before he says in a professional voice into the phone, "Dr. Wilson."
House smirks. "Why, Dr. Wilson. It's been a while."
He can almost hear Wilson relaxing on the other end. Wilson laughs briefly. "Well, Dr. House. It has been a while."
"Mmm, yes."
There's a rustling sound, like papers being stacked quickly. "Like, what -- less than a day? If that?"
House shrugs, even though Wilson can't see him. "Still a while."
The sound of a drawer snapping shut is heard over the phone. Obviously where Wilson put those papers. "Is it now?"
"I have a short attention span."
Wilson laughs again. "Yeah, I know."
A pause. House imagines Wilson rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe he's got his hand on his hip. Maybe he's tugging his tie loose. House shifts on the bed, crossing his ankle over his other ankle, free hand resting on his stomach. He toys his fingertips over the material of his shirt idly. "Your flight okay?"
He can picture Wilson shrugging indifferently. "As good as a flight to London is ever going to get."
House licks his lips. Tries to think of something to say. "So, what's London like, then?" Such lame conversation.
"Same as it always was." House hears a dull thud in the background followed by another one a few seconds later -- House guesses that's Wilson's shoes being tossed to the floor -- and then Wilson sighs deeply, the way he does when he sits down heavily. "Dark. Grey. Gloomy. Wet. Cold."
"Sounds like fun," House replies dryly.
"Oh, yeah," Wilson counters just as dryly. "Loads of fun." There's a small pause and House faintly makes out what sounds like a glass or bottle being set on a table. House wonders what Wilson's drinking. Maybe it's beer, just like what he has on his end table next to his bed. "I can give you more adjectives to describe London if you'd like."
"No, thanks. I didn't call you for a bedtime story."
"You didn't?" House thinks how bad at feigning surprise Wilson is. Even over the phone. Especially over the phone.
"Why would I do that?"
He can picture Wilson shrugging again. "Because you're lonely?"
House snorts and counters sarcastically, "Please."
A pause. "Because you miss me?"
House notes an almost hopeful tone in Wilson's voice. It makes him smile briefly. "I love how you state that as a question and not an assertion."
"Okay, fine. Because you miss me."
"Why would I miss you?"
"You wouldn't be phoning me if you didn't."
"Oh, please." House gives a gruff-sounding laugh. Even though he actually does miss Wilson. "Maybe I'm just bored."
"Okay. You're bored, then."
House shifts on the bed, lightly rubbing his hand across his stomach. "Hmm, perhaps."
Another pause. House hears the sound of bed springs squeaking quietly. "So," Wilson begins idly, trying to sound casual. "What are you up to, then?"
House grins. "Phoning you."
He can almost see Wilson rolling his eyes. "Gathered that much."
House sighs deeply, lazily drawing his hand a little further up his stomach and then back down again. He watches his hand as he does it. "What are you doing?"
Another pause. "Nothing much. Just, you know, settling in after the flight. Convention starts tomorrow morning."
"I don't care about your convention."
"I know you don't. You never care about the conventions I have to go to."
"Seeing you know that, you should also know not to bother ever telling me about them."
Wilson laughs. "You're such an asshole."
House stretches his hand across to his beer and takes it in his hand as he replies, "Aw, you're so sentimental." He draws the beer to his mouth and takes a sip.
Wilson obviously hears the faint suction of his lips around the mouth of the bottle when he pulls it away, because he asks, "What are you drinking?"
"Beer."
He hears the same noise on the other end of the phone. "Same."
House imagines Wilson licking his lips. He licks his own. Wishing it was Wilson's lips he was swiping his tongue against. "British beer sucks."
"Yeah, I know." He hears the same sound again as Wilson takes another sip of his beer and then hears it being set back on the table. "You in your lounge room?"
House grins faintly around his swig off beer before he leans over and sets it on the end table as he swallows. Licks his lips again. "Why do you care?"
Wilson ignores his question by replying with an insistent, "Are you?"
House pauses. "No."
It's Wilson's turn to pause. "On your bed?"
House nods, and then replies, "Yeah."
He hears what sounds like the phone being switched over in Wilson's hand and then, "Me, too."
House places his hand back onto his stomach, and resumes rubbing it softly. He pretends it's Wilson's hand; that he's lying next to Wilson and talking, not talking to him on the phone from several thousand miles away. "Sitting or lying down?"
There's a pause as House hears Wilson shifting about, giving a quiet grunt. It sounds like he's scooting back onto the bed. "Half-and-half."
"Half-and-half?"
"Yeah. Got my head propped up on the pillows." There's a rustling sound of Wilson settling his head more comfortably against said pillows. He hears Wilson clear his throat quietly. "You?"
"Same, I guess. Half-and-half."
There's another short pause. "Good to stretch my legs out," Wilson remarks pointlessly; pointlessly because House knows Wilson flew First Class. There's no such thing as cramped in First Class -- lots of leg room.
"Hmm," House muses, running his palm up over his stomach to his chest briefly before travelling it back down once more. "First Class does that to you," he adds dryly.
Wilson laughs quietly. House hears another faint rustling sound, as though Wilson is getting himself comfortable. "So... what are you doing, then?"
House loves how casual Wilson manages to make that sound. He smirks. "Oh, just... you know," House replies airily, running his hand back up to his chest again, "lying here. Not doing too much." He pauses. "Yet."
He hears Wilson's breath catch quietly, followed by a nervous chuckle. He can imagine Wilson looking flustered already. He loves it when Wilson looks flustered. "Yeah," Wilson replies in a slightly scratchy voice. "Me, neither." A pause. "This phone bill's gonna cost you a bomb."
"Don't care."
He can almost see Wilson smiling. "If you say so."
House quickly switches the phone over to his other ear, his other hand now toying with the hem of his shirt. "So, what are you doing, Dr. Wilson?"
"Oh, I'm..." He hears Wilson clearing his throat. He sounds flustered. "Not much."
"Not much?"
He hears him clear his throat once more. "No. Not much." Wilson pauses. House can tell Wilson is nervous, that his heart is already racing. He wonders how hard Wilson is. Probably aching. "Yet," Wilson finishes hesitantly, as though he's daring himself to be bold.
House grins smugly, coiling the hem of his shirt around his fingers. "Not yet, huh?" he says huskily.
"No, not yet," Wilson replies just as huskily.
"Meaning you're planning on doing something."
A pause. "Perhaps."
House arches his brows. "Perhaps?"
"Mm, perhaps."
House lets his shirt go and lazily runs his palm down over his hip and good thigh before curling his fingers over and raking them back up lightly to his stomach. "Anything I should know about?"
Wilson lets out a quick breath. House can imagine his cheeks tinged with red, perhaps biting his bottom lip the way he does when he's becoming aroused. "I don't know; what should you know about?"
"Anything," House drawls. He licks his lips. "Everything."
"Everything?" Wilson echoes, his voice thick and scratchy.
House grins at the circular game they're playing with each other. Teasing each other. Verbal foreplay. "Is there anything you'd wanna know?"
He catches the sound of the phone being switched to the other ear and then another small pause. "Perhaps."
"Perhaps, huh?" House lightly traces his fingertips down his chest, down his stomach, to his waistband. He's hard. His jeans feel tight. He licks his lips. "Wanna know a secret, James?" he murmurs into the phone, his fingers now skimming over the shape of his erection through his jeans.
He hears an audible gulp from Wilson's end. "Yeah," Wilson murmurs back. "Yeah, I do."
House glances down at his fingers and watches them toy lightly around the bulge in his jeans. "I'm hard."
Wilson lets out a quiet, shaky breath. It sounds deep and loud on House's end of the phone. "Are... are you?"
"Mmhmm."
Another audible gulp from Wilson. "Wish I was there to see it," he says throatily.
House rubs his fingers up and down the front of his jeans before he abandons it and slips his hand up underneath his shirt. "Mm, me too." His palm is warm and slightly sweaty. He's excited. Aroused. Painfully aroused. "Tell me a secret, James," he murmurs.
There's shuffling and a sudden dull sound of the phone being dropped onto the bed, followed by Wilson exclaiming, "Shit," before it's swiped up again and House hears Wilson breathe heavily against the phone.
"That was charming," House remarks teasingly.
"Dropped the phone," Wilson explains lamely and he gives a nervous laugh. The laugh tapers off quickly and House hears him clear his throat once more. "A secret?"
"Yeah. A secret."
There's a pause; a longer one. House can hear Wilson breathing. It sounds quick and aroused. How he sounds when they kiss. "I'm... I'm hard," he confesses in a near-whisper, as though he's confessing a sin.
House grins. "How hard?"
Another pause. "Painfully."
"Painfully?"
"Yes." Wilson sounds almost tortured, as though merely talking about it is almost going to make him come. "Painfully."
"Sounds painful."
Wilson laughs stiffly and there's a faint rustling sound as Wilson switches the phone over to his other ear again. "Yeah."
House starts pushing his shirt up until his chest is revealed, his nipples tight and erect. He lightly skims his middle finger over his left nipple. "Take your shirt off," he instructs in a low, gravely voice.
"I..." House hears Wilson swallow thickly. "I already have."
"Oh?" He raises his brows and then smirks. "That why you dropped the phone?"
He hears Wilson exhaling shakily. "Yeah."
He chuckles quietly. House pictures Wilson laying there, chest exposed, nipples hard, a fine down of dark hair trailing down the centre of his chest, another trail of hair running from his belly button to his crotch. He wishes he was looking at it. Touching it. Kissing it. It makes his cock throb. "You touching your chest?"
Wilson pauses. "If you want me to."
"Yeah." House circles his finger around his nipple before he lightly drags his nails across his sternum to his other nipple. "Yeah, I want you to."
"Okay." He hears Wilson taking in a trembling breath and then exhaling sharply. God, he wishes he was seeing this. Imagining it makes it so much more arousing. "Greg..." Wilson murmurs lustfully.
"Hmm, James?"
House can hear each breath, thick and heavy, and he wants nothing more than to push his hand deep into his jeans and stroke himself. It's driving him crazy. "Wish this was you. Doing this."
It's House's turn to swallow thickly. Fucking hell. "Describe it to me."
"Describe it?" Wilson sounds hazy with lust.
"Yeah. Describe it."
"I'm..." Wilson clears his throat quietly. "I'm letting my... my fingers trail across my chest."
"Mm, go on."
There's a small pause. "Letting them move to my... over to my nipple." He gulps. "They're erect."
House bites his lower lip and then breathes shakily. "Your nipples?"
Another pause, as though Wilson's nodding. "Yeah."
House licks his lips. Gulps. "What are you thinking of?"
Another short pause. "You."
Jesus. "What about me?"
He hears a quiet gasp from Wilson followed by the sound of rustling; sounds like he's making himself more comfortable upon the pillows. "You. Above me."
House switches the phone over to his other ear and quickly wipes his sweaty palm on the bedspread before he closes it over the front of his crotch and presses down, arching his hips up against his hand. God, he's so fucking hard. "What am I doing, James? What am I doing to you?" he asks in a scratchy voice, punctuating his question with a quiet groan as he rubs his erection through his jeans sensually.
"Oh, god," Wilson breathes, inhibitions sounding like they are slipping away. Driven now by lust. "Sucking my nipple, that's what you're doing. Sucking it and licking it the way you do. Making me crazy."
"I love the way you moan when I do that to you, James," House whispers.
"God, yes."
"Moan for me. Make it sound like I'm really there. Really there, sucking your nipple." He licks his lips, pressing his palm against his cock again. "Making you crazy."
Wilson doesn't hesitate; he moans instantly, loudly and then lets out another gasp and House can picture the way Wilson arches his back when House is kissing his chest, the way he grips his hair to try and urge him downwards.
The image drives him to clumsily flick the button of his jeans undone and he fumbles with the zipper as he pushes it down. "Jesus," he quietly exclaims as he hears Wilson moan again, shakily this time. "Fuck, James."
"I wish."
House laughs briefly, pushing his hand into jeans and stroking his fingers over the soft fabric of his boxers, feeling his cock twitch under his touch. "Yeah," he replies. "Yeah, I wish, too."
There's a pause, followed by another quiet moan from Wilson. "What would you... what would you do to me if you were here?"
"If I was there?"
"Yeah. God, yeah."
House pulls his hand out of his jeans and sensually rubs his palm over his stomach slowly, trying to draw all of this out as long as possible. He rocks his hips slightly as he does so, his cock aching to be touched. "Suck you off," he breathes.
He hears Wilson give a shaky exhale, followed by him swallowing thickly. "Yeah. Yeah, I like the sound of that."
"Watch you suck me off," House continues.
"Yeah, yeah." He hears Wilson groan deeply, followed by the sound of the phone being switched across to Wilson's other ear. "Jesus, yeah."
"Watch your mouth gliding over my cock."
"Jesus."
"Come deep in your throat."
He hears Wilson gulp in between sharp intakes of air. "Fuck, yeah. Oh, god, yeah."
"Grip your head while I come," House continues lewdly. He's breathing hard, his hand now back into his jeans, stroking his cock with his fingers over his boxers. "'Cos I know how much you love it when I come in your mouth."
"Greg, please."
"Or maybe I'd fuck you. Fuck you hard." He swallows and exhales sharply. "You're so damn tight when I fuck you, James."
"God, I miss you," Wilson throatily confesses.
House laughs. Wilson's always said things like that in the heat of the moment. That he loves him or something equally as sentimental. The laugh dies off as he pushes the plackets of his jeans apart and pulls his cock out. "I know," he replies breathlessly, glancing down at his cock. He's so hard.
"What're... what're you doing?" Wilson asks in a strained voice, and it sounds to House like he's already jerking himself off. He hears Wilson breathing heavily and he imagines the feel of Wilson's hot breath against his neck, his chest, between his thighs, on his cock. It makes him shudder and exhale shakily.
"Touching myself," House replies in a scratchy voice. He squeezes his cock in his hand and swipes his thumb over the slit, taking in a sharp breath as his prick throbs in his sweat-slicked palm.
"Me... me, too," Wilson breathlessly says. "Me... oh, god... me, too."
"Imagining I'm fucking you. Hard, James. Hard."
House arches his hips up and almost comes when he hears Wilson whimper helplessly, breathing so hard into the phone House can barely hear anything else. He can tell Wilson is close to coming. So close. Just like he is. "Greg, please. Please."
"You gonna come, James?" he murmurs tightly. It's getting almost impossible to talk now, he so close to orgasm. "Gonna come all over your hand?" He hears nothing but heavy breathing, whimpering, the occasional deep-throated moan. "'Cos I'm gonna come, James. So close."
"Fuck," Wilson manages in a strangled voice. "Fuck."
"Gonna come and imagine I'm coming down your throat."
He suddenly hears Wilson let out a strained keening noise, followed by deep, loud breathing into the phone that's punctuated with that groan he always gives when he's halfway through climax.
The sound of Wilson coming, of knowing he's stroking himself, coming over his hand sends House over the edge and he arches his neck and let's out a deep, "Oh, god, James." He forces himself to lift his head up and look down at his cock spurting in jerked, rapidly weakening waves before he's spent and slumps back against the pillow again, breathing hard, bathed in a fine sheen of sweat.
"Jesus," he hears Wilson rasp.
"Mmm, something like that."
There's a fumbling sound as Wilson clumsily switches the phone to his other ear once again, and then moments later House hears a noise of Wilson's lips suctioning at the beer bottle, obviously taking deep, desperate gulps to quench his thirst. The sound makes House realise he's thirsty and he stretches across to the beer on his end table, bottle covered in dewy condensation. The back of his hand is smeared with a small dollop of his come.
Wilson gulps noisily and then lets out a shuddering breath of air. "Fucking hell, why didn't you come to London with me?"
House laughs as he draws the beer to his mouth and takes a sip. "'Cos I'm only in petty Diagnostics."
He hears Wilson take another sip of the beer. His breathing sounds like it's slowing down. House's is beginning to, as well. "You still could have come."
House smirks. "I did come."
"No," Wilson replies; he draws the word out so it sounds as though it has more than one syllable. He then laughs before taking another sip of beer. "Smartass. I mean, you still could have come to London with me."
"I thought it was more fun this way."
A pause. "Yeah." Wilson laughs again, almost coyly this time. "Yeah, it was."
House sculls the rest of his beer and then leans over and bangs the empty bottle on the end table as he asks, "What time is it there?"
"Uh..." Another pause. "Shit. It's late."
"Like how late?"
"Like after midnight late." A sigh. "Gotta be up before seven tomorrow. Or, rather, today."
House shifts on the bed, glancing towards where the Kleenex are. "S'pose I'd better..." He grunts as he makes a swipe for the Kleenex and then settles back against the pillows, phone cradled to his ear by his shoulder as he snatches out a few tissues.
"Yeah."
House wipes away the come with the tissues and then tosses the tissues to the floor. "'S'pose I'd better go."
There's a pause. "Yeah," Wilson says again, almost mournfully. Another pause. "You gonna be bored tomorrow night?"
House grins. "Perhaps. You gonna pay for my phone bill when you get back?"
"Why should I do that?"
"You earn more money than I do, that's why."
He hears Wilson laugh. "I'll phone you."
"When?"
He catches the sound of Wilson stifling a yawn. "Same time tomorrow night."
"Alright. Tomorrow night, same time it is, then. I get to be on top tomorrow night."
Wilson laughs. "See you later, Greg."
"Yeah, okay. See you, James." He's about to pull the phone from his ear before he adds quickly, "Wilson, wait."
Wilson is yawning. "Huh? What, Greg?"
House pauses and opens his mouth, closes it.
"Hello?"
House purses his lips and glances around the room uncertainly. Swallows thickly.
"Greg?"
He takes a deep breath and mumbles awkwardly, so quickly it could almost go unheard, "Love you."
Wilson hears it, though. House can almost see Wilson smiling as he replies, "Love you, too, Greg."
He hears Wilson's line click dead and he pulls the phone away and snaps it shut, smiling to himself.
~
Fin
Please review.
~
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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 Fox Television, 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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