Prompt: "I always thought you’d end up pinning me to a wall. But this isn’t what I was expecting."
Summary: When House keeps teasing him at an Oncology Benefit, Wilson drags him to a clinic room to question him about his motives. He ends up getting a whole lot more of an answer than he expected.
Note: I'm posting this on behalf of beren_sama, since she's having trouble with the upload. Naturally, I'll forward all comment notifcations to the author, but there might be some delay. Please bear with me! :)
It’d been such a simple gesture, just his hand reaching out, grabbing the small piece of fabric, tugging it back in place. Just a habitual reaction, just a friend fixing another friend’s tie at an Oncology Benefit. From that, the situation had started to escalate and spin out of control, and out of this universe, within the short span of a few quickly passing hours.
The annual charity event had started out as insignificantly as all the ones before it. He’d dressed up at home after work, not at House’s, unlike the last few years. He’d been relieved to hear Amber had to work this night, as bringing her would obviously result into awkward situations and House being an outright bastard the whole evening. Also, it almost seemed like a violation of a private ritual between the two of them. In all the years he’d worked at Princeton Plainsboro, only once had he brought a date along to the party, and that had been Julie, who had insisted on coming along in the first year of their marriage, convinced to stand up to House. All the other women in his life had conveniently planned other things to do. Which had probably been a good thing too, as Julie had ended up first being poked fun at relentlessly by House and then abandoned as he and House had taken to playing poker with Shipper from Business Affairs and Crane, head of Pediatrics.
He spotted House’s new fellows standing at one of the tables, Kutner and Taub looking not quite at ease, still new to most of the staff. Thirteen was apparently much better adjusted to unfamiliar territory. She was making eyes at a bespectacled young female pulmonologist with short, spiky hair over the glass of wine she held to her lips. He thought she looked rather stunning with her brown hair a waterfall of curls and baggy pinstripe slacks held up by the perpetual suspenders, a neatly ironed dress shirt tucked into it, the sleeves rolled up to her slim elbows.
Foreman, or ‘Homie’, as House liked to refer to him, acted as a bridge between the old and the new ducklings, standing on the other side of the table along with Cameron and Chase.
House was nowhere to be seen. Wilson didn’t expect to find the man conversing with his fellows, their table in that corner was very likely to be the last place House was to be found tonight, but he couldn’t help but keep checking to see if a miracle had occurred somehow.
Wilson did so again, about an hour later, when he moved to get another drink at the bar, awaiting House’s tardy-as-usual arrival. Cameron was chatting animatedly with Kutner while Chase observed, talking laid back to Foreman and Taub now and then, and mostly fading into the background in his black tie-shirt-jacket combo next to Cameron’s bright cobalt dress. For the sake of not passing out from complete boredom, Wilson decided to observe them for a bit from his spot at the bar.
Half an hour after that, he was starting to get worried. House was always late, but had usually managed to show up 2 hours after the beginning of the party, if not willingly then forced by Cuddy. Speaking of whom, he waved her over when he glimpsed the familiar deep purple of her dress whiz past in the flurry of people crowding the hospital lobby.
“Lisa!” He called, not obscenely loud as House would’ve, and watched as she looked around her bewilderedly, trying to locate the origin of his voice. She excused herself to the woman in the simple black dress next to her and came over when her eyes had found him in the crowd.
“Have you seen House?”
“He’s not here yet?” She sipped her cocktail, the brightly colored liquid swirling in the glass as it was moved, and her brow furrowed.
“I haven’t seen him, no.” Wilson answered, trying his best not to stare down her dress, which was, of course, offering quite a view of her cleavage.
“Well, if he doesn’t show up, he’s got a hundred extra clinic hours.” She said offhandedly, instinctively sweeping the room with her eyes for the man in question.
“You tell him that?”
“Of course I did. Otherwise he’d just start complaining he hasn’t been ‘mirandized’ when I appoint them to him.”
“Hmm, okay. Thank you.” He thanked and sipped his own drink, glancing around the room once more in search of the diagnostician. She offered a sympathetic smile, then excused herself with a nod, whirled around and with that she was gone again, lost in the sea of tuxes and expensive looking, deeply colored dresses.
Wilson was halfway through his third drink and about to make his way over to the gathered ducklings when he was greeted by a poke to his backside with the cane and House’s gruff voice, oddly bright. “Hello, Jimmy.”
Wilson spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for where the cane had hit his buttocks. “House.” He greeted, his tone of voice probably betrayed his relief, but in that moment he just hoped House didn’t notice. Or would at least leave it alone.
“Where’s CB?” House questioned as he glanced around the room, trying to locate what he saw as the devil in high heels. Wilson seized the opportunity to take in House’s appearance, looking him over without shame when House wasn’t watching.
The usual jeans and rock tee were great, of course, but Wilson couldn’t help but appreciate the occasional dressing up. House looked…almost immaculate. Well, apart for the fact that he still hadn’t shaved, probably hadn’t bothered to comb his hair at all and his bow tie sat awkwardly lopsided around his neck.
Amber. Right. He didn’t feel like explaining her absence at all, so instead he chose to sidetrack the conversation to another subject. “You’re late.”
“Nope. Actually, I am right on time to examine Thirteen’s courting strategies up close and in person.” He answered happily, pointing a discreet finger across Wilson’s shoulder to where Thirteen was making her way over to the doctor with the ruffled black hair, offering her one of the two cocktails she was carrying.
“Why are you so late?” Wilson tried to sound neutral and managed pretty well, if he did say so himself. They kept on watching Thirteen for a moment longer, both raising their eyebrows in slight admiration as the two women struck up an obviously flirty conversation. “Wow, she’s got talent.” He added under his breath.
“You have no idea.” House drawled out, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Wilson, just to mess with him.
“You know you’re not actually supposed to have sex with a fellow twenty years your junior, right?”
“Then what about Cameron?” House was faking utter shock, topped with a slight hint of sarcasm.
“You didn’t sleep with Cameron.” The oncologist stated confidently, enjoying their casual banter and followed House’s hand with his eyes when he moved to grab a glass from one of the plates the waiters carried around.
“How do you know?” The man asked over the rim of his cocktail, setting the glass to his lips and took a large swig of the disgustingly sweet beverage. He crinkled his nose in distaste afterwards, holding the glass at an arm’s length as he did so.
“Well, if you had, she’d never have gone for Chase.” Wilson explained, voice laced with mocking sarcasm. “She would’ve waited for you forever.”
“Nah, she wouldn’t.” He shook his head a little as he said it, waving it off.
“She would.” Wilson insisted and then, instinctively reached out a hand to fix the tie, unable to ignore the sight. “Your tie’s lopsided.”
He looked up from his fingers as they accidentally brushed skin and it felt like an electric shock that shot through his body, unnoticeable from the outside, but freezing him in place. He met bright blue eyes, fixed intently on him. “Only one person would and that’s you, Jimmy.” House’s voice was a husky whisper, but there was a laugh in there, and mocking too.
He slowly retracted his hand, ignoring the urge to stare at his fingers and averted his eyes before looking up again, defiance clear in the deep brown of them. “I am capable of having a life without you, thankyouverymuch.”
“Where’s Cuddy?” House cut in, clearly not caring about his defense.
“Why do you care? You want to annoy her next?” Wilson questioned, annoyed himself, and looked past House into the direction he had seen her disappear earlier.
“No, we are going to kick her ass all over that poker table over there.” The comment went accompanied by a grinning mischievous expression and a quick point to the table in question.
“That better not be as dirty as it sounded.” Wilson sighed and he followed House on his way to the hospital administrator, apprehension churning his stomach at the inevitable onslaught of mocking and inappropriate comments House would be sure to unleash upon Lisa Cuddy any minute now.
“Dr. Cuddy!” House yelled, disturbingly audible even over the heavy sound of many people talking and the jazzy music. Wilson couldn’t help but wince. The angry face of Lisa Cuddy, and all the rest of her, was rapidly striding over to them.
“Wow, is there even anything left in the dress, or’s this all of ‘em?” House commented before she could speak, ogling her breasts shamelessly.
There was no way House didn’t know. There was no way House wasn’t purposely torturing him with that leg pressed slightly against his, knees barely connecting under the poker table.
Wilson rubbed to bridge of his nose with his fingers and tried to look like he wasn’t too closely associated to the man in question, who had chosen the small nurse Wilson had seen accompanying Cuddy earlier as his next victim.
“Was this your idea?” House asked her, giving an appreciative nod in the direction of Cuddy’s cleavage. “What do you call it, ‘Exhibitionism By Proxy’?” he grinned maddeningly.
The woman’s mouth hung open and her brown eyes were wide in shock, unable to give a sufficiently stinging reply. It was a common reaction to the man and Wilson closed his eyes and tried to remember why he was friends with him again.
“House, leave her alone. She didn’t pick the dress and we’re not together.” Cuddy cut in, answering in her stead, tone offhand as she gave her cards another look. “Are you gonna call?”
“I didn’t say you were, I didn’t even suggest you were. Plenty of girls go shopping and control each other’s wardrobe even without the benefits of a sexual relationship. Ask Wilson.” House continued and Wilson, who had been wondering when he’d be insulted, groaned in the usual amount of exasperation. “You felt threatened. Which means you girls are.”
“We’re not sleeping together. “
“Does she still scream that much?” House inquired brightly, ignoring Cuddy and turning to the brunette.
“Were not.” She contradicted, moving her feet around under the table uncomfortably.
“Right.” House raised an eyebrow in sarcastic disbelief en shoved forward some chips. “I raise. “
“I’m out. I’m gonna go get something to drink. “ The nurse in the black dress said, standing from the table and giving them a confused look.
“Next time, do one with a little backbone.” House said, loud enough for her to still hear and grinned when the woman strode to the bar a little more forcefully.
“Sophie’s a friend, it’s a party. Get a life.” Cuddy spat boredly, knowing better than to get riled up over House’s antics.
“She was sitting next to you. “ he crooned, suggestively.
Grow up, Wilson thought, resisting the urge to give House a reprimanding bump of the leg, because that would be immature, obvious and more importantly, involve dislodging his leg from House’s.
“You’re sitting next to Wilson.” She stated dryly and took a sip of her cocktail.
“That’s kind of my point,” House continued conspiratorially, “I’ve been doing him for weeks. “
Wilson shot up, roused from his absence from the conversation to glare at his friend, and exclaimed at the appropriate amount of decibels. “Have not!”
Cuddy raised an eyebrow in much the same fashion as House had moments earlier, but a sliver of genuine curiosity mingled with the word. “Right.”
“You’re dating a female proxy for me.” House told him, eyes bright and voice laced with sarcasm.
Cuddy laughed. “What do you call that, ‘Screwing By Proxy’?” She said, imitating House’s earlier retort and added, ‘’Cause you know, I don’t think that counts.”
Just then, Berman from Business Affairs appeared at their table, asking if he may join them. Since Wilson had played him so two years ago, the man insisted they play at least one game each year, probably hoping to regain his hurt pride.
“Sure.” Wilson said easily, motioning to the seat across from him, which had been vacated by Sophie earlier, but maintained his steady glower in House’s direction.
“Okay, I call.” Cuddy offered decisively, laying out her cards on the table. Wilson had long since given up on the game and offered no resistance, but the triumph ran off her face when House flipped over his cards. He grinningly collected the stacks of chips, adding up to a respectable fortune along with his original stack.
“You Berman?” House asked rudely around his unlit cigar as he collected and expertly shuffled the cards.
“Um, yeah.” The man said, shifting around on his chair a bit for more comfortable position after he’d been seated, taking the cards of his forming stack as he did so.
Wilson also took the first few of his cards offered to him by House, but his grab for them was rather uncoordinated as he was being distracted by House’s leg. Every time House bent across the table to dispose cards in front of Berman and Cuddy, it pressed more tightly against his own and his stomach tightened at the touch.
When cards were deposited in front of Wilson, House leaned into him, in what Wilson suspected was closer than really necessary. Cuddy confirmed this when she made a questioning remark.
“House, your back okay? You’re leaning like you need a corset to keep you upright.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” House replied falsely ensuring, placing the stack of leftover cards on the table. “Just a bit sore. Hookers these days.. Don’t even know the meaning of the word ‘gentle’ anymore.”
There were some pained grunts accompanying the effort of the people attending not to imagine that too vividly.
Over the next hour the touches became less teasing and more incidental, but all the more agonizing. There was a distinct and constant pull behind Wilson’s navel, occasionally lighting up at a shifting in positions or a sideward glance thrown at cool blue eyes. House’s face didn’t betray a thing. Wilson was confused, apprehensive and didn’t dare being hopeful, having no idea where the man was going with this, and it was toiling his insides like nothing else.
House displayed he could easily combine screwing with Wilson’s head to mess up his poker game and torture him with touches at the same time by stealing his phone out of his pocket. He quickly selected Amber’s number from the list and gravely informed her Thirteen was stealing her man, which was all he got out before Wilson grabbed back the phone and apologized, ensuring her House was just being a bastard.
Every time Wilson wasn’t looking, House threw him a smug little look, inwardly grinning at the oncologist’s strained state. There was no way Wilson could deny this. The man’s poker was lousy at best, which Berman would’ve taken advantage of had House not been beating him to it and he collected on the next three rounds. House could imagine Wilson twitching and shifting, reacting to every little thing and he wondered how it would look, Wilson losing all composure as he pressed him into a wall or down on his bed, fondling him.
That train of thought carried him off quite a bit and because he had lousy cards anyway, Berman took the prize this round. Triumphantly, the man gathered the chips from the table, then moved as if he was leaving.
“I’m out. Thanks for the game, Dr. Wilson,” Berman said, nodding courtly in each’s direction as he said their names, ”Dr. House, Dr. Cuddy.”
“My pleasure.” The oncologist gave back, shaking the proffered hand with a small nod.
“See you next year?”
“Sure.” He answered politely, for nothing else to say.
House ruffled his hair mockingly the moment Berman left their table, taking on a teasing voice, “Aw, aren’t you a good little boy, Jimmy.” House’s hand slowly slid out of his hair, falling downwards really, but grasping and tugging lightly at the last strands in his long fingers, out of Cuddy’s line of vision.
He lazily stretched in his chair and made a face, spreading his arms, one lightly pressing on Wilson’s back between his shoulder blades. Wilson slowly turned to eye him, having fought the impulse to snap his head sideways and look at him incredulously, and searched House’s eyes for an explanation. They twinkled with amusement combined with more than a little sadistic enjoyment derived from his badly covered fumbling.
“I guess that’s my cue to go get another drink. Can I get you anything?” Cuddy stood from the table, taking her empty glass with her, and directed the last part mainly at Wilson, which whom she shared a friendship not based purely on sexual harassment.
“Yes!” House quipped loudly, still stretched back in his chair and grinning smugly. “Get Thirteen, will ya? I wanna see if I can arrange a threesome with her and her latest catch.”
“You wish.” She rolled her eyes and took Wilson’s empty glass from the table, to return it to the bar.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Wilson declined, giving her a polite smile.
“Okay.” She said before turning and leaving, “Now you boys play nice with each other while Mommy’s gone.”
“But Moooommm,” House called after her, whining, “the other kids will laugh at me.” He leaned in conspiratorially, whispering loud enough for Wilson to hear. “Jimmy wears silly clothes.” Wilson just sighed at House’s childish antics, as did Cuddy, who vanished into the direction of the cocktail bar, hips swaying.
Wilson wasn’t all that annoyed by the usual abuse and actually quite relieved his torture had shifted from physical back to the more familiar, and less creepy, verbal.
As soon as Lisa Cuddy was out of sight he stood from his seat and turned to House, grinding out a ‘Come with me. Now.” from between his teeth.
“I am not making a scene in front of the entire hospital.” Wilson told him curtly and, as the last shred of his patience went up in smoke, grabbed the man’s wrist. That may or may not have been a good idea, because now his fingers tingled suspiciously, but he basically dragged House over to the closed clinic.
Behind the glass doors the nurse’s station, the waiting room and the small exam rooms sat unused in the darkness. He slipped through the doors, House in tow.
Wilson swiftly pushed his friend into the nearest examination room and closed the door behind them. He didn’t even bother turn on the light.. “What’s with all the touching?”
“Why go here?” House asked, deflecting the question. “It seems suspicious to me.”
“Closed space. No witnesses should I decide to kill you.” Wilson deadpanned, not about to be detoured from his objective by that, though House’s boyish grin almost did the trick.
“House, I’m serious. What’s up with the leg and the leaning and the fingers?!” Wilson caught a little on ‘fingers’ but recovered and now stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, demanding an answer. He had confusion written all over his face, which House was happy to see, because he liked that, and a small hint of despair, not knowing what to make of all this.
There was an mischievous glint in House’s eyes. “The quality of your poker reversely corresponds with the amount of touching you’re receiving. Since it’d be hard to reap the benefits of your distraction if I was under the table giving you head, I went with this.”
Wilson was having a hard time keeping his appreciation of that suggestion off his face and the fact that House had mentioned no apparent objection to getting down on his knees and doing just that.
“So you tortured me all night, just to win a game?”
“Jimmy, there was money at stake!” House pretended to be affronted, the insincerity seeping through, then switched back to his normal self. “You know, the only way that actually would work is if you really really hated it, or really really liked it.”
“House, I don’t –“
“Don’t deny it.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Apparently, I can’t stop screwing with anything that moves.”
The muffled music from the party and the sound of the people could be heard as Wilson was silent for a moment, considering his next move, then decided to take a chance and let his guard down.
“Are you just messing with me?” He asked softly.
“Nooo! Didn’t you hear? I’m also trying to make a few extra bucks at poker.”
Wilson’s hand was on the doorknob, turning it, leaving and House could feel his stomach tighten in uncharacteristic panic. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d moved forward and was pressing his lips against Wilson’s in a tentative kiss. He hoped with his entire being the man wouldn’t take it as a tease.
Wilson hadn’t seen it coming and the kiss was over before he was able to react, leaving him standing flabbergasted in front of his friend, whose breath washed over his nose and his hands were on him and made every hair on his neck and arms stand upright. He had no idea what to say, but he knew what he wanted.
House was not so sure. The lack of a response and Wilson’s silence were convincing him of a major screw-up and it showed, the anxiety and shock shining brightly in his eyes before being covered up and averted.
Wilson’s mind kicked into gear as House started to move away and he put his hands on the unshaven cheeks, stroking and pulling gently, coaxing him closer again to kiss him this time.
“You were lying.”
House nodded the slightest of nods, head bowed down and eyes closed, leaning in for another liplock that actually was a whole series of smaller, intimate kisses. Soon though, his patience wore thin and he slipped out the tip of his tongue, which was heartily welcomed by Wilson’s open mouth, meeting it with his own. As the kiss started in earnest their breathing became heavier, Wilson’s hands clawed at his neck and he dropped the cane to put a hand around Wilson’s waist and the other on his shoulder, pushing him backwards till the younger man stood caught with his back to the door and chest to chest with House. When his back hit the wall Wilson let out a small ‘oomph’ into the kiss, the sound of which House swallowed in his mouth. Their tongues danced and their lips were moving, testing, sucking lightly on a lip or tongue.
They broke for a moment, panting and gasping in some air before moving right back in, not planning on stopping any time soon or even breaking apart for longer than was absolutely necessary.
The exertion was beginning to take it’s toll and it was getting awfully hot and uncomfortable in the heavy jacket, but Wilson had slid a hand under it and was starting to push it off his shoulders, stroking and clinging. House aided in the removal of Wilson’s jacket, as well as his tie and undid his shirt cuffs for him, deftly pushing the golden knobs through the small holes in the fabric without even looking.
Wilson’s finger were applying the same principle to House’s shirt, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. He was about halfway down when House licked a spot beneath his ear, which caused him to moan loudly and lose all coordination in his hands, distracting him enough to make him forget what the hell it was he was doing. He could feel the smirk in House’s kiss, lips curved against his neck and hands starting on his shirt.
Wilson’s dress shirt had slid halfway down his arm, exposing a shoulder so House kissed it, then turned his head and made a line of small kisses and bites over his collarbone to his neck, jaw and finally his lips. He alternated between watching Wilson, so beautifully flushed and panting into his mouth, and closing his eyes and just letting go, getting lost in the sensations of their lips on each other and their bare chests touching, heaving, and his shirt being pushed off his shoulders and fluttering to the ground.
House started pulling off Wilson’s shirt, but surprised the younger man by using the shirt to pin his wrists above his head against the door. The crumpled white dress shirt allowed him to hold Wilson’s hands captive with just one of his own, his other hand roaming over the man’s exposed torso, stroking then pinching a nipple.
“You know, I always thought you’d end up pinning me to a wall…” Wilson moaned when House rubbed at the other nipple, by now a small hard nub. “But I’ll admit this isn’t what I ..ah.. was expecting.” He panted.
Wilson struggled against the hold House had on his arms, wanting to reciprocate and surely House released him, the last shirt hitting the floor in a discarded heap. House bit and licked at his neck, definitely leaving some conspicuous marks and Wilson toyed with the other man’s earlobe and rubbed at the small of his back, satisfied to extract an impatient grunt from House.
His fingers dragging along the subtly muscled back, clinging and clawing desperately to encourage House as he worked a thigh between his legs, Wilson wondered for a moment how the hell he had ended up there, but he didn’t care.
He could feel a pronounced hardness against his belly, pressing deliciously into his stomach as he was sure his own pressed against that thigh that was fitted so snugly between his legs. Suddenly he couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t wait and he made a grab for House’s groin, the owner of which gasped loudly and cried out into his mouth. He decided to take advantage of the older man’s distracted state to push him backwards onto the examination table, force him down on it and really get this show on the road. Or so was the plan, if House hadn’t caught up with him and swiftly turned them around .2 seconds short of Wilson’s attempted pounce.
Lying pressed down on the table, feet dangling off either side, Wilson could see House smirking in the darkness, eyes shining their bright blue and he didn’t have to look far to find the unconcealed want in them. He shuddered. House leaned down a little, heaving breath mingling with his, his hands pushing gently at his chest.
“Slide back a little.” House whispered, order punctuated with a tender kiss, nothing more than a soft brushing of the lips.
Wilson did. He also felt another shiver move up his back, anticipation raging through his system at the utterly promising command.
House hopped onto the exam table also, taking away the strain standing put on his leg, and swung a leg over it for better position. He’d pop a Vicodin, if the little orange bottle wasn’t left in his jacketpocket, which lay forlornly on the ground somewhere in the vast dark of the small room.
He felt Wilson’s arms coming up around his neck, pulling him closer, urging him into action, and he set his hands to work on the younger man’s button and zipper while he traced his clavicle with his tongue, tasting the enticing skin mingled with the more salty taste of sweat.
Fly undone, he slipped a hand into his boxers and traced a light finger over the other man’s erection, drawing a breathy ‘House’ from his lips.
“Tease.” Wilson panted roughly against his cheek, arm still hooked around his neck.
“Up.” House commanded, fingers hooked in the waistband of Wilson’s underwear, pulling it down and needing Wilson to lift his hips.
Wilson supported himself on his arms, or was fighting to, because the sensations of House tracing his cock, long fingers moving expertly over the hot skin, alternating between playfully squeezing and a touch so light it was maddening, were turning his arms into jelly.
House watched the muscles in Wilson’s chest and arms work, his whole body twitching and shuddering along with his every touch. He decided to have mercy on him and put a strong hand on the other’s slick cock, moving up and down the shaft in different rhythms until he found the one that made Wilson make throatily animal noises deep in his chest and settled on that one. Wilson’s head was tipped back, mouth hanging open and letting out little pleasured noises, trying to remember not to be too loud. House moved his fingers up, thumbing the slit and adding a little twist at the top, and considered Wilson’s erection for a moment before leaning down.
Suddenly Wilson felt House’s tongue on him, tracing him from base to tip and it was enough for the tension in him to explode. He came with a cry, loud enough to have alerted a whole lot of unwanted attention, had House not taken precautions and placed a hand over his swollen lips.
He flopped down bonelessly on the table, overtaken by his orgasm, riding out the waves of pleasure as House ran a hand up his stomach. When he’d recovered a bit he grabbed House’s hand, using it to propel himself forward and upright again, assaulting the other man’s mouth mercilessly. He had a hand at the small of House’s back, supporting him so he wouldn’t topple off the exam table, the other working down the zipper of House’s black slacks.
He let his fingers skate over the expanse of House’s abdomen, feeling the short hairs and muscles under his fingertips, before sliding down a hand under the waistband of his boxers. He cupped House arousal under the fabric, spreading the pre-come around with his thumb before moving fingers down to fondle his balls, grinning at the strangled sounds that escaped the older man’s throat at that. House collapsed against him, resting his forehead on his shoulder, panting moistly against Wilson’s marked throat and Wilson’s hand started moving, traveling up and down his length in slow, deliberate strokes.
“Ah! W- Faster.” House breathed, having trouble concentrating on speaking, finding Wilson’s lips with his and thrusting in with his tongue, sliding it over Wilson’s in a wordless demand.
“N-uh.” Wilson let out after the kiss was broken and smiled impishly into House’s pleasure-dazed eyes, loving seeing the man losing his composure and planning to make it last as long as he could.
House groaned loudly, impatiently, and bit the skin near his mouth, which turned out to be an earlobe, in an attempt to urge him on. Fingertips trailing over Wilson’s scapula, jutting out, and House thought it was one of the hottest things he’d ever laid his hands on. Together with every other part of Wilson he’d touched in the past half hour.
Wilson was seemed like the less adventurous type, so he doubted he was going to take him into his mouth, but the man was doing something to his neck that was just, God. Then he felt the gentle scrape of the back of the younger man’s nails on his straining member and it was all it took for him to be coming in hard spurts into Wilson’s hand, biting down on his shoulder harshly to muffle the sounds he would be unable to keep in.
Wilson still had his hand around his waist, holding him securely through the shivers, ripples of pleasure flowing out from his core and House had his fingers tangled in his short, brown hair, hanging on tightly.
“That was..” Wilson breathed, at a loss for words to describe what was probably the most emotionally intense experience of his life.
“Unexpected.” House finished with a lazy grin, giving Wilson’s throat a small, fond kiss.
“But not unappreciated.” Wilson added, leaning down to plant a sloppy, sated kiss on House‘s lips.
House slid backwards and off the table, landing a little unsurely on his feet and holding his sticky pants away from his quickly cooling skin. “I think I’ll do without these.” He disposed of the boxers, throwing the soiled underpants into the waste bin and pulled up his pants again, starting the search for his shirt and Vicodin.
Wilson also let himself slide off the table and grabbed the nearest towel the clean up the mess on his belly, his pants miraculously having survived. When sufficiently clean again he joined House in the sorting out of their clothes, putting them on and failing miserably at trying to look at least a little presentable and less like he’d just had his best friend jerk him off in the hospital clinic while attending a charity event.
“You moving back in with me?” House asked, going for nonchalance but Wilson caught the hopeful tone in the proposition.
“I’ll have to get my stuff from Amber’s..”
“Bitch’s gonna ream you.” House chuckled, grinning as he mentally saw CB bite the dust.
“Well..” Wilson sounded unsure, not having had a single thought of Amber since his arrived at the benefit and not knowing yet how he was going to deal with her.
“I could get Taub and Kutner to go get your stuff.” House said, opening the door and stepping into the darkened clinic, the glass walls separating the from the party going on in the hall and started in the direction of the exit, Wilson by his side.
“We going home?”
“Unless you feel like answering a whole lot of awkward questions.”
“Cuddy’ll kill you if you leave early.”
“Ah hell, I showed up.” House grinned, rushing out the hospital, Wilson on his tail, without anyone noticing.