Him and me alone

By Clarity Scifiroots

Regular disclaimers apply. Title from a line in Pink Floyd’s “The Trial.”

Fandom/Characters: House MD – House/Wilson

Rated: Mature (didn’t quite make it to “adults only,” yet)

Summary: Just how long did it take for one of the guys to jump the other after Chris becomes history?

Series: Follows “After all it’s not easy...” and “The bleeding hearts...” (Although this can stand alone.)

May!fic 31 of 31

LAST DAY OF MAY!FIC! Hooray for success!

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Self-control is something House prides himself on. It’s not something he has particularly attributed to Wilson in the past, considering the man’s flirtations and affairs (and really there haven’t been as many as House usually suggests). However, of the two of them, Wilson isn’t the one who shoves his tongue into his best friend’s mouth and pins said best friend onto the couch.

Five days. Five fucking days since Wilson kissed his cheek and walked away nonchalant. The following nights Wilson spent sleeping on House’s couch, and though their banter had a touch more of a flirtatious nature, no outright movements had been made, no serious propositions offered. House smirked to himself when he thought about their situation throughout the day—often during the boring hours spent at the clinic. He felt confident that soon Wilson would break down and make another move.

Yet here they are on the couch with some sitcom on the soon forgotten television: House on top of Wilson, tongue invading the other man’s mouth, and hips bearing down to rub their groins together. His leg is already flaring with pain, but House refuses to wait any longer.

Thankfully Wilson proves he hasn’t had second thoughts and recovers quickly. His hands slide under House’s shirt and his fingers dig into back muscles; his mouth moves to accommodate House’s; he guides House’s body so that he’s supporting the bad leg instead of it taking half of House’s weight.

House withdraws his tongue and grins at the noise of protest. He nips Wilson’s lower lip and follows it up with a lick. His hand rubs firmly over Wilson’s hip as he murmurs, “Come to bed, Jimmy.”

Wilson huffs out a laugh and opens his eyes. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Too God damn long!” House growls and forces himself to move into something of a sitting position. He stretches to reach his cane. Before he can stand up Wilson’s arms snake around his waist and a hand ghosts over his groin. House shudders and casts his friend a smoldering look. Wilson smiles impishly. “Bed,” House says between gritted teeth.

Wilson’s hand settles over House’s crotch as he presses up against the man’s back. “I thought you’d be more adventurous,” Wilson murmurs, lips dancing over the curve of a sensitive ear.

It’s difficult to keep his hands to himself, but House is determined not to give up control; he started this after all. “Not adverse,” he responds, turning his head slightly. This ends up being a mistake as it allows Wilson to start nibbling his jaw. The rest of what House says doesn’t come out as clearly. “Just not... ah... so-mmm... flexible...”

Apparently Wilson is nowhere near the level of sainthood some people believe he’s attained—his fingers and mouth are utterly sinful. Wilson shifts and his legs press against House’s sides. Their bodies press together—front to back, a little awkwardly due to unnecessary amounts of constraining garments.

With a groan, House frees one hand and presses it on top of the one Wilson’s resting over his groin. He pushes their joined hands against his erection as he cants his hips upwards. Against his ear Wilson releases a breathy moan. House grins and repeats the motion, making sure to press back enough to offer some friction for Wilson’s similar condition.

When Wilson’s movements start settling into a rhythm and his panting breaths brush hotly into the curve of House’s neck, House abruptly stops all movement. Before his friend can register what’s happening, he stands up and tugs at Wilson’s arm. House would love to continue this right here but he’d rather wake up with the pleasant aches from sex overshadowing the blinding pain of his abused leg.

Wilson’s eyes eventually focus on House’s face, and immediately he picks up the message. He’s on his feet in a moment and walking backwards, leading House along with a grin on his face.

House puts up a token protest. “It’s my place, why the hell are you leading me to my bedroom?”

By the time Wilson yanks House down to join him on the mattress, there’s no more objections.

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XD I know, I wimped out on unadulterated, wholesome smut this time. Just let your imagination run wild! *g*