Entry for round three of the ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif)
get_house_laid prompt fest.
Title: 9 Days, 7 Hours and 22 minutes
Author: Little Miss GG
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4991
Disclaimer/claimer: I disclaim!
Prompt: 082. House/Wilson -- established relationship. Been together so long things are slowly getting boring in the bedroom, House takes it upon himself to seduce Wilson all over again. Wilson approves.
Notes: This didn’t turn out quite how I originally intended but at least I finished it. And there is porn. So that should make up for the seeming lack of plot.
It’s no one’s fault that they haven’t had sex in nine days and seven hours (and twenty two minutes - but House’s isn’t counting because that would just be pathetic) but when asked House won’t hesitate to blame Wilson one hundred percent. The man just can’t stop himself.
He’s been ‘promoted’ to vice-chairman of the transplant committee and so sat in on every meeting that’s been held in the last week (House is still not ready to accept that taking on more responsibility for no discernible benefits is actually a promotion). He’s taken it upon himself to personally attend every chemo session of the latest patient to tug at his heartstrings. He’s determined to decorate the apartment, write a paper on his latest (exceptionally boring compared to House’s) case and he’s been on a new diet - which while he insists is because he’s not as young as he was, House suspects is because the new Oncology nurse hasn’t batted an eyelid at him since she started.
That’s not to say that living Wilson, even without sex, isn’t a definite improvement on the last forty something years of his life. He still gets to kiss Wilson whenever he wants, he gets to touch him without having a reason, he gets to see Wilson in his boxers and vest, all heavy lidded with sleep. It’s just that while Wilson’s life is full of new fervour and goals House is... well, bored. He cured his last patient in the eleventh hour, won the respect of his minions with a rather spectacularly inspired diagnosis and has since been basking in his own glory with not much else to do.
So he’s decided to investigate the best way to get Wilson to start putting out again because it’s better than working his clinic hours.
* * * * * * *
The first wave of the investigation involves as little effort as possible. House decides that among them his minions ought to have a few good ideas regarding interesting sexual exploits. Taub managed to have an affair with a woman and he’s got far less hair than House, Thirteen’s probably got some interesting secrets for keeping same sex partnerships a float (and if not he might just get some details about a bone fide lesbian sex) and Kutner... Actually maybe House won’t worry about him.
It’s not the most subtle of plans but House decides a little role play might be the best way to defer any suspicions.
“42 year old male in the clinic this morning, complaining that his partner’s not interested in him anymore.”
House bounces his ball off the floor and does his very best ‘mysterious boss’ act. All three ducklings have the distinct air of rabbits in headlights as they scramble for something medically relevant in that sentence.
“Wanted me to prescribe the wife something to make her put out.”
House saunters, as best as can be managed with a cane, a bouncy ball and a cup of coffee, around the table and flops down into the chair, pulling a file (at random) closer to him.
“Seriously?”
Thirteen’s face has moved from confused to pissed off.
“Seriously.” House nods, taking on an equally exasperated tone, trying to gage what her reaction is going to be. He hasn’t really thought about dosing Wilson with Viagra. Not seriously.
Not more than one tablet at any rate.
“That’s just so typical. I mean, god forbid it actually be his problem right? I mean, it can’t possibly that he’s the issue, that maybe she’s just tired or rushed off her feet and maybe she wants to be made to feel special or taken care of...”
She trails off suddenly aware that all three men are staring at her with various levels of fear and amusement. “I’m just saying.”
Taub shakes his head and turns away from Thirteen and her unexpected outburst. He looks thoroughly out of his depth. “Is this... a new patient?”
“Nope. Just...” House waves his hand vaguely. “Sharing tales from the clinic.”
Kutner suddenly looks round the office critically, even peeking under the glass table top before whispering.
“Has Cuddy bugged the office?”
* * * * * * *
With stage one of the plan complete House is a little shocked to discover that perhaps there is an actual problem; something he can’t just cure with sniping and putting things in Wilson’s coffee.
He was sort of hoping for a minimum input, maximum output type solution here and now it looks like he’s actually going to have to put some sort of effort into making things better.
Not that nine days (ten hours and fifteen minutes) is necessarily the death knoll of their sex life, just that before that it had been seven days (six hours and seven minutes) and then before that it’d been four days (and House hadn’t counted the hours because it hadn’t seemed important). They’ve gone from hot, up-against-the-door sex at almost every possibly convenience to, lets face it, pretty vanilla, perfunctory sex when ever both of them manages to stay away long enough.
Idly browsing the internet House decides to search for ideas because, if nothing else, it might prove to be pretty amusing. At first he searches for tips on how to seduce women but after the first site suggests “Seducing a woman is like dancing with a woman” he gets the feeling that this may not be the best way to charm Wilson back into bed.
The second search (how to seduce a man) produces far more outrageous suggestions but, just as House had hoped, they are pure entertainment. ‘Offer him a massage to help break down physical barriers’ and ‘If he thinks of you as a conquest tell him that and leave. He will fall in love with you eventually.’ The afternoon is spent surfing through endless lists of tips and hints to bag the perfect man, suggestions about sex toys and ideas about role-play to spice up tired romances.
After several hours of hard research (and laughing so hard he cried) House has come up with his own list - ‘Top five ways to get Wilson into bed’ - admittedly he’s hand-picked his selection to include all of the things he knows he can achieve and thinks he’ll enjoy - but then no one said it had to be boring.
He prints the list and double checks it before folding it up and slipping it in his pocket. A whole load of sites emphasised communication and talking about feelings which he’s strategically avoided as well as the sites that went into detail about sexy lingerie... somehow he doesn’t think he could pull of a fluffy pink teddy and the thought of Wilson wearing one just leaves him feeling deeply unsettled.
With stage two now done with (research), House moves on to stage three; implementation.
* * * * * * *
1. Get your confidence up. This can mean doing things such as getting a new haircut, new clothes, losing weight, or just reminding yourself of your great qualities.
Well, House is pretty certain he’s as perfect as he ever going to be. Lack of confidence is probably not among the rather considerable number of things most people think he lacks; manners, restraint, a sense of self-preservation.
He’s also confident that he doesn’t need to change his wardrobe either. Not for the man who wears a pocket protector and brown shoes with black socks. Wilson wouldn’t know vintage fashion if it smacked him round the head and stole his wallet. As for losing weight, if House gets any thinner he’d be eligible to feature in one of those daytime t.v. ads for malnourished unfortunates. And a haircut? The less said the better.
2. Use a seductive tone of voice. Not too nasal, not too high -- throaty and soft is most appealing.
Number two should be easy. House knows for a fact that Wilson has a thing for House’s voice - plying him with alcohol and trying to convince him to sing at every opportunity.
When they’re in the queue for lunch that afternoon House leans in close and whispers right into Wilson’s ear. Nothing seductive or even particularly interesting, just a comment about their limited lunch options, but he watches with a certain level of pride the way Wilson shivers ever so slightly and then turns his head toward House, his lips millimetres away.
They have a rule about no inappropriate behaviour at work (Wilson’s rule, imposed with an iron fist because he knows that if you give House an inch he’ll be fucking you on his desk by lunchtime) but Wilson can’t seem to stop himself staring hungrily at House’s mouth and licking his lips like the only thing he’s interested in is most definitely not on the menu.
Point to House.
3. Play hard to get. Give him the space and time to forget about the things that may have turned him off and fantasise about the good things.
It sort of hard to play hard to get when you sleep in the same bed as each other. When you live in the same apartment, work in the same building - in the same corridor. It feels sometimes that they have a maximum radius from each other, never more than five floors away at the very most. Not that House sees that as a bad thing, but if he’s going to get Wilson to realise what he’s missing than drastic measures have to be taken.
“But why?”
“Because.”
“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad! I just... I’m sleeping on the sofa to give you space or whatever.”
“I don’t want space. Do you want space? Is that what this is?”
“No, for the... Calm down. I just, I’m...”
“House, please. You’ve been fine all evening and then as soon as I suggest bed you get all... What did I do?” Wilson can be disarmingly fragile sometimes. He needs to be needed and the idea that he’s jeopardising the one relationship he’s actually managing to make work has evidently terrified him.
House throws his pillow at the sofa and props his cane against the table before cupping Wilson’s face and kissing him soundly. When he pulls away Wilson’s eyes stay closed for a fraction of a second.
Point two to House.
“I’m not mad. You haven’t done anything. I... I’m seducing you.” House sighs, annoyed that he’s had to let Wilson in on the plan.
“By sleeping on the sofa?” Wilson has never looked quite as confused as he does right now, standing in the hall in his boxers, his vest and his black socks. His hair is sticking up on one side where he was slouched against House all evening in front of the t.v.
“Not directly... It’s... There’s a logic to it. Just let me sleep on the sofa?”
“But your leg. No you’ll be agony, you won’t sleep. Let me. I’ll sleep on the sofa and then tomorrow we can talk about--”
“No! No, we don’t need to talk. Will you just let me be nice for once?!”
“By making me sleep alone?”
“Yes.”
Wilson frowns and pouts all at once and House can’t help kissing him again, letting his hand graze the back of Wilson’s neck before pulling away and sighing.
“Ok, forget that plan.”
4. Give your partner a present without an ulterior motive. There’s nothing like a little love token now and then just to say ‘hello’ or ‘I’m thinking of you’. Don’t expect anything in return, make it a selfless act.
On Wednesday Kutner ends up knocking on Wilson’s door at eleven thirty.
“Come in?” Wilson is sat behind a mountain of paperwork, a highlighter in his mouth and a black marker in his hand, hovering over a file. He looks up and watches as Kutner enters his office and sits down in the chair opposite the desk.
Kutner swallows heavily and runs a hand through his hair before rolling his eyes, taking a deep breath and looking at Wilson with an air of pure humiliation.
“I’m here to be your personal minion for the day. I’m to do what ever you ask of me up to, but not including, sexual favours.”
The silence in the office as Wilson tries to think of something intelligent to say while not laughing seems to echo off the walls. Kutner, while still wearing is usual uniform of jeans, a tee and his white coat, has a giant pink silk bow tied ornately round his neck. He also has a gift tag hanging from his ID badge. Wilson bites the inside of his cheek so hard he’s pretty certain he’s drawn blood.
“Dare I ask...?” Wilson waves vaguely in Kutner’s direction.
“Because I’m a moron and didn’t get a thorough and helpful patient history and if it wasn’t for the great and wonderful Dr House, said patient would be taking up residence in the morgue.”
“Practised that did you?”
“House made me rehearse next door for half an hour.” Kutner looks like he might cry.
Wilson nods sagely and stares at his open file for minute, fighting back a smile. In the end he gestures for the gift tag which Kutner hands over with a thoroughly hangdog expression.
Happy Wednesday. It’s torture an idiot day. Enjoy
x
House can hear Wilson laughing from next door.
5. Surprise him -- and yourself!
Number five is probably the most vague on his list and to be honest, beyond jumping out at him in a corridor somewhere, House has no idea how to surprise Wilson. He can’t do anything too outrageous because quite honestly he isn’t a total idiot and he knows they can’t just up and leave work for some long weekend or romantic mini-break.
He considers something outlandish – declarations of undying love in the middle of the clinic, dragging him off into a janitor’s closet and fucking him through the door; even cooking dinner crosses his mind at one point – but to be honest that last one is the most ridiculous.
In the end though he figures that large public declarations are not really their style, Wilson will probably worry about getting bleach on his slacks if he did manage to drag him into a closet which leaves... food. Well, there’s no way in hell he’s going to attempt to cook. He’s tried that before and it always ends with Wilson rolling up his sleeves and taking over.
* * * * * *
“What’s in it?”
“That was a long time ago. I don’t spike things anymore.”
“Apart from the scotch last week and the chilli sauce the week before and the-- ”
“Ok. I don’t spike coffee anymore.”
Wilson sighs and takes the cup he’s been offered, sipping at the coffee and letting out a happy little sigh. His eyes widen in sheer terror when House hands over the brown paper bag with the pastry in it.
“Ok. What have you done?”
“What? You like when people get you food. You talked about that nurse and her damn apple cake for a week.”
“Yes, but this is you. You steal food remember? And demand it - I don’t think you’ve ever given me food willingly. Ever. In over a decade. Seriously House, now you’re scaring me.”
House pouts. He doesn’t mean too, it’s just at first it was sort of funny when Wilson was all suspicious and sarcastic but now it’s just sad. He doesn’t think he’s that much of a bastard but if Wilson reacts like this every time he does something nice he must be. Wilson sighs and pulls off a corner of the cinnamon roll before getting up and walking round to stand in front of House.
“Is this part of your seduction plan?”
House pouts some more and slouches further into his chair. “Maybe.”
“I see.” Wilson steps closer, until his knees are brushing House’s. “You’re trying to seduce me by... being someone else?”
House remains quiet, his eyes focussing on a point just to the left of Wilson’s desk as he shrugs.
“It’s very sweet of you.” Wilson leans forward, his hands planted on the armrests either side of House, “but I don’t want anyone else House.” House has no way to respond to that other than something ridiculously sweet and sappy so he sticks to staring sulkily at the floor.
“I appreciate the gestures though-- And... maybe it’s working.” House looks up at that and sees a hint of a dirty smile on Wilson’s lips. Before he can comment Wilson leans forward and kisses him, threading his fingers through House’s hair and tugging gently before pulling away.
“You can test the results tonight, if you like. If you leave me in peace for the rest of the day?”
House smiles and nods, climbing out of the chair and brushing his fingers across Wilson’s hand before exiting without another word.
* * * * * *
It’s fairly depressing to admit that House can’t wait to get Wilson home; in fact he spends the rest of the day holed up in his office twitchy and impatient with everyone and anyone who threatens to make him stay later than five.
As it goes his new case isn’t quite as complicated as originally thought and by four thirty the stats are looking promising. Wilson appears in House’s doorway at five to five looking relaxed and perhaps a little smug, his car keys jangling on his finger and - damn - he’s wearing his reading glasses.
Point to Wilson.
As soon as they’re through the door Wilson divests House of backpack, jacket and cane and has him up against the door, one thigh pressed between House’s in a matter of seconds. House’s head is still spinning when Wilson’s mouth crashes into his own, his skull making contact with the door behind him and echoing through his head. He’s not sure when the balance tipped, when this stopped being a game or when Wilson started scoring points but he’s not entirely sure he could give a shit right now.
Wilson’s hand is snaking beneath his t-shirt, blunt nails raking over his stomach and up over his chest, while his other hand is working at House’s belt with an expertise that some might find shocking from the mild-mannered oncologist. House has no clue why - Wilson is a seasoned panty-peeler and why should it matter what gender he happens to be peeling them from?
Wilson finally pulls away and House gasps, taking in much needed oxygen and trying to focus on regaining some semblance of control over this situation. Wilson obviously has other ideas since he’s finally ridded House of his belt and dropped to his knees.
By now House is certain Wilson’s won so he tips his head back and groans, one hand clutching at the door handle and the other at the door frame to hold himself upright while Wilson runs his tongue over the side of his cotton-clad erection. It seems perhaps Wilson’s been reading some of those web sites House has been browsing, picking up tips, that or he’s been watching porn in his office - which is a thought House has to stop in it’s tracks because he’s pretty certain his ‘coming in his pants’ days are over.
Wilson dips his fingers into the waistband of House’s underwear and slowly pulls them down until they pool around his ankles along with his jeans and most of his cognitive functions. Wilson smiles up at House through thick lashes and the damn reading glasses before running his tongue in one long, wet stripe up the underside of House’s cock. House grunts frustratedly when Wilson curls his hands round House’s hips, holding his bare ass to the door so that he can’t thrust forwards. Some people might be surprised to see how eagerly House accepts the loss of control, how his knuckles turn white where he’s holding onto the door so tight, making no move to grab Wilson’s hair and force him into action but Wilson knows all too well just how much House likes handing over power.
Wilson teases a little; feather-light kisses all over House’s cock, along the crease of his thigh, his balls, his trembling stomach, before showing just a little mercy and wrapping his lips round the head of House’s cock.
At that House does let go of the door jam but only so his can hit it instead, pounding his fist against the frame and grinding his teeth together, hips fighting against Wilson’s grip. Wilson smiles as best he can with his mouthful and starts to bob his head up and down with very little finesse but plenty of enthusiasm. He keeps his tongue moving at a furious pace, tracing intricate nonsense along the hot, hard flesh in his mouth and listening to House’s voice get harsher and harsher.
He moves his arm to rest across House’s abdomen and then uses his free hand to cup House’s balls, pressing the tip of his index finger against his perineum and rubbing gently back and forth. Wilson presses forwards, so far forward that his nose is tickled by the course hairs at the base of House’s cock. House isn’t sure what exactly it is that he’s yelling (but he’s pretty sure the neighbours will probably be able to tell him it’s so loud) as he comes straight down Wilson’s throat.
When House manages to open his eyes again he can’t hold back a groan. Wilson looks too good to be true; sat back on his heels, his tie loosened, his cheeks pink and flushed, his lips wet and red and grinning. Wilson climbs to his feet with just a little less elegance than a baby giraffe and leans up against House, pressing a hot kiss to House’s still slack mouth.
House barely has time to gather his dissipated wits and his cane before Wilson is tugging on his t-shirt, pulling him down the corridor toward the bedroom. There have been many times in his life when House has felt embarrassed and, on reflection, limping naked from the waist down after a fully clothed middle aged oncologist should probably be one of them, but the only thing on his mind is how he can get Wilson naked right now.
Wilson’s evidently got his mind-reading powers on because no sooner has he cross threshold into the bedroom then he’s stripping off clothing. House tosses his cane aside and sits back on the bed, pulling himself across the mattress until he’s settled in the middle of the duvet enjoying the show. Wilson kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks before dropping his pants and underwear with one shove. He crosses to the bed with just his shirt hanging open and his glasses slightly askew and crawls over to where House is sat, still panting slightly in his post-orgasmic glory.
“Well don’t you look pleased with yourself.” He chides, pressing a few careless kissed along House cheek, and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. With a firm tug the t-shirt is gone, flying across the room and landing somewhere House doesn’t see.
“I think I have good reason to be.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I am the puppet master.” House laughs into Wilson’s lips, nipping and that red bottom lip and feeling decidedly proud of himself.
“You think?” Wilson pulls away, still smiling, that wicked glint in his eye that House is certain is reserved entirely for him. Suddenly something clicks.
“You didn’t...” Wilson pulls a face of total innocence, pulling his shirt off and giving House a rather fantastic full-frontal shot. “There’s no way...” Suddenly House isn’t so sure. Wilson always has, and probably always will be, the only person able to openly manipulate him. The man always gets his own way in the end. “You bastard.” House smirks, in genuine awe.
“What? I fancied a little attention.”
House can’t help smiling. He’s well aware that perhaps he should feel a little annoyed that he’s been made to feel as though there was a (potential) problem with their relationship but instead he’s just impressed at the way Wilson keeps him on his toes. “Well played.”
“Oh, you did very well. Consider me well and truly seduced.” Wilson leans in and kisses House again, slower this time, and more intently. His hands drifting over House’s biceps and down his forearms, just delighting in contact.
When he finally pulls away he pulls off the glasses and lays them on the bedside cabinet. House mourns the loss of them, there’s something so inexplicably hot about Wilson looking all uptight and studious with his glasses on, slumming it with the bad boy who rides a bike and takes drugs.
House doesn’t have much time to dwell on the loss of eye wear though, Wilson is back, eyes a little dark and a look on his face that suggests eleven days without sex has been something of a challenge. He drops the bottle of lube on the bed before kissing House again quickly and climbing over him.
He pushes House’s legs apart gently, his fingers skittering up the inside of House’s thigh, rubbing at his balls while his mouth works kisses over every available inch of skin. House lets his eyes fall shut and just enjoys the feel of Wilson being attentive. He hears the lid of the lube flick shut and can’t hide the shudder than runs through him and then with very little preamble Wilson slips two fingers behind House’s balls and slides them into his ass with one sure, slow push.
There’s no way House’s going to come again tonight, not after the brain-melting blow job Wilson gave him up against the door, but that doesn’t mean it can’t feel good - fucking amazing - and he lets the shivers reach right down to his toes, pressing his burning hot cheek to the pillow beneath him as Wilson bites down hard on the cords of his neck, murmuring into the skin.
“Been waiting to fuck you for so long now.” His voice is barely there, a hoarse whisper that House feels rather than hears. He groans and nods, unsure to what exactly he’s agreeing too. Wilson half crawls and half stumbles over House’s legs until he’s settled between them, his fingers still working in and out of House’s body impossibly slowly.
“You want this?” Wilson’s voice has the slightest hint of a smile as his fingers shove forward just so and House whines, nodding frantically now, beyond worrying about the loss of control.
“Of course you do, you’ve been working for it all week.” Wilson is kissing him again before he can say anything to the contrary. In all honesty other than getting Wilson naked and in bed House hadn’t planned very much further but now he’s here he reckons it’ll do nicely. Wilson’s fingers disappear and House feels a thrill of anticipation trip down his spine and he opens his eyes to find that Wilson’s watching him, all hunger and heat in his eyes.
Wilson is well practised in the art of ‘avoiding the leg without being condescending’ - so much so that House barely notices the way he roughly grabs the good leg, throwing it over his shoulder, while easing the right carefully back, bent and out of the way. Wilson grabs the base of his cock and guides the head of his cock up against House’s ass. House squirms around, hitching Wilson closer with his leg and digging his nails into the bedspread well aware that Wilson will play out the tension as long as he possibly--
Cutting House off mid-thought Wilson thrusts in with one deep, strong push. House grunts and scrabbles at the duvet, trying to find purchase on anything as Wilson starts to pull back only to push back in, and in, turning House’s axis just enough to have him gasping and struggling not to cry out all manner of embarrassing endearments.
House is pretty sure he’s not going to manage orgasm part deux but his cock seems to be making a valiant effort. His whole nervous system seems to have launched into a slow melt down as Wilson pounds into him, one deep, measured thrust after another. How he’s managing to be so controlled is beyond comprehension, but there are tell tale signs that it’s taking its toll; Wilson’s eyes are slammed shut, his teeth are buried in his bottom lip, his fingers are clutching at House’s bicep so hard his fingertips are going white.
With an almost anguished yell Wilson’s hips slam forward again and again, his composure unravelling. House reaches up and licks along Wilson’s jaw line, delighting in the faint burn of stubble against is tongue. He winds his fingers into Wilson’s hair and pulls him close, kissing him hard and spreading his legs as far as he can. Wilson slams in one final time, grunting against House’s lips as he comes hard, his whole body shivering and shaking against House.
For about fifteen seconds neither of them move, they seem to be breathing in tandem, both collecting the scattered remnants of their minds. Finally Wilson pulls back, drops House’s leg from his shoulder and rolls over onto his back beside House. House looks over at Wilson who is laying on the bed looking utterly fucked, and turns partly on to his side, resting his hand over Wilson’s chest. He can feel Wilson’s rapid heartbeat through his fingertips, his ribs expanding and contracting as Wilson absorbs much needed oxygen. After a few minutes Wilson turns to look at House, rubbing a bead of sweat off his creased brow.
“What you thinking?” It’s a dangerous question, and not one Wilson would attempt at any time other than in the first ten post-coital minutes of a really good fuck.
“I’m thinking...” House rolls over completely, flinging one careless arm over Wilson, mindless of the fact that they’re both sweaty and sticky, pillowing his head on Wilson’s chest. “Next time you can seduce me.”
Reviews are love
get_house_laid prompt fest.Title: 9 Days, 7 Hours and 22 minutes
Author: Little Miss GG
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4991
Disclaimer/claimer: I disclaim!
Prompt: 082. House/Wilson -- established relationship. Been together so long things are slowly getting boring in the bedroom, House takes it upon himself to seduce Wilson all over again. Wilson approves.
Notes: This didn’t turn out quite how I originally intended but at least I finished it. And there is porn. So that should make up for the seeming lack of plot.
It’s no one’s fault that they haven’t had sex in nine days and seven hours (and twenty two minutes - but House’s isn’t counting because that would just be pathetic) but when asked House won’t hesitate to blame Wilson one hundred percent. The man just can’t stop himself.
He’s been ‘promoted’ to vice-chairman of the transplant committee and so sat in on every meeting that’s been held in the last week (House is still not ready to accept that taking on more responsibility for no discernible benefits is actually a promotion). He’s taken it upon himself to personally attend every chemo session of the latest patient to tug at his heartstrings. He’s determined to decorate the apartment, write a paper on his latest (exceptionally boring compared to House’s) case and he’s been on a new diet - which while he insists is because he’s not as young as he was, House suspects is because the new Oncology nurse hasn’t batted an eyelid at him since she started.
That’s not to say that living Wilson, even without sex, isn’t a definite improvement on the last forty something years of his life. He still gets to kiss Wilson whenever he wants, he gets to touch him without having a reason, he gets to see Wilson in his boxers and vest, all heavy lidded with sleep. It’s just that while Wilson’s life is full of new fervour and goals House is... well, bored. He cured his last patient in the eleventh hour, won the respect of his minions with a rather spectacularly inspired diagnosis and has since been basking in his own glory with not much else to do.
So he’s decided to investigate the best way to get Wilson to start putting out again because it’s better than working his clinic hours.
* * * * * * *
The first wave of the investigation involves as little effort as possible. House decides that among them his minions ought to have a few good ideas regarding interesting sexual exploits. Taub managed to have an affair with a woman and he’s got far less hair than House, Thirteen’s probably got some interesting secrets for keeping same sex partnerships a float (and if not he might just get some details about a bone fide lesbian sex) and Kutner... Actually maybe House won’t worry about him.
It’s not the most subtle of plans but House decides a little role play might be the best way to defer any suspicions.
“42 year old male in the clinic this morning, complaining that his partner’s not interested in him anymore.”
House bounces his ball off the floor and does his very best ‘mysterious boss’ act. All three ducklings have the distinct air of rabbits in headlights as they scramble for something medically relevant in that sentence.
“Wanted me to prescribe the wife something to make her put out.”
House saunters, as best as can be managed with a cane, a bouncy ball and a cup of coffee, around the table and flops down into the chair, pulling a file (at random) closer to him.
“Seriously?”
Thirteen’s face has moved from confused to pissed off.
“Seriously.” House nods, taking on an equally exasperated tone, trying to gage what her reaction is going to be. He hasn’t really thought about dosing Wilson with Viagra. Not seriously.
Not more than one tablet at any rate.
“That’s just so typical. I mean, god forbid it actually be his problem right? I mean, it can’t possibly that he’s the issue, that maybe she’s just tired or rushed off her feet and maybe she wants to be made to feel special or taken care of...”
She trails off suddenly aware that all three men are staring at her with various levels of fear and amusement. “I’m just saying.”
Taub shakes his head and turns away from Thirteen and her unexpected outburst. He looks thoroughly out of his depth. “Is this... a new patient?”
“Nope. Just...” House waves his hand vaguely. “Sharing tales from the clinic.”
Kutner suddenly looks round the office critically, even peeking under the glass table top before whispering.
“Has Cuddy bugged the office?”
* * * * * * *
With stage one of the plan complete House is a little shocked to discover that perhaps there is an actual problem; something he can’t just cure with sniping and putting things in Wilson’s coffee.
He was sort of hoping for a minimum input, maximum output type solution here and now it looks like he’s actually going to have to put some sort of effort into making things better.
Not that nine days (ten hours and fifteen minutes) is necessarily the death knoll of their sex life, just that before that it had been seven days (six hours and seven minutes) and then before that it’d been four days (and House hadn’t counted the hours because it hadn’t seemed important). They’ve gone from hot, up-against-the-door sex at almost every possibly convenience to, lets face it, pretty vanilla, perfunctory sex when ever both of them manages to stay away long enough.
Idly browsing the internet House decides to search for ideas because, if nothing else, it might prove to be pretty amusing. At first he searches for tips on how to seduce women but after the first site suggests “Seducing a woman is like dancing with a woman” he gets the feeling that this may not be the best way to charm Wilson back into bed.
The second search (how to seduce a man) produces far more outrageous suggestions but, just as House had hoped, they are pure entertainment. ‘Offer him a massage to help break down physical barriers’ and ‘If he thinks of you as a conquest tell him that and leave. He will fall in love with you eventually.’ The afternoon is spent surfing through endless lists of tips and hints to bag the perfect man, suggestions about sex toys and ideas about role-play to spice up tired romances.
After several hours of hard research (and laughing so hard he cried) House has come up with his own list - ‘Top five ways to get Wilson into bed’ - admittedly he’s hand-picked his selection to include all of the things he knows he can achieve and thinks he’ll enjoy - but then no one said it had to be boring.
He prints the list and double checks it before folding it up and slipping it in his pocket. A whole load of sites emphasised communication and talking about feelings which he’s strategically avoided as well as the sites that went into detail about sexy lingerie... somehow he doesn’t think he could pull of a fluffy pink teddy and the thought of Wilson wearing one just leaves him feeling deeply unsettled.
With stage two now done with (research), House moves on to stage three; implementation.
* * * * * * *
1. Get your confidence up. This can mean doing things such as getting a new haircut, new clothes, losing weight, or just reminding yourself of your great qualities.
Well, House is pretty certain he’s as perfect as he ever going to be. Lack of confidence is probably not among the rather considerable number of things most people think he lacks; manners, restraint, a sense of self-preservation.
He’s also confident that he doesn’t need to change his wardrobe either. Not for the man who wears a pocket protector and brown shoes with black socks. Wilson wouldn’t know vintage fashion if it smacked him round the head and stole his wallet. As for losing weight, if House gets any thinner he’d be eligible to feature in one of those daytime t.v. ads for malnourished unfortunates. And a haircut? The less said the better.
2. Use a seductive tone of voice. Not too nasal, not too high -- throaty and soft is most appealing.
Number two should be easy. House knows for a fact that Wilson has a thing for House’s voice - plying him with alcohol and trying to convince him to sing at every opportunity.
When they’re in the queue for lunch that afternoon House leans in close and whispers right into Wilson’s ear. Nothing seductive or even particularly interesting, just a comment about their limited lunch options, but he watches with a certain level of pride the way Wilson shivers ever so slightly and then turns his head toward House, his lips millimetres away.
They have a rule about no inappropriate behaviour at work (Wilson’s rule, imposed with an iron fist because he knows that if you give House an inch he’ll be fucking you on his desk by lunchtime) but Wilson can’t seem to stop himself staring hungrily at House’s mouth and licking his lips like the only thing he’s interested in is most definitely not on the menu.
Point to House.
3. Play hard to get. Give him the space and time to forget about the things that may have turned him off and fantasise about the good things.
It sort of hard to play hard to get when you sleep in the same bed as each other. When you live in the same apartment, work in the same building - in the same corridor. It feels sometimes that they have a maximum radius from each other, never more than five floors away at the very most. Not that House sees that as a bad thing, but if he’s going to get Wilson to realise what he’s missing than drastic measures have to be taken.
“But why?”
“Because.”
“Are you mad at me? Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad! I just... I’m sleeping on the sofa to give you space or whatever.”
“I don’t want space. Do you want space? Is that what this is?”
“No, for the... Calm down. I just, I’m...”
“House, please. You’ve been fine all evening and then as soon as I suggest bed you get all... What did I do?” Wilson can be disarmingly fragile sometimes. He needs to be needed and the idea that he’s jeopardising the one relationship he’s actually managing to make work has evidently terrified him.
House throws his pillow at the sofa and props his cane against the table before cupping Wilson’s face and kissing him soundly. When he pulls away Wilson’s eyes stay closed for a fraction of a second.
Point two to House.
“I’m not mad. You haven’t done anything. I... I’m seducing you.” House sighs, annoyed that he’s had to let Wilson in on the plan.
“By sleeping on the sofa?” Wilson has never looked quite as confused as he does right now, standing in the hall in his boxers, his vest and his black socks. His hair is sticking up on one side where he was slouched against House all evening in front of the t.v.
“Not directly... It’s... There’s a logic to it. Just let me sleep on the sofa?”
“But your leg. No you’ll be agony, you won’t sleep. Let me. I’ll sleep on the sofa and then tomorrow we can talk about--”
“No! No, we don’t need to talk. Will you just let me be nice for once?!”
“By making me sleep alone?”
“Yes.”
Wilson frowns and pouts all at once and House can’t help kissing him again, letting his hand graze the back of Wilson’s neck before pulling away and sighing.
“Ok, forget that plan.”
4. Give your partner a present without an ulterior motive. There’s nothing like a little love token now and then just to say ‘hello’ or ‘I’m thinking of you’. Don’t expect anything in return, make it a selfless act.
On Wednesday Kutner ends up knocking on Wilson’s door at eleven thirty.
“Come in?” Wilson is sat behind a mountain of paperwork, a highlighter in his mouth and a black marker in his hand, hovering over a file. He looks up and watches as Kutner enters his office and sits down in the chair opposite the desk.
Kutner swallows heavily and runs a hand through his hair before rolling his eyes, taking a deep breath and looking at Wilson with an air of pure humiliation.
“I’m here to be your personal minion for the day. I’m to do what ever you ask of me up to, but not including, sexual favours.”
The silence in the office as Wilson tries to think of something intelligent to say while not laughing seems to echo off the walls. Kutner, while still wearing is usual uniform of jeans, a tee and his white coat, has a giant pink silk bow tied ornately round his neck. He also has a gift tag hanging from his ID badge. Wilson bites the inside of his cheek so hard he’s pretty certain he’s drawn blood.
“Dare I ask...?” Wilson waves vaguely in Kutner’s direction.
“Because I’m a moron and didn’t get a thorough and helpful patient history and if it wasn’t for the great and wonderful Dr House, said patient would be taking up residence in the morgue.”
“Practised that did you?”
“House made me rehearse next door for half an hour.” Kutner looks like he might cry.
Wilson nods sagely and stares at his open file for minute, fighting back a smile. In the end he gestures for the gift tag which Kutner hands over with a thoroughly hangdog expression.
Happy Wednesday. It’s torture an idiot day. Enjoy
x
House can hear Wilson laughing from next door.
5. Surprise him -- and yourself!
Number five is probably the most vague on his list and to be honest, beyond jumping out at him in a corridor somewhere, House has no idea how to surprise Wilson. He can’t do anything too outrageous because quite honestly he isn’t a total idiot and he knows they can’t just up and leave work for some long weekend or romantic mini-break.
He considers something outlandish – declarations of undying love in the middle of the clinic, dragging him off into a janitor’s closet and fucking him through the door; even cooking dinner crosses his mind at one point – but to be honest that last one is the most ridiculous.
In the end though he figures that large public declarations are not really their style, Wilson will probably worry about getting bleach on his slacks if he did manage to drag him into a closet which leaves... food. Well, there’s no way in hell he’s going to attempt to cook. He’s tried that before and it always ends with Wilson rolling up his sleeves and taking over.
* * * * * *
“What’s in it?”
“That was a long time ago. I don’t spike things anymore.”
“Apart from the scotch last week and the chilli sauce the week before and the-- ”
“Ok. I don’t spike coffee anymore.”
Wilson sighs and takes the cup he’s been offered, sipping at the coffee and letting out a happy little sigh. His eyes widen in sheer terror when House hands over the brown paper bag with the pastry in it.
“Ok. What have you done?”
“What? You like when people get you food. You talked about that nurse and her damn apple cake for a week.”
“Yes, but this is you. You steal food remember? And demand it - I don’t think you’ve ever given me food willingly. Ever. In over a decade. Seriously House, now you’re scaring me.”
House pouts. He doesn’t mean too, it’s just at first it was sort of funny when Wilson was all suspicious and sarcastic but now it’s just sad. He doesn’t think he’s that much of a bastard but if Wilson reacts like this every time he does something nice he must be. Wilson sighs and pulls off a corner of the cinnamon roll before getting up and walking round to stand in front of House.
“Is this part of your seduction plan?”
House pouts some more and slouches further into his chair. “Maybe.”
“I see.” Wilson steps closer, until his knees are brushing House’s. “You’re trying to seduce me by... being someone else?”
House remains quiet, his eyes focussing on a point just to the left of Wilson’s desk as he shrugs.
“It’s very sweet of you.” Wilson leans forward, his hands planted on the armrests either side of House, “but I don’t want anyone else House.” House has no way to respond to that other than something ridiculously sweet and sappy so he sticks to staring sulkily at the floor.
“I appreciate the gestures though-- And... maybe it’s working.” House looks up at that and sees a hint of a dirty smile on Wilson’s lips. Before he can comment Wilson leans forward and kisses him, threading his fingers through House’s hair and tugging gently before pulling away.
“You can test the results tonight, if you like. If you leave me in peace for the rest of the day?”
House smiles and nods, climbing out of the chair and brushing his fingers across Wilson’s hand before exiting without another word.
* * * * * *
It’s fairly depressing to admit that House can’t wait to get Wilson home; in fact he spends the rest of the day holed up in his office twitchy and impatient with everyone and anyone who threatens to make him stay later than five.
As it goes his new case isn’t quite as complicated as originally thought and by four thirty the stats are looking promising. Wilson appears in House’s doorway at five to five looking relaxed and perhaps a little smug, his car keys jangling on his finger and - damn - he’s wearing his reading glasses.
Point to Wilson.
As soon as they’re through the door Wilson divests House of backpack, jacket and cane and has him up against the door, one thigh pressed between House’s in a matter of seconds. House’s head is still spinning when Wilson’s mouth crashes into his own, his skull making contact with the door behind him and echoing through his head. He’s not sure when the balance tipped, when this stopped being a game or when Wilson started scoring points but he’s not entirely sure he could give a shit right now.
Wilson’s hand is snaking beneath his t-shirt, blunt nails raking over his stomach and up over his chest, while his other hand is working at House’s belt with an expertise that some might find shocking from the mild-mannered oncologist. House has no clue why - Wilson is a seasoned panty-peeler and why should it matter what gender he happens to be peeling them from?
Wilson finally pulls away and House gasps, taking in much needed oxygen and trying to focus on regaining some semblance of control over this situation. Wilson obviously has other ideas since he’s finally ridded House of his belt and dropped to his knees.
By now House is certain Wilson’s won so he tips his head back and groans, one hand clutching at the door handle and the other at the door frame to hold himself upright while Wilson runs his tongue over the side of his cotton-clad erection. It seems perhaps Wilson’s been reading some of those web sites House has been browsing, picking up tips, that or he’s been watching porn in his office - which is a thought House has to stop in it’s tracks because he’s pretty certain his ‘coming in his pants’ days are over.
Wilson dips his fingers into the waistband of House’s underwear and slowly pulls them down until they pool around his ankles along with his jeans and most of his cognitive functions. Wilson smiles up at House through thick lashes and the damn reading glasses before running his tongue in one long, wet stripe up the underside of House’s cock. House grunts frustratedly when Wilson curls his hands round House’s hips, holding his bare ass to the door so that he can’t thrust forwards. Some people might be surprised to see how eagerly House accepts the loss of control, how his knuckles turn white where he’s holding onto the door so tight, making no move to grab Wilson’s hair and force him into action but Wilson knows all too well just how much House likes handing over power.
Wilson teases a little; feather-light kisses all over House’s cock, along the crease of his thigh, his balls, his trembling stomach, before showing just a little mercy and wrapping his lips round the head of House’s cock.
At that House does let go of the door jam but only so his can hit it instead, pounding his fist against the frame and grinding his teeth together, hips fighting against Wilson’s grip. Wilson smiles as best he can with his mouthful and starts to bob his head up and down with very little finesse but plenty of enthusiasm. He keeps his tongue moving at a furious pace, tracing intricate nonsense along the hot, hard flesh in his mouth and listening to House’s voice get harsher and harsher.
He moves his arm to rest across House’s abdomen and then uses his free hand to cup House’s balls, pressing the tip of his index finger against his perineum and rubbing gently back and forth. Wilson presses forwards, so far forward that his nose is tickled by the course hairs at the base of House’s cock. House isn’t sure what exactly it is that he’s yelling (but he’s pretty sure the neighbours will probably be able to tell him it’s so loud) as he comes straight down Wilson’s throat.
When House manages to open his eyes again he can’t hold back a groan. Wilson looks too good to be true; sat back on his heels, his tie loosened, his cheeks pink and flushed, his lips wet and red and grinning. Wilson climbs to his feet with just a little less elegance than a baby giraffe and leans up against House, pressing a hot kiss to House’s still slack mouth.
House barely has time to gather his dissipated wits and his cane before Wilson is tugging on his t-shirt, pulling him down the corridor toward the bedroom. There have been many times in his life when House has felt embarrassed and, on reflection, limping naked from the waist down after a fully clothed middle aged oncologist should probably be one of them, but the only thing on his mind is how he can get Wilson naked right now.
Wilson’s evidently got his mind-reading powers on because no sooner has he cross threshold into the bedroom then he’s stripping off clothing. House tosses his cane aside and sits back on the bed, pulling himself across the mattress until he’s settled in the middle of the duvet enjoying the show. Wilson kicks off his shoes and toes off his socks before dropping his pants and underwear with one shove. He crosses to the bed with just his shirt hanging open and his glasses slightly askew and crawls over to where House is sat, still panting slightly in his post-orgasmic glory.
“Well don’t you look pleased with yourself.” He chides, pressing a few careless kissed along House cheek, and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. With a firm tug the t-shirt is gone, flying across the room and landing somewhere House doesn’t see.
“I think I have good reason to be.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I am the puppet master.” House laughs into Wilson’s lips, nipping and that red bottom lip and feeling decidedly proud of himself.
“You think?” Wilson pulls away, still smiling, that wicked glint in his eye that House is certain is reserved entirely for him. Suddenly something clicks.
“You didn’t...” Wilson pulls a face of total innocence, pulling his shirt off and giving House a rather fantastic full-frontal shot. “There’s no way...” Suddenly House isn’t so sure. Wilson always has, and probably always will be, the only person able to openly manipulate him. The man always gets his own way in the end. “You bastard.” House smirks, in genuine awe.
“What? I fancied a little attention.”
House can’t help smiling. He’s well aware that perhaps he should feel a little annoyed that he’s been made to feel as though there was a (potential) problem with their relationship but instead he’s just impressed at the way Wilson keeps him on his toes. “Well played.”
“Oh, you did very well. Consider me well and truly seduced.” Wilson leans in and kisses House again, slower this time, and more intently. His hands drifting over House’s biceps and down his forearms, just delighting in contact.
When he finally pulls away he pulls off the glasses and lays them on the bedside cabinet. House mourns the loss of them, there’s something so inexplicably hot about Wilson looking all uptight and studious with his glasses on, slumming it with the bad boy who rides a bike and takes drugs.
House doesn’t have much time to dwell on the loss of eye wear though, Wilson is back, eyes a little dark and a look on his face that suggests eleven days without sex has been something of a challenge. He drops the bottle of lube on the bed before kissing House again quickly and climbing over him.
He pushes House’s legs apart gently, his fingers skittering up the inside of House’s thigh, rubbing at his balls while his mouth works kisses over every available inch of skin. House lets his eyes fall shut and just enjoys the feel of Wilson being attentive. He hears the lid of the lube flick shut and can’t hide the shudder than runs through him and then with very little preamble Wilson slips two fingers behind House’s balls and slides them into his ass with one sure, slow push.
There’s no way House’s going to come again tonight, not after the brain-melting blow job Wilson gave him up against the door, but that doesn’t mean it can’t feel good - fucking amazing - and he lets the shivers reach right down to his toes, pressing his burning hot cheek to the pillow beneath him as Wilson bites down hard on the cords of his neck, murmuring into the skin.
“Been waiting to fuck you for so long now.” His voice is barely there, a hoarse whisper that House feels rather than hears. He groans and nods, unsure to what exactly he’s agreeing too. Wilson half crawls and half stumbles over House’s legs until he’s settled between them, his fingers still working in and out of House’s body impossibly slowly.
“You want this?” Wilson’s voice has the slightest hint of a smile as his fingers shove forward just so and House whines, nodding frantically now, beyond worrying about the loss of control.
“Of course you do, you’ve been working for it all week.” Wilson is kissing him again before he can say anything to the contrary. In all honesty other than getting Wilson naked and in bed House hadn’t planned very much further but now he’s here he reckons it’ll do nicely. Wilson’s fingers disappear and House feels a thrill of anticipation trip down his spine and he opens his eyes to find that Wilson’s watching him, all hunger and heat in his eyes.
Wilson is well practised in the art of ‘avoiding the leg without being condescending’ - so much so that House barely notices the way he roughly grabs the good leg, throwing it over his shoulder, while easing the right carefully back, bent and out of the way. Wilson grabs the base of his cock and guides the head of his cock up against House’s ass. House squirms around, hitching Wilson closer with his leg and digging his nails into the bedspread well aware that Wilson will play out the tension as long as he possibly--
Cutting House off mid-thought Wilson thrusts in with one deep, strong push. House grunts and scrabbles at the duvet, trying to find purchase on anything as Wilson starts to pull back only to push back in, and in, turning House’s axis just enough to have him gasping and struggling not to cry out all manner of embarrassing endearments.
House is pretty sure he’s not going to manage orgasm part deux but his cock seems to be making a valiant effort. His whole nervous system seems to have launched into a slow melt down as Wilson pounds into him, one deep, measured thrust after another. How he’s managing to be so controlled is beyond comprehension, but there are tell tale signs that it’s taking its toll; Wilson’s eyes are slammed shut, his teeth are buried in his bottom lip, his fingers are clutching at House’s bicep so hard his fingertips are going white.
With an almost anguished yell Wilson’s hips slam forward again and again, his composure unravelling. House reaches up and licks along Wilson’s jaw line, delighting in the faint burn of stubble against is tongue. He winds his fingers into Wilson’s hair and pulls him close, kissing him hard and spreading his legs as far as he can. Wilson slams in one final time, grunting against House’s lips as he comes hard, his whole body shivering and shaking against House.
For about fifteen seconds neither of them move, they seem to be breathing in tandem, both collecting the scattered remnants of their minds. Finally Wilson pulls back, drops House’s leg from his shoulder and rolls over onto his back beside House. House looks over at Wilson who is laying on the bed looking utterly fucked, and turns partly on to his side, resting his hand over Wilson’s chest. He can feel Wilson’s rapid heartbeat through his fingertips, his ribs expanding and contracting as Wilson absorbs much needed oxygen. After a few minutes Wilson turns to look at House, rubbing a bead of sweat off his creased brow.
“What you thinking?” It’s a dangerous question, and not one Wilson would attempt at any time other than in the first ten post-coital minutes of a really good fuck.
“I’m thinking...” House rolls over completely, flinging one careless arm over Wilson, mindless of the fact that they’re both sweaty and sticky, pillowing his head on Wilson’s chest. “Next time you can seduce me.”
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