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“House, you really don’t have to,” Wilson breathes.
“Oh shut up,” House snarls and pushes him firmly down onto the edge of the bed. “I want this. You want this.”
“Yes, but your leg-” he objects.
“Oh screw my leg.”
He wishes he could share House’s sentiment. But he can’t help but notice the wince of pain when House gets down on his knees.
“You really don’t need to reciprocate. I am fine,” he tries again.
House gives his thigh a backhanded slap.
“You’re not gonna chicken out now. And if you’re gonna tell me you’re not gay, you really should have done that before you took my cock in your mouth.”
Always such a smooth talker. Wilson shakes his head fondly.
“I just-”
He stops when House is done getting comfortable - as comfortable as one can get kneeling on a carpet in their forties - and looks up at him. It’s those damn eyes.
House has always been so incredibly good at looking like a kicked puppy. His big blue eyes looking up at Wilson like he is silently begging. God, he is gorgeous. Beautiful in a scruffy way. Like a stray dog. The kind that you never saw yourself adopting but the minute you walk into the animal shelter you see him and you know with certainty that he is the only one you want.
Age and vicodin have played their part in painting the picture that is House’s face, but all the lines and all the gray hairs don’t make him any less handsome. It seems to sit so deep behind his bones, like someone has carved it into his very soul, that no matter how broken he might be, House will never fail to steal your breath.
Of course House notices the way Wilson falls silent and realizes that he is gonna get his way. And of course he starts to grin. The smug bastard. Sometimes Wilson thinks it would do him good to knock that shit-eating grin off his face, but maybe not today.
“House,” he tries again, but it sounds weak, barely even a protest. House just ignores him as he reaches for his belt.
Wilson watches as he undoes it, his fingers working with the precision of a surgeon. When it springs open and House unzips his fly he looks back up again and Wilson has to lean back and use his arms to support himself, that’s how hard it hits him. House is really gonna do this. He really wants to do this.
“House,” he says, but this time it’s neither a protest nor a warning. Just a plea for more.
“Already getting hard?” House teases as he tugs his trousers down his legs. Wilson growls.
“Oh shut up, you’re the one who's been feeling me up all evening.” And Wilson is pretty sure if he would reach down into House’s lap he would find him hard too, despite the fact that he already got off earlier this night.
House is just as efficient with getting his pants and boxers off as he is with everything. Soon they’re pooled around his feet and he kicks them off, feeling a bit exposed. He can feel the slight movement of air when House shifts in front of him. He can feel House’s gaze on him, hot and wanting, burning with this strong desire of him that seldomly gets satisfied. Still he can't stop himself from checking in.
“How is your le- Ow-”
“I’ll bite you again if you won’t shut up,” House threatens.
Wilson wants to mention that it isn’t really that much of a threat. He isn’t opposed to a bit of pain in the bedroom, the opposite actually. But he keeps his mouth shut, not least because House looks up at him again. He could ask him for anything right now and Wilson would say yes. If he was a bit meaner he might even call the look House is giving him pathetic, but-
He loses his train of thought and shivers pleasantly when House presses his tongue to his cock without any more foreplay. No matter how much he worries about House’s condition, this is nice. God, this is more than nice.
They never talked about each of their previous sexual experiences with men but it is hard to believe that House has acquired such a skill set without any prior training. He must have at least experimented in college. Wilson feels strangely possessive thinking about that. He’s never been so disillusioned that he wanted to be someone’s first before but with House everything seems different. Which is ridiculous since it is House and they haven’t even put a label on what this is.
“God yes,” he groans when House takes all of him into his mouth. It’s an instinct more than anything when he takes one of his hands and threads his fingers into the short graying hair. Based on the little moan he can feel vibrating around his cock House must like it too. So he grabs a bit harder and is rewarded with another choked little sound.
His own leg starts to quiver when House starts moving his head. The visual and the obscene wet sounds aren’t helping. And then he can’t help but imagine them in a slightly more inappropriate setting. His mind has never explored that rather dark corner before but suddenly the thought of sitting in his office with House between his legs is so appealing that it nearly cuts the current event short. A low sound escapes his throat and he can’t help his hips twitching forward. He worries slightly about choking House, but he also can’t help the hot burst of pleasure at hearing the sputtering noise House makes around his cock.
When he finally gets a grip on himself it’s by dragging in a sharp breath through his teeth and tugging on the short strands of hair in his hand.
“Fuck,” he moans and House only seems encouraged by his reaction, bobbing his head faster and flicking his tongue against the length of him. Wilson throws his head back and for a short moment the ceiling goes blurry. He realizes that they never discussed whether House is fine with swallowing and now it’s definitely too late to ask because he is afraid he has lost his ability to form proper words.
He tries to articulate it anyway. But all he manages is a garbled string of noise that sounds vaguely like “House. I. Close.”.
He looks down at him, trying to see if he somehow understood. House looks up. It’s too much. The look of him with his mouth stretched around his cock and his wide eyes, so innocent, so perfect, looking up at Wilson with such devotion. It’s more than enough to push him over the edge. He comes with a strangled cry. Even though he forces himself to let go of House’s head to allow him to pull off, House stays in place, swallowing him down all the way to the end as he twitches and whimpers. And he keeps up the eye contact which nearly drives Wilson insane. For a moment he thinks he might actually pass out.
He’s never gonna get enough of this. God, he hopes House’s leg is fine. Because he needs this again so badly already. He was never that big of a fan of receiving oral sex, but now the thought of holding House in place and thrusting into his mouth nearly counters the effect of him slowly growing soft while House is carefully letting him slip out of his mouth.
“God,” is the first word he says and he immediately regrets it because he expects House to make some kind of smug remark. Just House is enough. Something about judaism. Something about blasphemy. Anything really. But for once he doesn’t. All Wilson hears is a soft groan of pain as he pushes himself up from his knees.
He nearly doesn’t dare to ask, but it turns out he doesn’t have to.
“My leg is fine,” House rasps as he joins him on the bed.
“Good,” he says and is surprised to find himself so breathless, when really he shouldn’t be. “That was,” he goes on but he doesn’t actually know how to describe it.
House uses the pause to kiss him, sloppy and panting. He can taste himself on his lips and strangely that is not off putting.
“Go on,” he says when he pulls back and he definitely sounds smug.
“Not bad for the first time,” Wilson finishes lamely, but apparently House can see right through him, because he just laughs. Hoarse and low and leaving Wilson all tingly at the sound.
“Yeah I could tell by the way you kept moaning my name and pulling at my hair like I was sucking the life out of you.”
“Alright, maybe more than not bad,” he admits.
“Hmm go on,” House purrs and lies back on the bed crossing his arms behind his head.
Wilson can’t help but grin as he joins him, lying on his side and reaching out to unbutton more of his shirt.
“You want me to wax lyrically about how good you sucked my dick?”
“You always have to be so crude,” House whines, but doesn’t complain when Wilson undoes his last button and gets closer to press himself against him.
“That’s not an answer, House,” he says and rubs circles across his chest.
House seems to enjoy his attention. Especially when Wilson lets his hand wander down to his pants to slip beneath his waistband. The little gasp he lets out doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Lost your words?” he can’t help but tease. And he also can’t help but wrap his hand around House when he sees him open his mouth to answer.
Something that might have once been a “shut up” turns into a surprised moan. A sound Wilson might get addicted to. Which is why he doesn’t lose any time and gives him a long hard stroke. House’s reaction doesn’t disappoint. He lets out a low stuttering groan and Wilson can see his eyes flutter closed.
It’s exhilarating to have the power to do that. To be the one who makes House sound like this. Make him lose his clever remarks. Make him be quiet for one.
“You look so good like this,” he tells him and can’t help but notice the way House’s cock twitches in his hand at the words. An interesting development.
“And you looked gorgeous on your knees for me,” he says and House lets out another moan, jerking up into Wilson’s hand.
“You were right,” he continues. “You did so good for me.” He strokes him again, harder this time. Dragging his thumb over the head.
“Such a good job.”
House whimpers. Wilson leans over to kiss him, capturing his mouth in a hot deep kiss as he continues working him in his hand. House leans up into him, kissing him back fiercely, desperately. Wilson can feel him vibrate under him as he moans into the kiss.
When he pulls back for breath he can hear House pant and drag in sharp breaths with every stroke.
“Wilson,” he groans and it’s all he needs to start jerking him off in earnest as he leans up and presses kisses to House’s stubbly jaw.
He can feel House get close, it’s in the way he tenses under him, how his eyes roll back, his labored breath and the little sounds he makes. Wilson can’t resist leaning back to look at him, take him all in. From the sweat trickling down his temple to the pulse he can see jumping in his neck. Handsomely desperate.
“Good boy.”
He wasn’t aware he was gonna say that, but the second it leaves his mouth House convulses in his hand, coming with a low groan. Wilson leans down to kiss him as he strokes him through it.
It takes House a few minutes to regain speech, a circumstance Wilson is embarrassingly proud of. When it happens he props his head up on an elbow and gives him a long look.
“This whole good job, good boy thing,” he says sternly. Wilson raises his eyebrows.
“We’re not gonna talk about it,” House finishes. Staring at him grumpily.
Wilson grins. He is gonna have a lot of fun with this in the future, he can tell.
“Well if you insist,” he says, leaving a meaningful pause. He is sure House can tell what’s gonna come, cause he already looks annoyed.
“Good boy,” he drawls.
The punch to his shoulder is painful but totally worth it.