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  Inevitable 
 by Kass  

 

M*A*S*H was on a commercial break when House decided he'd been circumspect
long enough. "I still can't believe you never slept with any of them."

Wilson, slouched at the other end of the sofa, gave him the evil eye. "Oh,
give it a rest. You're getting annoying." He flipped channels again and
paused at a World's Strongest Man rerun.

House pressed on. "I mean, you flirt with everybody! Susan -- that
red-headed nurse in PICU -- Sheila, in accounting --"

"I flirt with you," Wilson shot back. "Doesn't mean anything."

Hearing that smarted, a little. Realizing that it smarted was worse. When
had he gotten invested in this?

Wilson must have seen something in his face. "What?" His voice was wary.
"Don't tell me you didn't notice me flirting; you flirt right back."

"Your point?"

"You just got quiet. When you get quiet, you're upset about something. You
can't be upset that I flirt with you..."

Don't figure this out, House thought. Don't be smart. Be an idiot for one
more night.

"...unless you're upset that it wasn't going anywhere."

"Now who's being annoying?" House deflected.

But it didn't work. Wilson clicked the television off. He was sitting up
now, looking energized. "Y'know, I'm a free man. I can do whatever I
want."

"Not if it means molesting me."

"Hey!" He sounded genuinely offended. "It's not molesting if you want me
to do it."

When Wilson had showed up on his doorstep, House had thought there was
nothing sexier than Wilson disheveled and hurting. Now he had to admit the
possibility that Wilson bright-eyed and bushy-tailed was every bit as
alluring. Damn him.

Wilson apparently felt talkative now. "Something's bugging you. Spill."

"Oh, it's just that I'm not sure what's worse, you morose or you perky,"
House lied.

To his credit, Wilson ignored that. "C'mon. What's really eating you? You
were into this idea until I actually suggested it."

House couldn't hold back. "What is this, some kind of appeal for parity?
Your wife sleeps around, so you have to, too? Forgive me for not being
flattered by your newfound interest." He took an unnecessarily long swig
of his scotch and didn't look at Wilson. He hadn't meant to sound so hurt.

"House." Wilson's voice was quiet but compelling; House turned his head.
"This isn't newfound interest. Are you insane? I can't remember a time
when I didn't want to do this."

"But you just couldn't?" House did his best to sound mocking, not
plaintive.

"Until now." Wilson licked his lips, unconsciously.

House felt his resolve weakening.

"It's been a really long time since I sucked a guy's dick," Wilson mused.
There was a sly glint in his eye, like he hoped he knew what effect that
image would have.

"I wonder if you remember how." Despite knowing what a bad idea this
probably was -- did he really want to be Wilson's rebound fuck? -- House
was starting to enjoy this. It had an inevitability to it. Honestly, who
was he to fight against the inevitable? Especially if the inevitable
included a blowjob from Wilson.

"I want to kiss you first. Can I --"

That was a stupid question, so House didn't let him finish it.

This was nothing like kissing Stacy. Wilson's mouth was sure, and his hand
clenched hard on House's bicep. His mouth tasted like Oban. And then he
slid to the floor between House's parted knees and yanked at House's belt.

The blowjob was inexpert. Wilson almost choked, at first. But he was eager
-- man, was he eager -- and House gave himself over to it.

The hooker he'd called -- his distraction, which come to think of it had
been Wilson's idea, too -- had been dissatisfying. Sleeping with Stacy had
been a hell of a lot better. Relearning her body, the way she arched her
back on top of him. Believing, for an instant, that things could work for
them again.

But God help him, this was better still. This was a rush that left his
body thrumming for more.

Wilson tightened his fist around the base of his cock and swirled his
tongue around, then dove down to suck as much of him as he could manage.
House looked down at the vision of Wilson between his legs, and bit back a
moan as he came, hard.

Wilson leaned back, still kneeling. His mouth was wet and House could see
his erection straining at his jeans.

"I don't do floor," House said, proud of how calm his voice sounded. "You
want your turn, you'd better get to bed."

He almost laughed at how fast Wilson took off for the bedroom. By the time
he got there, Wilson was naked, stretched out across the comforter.

His outflung arms hinted a desire for the bedposts, which House filed away
for later. He wasn't about to tie Wilson down -- it would take him too
long to scrounge a quartet of neckties, among other things, and though he
wouldn't have admitted it he was eager to get his mouth on Wilson's cock.

House made it as slow as he could manage. He licked everywhere, first, to
a steady hum of appreciation, and then rubbed his face along the wet
shaft. Wilson jerked under him, moaning in what might have been pain and
might have been pleasure. Let him have beard burn in the morning: House
didn't care. Wanted him to remember who'd done this.

Julie probably couldn't give head worth a damn. Most women couldn't.
Besides, even if she could, she'd been doing somebody else, not Wilson,
hadn't she?

The thought filled him with a tenderness he quickly suppressed. He
couldn't afford to be too gentle. Wilson probably expected him to be a
sadist, at least a little. Not into real pain -- pain was too intimate a
companion for him to find it remotely erotic -- but into...stretching
things out. Making a guy suffer a little on the way to the top. House was
more than happy to oblige.

He hadn't done this in a while, either, but he remembered how to let a
prick slide into and out of his mouth, arhythmic, keeping everything
off-balance. How to blow a stream of air across the wet head, then suck it
in, hard.

He wondered, idly, how many different ways he could make Wilson groan.

When he rubbed his thumb behind Wilson's balls, pressing just there,
Wilson jerked into his grasp. "Jesus," he muttered. "Greg -- ohh --"

Yeah. That was it. House exulted.

He pulled back and surveyed his handiwork. One Wilson, melted. He smirked.
"Shove over," he said, elbowing Wilson in the ribs as he climbed up to the
head of the bed.

"I c'n sleep on the couch if you want," Wilson mumbled.

"If I want you out of my bed, you'll know," House said, and yanked the
covers up over them.

He was almost asleep when Wilson spoke again. "This was supposed to be the
worst day of my life." There was something like wonderment in his voice.

"See what difference a good blowjob makes?"

"'ll have to remember that." Wilson sounded half-asleep himself.

If this worked, he'd have to thank Julie. Send her a card, maybe. The
thought made him smile, there in the dark where the gently snoring Wilson
couldn't see.

END  
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