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Midnight Calls	By : Magumarashii Category: G through L > House Views: 8939 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Midnight Calls
- 1
Midnight Calls

He hears the buzz as the phone rings once, twice. On the third ring a slightly gruff voice answers the call. He can feel a smirk tug on the corner of his mouth.
“You know it’s generally considered impolite to call people at a godforsaken hour like this, right?” He leans back into his office chair, takes a quick look out the window at the starry night sky and closes his eyes, enjoying the sound of the other man’s voice.
“And who says my intention was to be polite?” he countered huskily, a slight shiver running up his spine as he heard a badly concealed intake of breath on the other end. “Perhaps my intention was, in fact, to be less than polite.” He trails the fingers of his right hand across the armrest of the chair. “One could even suggest my intention might have been, quite crudely put, vulgar of nature.”
“I hear you drank that coffee I had Taub deliver to you,” comes the slightly hoarse reply. He laughs out loud, he had come to the conclusion the drink had been spiked even before he had drank it. He had not been disappointed.
“And now your little plan is going to backfire,” he says with an air of smugness. He imagines the other’s face, struck by sudden confusion. He pushes the chair back with one foot and puts his feet on top of his desk. “You see, apparently you were desperate enough to slip me something,” he purrs into the receiver, “and now you won’t be able to see the results.”
“So come home.” He has him grunting already, this will be more fun than he had anticipated. No doubt he is already squirming in his seat. Yes, he can picture it quite well, House all alone, sitting in his favourite chair, phone to his ear, flushed face, and–
“Impossible, what wouldn’t they think if I were to leave my office in this,” he breaths in deeply, “state,” he breaths out.
“So let them see,” comes the harsh reply. Definitely flushed, definitely squirming. He loves it when he can make him uncomfortable like that.
“Wouldn’t you like that,” he mumbles, his free hand wandering up and down his stomach. “Have those reception desk monkeys eye me up and down and then some and go bragging you own that later? I don’t think so. No, you got me into this mess, now you will get me out of it.” He hears a slight rustling sound on the other end.
“I’ll get you into an even bigger mess if you come home now,” House’s gruff voice whispers seductively into his ear. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his hand strays just a tad lower.
“How about you try right now,” he suggests, lightly moving his hand to his thigh, careful to avoid the growing bulge in his pants. “God, you don’t want to know how hard I’ve been all evening.” He breaths deeply in and out, slowly.
“Damn you,” House growls, followed by again a rustling sound and the creaking of what is presumably his leather chair he is sitting on.
“I just found out it’s rather impossible to stay focused on a meeting, be they with colleagues or a patient’s family, when all you can think of is how you will get rid of that damned persistent boner,” he continues. “No matter what you talk or think about, it just won’t go away, and as a doctor, I can imagine some pretty horrible things.” He inhales deeply, moves his hand to hover over his crotch, touching the fabric of his pants so lightly he’s driving himself crazy. “Do you know that feeling? Of course you do: the constant strain whether you sit or walk or lie down, constant throbbing when your mind inevitably pays attention to it. Your hands constantly creeping down there as if they have a mind of their own,” he jerks his hand away, laying it back onto his stomach, “only to stop midway as you catch yourself in the act.”
“I hate that feeling,” House says with considerably less conviction than the statement requires.
“The embarrassment as you realise you’ve been zoning out, thinking about a certain someone straddling your hips, unbuttoning your pants and jerking and sucking you off until you’re sure you can’t take it anymore. Your face is flushed and your lips feel swollen and someone is repeatedly asking you a question while everybody is staring at you.” Both their breathing has become more laboured. He takes his feet off the desk, his precarious position on the chair having become too uncomfortable. He is sure he hears House unbuckle his belt, the sound causing a shiver of delight to travel up and down his spine.
“To hell with the onlookers, what happens next?” House breathes into the receiver.
“Yes, to hell with it,” he murmurs as his hand twitches and grabs onto the bulge in his pants. “Ah, yes, to hell with it all.” He closes his eyes again as he revels in the feeling of finally rubbing his hand against himself, even if it is through a layer of clothing. He unconsciously leans back and spreads his legs further apart. “I’d bent you over my desk, files be damned, and I’d fuck you as hard as you’ve never been done before.” He squeezes his balls, enjoying the growing feeling of need. “God, that virgin like ass of yours would–”
His sentence is cut short by a sharp knock on his door. He jumps up in surprise, quickly gathers his thoughts and rolls the chair forward so his lower body is hidden to view and grabs onto a random file. As he scrapes his throat to call out to whoever disturbed him, the door opens of its own accord and shows Cuddy.
“I saw the light was still on,” she says as she spots him behind his desk, “Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” She points at the telephone he holds to his ear. He looks at the receiver and back at her.
“This? Oh, I was just–” His voice leaps an octave and he clears his throat again, “I was just doing some research. On a patient, I mean. I’m on hold.” He points lamely at the file on his desk he had quickly opened.
“You’re on hold at this time of day?” she asks him incredulously. He shrugs, trying to ignore House’s laboured breathing on the other end of the phone.
“Well, London, you know,” he simply says, willing his head to return to its normal colour instead of the bright red he is sure it has right now, “They’re looking something up for me right now.”
“If you’re ever over here in London, make sure to stop by and look up my Big Ben for me in return,” House replied, “I hear it’s best appreciated at night. You could show me your Statue of Liberty.”
He swallows and clumsily picks up a pen. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks before she starts asking difficult questions about which patient and which doctor and what hospital. She tilts her head a little and smiles at him.
“Hmm, I can think of a thousand different things you could do for me right now,” House mumbles into his ear, “Feel me, grab me, squeeze me, suck me, kiss me, take me, ravage me–”
“I just came to check in on you before I went home,” she answers. “Promise me you won’t pull an all-nighter, you look a bit under the weather.”
“–dominate me, make me beg, make me moan, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me till you come.”
“Are you alright?” Cuddy asks concerned and takes a step further into the room as he doesn’t answer and instead stares off into space, his face both reddening even further and becoming pale at the same time. “Maybe you should lay down for a little while,” she says with a frown.
“That’s alright,” he finally croaks, “I just need some fresh air. I’ll be fine, really. Just had a bit of a hard day, that’s all.”
“You’re giving me an awfully hard time as well,” House says, breathing continuously growing more erratic. Is he hearing the sound of House’s stubble chafing against the receiver or is that just his imagination?
“Are you sure, I can give you a ride home if you don’t feel up to it?” Cuddy persists. “You really don’t look well.”
“I’m fine, I’m just waiting for some lab results and meanwhile I’m doing this… this,” he finished halfway through the sentence. Slick, rhythmic sounds suddenly invade his left ear. He swallows again, even though his mouth has gone completely dry. Cuddy stands right in front of his desk and never before has he been so happy to have the bulky object in between himself and someone else, as he is certain his erection couldn’t be more obvious if he were naked.
“I’ll have someone else cover for you,” Cuddy says after sizing him up.
“That’s really not necessary,” he protests, but weakly. Suddenly she leans over his desk, and places her hand on his forehead.
“You’re burning up!” she exclaims, “That’s it, you’re going home. I’ll make some phone calls and I’ll drive you myself. I’ll be right back.” She leaves him alone in his office before he has a chance to respond. The cool air of the corridor gives him goose bumps as she opens and closes the door. He lets out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’s been holding. He realises with a start that he will have to walk to the car with her, be in the car with her and all that with a straight face. House had gone back to breathing heavily into his end of the phone.
“House,” he whispers into the receiver, for he finds himself unable to talk any louder.
“James,” House groans right back at him. The use of his first name makes his cock twitch and throb painfully, but he has to get a hold of himself now.
“House, I have to hang up now,” he continues, breathless. This seems to get the other’s attention.
“Don’t hang up now, I’m so close,” House tries to convince him, but he can hear his rhythmic stroking slow down.
“I’m coming home now,” he says, “don’t move a muscle or I swear you’ll pay for it.”

---

Cuddy is a fast driver, but nevertheless he can’t stand the pace at which they seem to crawl through the streets. The night air had helped him cool down somewhat, but now that home is getting closer and closer he can feel the heat returning to his body. He keeps his briefcase clenched in his lap, his arms around it, knees drawn awkwardly up. Cuddy keeps looking at him from the corner of her eye, worry still lining her brow.
“You should stay home tomorrow, rest up a little,” she says as she turns the car around a corner. He just nods and stares out the window, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he isn’t really there at all. His eyes are glued to the front door of their apartment. “You might’ve just caught a bug,” Cuddy goes on, “Or do you get cramps like that more often?”
“No,” he answers, hands clenching on his briefcase.
“Maybe we should take a look at your workload next week. You’ve been crazily busy lately, I think that might not be beneficial for your health.”
“Sorry?” he asks a couple of seconds later, taking his eyes off the door for a split second to look at her.
“You’re so tense,” Cuddy observes as she notices his cramped posture, “If it’s the work load, just tell me next week and we’ll sort it out.”
“Thank you,” he says as she pulls up next to House’s motorcycle. Cuddy smiles at him and lays a hand on his thigh. As if struck by lightning he recoils and she immediately draws back her hand.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” she starts, but he shakes his head vigorously, eyes clamped shut as he blindly fumbles with the door handle.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I really have to go now.” She looks after him as he hurries to his front door, manages to unlock it within record speed and slams the door shut behind him. She just hopes he will make it to the bathroom in time.
In the meantime the echo of the door slamming shut seems to reverberate through Wilson’s skull. The air inside is warm and smells of firewood, and his favourite eau de cologne. He drops his briefcase, kicks of his shoes and nearly rips off some buttons as he takes off his coat. As he enters the living room his breath catches in his throat as he sees House leisurely sprawled across his chair. All the blood in his veins suddenly seems to race for his groin.
“Took you long enough,” House says, his voice full of unadulterated lust. Within a second Wilson crosses the distance between them, leans down with the quickness of a pouncing tiger and roughly kisses the other man on the mouth. House is only too willing to provide and grabs onto his shirt, prying open some buttons and opening his mouth to allow access to the other man’s tongue. There is nothing tender about it as their mouths clash again and again in open mouthed kisses, their fingers digging into each other’s skin, leaving bruises and scratches.
“I want you so bad,” he whispers into House’s ear, rubbing his cheek against House’s stubble, causing shivers to run down both their spines. As he trails several light kisses along his jaw and finally settles on ravaging his mouth again, House’s hands trail down his sides, resting on his hips and then slides them up and down his outer thighs, thumbs stroking inwards towards his groin where there is a noticeable bulge in his pants.
House reaches up again and pulls the younger man’s torso forward, licking along his collarbone, up his neck towards his jaw, finally softly nibbling on his ear. “So take me,” he growls low in his throat while suggestively pushing his hips upwards, right against the other’s balls.
This sets him off for real, a primal need awakening as he feels the contact. He barely even notices the gleam in House’s eyes as he hauls them both to their feet, forcefully pulling and pushing them in the general direction of the bedroom, all the while kissing, tugging and desperate for physical contact. They bump into the sofa, a side table, just keeping their balance, and finally House’s back connects none too softly with a wall. Wilson pushes himself up against the older doctor, effectively pinning House against the wall as his hands roam the lean body in front of him. House manages to undo some more buttons before he tugs the lower part of Wilson’s shirt out of his pants. His hands cease their actions as Wilson catches his mouth with his own, his lips moving at an infuriating speed, while his lower body is flush against House’s.
“My leg,” House breaths in between the cascade of kisses, notifying Wilson of his uncomfortable position. Without a word Wilson pulls back, giving House some more space, but only slightly. House instantly takes advantage and quickly pries open the last two buttons of Wilson’s shirt, who shakes it off the moment House’s long fingers connect with his bare abdomen and chest. While Wilson is struggling with his sleeves, House lightly trails his fingertips along his sides, raising goose bumps wherever he touches. He closes the gap between them once again, this time keeping his weight on his good leg, and finds interest in kissing Wilson’s jaw line while rubbing one of the hardened nipples with his right thumb.
“Stupid thing!” Wilson curses as he flails an arm, trying to get it out of the shirt. House reaches for the cloth, not once stopping on the hickey he was busily creating in the other’s neck, and yanks it so hard past Wilson’s hand that one of the buttons around the cuff flies off. Freed from the garment and feeling increasingly more bothered, Wilson none too subtly moves to the bedroom, House still attached as he refuses to let go in his own desire.
The back of House’s knees suddenly hits the mattress and causes them to fall over onto the bed, Wilson on top. For a split second they look into each other’s eyes, neither having the breath to utter a word, and then Wilson is kissing him so deeply, so passionately, that House’s eyes flutter closed in delight. It takes him a second before he realises the groans he keeps hearing are his own, that he clutches at Wilson’s bare back with one hand, nails digging into his flesh, and has tangled the other in his hair, pulling him closer, nearer, anything. As they finally part, their breathing is shaky and ragged. Wilson pulls away from House, who moves himself further onto the bed and throws his own shirt somewhere off into the room. Wilson, in the mean time, peels off both their socks, which follow the same fate as House’s shirt. House leans back against the headboard of the bed, bad leg spread out and the other pulled up, looking at Wilson through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily.
“If I had known you’d react this strongly to my special coffee I wouldn’t have left as soon as I did,” he says. Wilson moves to the centre of the bed, right in front of House. “In fact, I would have enjoyed every second of seeing you flushed, would have come to the meeting just to rile you up even more, pass you dirty notes and make suggestive comments.” His voice grows deeper as he continues his monologue, Wilson listens attentively, a mischievous gleam in his eyes and a feral smirk on his face. “I’d wonder if you’d last the whole hour, bet against myself: he will, or no he won’t, but he’s not responding so he will, ah, but no he won’t, look at his face: it’s so red, look at his lips, they’re swollen already and I haven’t even kissed him yet.” House closes his eyes as he goes on, a delightful smile lighting up his face, jaw slack as he imagines the scene.
“I’d be squirming, but you even more, due to the hormonal boost you’d just received. God, squirming and shifting and unfocused. But what if I were sitting next to you? What if the others were on the other side of the room? I love those desks so, so much, with those back panels reaching all the way to the ground, effectively hiding anything going on behind them, ah!” Wilson has reached his limit in being patient and has installed himself in between House’s legs, bending low and placing kisses on House’s throat, on his collarbone, on a nipple, then the other, slowly working his way down.
“Since everybody would be looking at you I’d have free reign to do whatever I wanted, and boy would I make use of that. Sneak one hand over to your side, squeeze that muscled thigh of yours, make you inhale sharply at random intervals. As I’d scoot over a little closer with my chair in order to have a better look at your notes, what else?, I’d rub your erection through your pants, making you sweat and swallow and even more jittery.” His hands unconsciously grab onto Wilson’s arms as he kisses House’s stomach just above the waistband of his jeans. Wilson frees his arms from the other’s grasp and pulls the blue fabric taut over House’s obvious bulge. “God, touch me,” House says, and as his breath hitches for a moment he falls silent. Wilson feels him up, rubs a hand across House’s groin, feels a renewed surge of blood rushing to his own lower body as House involuntarily moves his hips to match Wilson’s movements.
“Softly, very softly,” House continues huskily, “I’d loosen your belt, so the others wouldn’t hear.” He hasn’t even finished the sentence or Wilson roughly unbuckles House’s belt, the loud ringing clang of the metal sending shivers down his spine. “I’d feel you through your opened pants, but because your concentration drops with every passing second, I’d feel obliged to ask you for clarification on what the others had just said about one of your patients. Such a marvellously arousing sight, that pleasure-hazed look on your face, confused, trying to get your thoughts together as I continue to torture you into increasing want.” His eyes flutter open for a brief second as Wilson puts his mouth to his boxers and breaths out through the thin fabric. He repeats the action once more and then starts mouthing House, his hands on the other man’s hips to stop him from moving around too much.
“I’d slip my hand into your pants,” House croaks, “into your boxers, and feel your hard length with my own bare hand. Yes,” House moans as Wilson pulls down his pants and his boxers in one swift motion and the relatively cool air suddenly surrounds his erection. Then the cold makes way for Wilson’s warm hand. “Yes, just like that,” House whispers, trying to restrain himself from raising himself into Wilson’s hand as he starts stroking him.
“God, I’d jerk you off until you were unable to stay silent anymore. I’d get you to the edge, all the way to the edge,” he swallows audibly, Wilson adds another hand to cup and apply a slight pressure to his balls, “and then when you’d close your eyes and your jaw would slacken, I’d point out the window and exclaim,” he trails off, his breathing quickens as he tries to get Wilson to up his pace. But he won’t, instead, he takes his hands away.
“You talk too much,” Wilson states as House opens his mouth to protest. Before he can utter a word, Wilson has taken off House’s pants all the way, tosses them to the side, and without a moment’s notice takes his erection into his mouth. House tosses his head back and is nearly seeing stars from the intensity of the unexpected feeling.
“Shiiiit,” House moans when Wilson starts sucking him off in earnest. House watches with half-lidded eyes as Wilson’s head moves up and down, one hand holding on to the base of his penis and the other holding on to House’s left thigh. Droplets of sweat appear on Wilson’s forehead and his face turns a lovely shade of red in his exercise and concentration. The sounds he makes as he repeatedly envelopes all of House with his mouth seem to reverberate through the whole of House’s body, making him gasp without fail.
Wilson’s face is slick with sweat when he pulls away, silently adoring his handiwork through his, House notices not for the first time, immensely beautiful brown eyes. Wilson’s hand softly continues to stroke House’s now very swollen cock, while he pulls himself up astride House and leans in for another one of his overwhelmingly deep kisses. House in the meantime takes his chance at finally touching his assailant. He lets his hands roam across the other’s back, up and down his sides, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin and flexing muscles, and he smirks in satisfaction as he pinches a nipple and Wilson cries out against his lips.
House slides his hands down Wilson’s back, feels the sweat that’s collected in hollow of the small of his back and proceeds to fondle his ass. All the while Wilson lavishes House’s cheek and jaw with wet kisses, House’s stubble of three days chafing against his own smoothly shaven skin. House tugs at Wilson’s waistband, he still has to take off his pants, and immediately starts fumbling for the belt clasp as he comes to the conclusion he has to get rid of that obstacle first. Wilson freezes up and inhales sharply as one of House’s hands bumps into his erection.
“What’s got you so rigid all of a sudden,” House grins and continues his less than accurate attempt at getting the belt off. “Oops,” he whispers none too apologetically into Wilson’s ear as he raises his good leg and rubs his knee against Wilson’s perineum, pushing his balls back and forth. Wilson tightly shuts his eyes and bites his lower lip, not making a sound. He lets go of his loosened grip on House’s cock and swats House’s hands away from his belt, undoing it one-handed with the speed of the highly desperate. House quickly unbuttons and unzips Wilson’s pants, who raises himself up and frees himself from his confinements. House’s cheeks flush and a shiver runs through his body as he looks upon a now fully naked Wilson.
His hair sticks to his temples and curls in wet strands at the base of his neck. His body is tense from the expression on his face all the way down to his toes. But most of all, House notices Wilson’s cock. It stands so erect and the veins are so obviously visible that it nearly hurts him just to look at it. The way Wilson is eying him right now makes his heart skip a beat in anticipation.
Wilson resumes the position he was in before he took the rest of his clothes off and House spares not a second to put his knee up again, creating a marvellous friction Wilson unconsciously leans in to, and reaching down a hand to touch him. Wilson gasps and moans against his shoulder and shudders all over as his cock experiences the first bare touch since his House-inflicted torture has begun. House hardly has to do anything as Wilson fervently starts thrusting into his hand, sending all his nerve endings into overdrive.
House watches and listens intently as Wilson ruts his hand and makes small grunting noises in the back of his throat. When he slows down the rhythm in search of a more comfortable position, House lets go of his cock and grabs on to his ass, pressing their erections against each other. Wilson wraps a hand around them both and rubs them together after the initial shock of the direct contact wears off.
“God,” Wilson manages to bite out at the feeling and his eyes flutter closed. House isn’t much more articulate as Wilson keeps stroking, but the need for even closer contact overtakes him and returns a semblance of control over his vocal chords.
“Fuck me, James,” he moans urgently, “fuck me now.” There’s no need for him to repeat those words as Wilson hastily lets go and attempts to kiss House on the mouth, but misses by an inch or so and instead places a wet open mouthed kiss half on his lower lip and half on his chin.
“Turn over,” he orders House as he raises himself up onto his knees and reaches out an arm to rummage around in the nightstand. House does as he is told and rolls over onto his stomach, placing some of the cushions that lay scattered around the bed underneath him to so his lower body is raised but doesn’t pressure his right leg too much.
Wilson, having found what he was searching for, returns to the matters at hand and settles down behind House’s raised bum. He drops the lube next to him and lays his hands onto House’s butt cheeks. He squeezes them for a bit, opening them and then pushing them together again, before he unscrews the cap of the lube with one hand and squirts a generous amount onto his other. He spreads the stuff out on House’s ass who squirms at the sudden coldness of it.
“You have such a beautiful ass,” Wilson breaths while he rubs his index finger between the cleft of House’s butt. He leans down and places butterfly kisses all over, all the while rubbing infuriating circles around House’s anus. He pulls back for a second, applying an even greater amount of lube and then, without warning, plunges a finger deep inside. House flinches at the unexpected feeling and can’t stop a moan from leaving his mouth.
“More,” he pleas as he wriggles his ass while Wilson cautiously moves his finger around. Not a second later Wilson adds his middle finger to the mix, stretching the muscle while slowly moving in and out. Careful not to go too fast, he begins to make scissoring motions with his fingers, then pushes them as far in as possible, moving them around and taking a nearly unholy satisfaction in the yelp he yields from House when he brushes past his prostate. He repeats the motion twice more, causing House to shudder and gasp out twice more. He continues to finger House for a little while longer until he has House begging for more.
“Fuck me already,” he says with a shaky voice, digging his fingers into the mattress, “Please, fuck me now, I can’t stand it anymore.”
Wilson retracts his fingers from House’s anus and lubes up his cock, which is twitching in need and dripping pre-cum. He positions himself and then slowly but deliberately enters. He pushes all the way in, trembling to keep himself under control. After the first couple of thrusts he dares to pick up the pace a little, encouraged by the unintelligible sounds House is making.
“So tight,” Wilson grunts. Slowly but surely he increases his speed, slightly changing his angle every time until he finds one that has House a shivering mess every time he pounds in. He holds on to House’s left hip for leverage and pushes his free hand in between the pillows underneath House and takes a hold of his cock with his slippery fingers. Wilson starts to pump him in the same unforgiving rhythm as his thrusts.
“Faster,” House urges as he can feel his climax nearing, “I said faster, not slower, damn you!” Wilson halts all movement and instead of going faster and harder or anything else House is currently crying out for, he pulls away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” House protests, grinding his teeth in frustration while looking over his shoulder.
“Turn over,” Wilson says, tugging at House’s hip.
“I’m not sure whether–” House starts to protest, but Wilson cuts him off.
“It’ll hurt like a bitch tomorrow anyway. I want to see your face when you come.” House does as he is told, he knows the truth when he hears it, better to make it worth the while. They move the pillows around so House’s bad leg is supported as well as possible for what was coming. Wilson shifts around until he gets into a comfortable position in which he still has some leverage. He enters House once again and finds the angle at which he is able to hit House’s prostate almost without fail.
Playtime is over, House realises as he sees the determination in Wilson’s eyes and feels the resolve in his touch as he holds on to his hip with one hand and with the other resumes stroking House’s cock, slick with saliva, sweat, lube and pre-cum. Wilson ups the tempo and before long he is fucking House in earnest, his balls slapping against House’s skin with every thrust, his hips moving back and forth with a forcefulness and speed that literally takes House’s breath away and forces noises out of his throat he didn’t know he was capable of making.
“Oh God!” House cries out, his whole body tensing up, as Wilson keeps hitting him exactly right.
“Not yet,” Wilson growls, for his words are hardly distinguishable as such, “Not yet, not yet,” he keeps repeating under his breath, his left hand holding on so tightly to House’s hip that he will surely leave bruises. House manages to comply but only for a couple of seconds. His back arches and his abdominal muscles clench up as Wilson relentlessly fucks him right over the edge and into oblivion. Stars explode across his vision and his mouth opens in a silent O as his climax hits him.
“Jimmy,” he moans with one side of his face pressed against the mattress, eyes shut tightly, eyebrows arched up, fingers clutching the sheets as his cock releases spurt after spurt of semen. The sight of House reaching orgasm, the way his face contorts in bliss, the feeling of how his cock twitches in Wilson’s hand, leaking sperm all over the back of his hand, how he suddenly clenches his anus shut with all his might as his whole body seems to spasm–
Wilson loses all coordination of his limbs as he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. All he knows is pure ecstasy as he shoots his load, wave after wave of delight rolling over him. When he regains some of his bearings he becomes aware of his ragged breathing. His heart is hammering in his chest as if he’d run a marathon, and he is unsure whether he will ever catch his breath again, which is a price he is quite willing to pay for the exquisite heights he’s been lifted to. He licks his lips and looks down into a pair of heavenly blue eyes.
He pulls out and lays down half on top of House, one arm possessively around the other.
“I love you,” Wilson breaths against House’s neck, so softly he almost misses it. For once House doesn’t tell him off for his sentimentality, and instead he just sighs contently and nuzzles the younger man’s hair, and maybe, but only maybe, unconsciously of course, wrapping an arm around Wilson’s back.
It takes a little while before their heart rates slow down again and for the trembling in their limbs to recede. Wilson hooks a foot behind the blankets that have almost completely fallen off the edge of the bed and draws them up until it covers them both. They stay entwined like that and slowly start to fall asleep.
“Don’t ever let go,” House whispers drowsily when Wilson’s breathing has evened out and House is sure he has fallen asleep.
“Never,” Wilson mumbles, tightening their embrace. That night, House falls asleep with a genuine smile on his face.
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Midnight Calls