rivers_bend

I read dontkickmycane's Of Small Spaces and Big Sticks a while ago and she very kindly said I could write a what happens next. So I did.

Read hers first here to Of Small Spaces and Big Sticks

The following is rated R and contains M/M slash featuring House/Wilson from House M.D.
It is cross posted to housefic, house_slash, and house_wilson.

Thank you thank you to karaokegal for the tremendous beta and to dontkickmycane for the original story and the permission to take it further




Wilson’s brain played tug of war with itself all the way down the corridor to the room. House walked ahead of him, cane in one hand room key in the other, looking disturbingly like a man with a mission. Once he’d gotten the door open, he stepped aside and ushered Wilson in with a flourish.

Wilson’s eyes were drawn to the bed and he felt a longing to be lying on it. He didn’t think too hard about whether the longing had more to do with being horizontal on a surface actually designed for sleeping or owed something to House’s plans. Wilson’s eyes moved past the closet to the sofa, cringed and then moved back to the closet. Potential home of a mini-bar.

“Feeling the need for a $7.00 shot?” The man must have ESP. Wilson hadn’t even started to move in that direction. He briefly considered heading for the sofa, but decided not to let House get to him. He definitely wasn’t drunk enough to deal with whatever tonight might have in store.

As he suspected, the mini-bar was hidden behind the door of the closet. Annoyingly, House had been exactly correct about the price marked underneath each tiny bottle of liquor. He shut his eyes to the dollar signs and grabbed three bottles at random. That should be enough.

Turning, he waved the handful in House’s general direction. “Care to join me?” House raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. I forgot. The memo. Pills and alcohol don’t mix.”

House was making him nervous by doing nothing. He stood between the bed, the door and the sofa, leaning on his cane, almost smiling in that way he had. Wilson looked at the bottles he had selected. Whiskey, bourbon, vodka. “Ice. I need ice.” He exchanged the bottles for the ice bucket which stood on the desk and opened the door. It had almost closed behind him when he noticed House wordlessly holding out the key card. Wilson threw out a hand to stop the door.

“I might be asleep when you get back. You wouldn’t want to have to wake me to let you in would you?” Wilson had no idea what he was supposed to think that meant. He reached for the key and let the door shut.

As Wilson passed the elevator on the way to the vending alcove, he felt House’s weight fall against him again, felt House’s stubble scraping his face. His stomach lurched. He’d lost the drunken clarity he’d had in the elevator, but he could still remember it. Something had been decided in that moment. His need for another drink intensified.

With trepidation, Wilson opened the door. House was not immediately visible, which made Wilson’s heart beat faster. He had expected to see House lounging on the bed. Instead, he spotted him sitting in the middle of the tiny sofa. He seemed to have upended his suitcase over the only chair. Wilson could either clear off the chair or sit on the bed. Or ask House to move. He mixed a drink to delay the decision.

Waving his hand in House’s general direction Wilson asked, “Long Island Iced Tea?” Wilson eyed the bottles dubiously. “Sort of.”

“Go right ahead.” House had his legs crossed on the table in front of him. The man was infuriatingly enigmatic.

Wilson fetched a glass from the bathroom vanity, poured all three mini-bar bottles into it, added some ice and topped it up with coke from the can he’d bought on his ice run. He gasped at the harsh taste but managed two more gulps before he turned back to face the seating situation.

“So. Have you found that stick yet? Or do you still want my help?”

“House…” Wilson tried to inject a sense of warning into his tone, but could hear it was more slurred than threatening. In exasperation he took another sip of his drink. When he looked at House again he sensed that he might have skipped the ‘drunk enough for clarity’ stage and slipped into the ‘drunk enough to do something about it’ zone. Putting his drink down on the bedside table, he let himself fall backwards onto the welcoming mattress.

After several attempts Wilson managed to toe off his shoes and pull his legs up onto the bed with him. His eyes were shut, but his ears were open, straining to hear what House was doing. He heard the sound of feet thumping to the floor, cane following, and the creak of the sofa springs as House stood.

“I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping on this ridiculous piece of furniture.” House sounded vaguely amused.

“The thought never even crossed my mind.” He still couldn’t open his eyes, but apparently his mouth had started working again. He heard House’s footsteps coming towards the bed. His skin started prickling as House got closer.

“Does this mean we’re sharing the bed?” Wilson was pretty sure his heart stopped beating on hearing House say those words aloud. “Are you expecting a promise that I won’t molest you? Won’t take advantage of your drunken state?”

Wilson’s eyelids struggled against the alcohol and won. “I think I’d be disappointed if you made that promise.” He lost the fight against the grin at the look of surprise on House’s face.

“HA!” Wilson pointed shakily at his friend. “You didn’t expect that did you?” His eyes were caught briefly by the sight of his finger weaving in front of his face. When he looked back at House the look of surprise had been replaced by one of uncharacteristic seriousness.

House reached blindly for the drink on the bedside table and finished it in one gulp. He grimaced at the taste. “Christ! How could you drink that? Do I scare you that much?”

“What is it they say? A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” Wilson was vaguely aware that he wasn’t exactly answering the question.

“Move over.” House prodded Wilson in the ribs with his cane. Wilson scooted to the middle of the bed. House sat on its edge and used the tip of his cane to help step out of his shoes. He lay on his back next to Wilson and looked at the ceiling.

Typical. Wilson thought. The man finally gets what he wants and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Wilson had taken on enough Dutch courage for both them. Now that he had made up his mind, this almost seemed easy. Wilson turned on his side and propped his head on his elbow. House turned slightly and fixed him with his blue-fire gaze.

That look alone sent a jolt to Wilson’s groin. His hand was around House’s neck, pulling him into a kiss before he could change his mind. When their lips met Wilson felt the rush of blood towards his cock like an orgasm and he gasped into House’s mouth. House’s tongue caressed his own and it was firm and lazy and electric and heaven.

Wilson was so focused on the sensation of lips and teeth and tongues that it was a few moments before he realised that House had unbuttoned his shirt and was running those long fingers of his over Wilson’s chest and back. He tried to perform a similar task on House’s shirt, but his fingers were dulled with alcohol and lust. House pulled away and did it himself.

He took his shirt off completely, and pulled Wilson’s off as much as his position on the bed would allow. Wilson sat up to facilitate the shirt’s removal. “Now can I help you find that stick?” House had his hands on the button of Wilson’s pants.

“Yes.”

The men fell on each other. Lips exploring necks and nipples, hands reaching into clothes and pulling them off. Wilson’s pants and boxers had found their way onto the floor. He was trying to kick his socks off when House abruptly pulled away and started to zip up his jeans.

“Jimmy, I’m sorry. You don’t want to do this. I actually wasn’t going to molest you really.”

Wilson felt like he had swallowed the bucket of ice he’d fetched earlier. Sobriety had come with a vengeance and he didn’t know what tack to take. Sarcasm or serious? House was turning away and sitting up. Wilson scrambled to his knees behind the man who was his best friend, his greatest tormenter and so many other things as well. He hesitated for only a second before pulling House into an embrace that pinned his arms to his sides and brought the small of his back into contact with evidence that Wilson had no objection to what had happened.

Wilson pressed his lips to the older man’s ear. “Greg. Sober man’s words now. I want this. I really really want this. If you don’t turn around right now and touch this stick of mine you will live to regret it.” His fingers found House’s nipple as he spoke the words. He gave it a sharp twist to mark the threat. House’s head fell back onto Wilson’s shoulder and he groaned softly.

Wilson took this as a good thing. Undoing House’s fly again, he slid his hand down to cup and caress his friend. House arched back against him, pushing up into Wilson’s hand. “Shall we get rid of these?” Wilson pushed at House’s pants and between them somehow they got them off without Wilson losing contact with House’s erection.

House twisted around and they were back on the bed, side by side, tongues battling for dominance in each other’s mouths, hands moving over fevered skin. Wanting to prolong this, Wilson slowed his hands and gentled his touch.

House pushed Wilson onto his back and looked down on him. Circling one nipple with a finger tip he said, “I’m actually glad you don’t have big knockers.”

Wilson smiled. “Yeah, but do you wish I was blonde?” House bit his chest in response. This led to the discovery that Wilson was not averse to the feel of teeth on his skin. House used this knowledge to his full advantage.

House bit Wilson’s ear lobe and whispered, “I think I better find that stick now. You may want to draw some lines in the sand.” He only needed to move a fraction of an inch to find the sensitive spot where the sternocleidomastoid attached to the skull. Wilson took a moment to consider the advantages of a lover who had gone to medical school. House’s tongue alone had Wilson writhing beneath him. When he bit the tender skin it elicited a full body shudder. Wilson could hear himself groaning.

Wilson tried to turn and kiss House, but House just fixed him with his stare. With a finger on his chin, House moved Wilson’s head to gain better access to his throat. That tongue and those teeth followed the line of muscle down to his shoulder and over Wilson’s collar bone to his chest. House stayed there, sucking, biting, licking and marking Wilson’s skin until the younger man was shaking uncontrollably.

Finally House moved lower, following the line of hair that ran down Wilson’s stomach, nipping at the skin, making Wilson catch his breath over and over again. After what seemed a lifetime of anticipation, House took Wilson’s stick in his hand. “Found it,” he whispered as he lowered his mouth to the head.

Wilson was afraid that he would come immediately as he felt hot lips close around the sensitive flesh, but he took a deep breath and let the sensation build to another level. House had clearly done this before. For a blinding second, Wilson was filled with a jealousy beyond any he had felt before. Then it was gone and he was grateful for the skill.

Fingers were doing unbelievable things to parts he’d never paid a whole lot of attention to before. The hot wet suction provided by House’s mouth made him feel like he was spinning out of control. House started doing something with his tongue that made the next level the last level. Wilson couldn’t hold back any longer.

Wilson was still trying to will his legs back into contact with his central nervous system when he felt House move up beside him again. He felt stubble scratching at his chest and the weight of House’s head settle on his shoulder. The weight increased as he felt an arm reach across him. Then a corner of bedspread was being pulled over his legs.

“Mmmmmm,” Wilson managed.

“Nice?”

“Doesn’t begin to cover it.” Wilson used his chin to rub the top of House’s head. Plucking at the bedspread he managed to pull more of it onto them.

“Cold?”

“Just a little. I’ll warm us up in a second. Just need a minute to make my limbs work again.”

House snugged his hard-on against Wilson’s thigh. His hand sketched idle circles over Wilson’s stomach. “Does this help?”

Wilson felt a lazy stirring in the base of his spine. He mimicked the circles with his own hand over House’s waist and hip. He was careful not to move lower to House’s thigh, not wanting to remind Greg of that just now. He was starting to feel more energetic.

“I think it helps.” Wilson nudged at House’s hip, tipping him onto his back and rolled so that he was half on top of him. “Yep, definitely helps.”

He wiggled his toes against House’s ankles. “See? Toes and everything.” He wrapped his fingers around House’s erection and stroked it gently. “Fingers too.” He could tell House was trying very hard not to smile.

“So. Do you have anything to tell me about how this is done?” Wilson realised that he must still be under the influence somewhat because the words sounded remarkably frank. Oh well, the man does have more experience with these things, and the chances of him not having an opinion…

House tilted Wilson’s face towards his and kissed him. It was hot and sweet. Wilson felt House’s hand cover his own on House’s dick. House used his thumb to push Wilson’s up to the slit at the end and started him spreading the leaking fluid around the head. Wilson continued the motion and felt House groan against his tongue.

House’s fingers gripped more tightly against Wilson’s and Wilson transmitted the pressure. “Faster.” House whispered against his lips. Wilson increased his speed, but he wanted to do more. He moved down and replaced his thumb with his tongue, dipping into the tiny pool of wetness and twirling it around the head.

Wilson moved his hand down to cup House’s balls as he took more of House’s length into his mouth. Shifting his balance to get a better angle, he brought his other hand up to stroke the base of House’s cock. He didn’t think he could fit any more into his mouth without gagging and he didn’t want any parts to feel neglected. Wilson hoped he was making up with enthusiasm whatever he lacked in skill.

Wilson suddenly remembered what House had done with his fingers and tried to mimic the movements. The result caused House to buck upwards making Wilson’s eyes water at the sensation of cock hitting the back of his throat.

He increased the speed of his hand movements, focusing his mouth on the sensitive head and heard House say something incomprehensible just before he filled Wilson’s mouth.

Suddenly Wilson felt strong hands under his arms. They hauled him upwards and he found his face being enthusiastically kissed. House nipped at his jaw and his neck. He kissed his cheeks and his forehead. His arms were tight around Wilson and Wilson marvelled at the man’s strength after orgasm.

“Jimmy, where the hell did you learn how to do that?” House’s voice was hoarse.

“I wasn’t so drunk that I wasn’t paying attention.” Wilson tried not to sound pleased with himself. It was an entirely unsuccessful endeavour.

“Christ.”

Wilson was grinning foolishly when House’s mouth closed over his. He felt suddenly aware that he was kissing a man. The sensation of stubble was foreign and incredibly exciting. He pushed his tongue into his friend’s mouth, slowly exploring teeth, cheeks, the inside of House’s lips. He bit at the lower lip and flicked at the trapped flesh with his tongue. He licked at the edge of stubble around House’s lips, revelling in the sensation.

Though House continued to kiss him and his hands still moved over his back, Wilson started to sense a change. A lack of enthusiasm perhaps. Wilson was well aware that House was prone to sudden changes of mood and to getting lost in his own head. Wilson just didn’t think this was a very good time for that to happen.

When Wilson pulled away to look into those blue eyes he couldn’t read them. Concern was the closest he could come up with. “What are you thinking Greg?”

“I’m wondering why you’re really doing this?”

“Why I’m doing what?”

House waved his hand in exasperation. “This James. This! You never wanted this. I wanted you to want it...” House shut his eyes, and his voice was softer when he spoke again. “God, I wanted you to want it, but I always knew it was just me.”

Wilson was hit with a wave of hurt and fury and pity. They all fought to rise to the surface. Fury got there first. Wilson grabbed House by the jaw and forced him to look into his eyes. “Don’t you dare. Gregory House, don’t you dare pull this shit with me.”

“Look at how much you had to drink before you would even get in bed with me.”

Wilson’s fingers tightened their grip. House’s eyes widened. Wilson was trembling and suddenly worried he might cry. “No. I’m not listening to this. I have watched you destroy everything you have ever loved and I am not letting you destroy this.”

House started to speak and Wilson moved his hand to cover the offending orifice. He shook his head. “Pathological denial. Remember? Your diagnosis. I took the trouble to get a second opinion. He concurs. A very respected doctor he is too. James Wilson. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

Wilson realised that he did concur. He’d been years getting to this point. Now that he was here, he couldn’t understand why it had taken so damn long.

House’s eyes glinted like ice above his hand and Wilson risked removing it from House’s mouth.

“I can speak now?” Wilson nodded. “Good.” House just continued to look at Wilson however.

“So…?”

“Oncology specialist.”

“What?”

“Dr. Wilson. He’s an oncology specialist. I doubt he knows anything about psychology.”
Wilson pushed himself off of House and crossed his arms. He suspected that he looked like a petulant child, but House had a way of doing that to a man. He took a second to marvel at the fact that this didn’t make him love (love?) House any less.

“You think someone who deals with cancer patients all day every day doesn’t know anything about denial? I know what’s going on here. I didn’t live up to your expectations and you don’t want to put up with my fumblings again.”

Wilson couldn’t read House’s expression. House moved backwards until he was sitting up against the headboard. Wilson felt like he had moved 100 miles away. Then House reached out for him and Wilson couldn’t help but take his hand. House tugged at it until Wilson moved forwards so his thigh was against House’s hip and they were face to face.

Wilson realized that loving House would always be like this. If he wanted predictability, he was in the wrong bed.

“So was it everything you hoped?”

House raised an eyebrow. His smile said it had been more than he had hoped.

Wilson wasn’t going to let it go at that. “But I somehow looked like I was having a bad time. So you’re willing to give up on us because of that. To miss out on the chance that next time I might be even better.”

“It’s always rough the first…wait. Next time you might be even better?”

Wilson finally allowed himself to relax. He leaned forward, covering House’s lips with his own. The hand that gripped the back of his head offered a bit of reassurance. The stirring against his fingertips as he put a hand on House’s thigh made Wilson think he may have won the battle. House’s tongue was strong and sure and welcome in his mouth.

Wilson figured an eventual resurgence of the topic was inevitable. He didn’t mind. Greg House was going to learn exactly how stubborn James Wilson could be.

read more