HOUSE M.D. FIC: The Big Easy
Title: The Big Easy
Fandom: House M.D.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 351
Pairing: House/Wilson slash
Summary: House gives a nervous medical student the benefit of his experience at a conference in New Orleans
Author's Note: Written for jezziejay, who wanted a little "hot for teacher."
Even though he had been expecting it, the brusque knock startled James Wilson into a jump, causing him to spill his paper cup of cold coffee onto the cramped table where he sat reviewing his notes. He cursed and grabbed a couple of Kleenex to sop up the splatter before getting up to open the door.
Greg House was standing there, looking lean and predatory in torn jeans and an untucked t-shirt, his hair damp, the hickey Wilson had given him last night a lurid smudge on his exposed throat. House’s casual attire did nothing to detract from the aura of sophistication conferred by arrogance and ten additional years of age. He mimed gulping thirstily from a glass and then jerked a thumb behind him, cocking his head in impish invitation.
“Sorry, I can’t tonight. I’m presenting first thing in the morning.”
House shrugged and pushed his way into the room, breezing by Wilson with a perfunctory pat on the rear. “They assigned you to a slot at the ass-end of the meeting? What a bum deal.”
Wilson started to smile, but his anxiety twisted his face into something more closely resembling a grimace. House reached the window, swiveled on his heel, and caught the expression as he stalked back towards the younger man.
“First talk at a national conference?”
“Um… yeah,” Wilson admitted, hating the blush that he could feel suffusing his cheeks.
“You’ll be fine,” House said with a dismissive wave. “You just need to learn to relax.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me to imagine my audience in their underwear.”
“Hell no,” House said. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Wilson’s slacks and pulled him closer, giving him a slow, significant smile. “Well… with one obvious exception, of course.”
Wilson shivered and swallowed hard, every nerve ending alive to the thrill of House’s eager lips on his throat, his strong fingers circling his hips.
His last coherent thought as he was pushed down into the mattress was a rueful resolution not to look at House at all if the older man attended his talk tomorrow.
Fandom: House M.D.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 351
Pairing: House/Wilson slash
Summary: House gives a nervous medical student the benefit of his experience at a conference in New Orleans
Author's Note: Written for jezziejay, who wanted a little "hot for teacher."
Even though he had been expecting it, the brusque knock startled James Wilson into a jump, causing him to spill his paper cup of cold coffee onto the cramped table where he sat reviewing his notes. He cursed and grabbed a couple of Kleenex to sop up the splatter before getting up to open the door.
Greg House was standing there, looking lean and predatory in torn jeans and an untucked t-shirt, his hair damp, the hickey Wilson had given him last night a lurid smudge on his exposed throat. House’s casual attire did nothing to detract from the aura of sophistication conferred by arrogance and ten additional years of age. He mimed gulping thirstily from a glass and then jerked a thumb behind him, cocking his head in impish invitation.
“Sorry, I can’t tonight. I’m presenting first thing in the morning.”
House shrugged and pushed his way into the room, breezing by Wilson with a perfunctory pat on the rear. “They assigned you to a slot at the ass-end of the meeting? What a bum deal.”
Wilson started to smile, but his anxiety twisted his face into something more closely resembling a grimace. House reached the window, swiveled on his heel, and caught the expression as he stalked back towards the younger man.
“First talk at a national conference?”
“Um… yeah,” Wilson admitted, hating the blush that he could feel suffusing his cheeks.
“You’ll be fine,” House said with a dismissive wave. “You just need to learn to relax.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me to imagine my audience in their underwear.”
“Hell no,” House said. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Wilson’s slacks and pulled him closer, giving him a slow, significant smile. “Well… with one obvious exception, of course.”
Wilson shivered and swallowed hard, every nerve ending alive to the thrill of House’s eager lips on his throat, his strong fingers circling his hips.
His last coherent thought as he was pushed down into the mattress was a rueful resolution not to look at House at all if the older man attended his talk tomorrow.