House M.D. Drabble: Spoon
I promised
entangled_now some drabbles for her birthday. Because I’m anal, I’m going to put them all in separate posts spread throughout the day. Sorry for spamming your F-lists, people.
Happy belated birthday Corona-darling! Your presents may be a day late, but at least you’re getting what you asked for…
***
Title: Spoon
Author: Mistress Kat /
kat_lair
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing/Category: House/Wilson, Drabble
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: Some utensils are sexier than others.
Author notes: Birthday present for
entangled_now. Many thanks to
wliberation for beta-duty.
Spoon
The spoon tastes like vanilla and cold metal, clinking against his teeth softly. Wilson pushes his tongue into the waiting dent, drags it around the slick curve, the edges round and perfect against his lips.
There’s a prize melting in his mouth, creamy and sweet. He wants to hold it there forever, to feel it slowly filling him up, but the need to swallow is too strong.
It’s an icy rush, going down smooth and sure. “So good,” Wilson sighs.
The spoon rests empty. Spent.
“Here,” House says, pushing his ice-cream bowl across the table. “You can have mine too.”
Fin.
entangled_now some drabbles for her birthday. Because I’m anal, I’m going to put them all in separate posts spread throughout the day. Sorry for spamming your F-lists, people.
Happy belated birthday Corona-darling! Your presents may be a day late, but at least you’re getting what you asked for…
***
Title: Spoon
Author: Mistress Kat /
kat_lair
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing/Category: House/Wilson, Drabble
Rating: PG
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing.
Summary: Some utensils are sexier than others.
Author notes: Birthday present for
entangled_now. Many thanks to
wliberation for beta-duty.
Spoon
The spoon tastes like vanilla and cold metal, clinking against his teeth softly. Wilson pushes his tongue into the waiting dent, drags it around the slick curve, the edges round and perfect against his lips.
There’s a prize melting in his mouth, creamy and sweet. He wants to hold it there forever, to feel it slowly filling him up, but the need to swallow is too strong.
It’s an icy rush, going down smooth and sure. “So good,” Wilson sighs.
The spoon rests empty. Spent.
“Here,” House says, pushing his ice-cream bowl across the table. “You can have mine too.”
Fin.