Laundry Day, part 3
A perfunctory knock sounded at House’s apartment door and House waited a few seconds, then heard Wilson holler a hello. “In here!” he called back. He was standing at the washing machine located in the alcove just off of the kitchen, studiously reading the label on the bottle of detergent. The gym bag lay at his feet and the clothes had been stuffed into the machine randomly. He heard Wilson make his way through the apartment, dropping pizza and beer bottles in the living room and arriving behind House, peering over his shoulder. He was still wearing the scrubs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Wilson asked, a disbelieving note in his voice.
House blinked at him. “Laundry?” The ‘well, duh’ was unspoken but heard in the tone of voice anyway.
“Oh, give me that,” Wilson said, feigning annoyance. “I didn’t even think you knew where the machine was.”
“It takes up space that could be better served with bookshelves, of course I know it’s here.” House did his best to sound offended as he went back through the kitchen to the couch. He doubted it worked. He soon heard the sound of the washer tub filling with water and Wilson followed him to the living room.
House opened the pizza box and the mouth-watering smell of pepperoni and way too much cheese filled the room. Wilson pulled two beer bottles from the case and set one in front of each of them, snatching a piece of pizza from the box. Both men sat back and ate in silence, the only sound that of the washer agitating.
In tandem they reached for the beer bottles, opening them and taking a long pull. House decided to break the silence. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in scrubs.” He figured that was a safe opening.
“Well, heads of departments are supposed to dress the part, y’know. Shirts, ties, jackets, that sort of thing.” Wilson turned a speculative eye to House. “Hey, aren’t you a head of a department?”
“Small department,” House said quickly, cutting off that train of thought. “Less formality.”
Wilson smirked. “Uh huh. I’m sure that’s it.” He took another sip from the bottle.
“You know,” House said, turning to Wilson and gesturing with the bottle, “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little less formal on occasion too. I mean seriously, look at what happened to day, the coffee, the tea,” he pointed at Wilson’s chest with the bottle, “the fries,” and this time he pointed down with the bottle, pouring the contents of it all over Wilson’s lap.
Wilson tipped his head back against the back of the sofa and sighed loudly. “Not you too!”
House just sat there, looking at the liquid pouring out of the bottle and soaking the scrubs, outlining the seams of Wilson’s underwear over his thighs. Quickly, he righted the bottle and put it on the coffee table. Wilson merely pulled off the shirt and tried to find a dry bit to soak up the beer that had made it all the way to the sofa cushions.
“That’s it, I give up.” Wilson stood and toed off the runners and stripped off the scrub pants. “House, I’m using your shower. Don’t finish all the pizza.” He slid past House and walked down the hall to the bathroom. House watched his ass move in the wet underwear as he did so, then once the bathroom door was shut, blew out the breath he’d been holding and tipped his own head back, shutting his eyes and willing down the erection that was threatening to break through his zipper.
He stayed that way while the shower ran and stopped, images of what a naked, wet and frustrated Wilson would be doing in his shower running through his mind at breakneck speed. The hard on was not going away. Finally the door opened and he heard Wilson start to make his way back to the living room. He launched himself to his feet and hobbled into the kitchen as fast as he could.
“House, where’re you going?” Wilson called after him.
“Just putting the beer in the fridge,” he called back.
“Then wouldn’t it have made more sense to bring it with you?” Wilson asked, his voice coming from right behind him. House whirled and found Wilson standing so close he could count the hairs in his eyebrows, and holding the rest of the case of beer. He reached around House and carefully put it down on the counter behind him. House looked down and saw Wilson wearing just a towel, if wearing could be the right word, since it was threatening to slip off his hips if either of them breathed the wrong way. There were still water droplets clinging to Wilson’s skin, as if he’d toweled off only enough to stop dripping on the floor before he’d left the bathroom. House’s words left him and his breathing became harsh and a little ragged.
Wilson looked down and took in House’s growing pants problem. “Really, House, if you wanted me without my clothes on, all you had to do was ask,” he said softly, a small smile playing about his lips. He took his hand off the beer case and put it on the small of House’s back, nudging him close, and reached the other hand up to House’s face, holding his chin as he moved in to kiss House’s lips.
A low moan ripped from House’s throat when their lips touched, and he reached his hands up to Wilson’s face, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss, forcing his tongue between Wilson’s lips. Their tongues met and slid along side one another, exploring, touching, tasting everything they could reach. House’s head felt light and dizzy, but he felt that if he fell, he’d float and never touch the floor again.
House trailed a hand over Wilson’s shoulder and down his back to the swell of his ass where the towel still clung precariously. Impatiently he shoved it down and it let go immediately, sliding off Wilson’s hips and pooling on the floor, leaving the younger man flushed and utterly naked in House’s kitchen. He thought vaguely that he’d never seen a more beautiful sight as he pulled back and looked at Wilson, took in the long expanses of skin, the shapes of his muscles, and most spectacularly, the hard, flushed cock that bobbed in time to Wilson’s harsh breaths.
The shoes weren’t lying, he thought, then had to stamp down a completely inappropriate laugh, fearing misinterpretation.
Wilson broke away from the embrace and bent to pick up the towel. “Come with me,” he said, the grin back on his lips.
“Where?” House asked.
“Bedroom. Where else?” Wilson retorted, wrapping the towel around House’s lower back and pulling on both ends, forcing him forward. He took a step back and pulled on the towel again, forcing House another step. Another step back, and this time House didn’t wait for the towel to pull him. He stepped forward enough to bring him back up against Wilson and caught his lips in another kiss, pushing him backwards and towards the door of the kitchen at the same time. They walked like that, kissing, pushing, step by slow step, House only stopping once to pull off his own t-shirt in a fevered attempt to feel Wilson’s flushed skin on his own.
Finally, they reached the bedroom and Wilson turned House so that his back was to the bed and pushed lightly. House fell back and pulled Wilson after him, but Wilson caught himself before he fell down and kneeled instead over House’s thighs. He quickly unbuttoned and unzipped House’s jeans and pulled them down over his hips, sliding back off the bed to pull them the rest of the way off, then pulled down the boxer briefs as well, carefully lifting the elastic over House’s straining cock and then over the scars on his thigh.
Wilson looked at House with a wicked gleam in his eye, then knelt on the floor in front of him, pulling lightly at House’s hips to get him to shift forward a little. As soon as he did, Wilson lowered his head and ran the flat of his tongue up House’s twitching cock, root to tip, then swirled his tongue around the head, prodding softly at the slit and lapping up the fluid there, and then ran it back down again, top to bottom.
House’s eyes rolled back in his head and he panted uncontrollably. His hands went to Wilson’s head, tangling in his hair and trying desperately not to push, not to pump. The feel of that tongue and those lips on him was indescribable, absolute joy and sheer bliss all rolled into one, and House was sure it wouldn’t last nearly long enough. He spread his thighs a little further apart in encouragement and moaned, stomach muscles fluttering twitching.
Wilson took the hint and wrapped his lips firmly around the head of House’s cock, lowering his mouth over it, taking him in inch by slow inch until House thought he would explode from the tension. What he couldn’t fit in, Wilson stroked with a tight fist in time with his lips, using the fingers of his other hand to fondle House’s testicles, stroke his perineum, swirl lightly against the tight ring of his anus.
House forced his eyes to open and peered blearily down at Wilson. The sight of the younger man’s head, bobbing up and down, taking him in, letting him out, taking him in again, sucking hard as he did so, was enough to tip him over the edge, and he could no longer restrain himself from pumping, forcing his dick upwards, fucking Wilson’s delicious mouth. He tapped desperately on Wilson’s shoulder in an attempt to warn him, but Wilson only sucked harder, and House gave in, gave up.
With a guttural cry he exploded, coming in hard shots, filling Wilson’s mouth with his seed. House watched as Wilson swallowed around his cock, feeling the suction and pressure of each swallow drawing the orgasm out of him until he was spent and limp, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.
He felt the bed dip with Wilson’s weight as he clambered back up and slid along House’s side, running his hand over House’s stomach and chest, tracing the line of his jaw with his lips and tongue until he came to House’s mouth. Wilson kissed him, long and deep, and he tasted himself on the other man’s tongue. It was quite possibly the most erotic thing he’d ever done. He felt his stomach clench and briefly regretted his age, wishing for the quick recovery time he’d had in his youth.
When he was fully coherent again, House noticed that Wilson had taken himself in hand and was slowly jerking himself as he kissed House. He quickly batted Wilson’s hand away and pushed him over onto his back. “No fucking way,” he growled, pulling Wilson’s hands up and over his head. “That’s my job. Sit back against the headboard,” he ordered. Wilson jumped to accommodate, scrambling quickly backwards and grabbing a pillow for his back, spreading his thighs as House crawled awkwardly between them, feet hanging off the bed.
“Are you sure you … Aaahhh!” He cut himself off as House opened his lips wide and took Wilson’s quivering, leaking cock into his mouth, sliding down until he felt Wilson’s head hit the back of his throat, then swallowing around it. He felt Wilson’s hands land heavily on his shoulders and his fingers dig into the muscles. He dragged his lips up Wilson’s cock to the ridge of the head and then lowered back down again, swallowing at the bottom. Wilson choked out a moan and squeezed House’s shoulders again, one hand coming up to the top of House’s head, pushing slightly.
House would have grinned had he been able to. Wilson was trying to guide him, which meant he wanted this as much as House wanted it. Or that he was pushy when it came to blow jobs. House chose to believe the former.
He used his fingers in the same way Wilson had, fondling his balls, pushing against the tight ring of asshole, until he heard Wilson’s breathing coming in gasps and his movements stilling. He felt Wilson’s cock start to pulsate.
“House! Gonna…come!” he grunted, pulling slightly at House’s hair. House merely hummed and sucked harder until he felt the shots of hot come hitting the back of his throat. He swallowed again and again until Wilson had finished shaking and shuddering and yelling through his orgasm. House gave one final long lick to clean him off and let the softening member slip from his lips.
Slowly, he crawled up Wilson’s body and turned over to sit beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling the younger man close. He waited for Wilson’s breathing to slow down again and felt Wilson’s heart racing where his chest was pressed against House’s side. Finally, his eyes fluttered open and the dark brown met House’s vivid blue. He smiled a slow lazy smile.
“That was … that was …” he breathed, flapping a hand randomly in the air.
“Yeah, that was,” House said softly, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes.
They were silent for a few long minutes, listening to each other’s hearts beating. Finally House spoke again. “There’s still pizza left.”
Wilson snorted laughter against House’s chest. “The way to man’s heart is through his stomach, eh?”
“No, the way to a man’s heart is directly through his chest, using a ten blade and a rib spreader. But in this case, the way into a man’s pants is through his stomach. And I’m still hungry.”
Wilson nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut.
“And if we intend to that again anytime soon, I need sustenance.”
Wilson’s eyes snapped open. “Good point. Pizza it is.” He turned over and began to rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor, then realized that none of them were actually his. “Um, can I borrow a pair of boxers?”
“Nope,” House smirked, “You said all I had to do was ask. I’m asking.” His eyes grew dark, and he raked his gaze over the other man’s body.
Wilson shuddered lightly and let out a small laugh. “Naked pizza it is. Come on then.”
House grinned and followed.
*****
The pizza was most excellent.