The Color Purple
Title: The Color Purple
Author: Magie
Word Count: 1,759
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Smut! Kind of early relationship; takes place late Season 2. Basically, this is PWP, inspired by a single word.
“Your penis is purple,” House remarked conversationally.
Wilson rolled his eyes, but didn’t still the fingers House was currently writhing around. With his good leg curled over Wilson’s shoulder, sprawled naked on his back with a stack of pillows angling his hips upwards, the sight was doing much for Wilson’s painful, leaking, and-yeah, okay-purple-latex covered erection. Now if House would just shut his mouth. “Yes, and my balls are blue. Can we play I-Spy later?”
“Who the hell gave you purple condoms?” The last part of his sentence went up in what he would later vehemently deny was a squeal as Wilson skimmed two slick fingertips over his prostate.
He smirked a little at House’s jealousy. “I don’t think you’re in any position to care about that right now.” He slipped in a third finger and chuckled as smugly as he could manage when House’s eyes fluttered shut with a gasp.
Judging from the drop of fluid that rolled in an oddly sensual way from House’s tip to his stomach, foreplay was over. Wilson turned his head and laid open-mouth kisses on the inside of House’s thigh as he fumbled with his free hand for a slightly battered bottle of lubricant lost among the sheets.
House staring at him, whining slightly at the loss of Wilson’s fingers, panting and wide-eyed as Wilson snapped open the bottle…it all made applying the liquid slightly more complicated; Wilson had to use great force of will not to grasp himself too hard and end it right there. Finally, he planted his knees into the thick, hotel bedspread and took hold of House’s hips, inches and seconds away from what he’d wanted to do all day, all week, all the time-
House pulled his left leg down from Wilson’s shoulder, effectively closing himself off. “Purple, Jimmy?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, House!” really not caring how desperate he sounded or the fact that his voice had risen several octaves. “Drug rep, okay? That’s where I got it. Those antibiotic ones expire in a month. I’d like to actually use this one before that happens, so, just-.” He pivoted forward and poked himself against House’s balls, leaning down toward his mouth. House couldn’t talk if his mouth was otherwise occupied, after all.
He sucked Wilson’s lower lip noisily for a few seconds, long fingers laced in dark, damp hair. Wilson groaned, mentally patting himself on the back for getting House to shut the hell up, and reached with his fingertips to the back of House’s thigh to coax it back up…
House’s fingers suddenly tightened and Wilson found his head being wrenched upward. “A drug rep gave you purple condoms?” Wilson let out some kind of cry of despair and let his head drop to House’s shoulder. “I didn’t know Arnie was so kinky.”
“They’re just samples,” Wilson whined, running frantic fingers over House’s chest. “Where’d you think all those flavored ones came from? I sure as hell didn’t buy them. And did I complain when you made me wear that cherry one last weekend?”
“The clinic was all out of red lollipops,” House said, as if this explained it all.
Wilson laughed slightly hysterically into House’s collarbone, since this conversation clearly proved he was out of his mind anyway. “You pick the worst times to be detail-oriented.”
“God is in the details,” said the atheist who only cared about details if they were medically relevant.
“Variety is the spice of life,” said the Jew who had lived in this sterile hotel room for nearly a year and prided himself on routine. “Come on, House, seriously. I know you want this.”
House bit the shell of his ear. “Take it off.”
Wilson’s heart stopped. House had been the one to insist on protection for the past nine months, citing that Julie had been cheating while not-so-subtly implying that Wilson couldn’t be trusted around anything needy that could breathe. Take off the colorful condom-that meant monogamy. Trust.
Wilson was overwhelmed. Typical of House to use his sudden condom preference as a way to start a discussion such as this, right now, right as Wilson’s dick was throbbing impatiently in its cloistered, purple prison.
Still.
Wilson could recognize an insanely convoluted House gesture when he saw one. He laid affectionate little kisses all over House’s neck and shoulder. “We’ll get tested Monday.”
And then? Wilson didn’t know and right now his brain really didn’t have enough blood left to think about it.
“Fine,” House said grudgingly, but Wilson was sure he felt his jaw stretch upward. “But nothing the color of Grimace is going up my ass.”
Wilson shook that image out of his head before it could fully develop. He raised himself up and closed his mouth over House’s endlessly flapping one, angling his hips awkwardly to House’s left side, reaching down and grabbing them both loosely in fumbling fingers, coaxing back to life two wilting erections.
House grunted and tried to raise his hips even higher off the mound of pillows. This was okay, Wilson told himself, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. Even if he had been daydreaming about fucking House since before dinner, had burned his finger on the stovetop imagining it. But this was…fine. It wasn’t tight, wet silk around his cock, or watching House try not to moan, or his own hands and lips free to tweak nipples or taste sharp sandpaper at House’s jaw-but it was…
Not nearly good enough. Not tonight, at least. Not just because of the color purple.
Wilson rose to his knees, panting, dimly aware of House grumbling at him from some more annoying plane of existence. “What’s the matter with purple? Trust me, you’re not going to be able to see what color it is once you shut up and let me do this.” He slid a hand under House’s ass, running the other up the bottom of House’s erection, insinuating himself so close to-and yet so far away from-his goal.
Clever look on House’s face, raised eyebrows, as if he wasn’t as desperate for it as Wilson was. “Dudes don’t do dudes with purple condoms.”
“Why? Is it too gay?” Wilson deadpanned.
A faint hint of dimples in House’s cheeks went straight to Wilson’s chest and then all the way down to his groin. “I won’t perpetuate a stereotype.”
But that glint was there in House’s eyes, that challenge, that expression he got whenever he thought he had said something particularly clever and was just daring Wilson to think of a reasonable comeback. Well, if it was a challenge House was after…
He positioned himself once more, hands on House’s hips to settle him back into that perfect angle on the stack of pillows.
“How’s this for a stereotype?” More lube in his palm, deceptively calm look on his face as he draped House’s unresisting leg back over his shoulder, easing himself finally into that slick, hot place, seeing all shades of purple blossom behind his eyelids shut tight in sensation.
He stopped after the first few inches, while twin moans were still floating around in the thick air. Was it his pulse or House’s that he felt everywhere, neck, chest, groin, fingertips, and which of them made that tiny, throaty noise of need? Those were definitely House’s hands around his forearms, sliding up, pulling him in by his biceps.
“Oh, Jesus,” also definitely House, who was arching his back as Wilson slid in slowly, deeper, more. Minutes or days later, bodies flush and groaning, it was House who wrapped strong fingers around Wilson’s neck and pulled him in for greedy kisses.
He couldn’t get much leverage, with one arm supporting House’s good leg and the other his own weight, so his thrusts were reduced to slow, grinding, delicious circles cushioned against the pillows, always hitting that perfect spot, never leaving it, while House left fingertip bruises on his neck and shoulder.
So much better this way, House’s muscles clenching around him in rhythm, his bad leg out of the way and pain forgotten, biting Wilson’s lower lip and “Oh my God, House.”
He got his own name murmured back in a way that made him shudder, then the shudder became a shake, and color shot out of every cell in his body, sexual sobbing out of his chest, as that stupid, Grimace-colored condom filled to the brim with warmth.
He stayed until he was boneless, muscles burning with exertion, purples and greens still blooming before his eyes. Then in slipped his hand towards their connection, holding the rolled edge of the condom as he reluctantly pulled out, setting House’s leg down and practically falling mouth-first on House’s cock in one fluid motion.
“Fuck!” it was a surprise, a good one, evidently, as Wilson was swallowing brightly colored warmth less than a minute later.
He slid off the sodden latex and shuddered again at the cool, hotel air that took its place. Even as it landed with a soft plop in the wastebasket, Wilson was thinking it was probably one of the last he’d have to use with House…
Which, he told himself, brimming with post-coital hope and self-confidence and maybe a little naiveté, made it one of the last he’d have to use, period.
“So,” he murmured, comfortably smug as he watched House drag himself off the pillows and sink to the mattress, “I’m thinking you won’t judge a condom based on its color anymore. I think I still have an orange one, if you’re interested.”
House tried to scowl, but in his current state, it wasn’t particularly intimidating. “You’d better damn well not have the Clap.”
And just like that, Wilson realized he was in a committed sexual relationship with his best friend.
He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, even as he watched House pop at least two pills from the corner of his eye, even as he cleaned them both off with a white washcloth and turned off the lamp with a click.
Calloused hands found him in the dark and his grin widened as House pulled him close, scraping the back of his shoulder with sharp stubble. Soft breaths kissed his ear and a thousand things to say jumped into his throat-
But it was House, and sometimes that meant Wilson didn’t have to say a damn thing. “So this orange rubber of yours. Would that be Tangerine- or Orange-flavored?”
The next day in Wilson’s office at lunchtime, the two of them would discover that the flavor was, in fact, Mango.
Author: Magie
Word Count: 1,759
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Smut! Kind of early relationship; takes place late Season 2. Basically, this is PWP, inspired by a single word.
“Your penis is purple,” House remarked conversationally.
Wilson rolled his eyes, but didn’t still the fingers House was currently writhing around. With his good leg curled over Wilson’s shoulder, sprawled naked on his back with a stack of pillows angling his hips upwards, the sight was doing much for Wilson’s painful, leaking, and-yeah, okay-purple-latex covered erection. Now if House would just shut his mouth. “Yes, and my balls are blue. Can we play I-Spy later?”
“Who the hell gave you purple condoms?” The last part of his sentence went up in what he would later vehemently deny was a squeal as Wilson skimmed two slick fingertips over his prostate.
He smirked a little at House’s jealousy. “I don’t think you’re in any position to care about that right now.” He slipped in a third finger and chuckled as smugly as he could manage when House’s eyes fluttered shut with a gasp.
Judging from the drop of fluid that rolled in an oddly sensual way from House’s tip to his stomach, foreplay was over. Wilson turned his head and laid open-mouth kisses on the inside of House’s thigh as he fumbled with his free hand for a slightly battered bottle of lubricant lost among the sheets.
House staring at him, whining slightly at the loss of Wilson’s fingers, panting and wide-eyed as Wilson snapped open the bottle…it all made applying the liquid slightly more complicated; Wilson had to use great force of will not to grasp himself too hard and end it right there. Finally, he planted his knees into the thick, hotel bedspread and took hold of House’s hips, inches and seconds away from what he’d wanted to do all day, all week, all the time-
House pulled his left leg down from Wilson’s shoulder, effectively closing himself off. “Purple, Jimmy?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, House!” really not caring how desperate he sounded or the fact that his voice had risen several octaves. “Drug rep, okay? That’s where I got it. Those antibiotic ones expire in a month. I’d like to actually use this one before that happens, so, just-.” He pivoted forward and poked himself against House’s balls, leaning down toward his mouth. House couldn’t talk if his mouth was otherwise occupied, after all.
He sucked Wilson’s lower lip noisily for a few seconds, long fingers laced in dark, damp hair. Wilson groaned, mentally patting himself on the back for getting House to shut the hell up, and reached with his fingertips to the back of House’s thigh to coax it back up…
House’s fingers suddenly tightened and Wilson found his head being wrenched upward. “A drug rep gave you purple condoms?” Wilson let out some kind of cry of despair and let his head drop to House’s shoulder. “I didn’t know Arnie was so kinky.”
“They’re just samples,” Wilson whined, running frantic fingers over House’s chest. “Where’d you think all those flavored ones came from? I sure as hell didn’t buy them. And did I complain when you made me wear that cherry one last weekend?”
“The clinic was all out of red lollipops,” House said, as if this explained it all.
Wilson laughed slightly hysterically into House’s collarbone, since this conversation clearly proved he was out of his mind anyway. “You pick the worst times to be detail-oriented.”
“God is in the details,” said the atheist who only cared about details if they were medically relevant.
“Variety is the spice of life,” said the Jew who had lived in this sterile hotel room for nearly a year and prided himself on routine. “Come on, House, seriously. I know you want this.”
House bit the shell of his ear. “Take it off.”
Wilson’s heart stopped. House had been the one to insist on protection for the past nine months, citing that Julie had been cheating while not-so-subtly implying that Wilson couldn’t be trusted around anything needy that could breathe. Take off the colorful condom-that meant monogamy. Trust.
Wilson was overwhelmed. Typical of House to use his sudden condom preference as a way to start a discussion such as this, right now, right as Wilson’s dick was throbbing impatiently in its cloistered, purple prison.
Still.
Wilson could recognize an insanely convoluted House gesture when he saw one. He laid affectionate little kisses all over House’s neck and shoulder. “We’ll get tested Monday.”
And then? Wilson didn’t know and right now his brain really didn’t have enough blood left to think about it.
“Fine,” House said grudgingly, but Wilson was sure he felt his jaw stretch upward. “But nothing the color of Grimace is going up my ass.”
Wilson shook that image out of his head before it could fully develop. He raised himself up and closed his mouth over House’s endlessly flapping one, angling his hips awkwardly to House’s left side, reaching down and grabbing them both loosely in fumbling fingers, coaxing back to life two wilting erections.
House grunted and tried to raise his hips even higher off the mound of pillows. This was okay, Wilson told himself, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. Even if he had been daydreaming about fucking House since before dinner, had burned his finger on the stovetop imagining it. But this was…fine. It wasn’t tight, wet silk around his cock, or watching House try not to moan, or his own hands and lips free to tweak nipples or taste sharp sandpaper at House’s jaw-but it was…
Not nearly good enough. Not tonight, at least. Not just because of the color purple.
Wilson rose to his knees, panting, dimly aware of House grumbling at him from some more annoying plane of existence. “What’s the matter with purple? Trust me, you’re not going to be able to see what color it is once you shut up and let me do this.” He slid a hand under House’s ass, running the other up the bottom of House’s erection, insinuating himself so close to-and yet so far away from-his goal.
Clever look on House’s face, raised eyebrows, as if he wasn’t as desperate for it as Wilson was. “Dudes don’t do dudes with purple condoms.”
“Why? Is it too gay?” Wilson deadpanned.
A faint hint of dimples in House’s cheeks went straight to Wilson’s chest and then all the way down to his groin. “I won’t perpetuate a stereotype.”
But that glint was there in House’s eyes, that challenge, that expression he got whenever he thought he had said something particularly clever and was just daring Wilson to think of a reasonable comeback. Well, if it was a challenge House was after…
He positioned himself once more, hands on House’s hips to settle him back into that perfect angle on the stack of pillows.
“How’s this for a stereotype?” More lube in his palm, deceptively calm look on his face as he draped House’s unresisting leg back over his shoulder, easing himself finally into that slick, hot place, seeing all shades of purple blossom behind his eyelids shut tight in sensation.
He stopped after the first few inches, while twin moans were still floating around in the thick air. Was it his pulse or House’s that he felt everywhere, neck, chest, groin, fingertips, and which of them made that tiny, throaty noise of need? Those were definitely House’s hands around his forearms, sliding up, pulling him in by his biceps.
“Oh, Jesus,” also definitely House, who was arching his back as Wilson slid in slowly, deeper, more. Minutes or days later, bodies flush and groaning, it was House who wrapped strong fingers around Wilson’s neck and pulled him in for greedy kisses.
He couldn’t get much leverage, with one arm supporting House’s good leg and the other his own weight, so his thrusts were reduced to slow, grinding, delicious circles cushioned against the pillows, always hitting that perfect spot, never leaving it, while House left fingertip bruises on his neck and shoulder.
So much better this way, House’s muscles clenching around him in rhythm, his bad leg out of the way and pain forgotten, biting Wilson’s lower lip and “Oh my God, House.”
He got his own name murmured back in a way that made him shudder, then the shudder became a shake, and color shot out of every cell in his body, sexual sobbing out of his chest, as that stupid, Grimace-colored condom filled to the brim with warmth.
He stayed until he was boneless, muscles burning with exertion, purples and greens still blooming before his eyes. Then in slipped his hand towards their connection, holding the rolled edge of the condom as he reluctantly pulled out, setting House’s leg down and practically falling mouth-first on House’s cock in one fluid motion.
“Fuck!” it was a surprise, a good one, evidently, as Wilson was swallowing brightly colored warmth less than a minute later.
He slid off the sodden latex and shuddered again at the cool, hotel air that took its place. Even as it landed with a soft plop in the wastebasket, Wilson was thinking it was probably one of the last he’d have to use with House…
Which, he told himself, brimming with post-coital hope and self-confidence and maybe a little naiveté, made it one of the last he’d have to use, period.
“So,” he murmured, comfortably smug as he watched House drag himself off the pillows and sink to the mattress, “I’m thinking you won’t judge a condom based on its color anymore. I think I still have an orange one, if you’re interested.”
House tried to scowl, but in his current state, it wasn’t particularly intimidating. “You’d better damn well not have the Clap.”
And just like that, Wilson realized he was in a committed sexual relationship with his best friend.
He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, even as he watched House pop at least two pills from the corner of his eye, even as he cleaned them both off with a white washcloth and turned off the lamp with a click.
Calloused hands found him in the dark and his grin widened as House pulled him close, scraping the back of his shoulder with sharp stubble. Soft breaths kissed his ear and a thousand things to say jumped into his throat-
But it was House, and sometimes that meant Wilson didn’t have to say a damn thing. “So this orange rubber of yours. Would that be Tangerine- or Orange-flavored?”
The next day in Wilson’s office at lunchtime, the two of them would discover that the flavor was, in fact, Mango.