Fic: Closure
Title: Closure
Author: Kiwi_from_hell
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Prompt #4 - Bruises.
Summary: House goes with Wilson to move the rest of his things out of Julie's. Post "Sex Kills".
Disclaimer: I wish.
Notes: Pure smut. Written for the 2dozenowies hurt/comfort challenge.
The previous evening, Wilson had thought it was almost a sign of support and caring when House had offered to come with him today. Squinting against the bright morning light, he realised it just an exercise in cruelty. In the time it had taken to walk from the car to the front door, House had already passed judgement on the garden, the neighbour’s garden and the entire neighbourhood.
Julie had been out of the house for at least half an hour; Wilson made sure they didn’t run into her - he learnt two divorces ago that moving his belongings out of the marital home was a lot less dangerous without an ex-wife overseeing. The danger level of bringing House along was unknown. Rubbing his neck absentmindedly, Wilson wondered if something could be counted as dangerous if you’d been made to beg for it first.
It didn’t feel the same, for a moment when Wilson stepped through the front door he had to convince himself it was the same place he had been living for the past three years. It didn’t feel like home. But then, had it ever? He wasn’t so sure anymore. The flagstone flooring that led from the entrance and into the kitchen had been Julie’s idea, the terracotta paint on the walls was the shade Julie had wanted, the pictures were all of Julie’s family. Any trace of Wilson ever having lived there could be taken away in boxes.
“Stop being such a wimp,” House said, indicating the yellowing bruise just above Wilson’s collar. “There’s barely a mark there.”
Wilson tucked his hands into his pockets silently and walked into the kitchen. A few paces behind, House followed and hovered around the space, observing Wilson. He was stood leaning against the counter top, looking sullenly at the floor. House coughed.
Startled, Wilson looked up and smiled weakly. “I tried to make this one work, you know,” he said as he picked up a flat cardboard box and began struggling to assemble it. “It was doomed from the beginning, obviously.” He half laughed, and touched the mark on his neck again. “But I did try.”
House limped across the room and took the box out of Wilson’s hands. “If you ask me, it all worked out for the best.”
“Yeah, yeah of course it did. I just…” He trailed off and sighed.
House pressed his lips to corner of Wilson’s jaw and whispered, “You need some closure.”
“I’ve already had that kind of closure.” Wilson smiled but squirmed away. “It left me with bruises and bite marks, and as much as I’d love to have hot gay sex on my ex-wife’s kitchen floor, I think I need a few more hours to recover.”
“Meaning you’re anal and want to get all the packing done?” House made a trail of tiny kisses down to the most prominent mark he had left on Wilson. He ran his tongue over the tender spot and Wilson shivered against him. “If the aches and pains really are the problem, I know how to stop them bothering you.” Under Wilson’s t-shirt, he brushed his hands over his ribcage and swiped his thumb over a nipple.
With House’s voice rasping in his ear and House’s fingers exploring his body, Wilson sighed and his head dropped back, knocking against a cupboard with a dull thud. House’s teeth and lips and tongue played against his neck. Wilson took a step forward, causing his body and House’s to come into full contact; his hands gripping House’s shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. They stumbled, and Wilson’s hands slid down over House’s back to his ass.
Thumbs slipped through the belt loops, Wilson pulled House closer and pressed their groins together. House raised his head from Wilson’s neck and bit his bottom lip, nibbling and sucking while he opened Wilson’s pants, sliding a teasing hand into his boxers and then out again, eliciting a whimper from Wilson’s parted lips. Shedding their clothes, House kissed any bare skin as soon as it became available and Wilson scrapped his finger nails across House’s chest, making red welts.
Heart pounding and breath clawing at the insides of his throat, Wilson slipped and landed with a thud on the cold stone floor. He cursed and looked up at House, who looked back with a gleam in his eye. For a moment, Wilson took in the sight of House stood above him with his lips reddened, face flushed and his clothes strewn across his ex-wife’s kitchen. They were both dishevelled, sweat was sticking their hair to their brows and they gasped in shallow breaths.
House knelt with surprising speed, ignoring the sharp jab of pain in his leg, and placed his knees on either side of Wilson’s waist. Relishing the anticipation, he slowly dragged a fingernail from Wilson’s left hipbone to his right, following with his thumb to smooth over the scratch. The only sound was their panting as, staring into Wilson’s eyes, House kneaded the sides of Wilson’s body, grinding his palms and fingertips in the flesh. He started at his hips and made his way up at a painfully slow pace until with his hands on Wilson’s shoulders he was leant forward, their faces inches apart.
Wilson grabbed the back of House’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. House pressed down on Wilson’s shoulders, pinning him to the hard floor and kissing him fiercely, crushing their lips together. Settling one leg between Wilson’s, House thrust his hips, rubbing their cocks together. Desperate for more contact, more pressure, Wilson thrust back, raising his hips from the floor and grasping at House. He pulled away from the kiss and tipped his head back against the flagstones, moaning as his orgasm built; House attacked the curve of his neck, pressing his lips onto the exposed skin. He moaned onto Wilson’s neck, and the vibrations drove Wilson closer to the edge as his fingers scrabbled for something to hold onto.
Wilson came first, clutching House’s shoulder blades; his head flung back, he let out a shuddering gasp. House followed at the sight of Wilson with his eyes closed, sweat dotting his face and lips open. They rolled apart and lied side by side, letting the sweat and come dry on them while they were caught up in afterglow.
***
The kitchen still smelt of sex. Wilson had tried to cover it, but to be honest he hadn’t tried very hard. He held the last box of his things under one arm, ignoring House’s calls to hurry up. Julie would be home in a few hours, and the house looked exactly as it had when Wilson stepped in that morning, but for a few empty closets and his key on the hall table.
Author: Kiwi_from_hell
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Prompt #4 - Bruises.
Summary: House goes with Wilson to move the rest of his things out of Julie's. Post "Sex Kills".
Disclaimer: I wish.
Notes: Pure smut. Written for the 2dozenowies hurt/comfort challenge.
The previous evening, Wilson had thought it was almost a sign of support and caring when House had offered to come with him today. Squinting against the bright morning light, he realised it just an exercise in cruelty. In the time it had taken to walk from the car to the front door, House had already passed judgement on the garden, the neighbour’s garden and the entire neighbourhood.
Julie had been out of the house for at least half an hour; Wilson made sure they didn’t run into her - he learnt two divorces ago that moving his belongings out of the marital home was a lot less dangerous without an ex-wife overseeing. The danger level of bringing House along was unknown. Rubbing his neck absentmindedly, Wilson wondered if something could be counted as dangerous if you’d been made to beg for it first.
It didn’t feel the same, for a moment when Wilson stepped through the front door he had to convince himself it was the same place he had been living for the past three years. It didn’t feel like home. But then, had it ever? He wasn’t so sure anymore. The flagstone flooring that led from the entrance and into the kitchen had been Julie’s idea, the terracotta paint on the walls was the shade Julie had wanted, the pictures were all of Julie’s family. Any trace of Wilson ever having lived there could be taken away in boxes.
“Stop being such a wimp,” House said, indicating the yellowing bruise just above Wilson’s collar. “There’s barely a mark there.”
Wilson tucked his hands into his pockets silently and walked into the kitchen. A few paces behind, House followed and hovered around the space, observing Wilson. He was stood leaning against the counter top, looking sullenly at the floor. House coughed.
Startled, Wilson looked up and smiled weakly. “I tried to make this one work, you know,” he said as he picked up a flat cardboard box and began struggling to assemble it. “It was doomed from the beginning, obviously.” He half laughed, and touched the mark on his neck again. “But I did try.”
House limped across the room and took the box out of Wilson’s hands. “If you ask me, it all worked out for the best.”
“Yeah, yeah of course it did. I just…” He trailed off and sighed.
House pressed his lips to corner of Wilson’s jaw and whispered, “You need some closure.”
“I’ve already had that kind of closure.” Wilson smiled but squirmed away. “It left me with bruises and bite marks, and as much as I’d love to have hot gay sex on my ex-wife’s kitchen floor, I think I need a few more hours to recover.”
“Meaning you’re anal and want to get all the packing done?” House made a trail of tiny kisses down to the most prominent mark he had left on Wilson. He ran his tongue over the tender spot and Wilson shivered against him. “If the aches and pains really are the problem, I know how to stop them bothering you.” Under Wilson’s t-shirt, he brushed his hands over his ribcage and swiped his thumb over a nipple.
With House’s voice rasping in his ear and House’s fingers exploring his body, Wilson sighed and his head dropped back, knocking against a cupboard with a dull thud. House’s teeth and lips and tongue played against his neck. Wilson took a step forward, causing his body and House’s to come into full contact; his hands gripping House’s shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. They stumbled, and Wilson’s hands slid down over House’s back to his ass.
Thumbs slipped through the belt loops, Wilson pulled House closer and pressed their groins together. House raised his head from Wilson’s neck and bit his bottom lip, nibbling and sucking while he opened Wilson’s pants, sliding a teasing hand into his boxers and then out again, eliciting a whimper from Wilson’s parted lips. Shedding their clothes, House kissed any bare skin as soon as it became available and Wilson scrapped his finger nails across House’s chest, making red welts.
Heart pounding and breath clawing at the insides of his throat, Wilson slipped and landed with a thud on the cold stone floor. He cursed and looked up at House, who looked back with a gleam in his eye. For a moment, Wilson took in the sight of House stood above him with his lips reddened, face flushed and his clothes strewn across his ex-wife’s kitchen. They were both dishevelled, sweat was sticking their hair to their brows and they gasped in shallow breaths.
House knelt with surprising speed, ignoring the sharp jab of pain in his leg, and placed his knees on either side of Wilson’s waist. Relishing the anticipation, he slowly dragged a fingernail from Wilson’s left hipbone to his right, following with his thumb to smooth over the scratch. The only sound was their panting as, staring into Wilson’s eyes, House kneaded the sides of Wilson’s body, grinding his palms and fingertips in the flesh. He started at his hips and made his way up at a painfully slow pace until with his hands on Wilson’s shoulders he was leant forward, their faces inches apart.
Wilson grabbed the back of House’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. House pressed down on Wilson’s shoulders, pinning him to the hard floor and kissing him fiercely, crushing their lips together. Settling one leg between Wilson’s, House thrust his hips, rubbing their cocks together. Desperate for more contact, more pressure, Wilson thrust back, raising his hips from the floor and grasping at House. He pulled away from the kiss and tipped his head back against the flagstones, moaning as his orgasm built; House attacked the curve of his neck, pressing his lips onto the exposed skin. He moaned onto Wilson’s neck, and the vibrations drove Wilson closer to the edge as his fingers scrabbled for something to hold onto.
Wilson came first, clutching House’s shoulder blades; his head flung back, he let out a shuddering gasp. House followed at the sight of Wilson with his eyes closed, sweat dotting his face and lips open. They rolled apart and lied side by side, letting the sweat and come dry on them while they were caught up in afterglow.
***
The kitchen still smelt of sex. Wilson had tried to cover it, but to be honest he hadn’t tried very hard. He held the last box of his things under one arm, ignoring House’s calls to hurry up. Julie would be home in a few hours, and the house looked exactly as it had when Wilson stepped in that morning, but for a few empty closets and his key on the hall table.