two house things (with added torchwood for flavoring - thank you toby!)
house/wilson: left-handed sushi (for hannahrorlove)
(this, and the next, are actually using a 'verse which i'm borrowing from gizmometer, (i didn't ask but i hope she won't mind) so it's a bit of a crossover of sorts; House works for Torchwood, so this is set in Wales, but he refused to go without Wilson, and they kind of started up a thing with jack and ianto. if you don't watch torchwood it doesn't 'cross' much, but i think i'm pretty okay with most people here <3)
Wilson would soon learn that there were all kinds of things that came through the Rift - some dangerous, some just plain junk, some anachronistic - and occasionally something tasty. Today's gift was two lovely looking fish steaks that looked like tuna but clearly weren't, which House had tossed on the counter on his return home with a faint smile.
Some would say it was not like House to bring home dinner, but the extreme intellectual challenges of his new job - and the increasing amount of sex, which Wilson amusedly labelled as 'physical therapy' - had produced huge changes. Apparently House had been right about clinic hours and hospital rules holding him back all this time.
"So - what did you say this is?"
"Jack said it was some kind of blowfish."
"Not the one that can kill you?"
"Fugu? Nah. This is some kind of alien blowfish." House swirled a piece of lightly seared steak around in the dipping sauce on the plate and ate it. (The sauce was delicious; its recipe had mysteriously appeared in Wilson's email inbox seconds after House got home, courtesy one I. Jones.)
"So you're seeking out new life and new civilizations ... and eating them."
"Appears they have a grudge against this particular blowfish species. So it's like - if I could eat Tritter." House amended himself. "Consume Tritter. And well, he was dead anyway. Waste not want not, my mother would say."
Wilson laughed. "We're eating outer space road kill."
"It's good outer space road kill."
"True."
house/wilson: shadows for petrichor_fizz
follows the events of seal the deal (wilson/ianto) written by gizmometer. (you don't have to read it, but you should, because it's awesome.)
The first night in a new apartment: (flat - so many new words, words that sound funny and fresh on his tongue.) It's been a long time since he's travelled and there's a part of him that's missed it, ached for unknown shadows and shapes around every corner.
It starts to rain, softly at first and then heavier, a storm coming in across the bay with great streaks of lightning. He stares at it through the huge windows.
There's a step behind him - familiar.
"Come to bed." Wilson murmurs, one hand on his shoulder.
"Is that an invitation?"
"Come to bed."
*
Wilson works him open slowly, with two fingers. House doesn't like to make noise even though he knows Wilson likes it, angles for it - he just doesn't, he's too used to being silent and still as a matter of need, to hide things, to stay silent and safe. But tonight - tonight there is nothing here but them. The rest of their furnishings will be here tomorrow - this just them, and the new bed.
(That had been enough of an odd experience. Especially since all four of them had gone shopping for it, and Ianto had started comparing the pros and cons of different mattress manufacturers, and Jack had that grin on his face as he'd pointed out the wrought iron bedposts with rings in them just begging for someone to be cuffed to them (which they'd ended up going with), and Wilson had just looked overwhelmed completely - the salesgirl was utterly scandalized - actually it had been kind of a fun experience.)
"Still with me?" Wilson whispers in his ear, biting the lobe. A dark shiver runs down House's spine.
"Yep." House murmurs.
"Good."
The head of Wilson's cock breaches him just as the rain gets that much harder; lightning flashes, throwing a light-and-shadow-show across the empty floors and walls of their flat, their sheets, Wilson's body. This flashes and then again in negative as he squeezes his eyes shut for a second: Wilson goes in deeper. Wilson's cock grazes his prostate and it's good, so good that he gasps a little under his breath. Wilson picks up on it, and he can hear a smile in that breathless voice.
"Come on, come on. Let me hear you. It's okay. I promise it won't go to my head."
House huffs half a laugh and is about to say something when there is a rollicking clap of thunder that drives everything out of his brain and his ears, it's so loud. The storm is everywhere now, rattling the windows, pouring down the sloped glass, tossing shadows everywhere around the room. It looks like it will never end.
Wilson picks up speed, responding to the rhythms of the storm; there is a teasing swivel-bump-and-grind in his hips that makes House shiver, and if he can't hear his own moaning over the thunder any more, well, it's because Wilson's filthy promises have drowned them out - so many things Wilson's planning to do to him, with him, on him, with them, with ropes and feathers, cuffs and cock rings-
House shudders and comes with one long, drawn out groan, thrusting his cock into Wilson's hand - and he can practically feel the waves of smugness along with the sweat as Wilson finishes.
The storm continues on, slowly fading in the distance.
(this, and the next, are actually using a 'verse which i'm borrowing from gizmometer, (i didn't ask but i hope she won't mind) so it's a bit of a crossover of sorts; House works for Torchwood, so this is set in Wales, but he refused to go without Wilson, and they kind of started up a thing with jack and ianto. if you don't watch torchwood it doesn't 'cross' much, but i think i'm pretty okay with most people here <3)
Wilson would soon learn that there were all kinds of things that came through the Rift - some dangerous, some just plain junk, some anachronistic - and occasionally something tasty. Today's gift was two lovely looking fish steaks that looked like tuna but clearly weren't, which House had tossed on the counter on his return home with a faint smile.
Some would say it was not like House to bring home dinner, but the extreme intellectual challenges of his new job - and the increasing amount of sex, which Wilson amusedly labelled as 'physical therapy' - had produced huge changes. Apparently House had been right about clinic hours and hospital rules holding him back all this time.
"So - what did you say this is?"
"Jack said it was some kind of blowfish."
"Not the one that can kill you?"
"Fugu? Nah. This is some kind of alien blowfish." House swirled a piece of lightly seared steak around in the dipping sauce on the plate and ate it. (The sauce was delicious; its recipe had mysteriously appeared in Wilson's email inbox seconds after House got home, courtesy one I. Jones.)
"So you're seeking out new life and new civilizations ... and eating them."
"Appears they have a grudge against this particular blowfish species. So it's like - if I could eat Tritter." House amended himself. "Consume Tritter. And well, he was dead anyway. Waste not want not, my mother would say."
Wilson laughed. "We're eating outer space road kill."
"It's good outer space road kill."
"True."
house/wilson: shadows for petrichor_fizz
follows the events of seal the deal (wilson/ianto) written by gizmometer. (you don't have to read it, but you should, because it's awesome.)
The first night in a new apartment: (flat - so many new words, words that sound funny and fresh on his tongue.) It's been a long time since he's travelled and there's a part of him that's missed it, ached for unknown shadows and shapes around every corner.
It starts to rain, softly at first and then heavier, a storm coming in across the bay with great streaks of lightning. He stares at it through the huge windows.
There's a step behind him - familiar.
"Come to bed." Wilson murmurs, one hand on his shoulder.
"Is that an invitation?"
"Come to bed."
*
Wilson works him open slowly, with two fingers. House doesn't like to make noise even though he knows Wilson likes it, angles for it - he just doesn't, he's too used to being silent and still as a matter of need, to hide things, to stay silent and safe. But tonight - tonight there is nothing here but them. The rest of their furnishings will be here tomorrow - this just them, and the new bed.
(That had been enough of an odd experience. Especially since all four of them had gone shopping for it, and Ianto had started comparing the pros and cons of different mattress manufacturers, and Jack had that grin on his face as he'd pointed out the wrought iron bedposts with rings in them just begging for someone to be cuffed to them (which they'd ended up going with), and Wilson had just looked overwhelmed completely - the salesgirl was utterly scandalized - actually it had been kind of a fun experience.)
"Still with me?" Wilson whispers in his ear, biting the lobe. A dark shiver runs down House's spine.
"Yep." House murmurs.
"Good."
The head of Wilson's cock breaches him just as the rain gets that much harder; lightning flashes, throwing a light-and-shadow-show across the empty floors and walls of their flat, their sheets, Wilson's body. This flashes and then again in negative as he squeezes his eyes shut for a second: Wilson goes in deeper. Wilson's cock grazes his prostate and it's good, so good that he gasps a little under his breath. Wilson picks up on it, and he can hear a smile in that breathless voice.
"Come on, come on. Let me hear you. It's okay. I promise it won't go to my head."
House huffs half a laugh and is about to say something when there is a rollicking clap of thunder that drives everything out of his brain and his ears, it's so loud. The storm is everywhere now, rattling the windows, pouring down the sloped glass, tossing shadows everywhere around the room. It looks like it will never end.
Wilson picks up speed, responding to the rhythms of the storm; there is a teasing swivel-bump-and-grind in his hips that makes House shiver, and if he can't hear his own moaning over the thunder any more, well, it's because Wilson's filthy promises have drowned them out - so many things Wilson's planning to do to him, with him, on him, with them, with ropes and feathers, cuffs and cock rings-
House shudders and comes with one long, drawn out groan, thrusting his cock into Wilson's hand - and he can practically feel the waves of smugness along with the sweat as Wilson finishes.
The storm continues on, slowly fading in the distance.