If you recognize it, it's not mine. If enough people like it, *cough* and tell me so *cough* I might decide it needs a follow up. ;)
"Wilson!" House shouted, making the man in question jump in surprise. Wilson had spaced off again, because he was thinking about House, again. He sighed in resignation. Love hurt sometimes, he thought before correcting himself. No, being rejected is what hurts. Having no chance, hurts. Love itself is pain-free.
"Sorry House, spaced off again," Wilson muttered, struggling to keep his thoughts in the present.
"Obviously," House quipped, still seated behind his desk. House was talking about his current patient, and Wilson was only paying a shred of attention, too busy keeping his eyes off House's chest, and the shirt he had worn that outlined his form in an incredible way.
"Uh huh," Wilson responded vaguely, not really sure what he was responding to. He was fighting to keep his eyes from wandering, but the way House was gesturing and moving his hands was making it incredibly difficult. He'd never really had this problem before, but the last week or so, House's wardrobe had become tighter, which made it difficult for Wilson to keep his eyes where they were supposed to be. His imagination was driving him insane, and he felt fourteen again.
Once again, House's hand seemed to rest absently on his chest, and Wilson couldn't help but follow that hand with is eyes, wondering what it would be like if it were his own hand, exploring the man's well-defined chest before moving downward...
He shook himself mentally, fighting to pay attention to House. "And you're back again, where were you now?" House said with a grin. "With your hands down my pants, maybe?" House asked in a low voice, stretching backward slowly. Wilson felt the beginnings of a blush, and suddenly realized House may be on to him.
House let his hand trail down to his bad leg, skimming down his torso somewhat seductively before finding his thigh. Shit, Wilson thought, he definitely noticed. What the hell do I say?
"House don't be absurd," he threw out with a glare, very determinedly keeping his eyes locked on House's.
"Aww, are you sure Jimmy?" House teased. "I can keep go-"
"Don't call me Jimmy!" Wilson said in frustration. "You know I hate that!"
"Ah ah aah, you're deflecting," House said in a singsong voice.
"Well you'd know all about that, now wouldn't you?" Wilson quipped in return. He was most definitely deflecting, he was desperate to get this conversation out of dangerous waters.
"Yes I would," House agreed. "Which is how I know you are. I've been watching you Wilson," he said in a low voice that sent his imagination into overdrive. "I've been teasing you, too. Setting you up, even."
The sharp way House was looking at him told Wilson it was over, but he wasn't about to go down without a fight. House stood up suddenly, limping around the desk to where Wilson was standing. "You haven't been able to keep your eyes to yourself since I started wearing these shirts," House accused, attempting to get into Wilson's personal space.
"It's not your usual style," Wilson rationalized, fighting his body's reaction to House's nearness. He backed up a couple paces, which House imitated, keeping close to him. Wilson stepped back more, and suddenly found his back against the wall. House grinned, and stepped up until their chests were just an inch apart.
House's proximity was affecting him, his scent intoxicating, and Wilson found himself cursing his own stupidity for wearing boxers that morning as his dick came to life. He fought the reaction as best he could, but House was making it deliberately difficult. Wilson realized that House had deliberately worn the cologne he had once complimented him on, and the smell invaded his nostrils, making his heart pound.
"You're turned on," House stated.
"What makes you say that?" Wilson asked in a tone that suggested his friend was insane. Sadly, the argument held very little weight when he sounded as out of breath as he did. House just gave him a look that implied Wilson was an idiot. "You're too close, it's making me uncomfortable," Wilson tried again, deliberately making his voice stronger.
He was truly panicking now, though, because he could feel a tent beginning to form in his pants, and every nasty, disgusting thought he could cycle through his mind wasn't helping. "Your pupils are dilated," House said, placing a hand on either side of Wilson's head and leaning in closer.
House leaned his head to the side a couple of inches, and Wilson wondered what the hell he was doing until House gently breathed hot air onto the side of Wilson's neck, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't suppress a shudder. "House, stop this. This is ridiculous," Wilson said firmly, trying his best to get his erection to disappear.
House moved his head back to look Wilson in the eye, a positively feral grin on his face. With no warning at all, House pressed his hips into Wilson's, giving his throbbing penis pressure and friction, which drew an involuntary moan out of him.
Of course that meant the game was up, and Wilson felt his cheeks turn a deep red in shame. "Okay House, you've made your point. Can I leave now?" He said angrily, hating that House just had to humiliate him like that. In response, House pressed his hips forward again, and the feeling of glorious pressure against his erection made him miss the fact that House was becoming erect as well. As such, Wilson let his head fall back against the wall as tears formed in his eyes. "Damnit House, just let me go!" He shouted. "You've made your damned point alright? I'm in love with you, okay! I have been for years and I hate myself for it, is that what you wanted to hear?" Wilson yelled as the tears spilled over.
House looked at him in shock for several long moments, before surging forward and capturing Wilson's lips in a searing kiss that burned through him. Wilson froze for a second in shock before responding, wrapping one arm around House's waist and letting the other hand grab the back of House's head roughly, thrusting his tongue into his friend's mouth.
House met Wilson's tongue with his own, wrapping both of his arms around Wilson's back and kissing him with the same passion. One of them moaned, but neither knew who. House was thrusting against Wilson rhythmically, and Wilson grabbed House's hips with his hands and began meeting him thrust for thrust, moaning in time. House's mouth left his to wander down his neck, licking, nipping and sucking desperately, and Wilson let his head fall back with his eyes closed, hands still on House's hips.
Their pace picked up as House brought his mouth back to Wilson's, the passion between them a flame fueled by gasoline. They were all out dry humping now, both having forgotten entirely that House's office had two glass walls as they lost control. Both were moaning steadily now, their kisses open mouthed and intermittent as they breathed and moaned, tongues intertwining occasionally. At almost the same moment, their grip on each other's hips became bruising, the thrusting erratic, as they both came right in their pants, grunting loudly into each other's mouths.
Wilson dropped his head back against the wall once more and wrapped his arms loosely around House as the other man dropped his head onto Wilson's shoulder, both panting hard. After a minute or so, House lifted his head and looked into Wilson's eyes with a grin before kissing him deeply.
Wilson couldn't help but laugh then, the reality of what had just happened hitting him as he tugged his shirt out of his pants to cover the wet spot until he could get back to his office to change. The pair turned toward the door, and froze when they noticed the audience gathered on the other side of the glass, which happened to include Cuddy, Chase, Foreman, Thirteen and Taub, along with about ten more hospital staff.