Title: Music, I can see
On Website: beyond-redemption.net
Pairing(s): Gregory House/ James Wilson.
Warning(s): Sexual Situations; Mentions of Drug Use.
Word Count: 1215words.
Summary: Unbetad. Set during 2.12 Distractions, House is high, half-naked and hallucinating in the locker room. Wilson goes to see if he can be of any help.
A/N: If anyone would like to prompt me on one of the prompts for my 100_Situations table, please feel free to do so!
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Music, I can see
House looked up with a lopsided grin, his gaze a lazy glazed look of bliss as Wilson entered the locker room. It was a look Wilson knew had nothing to do with him being there and everything to do with whatever it was House had thought to take to get high this time.
“Can’t you just try to be normal for once, House?” Wilson asked with a long suffering sigh as he moved over towards his friend, reaching out to grip at his chin and tip his head upwards. He made to check House’s pupils, shaking his head as House tilted his face back down, nuzzling his nose into the palm of his hand instead.
“House,” Wilson reached out will his other hand, gripping the older man’s head in both hands and lifting his head once more. House blinked slowly at him, still smiling that goofy half-stoned smile at him.
“What am I going to do with you?” Wilson mumbled, raising his eyebrows when House’s eyes seemed to light up, his hands coming up to Wilson’s waist and tugging him forward with a jerk. Wilson stumbled closer, reaching out to brace one hand against the wall to keep his balance.
“I can see the music, Wilson.” House said, happily, as he slipped his hands up Wilson’s suddenly un-tucked shirt.
“Just how high are you, House?” Wilson gained his bearings, gripping at House’s wandering hands and pulling them from their stroking explorations of his abdomen. He wasn’t sure whether to think House was just too far gone to know what he was doing, or if he was just high enough to not care less.
“I can see the music.” House repeated, twisting his wrists free from Wilson’s hold and pushing himself up from the bench with surprising agility. He grabbed at Wilson’s waist once more, this time keeping the Oncologist from tripping backwards as House was suddenly towering into his personal space, their bodies pressing intimately together for a moment until Wilson took a deliberate step back, his eyes narrowing at the predatory look dancing across House’s face as the older man refused to let him go, choosing instead to take a step forward for every step backwards till Wilson was in fact tripping over the ledge into the shower- his back soon coming to a thumping stop against the wet tiles of the shower stall.
He could feel the droplets of House’s most recent shower soaking through his shirt as he was pressed upon from back and front; House’s breathing hot and heavy against his ear, his stubble rubbing enticingly against his cheek as House turned his face to press kisses along his jaw.
“House-,” Wilson breathed, hands pressing futilely at House’s chest as if he had any intention of stopping his friend’s advances. “House you’re-,”
“High?” House breathed against his skin, dragging his lips up to his mouth and hovering tantalisingly close above his mouth. “Stoned?” He grinned, blinking frantically as if to bring Wilson into clearer focus; musical notes dancing across the young doctor’s face, stroking along the pout of his bottom lip, teasing across the flush of those delicate cheekbones.
“Too far gone to know what I’m doing?” House shifted closer, slipping himself into a better position against Wilson, their hips falling into place with a rubbing friction that pulled a gasp from Wilson and a throaty moan from House who rotated his hips once more, pushing closer, deeper.
“House,” His name came out as a strangled call this time, Wilson’s hands moving to grip at House’s shoulders, squeezing his fingers into the bared flesh beneath his grasp.
“I know exactly what I’m doing, Jimmy.” House licked at Wilson’s lips, dragging his tongue over Wilson’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. The gesture turning into a full press of lips and parting mouths- House’s tongue forcing its way into Wilson’s mouth with no pretence at seduction and Wilson found he really could not complain as his brain took leave of his senses and he found all the blood in his body migrating downwards.
“House!” A groan this time as House ripped his shirt open with a growling sound, his head dipping to bite at Wilson’s collarbone the moment it was exposed to his rapacious gaze.
Wilson gripped one hand over the back of House’s head, his own thrown back against the tiles as House’s hands slipped to his belt buckle, making short work of the fastenings and for another moment Wilson wondered just how high House really was, or was pretending to be, or was…
“Oh, god,” Wilson moaned as his zipper was tugged down; pants and boxers slipping down his hips in one swift movement and it wasn’t until House pressed their bodies together once more that he realised House’s towel had somehow been lost between their stumbling into the shower stall and his own clothing being removed.
“Just Greg will do for now.” House replied cockily, his lips twisting upwards.
Wilson had no chance to form a coherent response, finding instead that his rationality was thrown into senselessness as House’s lips found his mouth and his hand found his erection, slipping between their bodies to grip at his cock and stroke him long and hard, pulling gasping, choking moans from him with each touch.
“Can you see the music, Wilson?” House asked, pulling his mouth away and panting breathlessly into his ear. His eyes were squeezed shut but even behind his darkened lids, the music danced- bright and vibrant and urging, urging, stroking, and thrusting; he adjusted his grip on Wilson, taking hold of his own erection and pumping them both in awkward unity.
The grip was tricky, their thrusting erratic, the music dizzying to him and Wilson was high on something else altogether, incoherent and babbling as they rubbed against each other, rutting without control- it was perfect, inconsistently harmonized; the blood pumping through their veins, building to a crescendo that rushed through them with mutual gasps and one perfect moment of blissfully nothingness in which the world stopped for a time and they slumped against each other with breathlessness.
House grinned against Wilson’s ear, nipping at the other man’s neck and amusing himself with the yelp Wilson gave in response.
“I need you to prescribe me anti-depressants.” House said casually, as if he weren’t standing naked in a shower stall with one very rumpled and semi-clothed Wilson pressed beneath his naked form.
Wilson’s hands slipped down to his chest once more, pushing slightly against him in a silent bid to gain his personal space once more. House pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his neck, reaching round to twist at one of the taps before stepping backwards just as a spray of cold-water jetted out of the showerhead above Wilson.
Wilson’s girlish scream was a new kind of music to his ears as he stepped out of the stall and fetched a fresh towel for himself. And one for Wilson too, he mused as a second thought.
The droplets of water running down the Oncologist's soaked form when he stepped from the shower danced vibrantly before his eyes and House could only give Wilson another of his lopsided grins.
“I can still see the music.” House said and Wilson could only throw his hands up in exasperation.
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