they say it's your birthday
Jul. 30th, 2008 12:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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house_wilson_ghctitle: they say it's your birthday
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
phinnia
prompt: fantasy
rating: nc-17 for smexings
pairing: house/wilson (with a little added cuddy for spice)
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel I, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: any mistakes can easily be credited to lack of sleep. written for porn battle six.
Fourth floor closet, again. House is bent over a metal cleaning cart, his cheek spilling blood-heat into the stainless steel.
Wilson purrs hot breath and hotter curses into House's ear and his cock - House knows the map of it as well as he knows his own, its thickness, the strength of its delicate curve, the sensual silk of it - is sliding against the crack of his ass and every time he tries to reposition himself so that sweet heat can go where he needs it most Wilson draws away and laughs low in his throat.
The bastard.
"Oh no." Wilson bites the lobe of his ear viciously. "You're gonna beg for it."
"Fu-" The curse gets bitten off before it starts as the head of Wilson's cock just barely breaches House's slicked-up entrance - upping the ante in all possible ways - and he tries to shove his hips back and there's that laugh again and oh fuck, oh fuck, a stuttering groan slips out and echoes against the metal. "Fuck - fuck, Wilson."
"Beg, I said."
His voice is like bourbon and cigar smoke and the bittersweet tang of chocolate, and House's libido is obviously the Benedict Arnold of his bodily functions (it is, and always was), because he does, damnit, he does beg, he needs it, he can't help it. "Oh God, please."
"Please what?"
"P-please fuck me."
Another laugh, and oh god it's all worth it because that gorgeous cock is-
Door opens, spilling light into the room, and he can't help but gasp at the silhouette revealed, at its spiralling dark hair and lush curves, condensed-milk-sugar-sweet skin.
He wants to cry, to scream, because if he doesn't come soon he's going to explode -
And then there's Wilson's voice again - and it's casual. "Oh, hi Lisa."
"Hi."
He's sure his jaw has dropped to the floor - it must have - and she smirks, fucking smirks at him and sinks to her knees, skirt riding up across those heavy, gorgeous thighs, showing off that skin. And then she ducks under the table and wraps her lips around his cock - and Wilson, that beautiful smirking son of a bitch, is sinking inside of him and oh god, oh god, god, a howl tears its way out of his throat-
"House!"
"What!"
And he's awake, sweating and rock-hard and blinking away remnants of sleep.
The room is dark. Wilson's soft hand trails down his chest. "You okay? You were moaning in your sleep - oh."
Wilson brings him off with a couple of expert strokes and House sighs, melting into the bed as the tension drains away. "Jesus."
"Must have been a hell of a dream." Wilson purrs, licking the rounded curlicues of House's ear.
"Yeah." House clears his throat, reaches over to reciprocate. "Oh, you were asking about birthday presents? I - I think I know what I want now."
author:
phinniaprompt: fantasy
rating: nc-17 for smexings
pairing: house/wilson (with a little added cuddy for spice)
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel I, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: any mistakes can easily be credited to lack of sleep. written for porn battle six.
Fourth floor closet, again. House is bent over a metal cleaning cart, his cheek spilling blood-heat into the stainless steel.
Wilson purrs hot breath and hotter curses into House's ear and his cock - House knows the map of it as well as he knows his own, its thickness, the strength of its delicate curve, the sensual silk of it - is sliding against the crack of his ass and every time he tries to reposition himself so that sweet heat can go where he needs it most Wilson draws away and laughs low in his throat.
The bastard.
"Oh no." Wilson bites the lobe of his ear viciously. "You're gonna beg for it."
"Fu-" The curse gets bitten off before it starts as the head of Wilson's cock just barely breaches House's slicked-up entrance - upping the ante in all possible ways - and he tries to shove his hips back and there's that laugh again and oh fuck, oh fuck, a stuttering groan slips out and echoes against the metal. "Fuck - fuck, Wilson."
"Beg, I said."
His voice is like bourbon and cigar smoke and the bittersweet tang of chocolate, and House's libido is obviously the Benedict Arnold of his bodily functions (it is, and always was), because he does, damnit, he does beg, he needs it, he can't help it. "Oh God, please."
"Please what?"
"P-please fuck me."
Another laugh, and oh god it's all worth it because that gorgeous cock is-
Door opens, spilling light into the room, and he can't help but gasp at the silhouette revealed, at its spiralling dark hair and lush curves, condensed-milk-sugar-sweet skin.
He wants to cry, to scream, because if he doesn't come soon he's going to explode -
And then there's Wilson's voice again - and it's casual. "Oh, hi Lisa."
"Hi."
He's sure his jaw has dropped to the floor - it must have - and she smirks, fucking smirks at him and sinks to her knees, skirt riding up across those heavy, gorgeous thighs, showing off that skin. And then she ducks under the table and wraps her lips around his cock - and Wilson, that beautiful smirking son of a bitch, is sinking inside of him and oh god, oh god, god, a howl tears its way out of his throat-
"House!"
"What!"
And he's awake, sweating and rock-hard and blinking away remnants of sleep.
The room is dark. Wilson's soft hand trails down his chest. "You okay? You were moaning in your sleep - oh."
Wilson brings him off with a couple of expert strokes and House sighs, melting into the bed as the tension drains away. "Jesus."
"Must have been a hell of a dream." Wilson purrs, licking the rounded curlicues of House's ear.
"Yeah." House clears his throat, reaches over to reciprocate. "Oh, you were asking about birthday presents? I - I think I know what I want now."
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Date: 2008-07-30 07:36 pm (UTC)Wow, I wasn't really thinking of that. Lovely, short, hilarious. Thanks for sharing
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Date: 2008-07-31 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-30 08:16 pm (UTC)Loved, "And then there's Wilson's voice again - and it's casual. "Oh, hi Lisa."" LOL
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Date: 2008-07-31 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-30 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 03:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 03:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-31 09:50 pm (UTC)Hi
Date: 2008-12-03 06:31 am (UTC)Re: Hi
Date: 2008-12-03 06:49 am (UTC)i really, really appreciate the comment - so much. And it's cool to be shy (at least it worked really well for Emily Dickenson). <3 Thank you, again.
And to answer your other question. yes, Performative Nonnormative will be continuing - as soon as I find the time. I do honestly keep meaning to update it every two weeks but life has a funny way of pulling the carpet out from under me just as I've learned to juggle the three fish and a pair of bread knives - but i digress - a lot. anyway, i am intending to finish it and will definitely be continuing it, hopefully on a more regular schedule (because i hate when stuff is unfinished too).
thanks again! <3
leah/phin