Fic: The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio
Feb. 4th, 2007 08:12 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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house_wilson_ghcTitle: The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio
Author: brown_polyester
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,535 (oops, was this supposed to be a set of ten drabbles?)
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Author Notes: I almost never read drabbles; I tend to prefer long stories. I randomly read one challenge a while back (created by anamatics?), and I had the perfect book. I bastardized the drabble concept because I'm really bad at succinctness. I'm still not used to doing lj cuts, so cross your fingers! (Actually, if you're reading this, it means that I posted it and it works, so you don't really need to cross your fingers at all... See what I mean with the whole lack of succinctness thing?) AND extra special thanks to![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
lookfar for suggesting a better ending!
The Writing Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page 10, 20, 30, 40 & etc. until you have ten quotes. Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word – all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.
My chosen book:
The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio: How to Give Him Mindblowing Pleasure by Violet Blue
10. If you’re working on your level of comfort with fellatio, you can put a few things into practice to help you along.
Wilson kept his eyes down as he walked through the grocery store. He concentrated on the strange pattern of the floor tiles and tried not to crash into anyone’s cart. Glancing up every few seconds, he quickly made his way through the store. A box of Cap’n Crunch’s Peanut Butter Crunch was dropped into the basket in his grip, followed by a package of whole bean coffee. He returned his gaze to the floor and briskly strode toward the produce section.
He felt so nervous and anxious that his stomach was churning, but something inside him was igniting with excitement as he perused the selection of fruits and vegetables. He glanced at the asparagus before shuddering and moving along. His eyes shifted toward the intimidating cucumbers, and he felt his jaw drop a little. He shook his head and continued, finally selecting a small bunch of bananas and a package of carrots. He glanced around to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone (as if they honestly would have noticed anything odd about the contents of his basket) before he made a beeline for the checkout.
20. It deepens and changes in color as it reaches the base of the penis and the scrotum.
It was about ninety degrees outside, and the pavement and air pollution did a good job of sucking up the heat of the sun and keeping it in the thick, heavy air. The hospital was, of course, much cooler – some areas more than others. The OR’s were kept somewhat chilly; the clinic and ER tended to lose much of the cooled air through nearly constant opening and closing of outside doors.
House hated winter clinic duty only slightly more than summer duty. During the winter months, the clinic was usually full, with people complaining about inexplicable muscle aches and joint pains, partial hearing loss and headaches, exhaustion and sinus pressure, and could it be meningitis? Because I looked it up online, and I have those symptoms, and am I going to die? He despised morons with the flu and an Internet connection.
Summers in the clinic weren’t as frantic, and the cases were much more exciting. Of course, that wasn’t saying much when the cases were up against the flu and the common cold. People came in with broken bones and home improvement injuries, and half of the time they were sent to the ER.
Today House had had his fill of idiots with hay fever who read something about autoimmune diseases being commonly misdiagnosed and thought they fit the symptoms perfectly. With a roll of his eyes and a biting remark, he usually assured them that they were imbeciles and they needn’t worry about being treated by the head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine.
He frowned at his next victim, a twenty-something man who sat with a blanket draped over his legs. The heat outside had mingled with the air-conditioned climate of the clinic, and while it wasn’t warm enough to be uncomfortable, it certainly wasn’t cold enough to be. House gestured to exam room 2 and raised an eyebrow when the man held the blanket tightly around himself as he walked into the room.
Closing the door, he looked at the chart that Nurse Brenda had handed to him and noted that the man’s complaint was an earache. He gave the man a once over and recognized the “I’m an idiot, and I know it” posture. At least this guy knew his place in life.
“I’m Dr. House. What seems to be the problem? Other than the earache, of course,” he added sardonically.
The man didn’t meet House’s eyes. “I don’t actually have an earache. I didn’t want to tell the lady at the desk.”
“So what’s wrong with your penis?” The man’s head shot up, a questioning look in his eyes. “It’s embarrassing enough that you couldn’t tell the nurse. You’re sitting, so you don’t have something stuck you-know-where. It could be your scrotum, but why would you need the blanket?”
The patient slowly pulled the blanket off his lap to reveal his penis… and his hand, which was wrapped around his penis. House felt his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, and his first reaction was to call security.
“I… uh…” the man started nervously, “accidentally got superglue on my hand instead of lube, and…”
House nodded slowly, his lips pressed in a thin, tight line to keep from laughing. He turned and grabbed the telephone receiver from the wall. “Yeah, I need Dr. Wilson for a consult in exam room 2.”
30. At the urethral opening, during arousal some men get wet with what’s commonly called pre-come.
House laid his head back on the pillow. His eyes fluttered shut, and his jaw went slack. He slowly stroked up and down the length of his erection. His free hand swept across his chest, ridges and calluses creating delicious friction on his sensitive nipples. He sped up his rhythmic stroking, and every few strokes he would circle the head with his thumb, spreading the pre-come.
His breath started to come in little gasps and shaky sighs. In his ears he could hear his blood surging. His heartbeat sounded like it was being amplified in a nearly empty locker room. His concentration, which he was currently spending almost entirely on the region just below his waist, probably explained why he hadn’t answered the knocks on the door. But he was not so far gone that he missed the surprised, “Oh!” that came from his bedroom doorway.
His eyes shot open and met the wide eyes of Wilson. Their mouths were both frozen in soundless O’s. The matching looks of embarrassment and shock … and was that lust? … could have been comical to them in another situation. As it was, Wilson blinked rapidly a few times, muttered a quick, “Sorry,” and left (but not before House noticed the once-over).
40. Everyone worries about appearance, comparisons, and performance.
House stood in front of the mirror. He dried himself off quickly and carelessly and wrapped the damp towel around his waist. Taking in his reflection, he noted the light dusting of hair that spread across his chest. He ran his fingertips over the round, rough scar on his abdomen. A gunshot wound was not something he had expected, though in hindsight it wasn’t as surprising to him.
He turned sideways and sucked in his stomach. He had gained a little weight in the past few years but not as much as certain other doctors in the middle-age range. His arms were muscular, a by-product of compensating for the missing muscle tissue in his leg.
He dropped the towel, and his eyes went to said leg. He was used to the scar by now. Though he very rarely wore shorts and thus was not often forced to take in the sight of his marred flesh, he had spent a significant amount of time to assess the damage in those first few months. No, the scar did not surprise him any longer, but when he imagined others seeing his leg, he still felt a tiny, usually well-suppressed twinge of low self-esteem deep within himself.
He shook his head violently to rid himself of that line of thought. He reminded himself that he didn’t care what people thought of him. Turning around, he looked over his shoulder to catch a glance of his ass in the mirror. He flexed and smiled slightly to himself. He might have been missing some of the strength and muscle that had once been in his right leg, but the rest of his body had made up for it well.
He picked up the towel and wrapped it around his waist before limping to his bedroom. As he got dressed for work, he idly wondered what Wilson would think of his body.
50. We may see famous people that are attractive and imagine that our lives overlap.
“No, I’ve honestly never had a sexual fantasy about Matt Lauer.” Wilson was feeling an increasing sense of annoyance at House’s relentless questioning.
“Really? I would’ve pegged you as a Today Show kind of guy,” House said. “Of course you’ve thought about Katie Couric. Who hasn’t?”
“She’s not even on The Today Show anymore.”
“Aha!”
“I didn’t say I didn’t watch it. Watching does not equal having compulsive sexual fantasies about,” Wilson noted.
“Surely you have a man-crush on some famous guy,” House mused aloud. “Doctor shows, maybe. You’re ‘too good’ for General Hospital, but you probably watched ER back when it was still good … or what you would consider ‘good.’”
Wilson said nothing; he merely continued staring ahead at whatever inane program House had turned on.
“George Clooney?” House guessed. “Noah Wyle? No, they’re not even on it anymore, are they?” He tried to think of other medical shows. “Scrubs! The aptly named Dr. Cox. You’re attracted to his confidence, intelligence, sarcasm, bitterness, and animal magnetism.”
Wilson raised his eyebrows and looked at House pointedly, sending a clear “Shut the hell up” message.
60. When it comes to unprotected fellatio, everyone involved is taking a risk of some kind.
“My throat hurts a little.” The young woman gazed at her clasped hands where they rested on her lap, studiously avoiding the doctor’s stare.
“And?”
“Um, my glands are kind of swollen, I think.”
House sighed and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He dutifully examined the teenager’s tonsillar lymph nodes, and finding no evidence of swelling, stepped away from the patient. “Okay, now I’ve examined you. What do you need? A doctor’s note for school?” He pulled the gloves from his hands and picked up the clipboard.
“What? No! Wait!” She finally made eye contact. “Please, I think I might have…” She trailed off but held House’s gaze with her own pleading eyes.
“What?” The girl seemed embarrassed. House was not above pushing the embarrassment up a notch if it would get an honest answer out of her. “Maybe I should call a colleague for a consult. You’d probably like him. He’s young, attractive, single…”
“No! I’ve got a boyfriend! That’s why I’m here… kind of…” She hesitated briefly. “He was having some … problems … and went to his doctor. She said he had gonorrhea, and she gave him some antibiotics. He was taking them, and it looked like he was better. We went out last week to see a movie … which one was it?” She trailed off, looking absently at the ceiling.
House snapped his fingers in front of her face, causing her to jump. “Don’t care!”
“Right, um, one thing led to another …”
“You slept with him.”
“No, I’m not that stupid! His doctor said not to have intercourse until he had a follow-up.”
“So what’s the problem?” House was past his patience limit for the day.
She looked at her hands again and mumbled, “I gave him head.”
“Unprotected.” It was a statement, House’s declaration clearly sounding more like “You’re a moron.”
“He had already been taking the antibiotics for two days!” This was apparently supposed to be a defense from the girl, but it matched House’s unspoken comment with an echo similar to “Yes, I am a moron.”
70. Additionally, that prepackaged lube almost always has silicone in it, which not only tastes disgusting but is also hard to get out of your mouth and can ruin some silicone dildos.
House stood in the small and nearly empty store, leaning on his cane with what he hoped was a menacing look on his face. His eyes flicked over the various boxes, bottles, and tubes before him. He wasn’t looking for condoms; he and Wilson had discussed that issue and had full blood checks for STIs before they had recently begun sleeping together.
Massage oils, lubricants, massage lotions, flavored lubricants, flavored massage oils… There were so many damn choices, and House hadn’t worried about this kind of thing for years. He had hoped he would see something perfect right away, but now he found himself looking closer at each product. Scents? Flavors? Oil or cream or lotion? Lubricant and massage oil in one? Self-heating?
Some of the product names were ridiculous. Boy Butter. Probe Lubricant. Adam and Eve Fruity Booty Anal Lube. Elbow Grease Cream. Hustler Think Pink Hot Pussy Potion.
The sheer number of flavors floored him. Cherry, strawberry, passion fruit, cinnamon, pina colada, raspberry, sex on the peach, strawberry daiquiri, sinful strawberry, tropical teeze.
He could intensify his orgasms or desensitize his clitoris. He could warm or cool. There were silicone or water based lubes. There were massage creams, lotions and oils – some scented, some flavored. He was tempted to purchase Hot Hooters Warming Booby Oil, but if he wanted to get some before 2010, he’d have to find a subtler way of ribbing Wilson for his slight weight gain. Before he could think about how sad it was that Wilson now had an effective bargaining chip, a young salesgirl approached him.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?” She smiled innocuously, almost like Cameron but without the attitude she’d taken as of late.
I’m sure I can think of something you can help me with, he leered mentally. Realizing that this was not the place for sexual harassment (See, Wilson? I do have tact!), he told the girl what he wanted, and she helped him make a selection.
80. The best recourse for avoiding beard burn from our pubic region on a lover’s face is to either cover the stubble with a small towel or cover your pubic bone with your hand when your partner goes down on you—or shave again!
“Jesus, House! Lips and mouth – not cheeks! Don’t nuzzle!” Wilson grumbled, even as he let his head fall back on the headrest of his office couch.
House hummed softly and removed his lips from Wilson’s shaft. “I’m sorry; did you want me to stop?” he asked facetiously. Wilson’s head snapped up, and he met House’s eyes with a glare.
“Stop now and I’ll never write a Vicodin ‘script again.”
House’s eyebrows shot up, and he suppressed a sound of surprise. “Say no more, Doc.” He ducked his head back down and lapped his tongue from bottom to top along Wilson’s entire length.
“Gahhh,” Wilson groaned.
House swirled his tongue once around the crown of Wilson’s erection and flicked the tip of his tongue at the small drop of pre-come. Puckering his lips, he ran them down the side, now carefully avoiding any contact between Wilson’s penis and his own unshaven face. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked hard just one time, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from his friend’s throat.
He pulled back for a moment to catch his breath, lightly massaging Wilson’s inner thighs while he rested. His eyes drifted up to meet the soft brown eyes, which were now almost black. His breath caught in his throat when he took in Wilson’s expression. The younger man was breathing heavily through his open mouth and staring at him attentively with heavy-lidded eyes. His cheeks were a soft pink; his lips were red, swollen, wet as if he had been chewing on them to keep from crying out.
House inhaled deeply and slowly. Suddenly feeling emotional, he was surprised when the last part of his inhalation was shaky, almost as if he was sobbing. When he felt his mouth start to water, he decided to avoid examining his feelings by concentrating once again on Wilson’s pleasure.
His right hand grasped Wilson’s penis and stroked while he laved the oncologist’s testicles with his tongue. Wilson involuntarily bucked against his friend’s caresses, and House’s left hand went to Wilson’s hips to hold them down. He took that as his cue to return his attention to his friend’s erection.
Again he focused his efforts on the head area of the penis, where most of the nerves are located. With his lips covering the top of Wilson’s erection, he applied gentle suction and spun his tongue slowly and repeatedly around the head. He leaned his head closer to Wilson’s thigh and scraped his stubble on the skin.
“Aw, hell,” Wilson panted, unable to keep quiet or to keep his hands to himself any longer. He ran his fingers into House’s short hair – not to force him or to guide him, but to connect with him. He was careful not to thrust, though it was difficult for him when he felt House’s left hand gently caress his scrotum.
When House felt Wilson’s testicles start to draw up toward his body, he took a deep breath through his nose and took more of the erection into his mouth, never stopping the movement of his tongue on the underside of Wilson’s shaft. He moaned at the sounds Wilson was making, grunting and whimpering noises that gave House plenty of feedback. The vibration of his moan sent Wilson over the edge, and House barely tasted the semen as it hit the back of his tongue and throat. He did enjoy the feeling of the hot come searing down his esophagus like that first sip of vodka he’d had when he was a teenager. He rode out Wilson’s orgasm before pulling away and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He sat back on his left heel and stared at his best friend.
Wilson’s head was resting against the back of the couch, and his jaw hung open. He was taking fast, shallow breaths, which eventually slowed down. He rolled his head around to meet House’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Wilson closed his eyes and licked his lips. He sat up straighter and pulled House back into his previous kneeling position, a tiny voice in the back of his mind idly wondering how much Vicodin House had taken to be able to maintain that position. But right now he didn’t care.
They were face to face, and Wilson ran the backs of his knuckles down House’s rough cheek. He didn’t trust his voice at this moment, and he could feel his eyes start to moisten. Slipping a hand behind his friend’s neck, he drew him into a deep kiss.
190. When you’re good and mentholated, slip the lozenge between your cheek and gums.
Wilson was quite adept at covering his reactions with a blank, nonjudgmental doctor’s mask. Therefore, when the young man in the exam room pulled down his loose-fitting pajama pants, he knew his initial feelings of horror, sympathy, and relief (that it was this poor kid instead of him) were concealed.
He cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea what might have caused this?”
The guy was so worried that he looked like he was about to cry. Maybe he was. “Um, no. It was like this when I woke up this morning.”
“You told the nurse that you have no known allergies. Have you ever had any reaction to latex or silicone?” The patient shook his head. “Have you had any recent contact with anything unusual?”
“Um, like what?” The young man’s voice cracked.
“Any foods you’ve tried within the past two or three days? A new soap or lotion? New underwear or some other clothing item that you wore without washing it first?”
“No, none of that.”
Wilson snapped on a pair of latex gloves and examined the man’s penis. “It appears to be an allergic reaction. Your penis has had no recent contact with anything or anyone?”
“Well, uh,” the guy cleared his throat, “my girlfriend sucked me off last night, but it’s not the first time she’s done that! And I didn’t have the rash until today.”
Now it was Wilson’s turn to clear his own throat. “Did she use any specific tools or aids that were new?”
“Um, well, she was all tingly.”
This was another moment when Wilson was glad to have his poker face. “Could you please explain that a bit further?”
“I think she was using something minty. It was really pretty cool,” he laughed, suddenly not quite as nervous.
“Okay, we should probably find out if this is a salicylate allergy, as that will include several foods and products that you’ll need to avoid,” Wilson said, mentally counting the hours until the end of his shift.
200. Fellatio can happen virtually anywhere, and the sexual tension that stems from possible discovery is what gives a public encounter its heat.
“Ah, Jimmy… Oh, fuck!” House moaned. His right leg started to feel weak, and he tightened his grip on the metal bar so that it held more of his weight. He looked down at his feet and smiled almost drunkenly at the sight of a head of soft brown hair moving back and forth earnestly.
He hadn’t been surprised when Wilson showed up at his office late in the afternoon. They often met up at the end of the day, their lame excuse being that they each wanted to know when the other man would be back at House’s apartment. No one could have gotten either doctor to admit any other reason to meet up with his best friend. It was purely logistical.
No, he wasn’t surprised to see Wilson. He had been mildly surprised when Wilson did not say anything but simply strode across the office with a purposeful look on his face. Wilson had grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. As soon as House stood and picked up his cane, Wilson was on his way out the door with his fingers still encircling House’s wrist.
Wilson had let go when they entered the hallway, but by that time House had received the clear message that he was to follow his friend. They had entered the empty elevator, and as soon as the doors were shut, Wilson had grabbed his shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him hungrily. Taken completely by surprise, House stood still with his eyes open wide before he calmed down and melted into Wilson’s embrace. Just as suddenly, Wilson pulled back and wiped his mouth.
The doors opened, and they were on the first floor. Wilson took off without a word, leaving a dazed House in the elevator. The doors started to close, and House snapped out of his trance, wondering how Wilson was killing all of his brain cells. He caught sight of Wilson and headed in that direction as quickly as he could.
Wilson finally slowed near the cafeteria. He led House into a dim corridor and through a “Maintenance Employees Only” door. House felt the warm evening air, stopping short when he realized that Wilson had brought him to one of the loading docks.
“Come on,” Wilson had ordered, again grabbing House’s wrist. He had led him around the dock to ground level and then down the ramp where semi trucks would dock. It wasn’t a terribly deep ramp, but there was a small ladder to one side, reaching up to ground level like a swimming pool ladder.
Now House found himself half-standing, half-sitting on the ladder, his arms supporting the weight that his good leg couldn’t. Part of him had wanted to laugh when he had seen Wilson drop a section of newspaper on the ground so he could kneel without getting his pants terribly dirty, but he could only make a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he had watched his lover drop to his knees.
“Fffffuck,” he breathed. He could feel his eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure. “What if,” he sighed, “one of your,” he panted, “bald-headed,” he puffed, “tumor-ridden,” he breathed, “cancer kids,” he gasped, “wanders out here?”
Wilson smiled around the erection in his mouth and tried to chuckle, but it came out as a soft moan, eliciting a heavy sigh from his best friend. He held House’s ass tightly in his hands and angled his face so that he could reach House’s balls. He licked softly along the root of House’s penis, ran his tongue across House’s scrotum, and pressed a kiss to the smooth spot just behind the scrotum. His tongue came out to tease the area, and his left hand wrapped around House’s penis.
House whimpered, and Wilson loved it. He had only given House head a few times. At first he thought he would hate it, never having given head before. He found, however, that the power he felt and the sounds he drew out of House were intoxicating, addicting. He had been apprehensive about the taste, wondering if it would be as bad as he sometimes heard. He still hadn’t tried to swallow, hadn’t let House come in his mouth. When he had cleaned up after the last time, he covertly pressed the tip of his tongue to the towel he had used and discovered that the taste was not terribly pleasant, nor was it unpleasant. It was not a very strong taste at all, and he had inwardly decided that he would try to swallow the next time.
He again wrapped his mouth around House’s dick, hearing House sigh as the warmth of Wilson’s mouth enveloped his flesh. Wilson’s left hand stayed at the base of the penis, pumping in contrary motion with his mouth. His right hand went to House’s inner thigh, scratching lightly with his short fingernails. He sighed contentedly at the strangled noise that seemed to be trapped deep in House’s throat.
Releasing House’s erection for a quick moment, he coated his right middle finger with saliva, stealing a glance at the piercing blue eyes that were watching him intently. He smiled, hoping it was a predatory smile, before he took House’s penis in his mouth again. The wet finger passed by House’s scrotum, heading toward his entrance.
“Gah!” House cried, bucking his hips involuntarily. Wilson stayed with him, slowly working his finger into his lover, who groaned loudly. House’s eyes closed, and his eyebrows shot up as high as they could go. Wilson’s brain was almost at capacity, but he was dimly aware that the sounds House was making were similar to those he’d made when Ingrid gave him that massage. To Wilson’s ears, the noises he was hearing were more enthusiastic than those he’d heard a couple of years ago, and he felt strangely triumphant at that thought.
House was constantly moaning and grunting by the time Wilson felt him tense and heard him choke out a quick warning. It felt strange, he thought, to feel the throbbing sensation, which he had experienced so many times in his life, from the other side. A jerking, pulsating moment later, a few spurts of hot come landed on Wilson’s tongue. He tried not to think about the chemistry, or biology for that matter, of the liquid in his mouth; he knew that that would only make him feel uneasy. He pulled back and forced himself to swallow the strangely textured ejaculate.
He stood with a goofy smile on his face, watching House's attempts to pull himself together. He helped return House's clothing to its previous state - a somewhat difficult affair considering House's refusal to move from his half-seated place on the ladder. House's head was tilted to the side as if the muscles in his neck were unable to support its weight, and he looked up at Wilson's soft, brown eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Wilson!" House exclaimed belatedly. He wondered again at Wilson's ability to kill his brain cells.
Wilson dropped his chin to his chest without breaking eye contact and smiled wryly. "Well," he began softly, "no cancer kids. No cafeteria workers. No hospital administrators. Maybe next time."
House, having recovered a decent portion of his motor skills, lunged for Wilson predatorily. "Next time? We're not finished with this time yet!"
Author: brown_polyester
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,535 (oops, was this supposed to be a set of ten drabbles?)
Disclaimer: I tried, but they told me that I had to pay off my student loans first.
Author Notes: I almost never read drabbles; I tend to prefer long stories. I randomly read one challenge a while back (created by anamatics?), and I had the perfect book. I bastardized the drabble concept because I'm really bad at succinctness. I'm still not used to doing lj cuts, so cross your fingers! (Actually, if you're reading this, it means that I posted it and it works, so you don't really need to cross your fingers at all... See what I mean with the whole lack of succinctness thing?) AND extra special thanks to
lookfar for suggesting a better ending!The Writing Challenge: Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page 10, 20, 30, 40 & etc. until you have ten quotes. Take said ten quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word – all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.
My chosen book:
The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio: How to Give Him Mindblowing Pleasure by Violet Blue
10. If you’re working on your level of comfort with fellatio, you can put a few things into practice to help you along.
Wilson kept his eyes down as he walked through the grocery store. He concentrated on the strange pattern of the floor tiles and tried not to crash into anyone’s cart. Glancing up every few seconds, he quickly made his way through the store. A box of Cap’n Crunch’s Peanut Butter Crunch was dropped into the basket in his grip, followed by a package of whole bean coffee. He returned his gaze to the floor and briskly strode toward the produce section.
He felt so nervous and anxious that his stomach was churning, but something inside him was igniting with excitement as he perused the selection of fruits and vegetables. He glanced at the asparagus before shuddering and moving along. His eyes shifted toward the intimidating cucumbers, and he felt his jaw drop a little. He shook his head and continued, finally selecting a small bunch of bananas and a package of carrots. He glanced around to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone (as if they honestly would have noticed anything odd about the contents of his basket) before he made a beeline for the checkout.
20. It deepens and changes in color as it reaches the base of the penis and the scrotum.
It was about ninety degrees outside, and the pavement and air pollution did a good job of sucking up the heat of the sun and keeping it in the thick, heavy air. The hospital was, of course, much cooler – some areas more than others. The OR’s were kept somewhat chilly; the clinic and ER tended to lose much of the cooled air through nearly constant opening and closing of outside doors.
House hated winter clinic duty only slightly more than summer duty. During the winter months, the clinic was usually full, with people complaining about inexplicable muscle aches and joint pains, partial hearing loss and headaches, exhaustion and sinus pressure, and could it be meningitis? Because I looked it up online, and I have those symptoms, and am I going to die? He despised morons with the flu and an Internet connection.
Summers in the clinic weren’t as frantic, and the cases were much more exciting. Of course, that wasn’t saying much when the cases were up against the flu and the common cold. People came in with broken bones and home improvement injuries, and half of the time they were sent to the ER.
Today House had had his fill of idiots with hay fever who read something about autoimmune diseases being commonly misdiagnosed and thought they fit the symptoms perfectly. With a roll of his eyes and a biting remark, he usually assured them that they were imbeciles and they needn’t worry about being treated by the head of the Department of Diagnostic Medicine.
He frowned at his next victim, a twenty-something man who sat with a blanket draped over his legs. The heat outside had mingled with the air-conditioned climate of the clinic, and while it wasn’t warm enough to be uncomfortable, it certainly wasn’t cold enough to be. House gestured to exam room 2 and raised an eyebrow when the man held the blanket tightly around himself as he walked into the room.
Closing the door, he looked at the chart that Nurse Brenda had handed to him and noted that the man’s complaint was an earache. He gave the man a once over and recognized the “I’m an idiot, and I know it” posture. At least this guy knew his place in life.
“I’m Dr. House. What seems to be the problem? Other than the earache, of course,” he added sardonically.
The man didn’t meet House’s eyes. “I don’t actually have an earache. I didn’t want to tell the lady at the desk.”
“So what’s wrong with your penis?” The man’s head shot up, a questioning look in his eyes. “It’s embarrassing enough that you couldn’t tell the nurse. You’re sitting, so you don’t have something stuck you-know-where. It could be your scrotum, but why would you need the blanket?”
The patient slowly pulled the blanket off his lap to reveal his penis… and his hand, which was wrapped around his penis. House felt his eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, and his first reaction was to call security.
“I… uh…” the man started nervously, “accidentally got superglue on my hand instead of lube, and…”
House nodded slowly, his lips pressed in a thin, tight line to keep from laughing. He turned and grabbed the telephone receiver from the wall. “Yeah, I need Dr. Wilson for a consult in exam room 2.”
30. At the urethral opening, during arousal some men get wet with what’s commonly called pre-come.
House laid his head back on the pillow. His eyes fluttered shut, and his jaw went slack. He slowly stroked up and down the length of his erection. His free hand swept across his chest, ridges and calluses creating delicious friction on his sensitive nipples. He sped up his rhythmic stroking, and every few strokes he would circle the head with his thumb, spreading the pre-come.
His breath started to come in little gasps and shaky sighs. In his ears he could hear his blood surging. His heartbeat sounded like it was being amplified in a nearly empty locker room. His concentration, which he was currently spending almost entirely on the region just below his waist, probably explained why he hadn’t answered the knocks on the door. But he was not so far gone that he missed the surprised, “Oh!” that came from his bedroom doorway.
His eyes shot open and met the wide eyes of Wilson. Their mouths were both frozen in soundless O’s. The matching looks of embarrassment and shock … and was that lust? … could have been comical to them in another situation. As it was, Wilson blinked rapidly a few times, muttered a quick, “Sorry,” and left (but not before House noticed the once-over).
40. Everyone worries about appearance, comparisons, and performance.
House stood in front of the mirror. He dried himself off quickly and carelessly and wrapped the damp towel around his waist. Taking in his reflection, he noted the light dusting of hair that spread across his chest. He ran his fingertips over the round, rough scar on his abdomen. A gunshot wound was not something he had expected, though in hindsight it wasn’t as surprising to him.
He turned sideways and sucked in his stomach. He had gained a little weight in the past few years but not as much as certain other doctors in the middle-age range. His arms were muscular, a by-product of compensating for the missing muscle tissue in his leg.
He dropped the towel, and his eyes went to said leg. He was used to the scar by now. Though he very rarely wore shorts and thus was not often forced to take in the sight of his marred flesh, he had spent a significant amount of time to assess the damage in those first few months. No, the scar did not surprise him any longer, but when he imagined others seeing his leg, he still felt a tiny, usually well-suppressed twinge of low self-esteem deep within himself.
He shook his head violently to rid himself of that line of thought. He reminded himself that he didn’t care what people thought of him. Turning around, he looked over his shoulder to catch a glance of his ass in the mirror. He flexed and smiled slightly to himself. He might have been missing some of the strength and muscle that had once been in his right leg, but the rest of his body had made up for it well.
He picked up the towel and wrapped it around his waist before limping to his bedroom. As he got dressed for work, he idly wondered what Wilson would think of his body.
50. We may see famous people that are attractive and imagine that our lives overlap.
“No, I’ve honestly never had a sexual fantasy about Matt Lauer.” Wilson was feeling an increasing sense of annoyance at House’s relentless questioning.
“Really? I would’ve pegged you as a Today Show kind of guy,” House said. “Of course you’ve thought about Katie Couric. Who hasn’t?”
“She’s not even on The Today Show anymore.”
“Aha!”
“I didn’t say I didn’t watch it. Watching does not equal having compulsive sexual fantasies about,” Wilson noted.
“Surely you have a man-crush on some famous guy,” House mused aloud. “Doctor shows, maybe. You’re ‘too good’ for General Hospital, but you probably watched ER back when it was still good … or what you would consider ‘good.’”
Wilson said nothing; he merely continued staring ahead at whatever inane program House had turned on.
“George Clooney?” House guessed. “Noah Wyle? No, they’re not even on it anymore, are they?” He tried to think of other medical shows. “Scrubs! The aptly named Dr. Cox. You’re attracted to his confidence, intelligence, sarcasm, bitterness, and animal magnetism.”
Wilson raised his eyebrows and looked at House pointedly, sending a clear “Shut the hell up” message.
60. When it comes to unprotected fellatio, everyone involved is taking a risk of some kind.
“My throat hurts a little.” The young woman gazed at her clasped hands where they rested on her lap, studiously avoiding the doctor’s stare.
“And?”
“Um, my glands are kind of swollen, I think.”
House sighed and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. He dutifully examined the teenager’s tonsillar lymph nodes, and finding no evidence of swelling, stepped away from the patient. “Okay, now I’ve examined you. What do you need? A doctor’s note for school?” He pulled the gloves from his hands and picked up the clipboard.
“What? No! Wait!” She finally made eye contact. “Please, I think I might have…” She trailed off but held House’s gaze with her own pleading eyes.
“What?” The girl seemed embarrassed. House was not above pushing the embarrassment up a notch if it would get an honest answer out of her. “Maybe I should call a colleague for a consult. You’d probably like him. He’s young, attractive, single…”
“No! I’ve got a boyfriend! That’s why I’m here… kind of…” She hesitated briefly. “He was having some … problems … and went to his doctor. She said he had gonorrhea, and she gave him some antibiotics. He was taking them, and it looked like he was better. We went out last week to see a movie … which one was it?” She trailed off, looking absently at the ceiling.
House snapped his fingers in front of her face, causing her to jump. “Don’t care!”
“Right, um, one thing led to another …”
“You slept with him.”
“No, I’m not that stupid! His doctor said not to have intercourse until he had a follow-up.”
“So what’s the problem?” House was past his patience limit for the day.
She looked at her hands again and mumbled, “I gave him head.”
“Unprotected.” It was a statement, House’s declaration clearly sounding more like “You’re a moron.”
“He had already been taking the antibiotics for two days!” This was apparently supposed to be a defense from the girl, but it matched House’s unspoken comment with an echo similar to “Yes, I am a moron.”
70. Additionally, that prepackaged lube almost always has silicone in it, which not only tastes disgusting but is also hard to get out of your mouth and can ruin some silicone dildos.
House stood in the small and nearly empty store, leaning on his cane with what he hoped was a menacing look on his face. His eyes flicked over the various boxes, bottles, and tubes before him. He wasn’t looking for condoms; he and Wilson had discussed that issue and had full blood checks for STIs before they had recently begun sleeping together.
Massage oils, lubricants, massage lotions, flavored lubricants, flavored massage oils… There were so many damn choices, and House hadn’t worried about this kind of thing for years. He had hoped he would see something perfect right away, but now he found himself looking closer at each product. Scents? Flavors? Oil or cream or lotion? Lubricant and massage oil in one? Self-heating?
Some of the product names were ridiculous. Boy Butter. Probe Lubricant. Adam and Eve Fruity Booty Anal Lube. Elbow Grease Cream. Hustler Think Pink Hot Pussy Potion.
The sheer number of flavors floored him. Cherry, strawberry, passion fruit, cinnamon, pina colada, raspberry, sex on the peach, strawberry daiquiri, sinful strawberry, tropical teeze.
He could intensify his orgasms or desensitize his clitoris. He could warm or cool. There were silicone or water based lubes. There were massage creams, lotions and oils – some scented, some flavored. He was tempted to purchase Hot Hooters Warming Booby Oil, but if he wanted to get some before 2010, he’d have to find a subtler way of ribbing Wilson for his slight weight gain. Before he could think about how sad it was that Wilson now had an effective bargaining chip, a young salesgirl approached him.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?” She smiled innocuously, almost like Cameron but without the attitude she’d taken as of late.
I’m sure I can think of something you can help me with, he leered mentally. Realizing that this was not the place for sexual harassment (See, Wilson? I do have tact!), he told the girl what he wanted, and she helped him make a selection.
80. The best recourse for avoiding beard burn from our pubic region on a lover’s face is to either cover the stubble with a small towel or cover your pubic bone with your hand when your partner goes down on you—or shave again!
“Jesus, House! Lips and mouth – not cheeks! Don’t nuzzle!” Wilson grumbled, even as he let his head fall back on the headrest of his office couch.
House hummed softly and removed his lips from Wilson’s shaft. “I’m sorry; did you want me to stop?” he asked facetiously. Wilson’s head snapped up, and he met House’s eyes with a glare.
“Stop now and I’ll never write a Vicodin ‘script again.”
House’s eyebrows shot up, and he suppressed a sound of surprise. “Say no more, Doc.” He ducked his head back down and lapped his tongue from bottom to top along Wilson’s entire length.
“Gahhh,” Wilson groaned.
House swirled his tongue once around the crown of Wilson’s erection and flicked the tip of his tongue at the small drop of pre-come. Puckering his lips, he ran them down the side, now carefully avoiding any contact between Wilson’s penis and his own unshaven face. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked hard just one time, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from his friend’s throat.
He pulled back for a moment to catch his breath, lightly massaging Wilson’s inner thighs while he rested. His eyes drifted up to meet the soft brown eyes, which were now almost black. His breath caught in his throat when he took in Wilson’s expression. The younger man was breathing heavily through his open mouth and staring at him attentively with heavy-lidded eyes. His cheeks were a soft pink; his lips were red, swollen, wet as if he had been chewing on them to keep from crying out.
House inhaled deeply and slowly. Suddenly feeling emotional, he was surprised when the last part of his inhalation was shaky, almost as if he was sobbing. When he felt his mouth start to water, he decided to avoid examining his feelings by concentrating once again on Wilson’s pleasure.
His right hand grasped Wilson’s penis and stroked while he laved the oncologist’s testicles with his tongue. Wilson involuntarily bucked against his friend’s caresses, and House’s left hand went to Wilson’s hips to hold them down. He took that as his cue to return his attention to his friend’s erection.
Again he focused his efforts on the head area of the penis, where most of the nerves are located. With his lips covering the top of Wilson’s erection, he applied gentle suction and spun his tongue slowly and repeatedly around the head. He leaned his head closer to Wilson’s thigh and scraped his stubble on the skin.
“Aw, hell,” Wilson panted, unable to keep quiet or to keep his hands to himself any longer. He ran his fingers into House’s short hair – not to force him or to guide him, but to connect with him. He was careful not to thrust, though it was difficult for him when he felt House’s left hand gently caress his scrotum.
When House felt Wilson’s testicles start to draw up toward his body, he took a deep breath through his nose and took more of the erection into his mouth, never stopping the movement of his tongue on the underside of Wilson’s shaft. He moaned at the sounds Wilson was making, grunting and whimpering noises that gave House plenty of feedback. The vibration of his moan sent Wilson over the edge, and House barely tasted the semen as it hit the back of his tongue and throat. He did enjoy the feeling of the hot come searing down his esophagus like that first sip of vodka he’d had when he was a teenager. He rode out Wilson’s orgasm before pulling away and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He sat back on his left heel and stared at his best friend.
Wilson’s head was resting against the back of the couch, and his jaw hung open. He was taking fast, shallow breaths, which eventually slowed down. He rolled his head around to meet House’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Wilson closed his eyes and licked his lips. He sat up straighter and pulled House back into his previous kneeling position, a tiny voice in the back of his mind idly wondering how much Vicodin House had taken to be able to maintain that position. But right now he didn’t care.
They were face to face, and Wilson ran the backs of his knuckles down House’s rough cheek. He didn’t trust his voice at this moment, and he could feel his eyes start to moisten. Slipping a hand behind his friend’s neck, he drew him into a deep kiss.
190. When you’re good and mentholated, slip the lozenge between your cheek and gums.
Wilson was quite adept at covering his reactions with a blank, nonjudgmental doctor’s mask. Therefore, when the young man in the exam room pulled down his loose-fitting pajama pants, he knew his initial feelings of horror, sympathy, and relief (that it was this poor kid instead of him) were concealed.
He cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea what might have caused this?”
The guy was so worried that he looked like he was about to cry. Maybe he was. “Um, no. It was like this when I woke up this morning.”
“You told the nurse that you have no known allergies. Have you ever had any reaction to latex or silicone?” The patient shook his head. “Have you had any recent contact with anything unusual?”
“Um, like what?” The young man’s voice cracked.
“Any foods you’ve tried within the past two or three days? A new soap or lotion? New underwear or some other clothing item that you wore without washing it first?”
“No, none of that.”
Wilson snapped on a pair of latex gloves and examined the man’s penis. “It appears to be an allergic reaction. Your penis has had no recent contact with anything or anyone?”
“Well, uh,” the guy cleared his throat, “my girlfriend sucked me off last night, but it’s not the first time she’s done that! And I didn’t have the rash until today.”
Now it was Wilson’s turn to clear his own throat. “Did she use any specific tools or aids that were new?”
“Um, well, she was all tingly.”
This was another moment when Wilson was glad to have his poker face. “Could you please explain that a bit further?”
“I think she was using something minty. It was really pretty cool,” he laughed, suddenly not quite as nervous.
“Okay, we should probably find out if this is a salicylate allergy, as that will include several foods and products that you’ll need to avoid,” Wilson said, mentally counting the hours until the end of his shift.
200. Fellatio can happen virtually anywhere, and the sexual tension that stems from possible discovery is what gives a public encounter its heat.
“Ah, Jimmy… Oh, fuck!” House moaned. His right leg started to feel weak, and he tightened his grip on the metal bar so that it held more of his weight. He looked down at his feet and smiled almost drunkenly at the sight of a head of soft brown hair moving back and forth earnestly.
He hadn’t been surprised when Wilson showed up at his office late in the afternoon. They often met up at the end of the day, their lame excuse being that they each wanted to know when the other man would be back at House’s apartment. No one could have gotten either doctor to admit any other reason to meet up with his best friend. It was purely logistical.
No, he wasn’t surprised to see Wilson. He had been mildly surprised when Wilson did not say anything but simply strode across the office with a purposeful look on his face. Wilson had grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. As soon as House stood and picked up his cane, Wilson was on his way out the door with his fingers still encircling House’s wrist.
Wilson had let go when they entered the hallway, but by that time House had received the clear message that he was to follow his friend. They had entered the empty elevator, and as soon as the doors were shut, Wilson had grabbed his shoulders, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him hungrily. Taken completely by surprise, House stood still with his eyes open wide before he calmed down and melted into Wilson’s embrace. Just as suddenly, Wilson pulled back and wiped his mouth.
The doors opened, and they were on the first floor. Wilson took off without a word, leaving a dazed House in the elevator. The doors started to close, and House snapped out of his trance, wondering how Wilson was killing all of his brain cells. He caught sight of Wilson and headed in that direction as quickly as he could.
Wilson finally slowed near the cafeteria. He led House into a dim corridor and through a “Maintenance Employees Only” door. House felt the warm evening air, stopping short when he realized that Wilson had brought him to one of the loading docks.
“Come on,” Wilson had ordered, again grabbing House’s wrist. He had led him around the dock to ground level and then down the ramp where semi trucks would dock. It wasn’t a terribly deep ramp, but there was a small ladder to one side, reaching up to ground level like a swimming pool ladder.
Now House found himself half-standing, half-sitting on the ladder, his arms supporting the weight that his good leg couldn’t. Part of him had wanted to laugh when he had seen Wilson drop a section of newspaper on the ground so he could kneel without getting his pants terribly dirty, but he could only make a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he had watched his lover drop to his knees.
“Fffffuck,” he breathed. He could feel his eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure. “What if,” he sighed, “one of your,” he panted, “bald-headed,” he puffed, “tumor-ridden,” he breathed, “cancer kids,” he gasped, “wanders out here?”
Wilson smiled around the erection in his mouth and tried to chuckle, but it came out as a soft moan, eliciting a heavy sigh from his best friend. He held House’s ass tightly in his hands and angled his face so that he could reach House’s balls. He licked softly along the root of House’s penis, ran his tongue across House’s scrotum, and pressed a kiss to the smooth spot just behind the scrotum. His tongue came out to tease the area, and his left hand wrapped around House’s penis.
House whimpered, and Wilson loved it. He had only given House head a few times. At first he thought he would hate it, never having given head before. He found, however, that the power he felt and the sounds he drew out of House were intoxicating, addicting. He had been apprehensive about the taste, wondering if it would be as bad as he sometimes heard. He still hadn’t tried to swallow, hadn’t let House come in his mouth. When he had cleaned up after the last time, he covertly pressed the tip of his tongue to the towel he had used and discovered that the taste was not terribly pleasant, nor was it unpleasant. It was not a very strong taste at all, and he had inwardly decided that he would try to swallow the next time.
He again wrapped his mouth around House’s dick, hearing House sigh as the warmth of Wilson’s mouth enveloped his flesh. Wilson’s left hand stayed at the base of the penis, pumping in contrary motion with his mouth. His right hand went to House’s inner thigh, scratching lightly with his short fingernails. He sighed contentedly at the strangled noise that seemed to be trapped deep in House’s throat.
Releasing House’s erection for a quick moment, he coated his right middle finger with saliva, stealing a glance at the piercing blue eyes that were watching him intently. He smiled, hoping it was a predatory smile, before he took House’s penis in his mouth again. The wet finger passed by House’s scrotum, heading toward his entrance.
“Gah!” House cried, bucking his hips involuntarily. Wilson stayed with him, slowly working his finger into his lover, who groaned loudly. House’s eyes closed, and his eyebrows shot up as high as they could go. Wilson’s brain was almost at capacity, but he was dimly aware that the sounds House was making were similar to those he’d made when Ingrid gave him that massage. To Wilson’s ears, the noises he was hearing were more enthusiastic than those he’d heard a couple of years ago, and he felt strangely triumphant at that thought.
House was constantly moaning and grunting by the time Wilson felt him tense and heard him choke out a quick warning. It felt strange, he thought, to feel the throbbing sensation, which he had experienced so many times in his life, from the other side. A jerking, pulsating moment later, a few spurts of hot come landed on Wilson’s tongue. He tried not to think about the chemistry, or biology for that matter, of the liquid in his mouth; he knew that that would only make him feel uneasy. He pulled back and forced himself to swallow the strangely textured ejaculate.
He stood with a goofy smile on his face, watching House's attempts to pull himself together. He helped return House's clothing to its previous state - a somewhat difficult affair considering House's refusal to move from his half-seated place on the ladder. House's head was tilted to the side as if the muscles in his neck were unable to support its weight, and he looked up at Wilson's soft, brown eyes.
"Jesus Christ, Wilson!" House exclaimed belatedly. He wondered again at Wilson's ability to kill his brain cells.
Wilson dropped his chin to his chest without breaking eye contact and smiled wryly. "Well," he began softly, "no cancer kids. No cafeteria workers. No hospital administrators. Maybe next time."
House, having recovered a decent portion of his motor skills, lunged for Wilson predatorily. "Next time? We're not finished with this time yet!"
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Date: 2007-02-05 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 09:32 am (UTC)Your icon is hilarious. I love that part and the part right after (when House does that fake laugh).
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Date: 2007-02-05 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 09:30 am (UTC)If any of my friends saw what I just wrote, they'd die. I am that person who says whatever comes to mind, and half the time the stuff that comes to mind is... less than wholesome. :)
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Date: 2007-02-05 11:00 am (UTC)Taking the heat off of that, the main thing I did like was the dialogue, which was probably one of the most realistic I've seen in a while.
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Date: 2007-02-05 03:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 04:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 08:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 05:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 06:44 am (UTC)Anyway, thanks for writing this and sharing it with us! :)
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Date: 2007-02-05 08:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 07:14 am (UTC)think Ilove you! Can barely think after that! And glad that they were long rather than dabbles *squee*(You went from 80 to 190 and 200...intentional or a mistype?)
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Date: 2007-02-05 08:24 am (UTC)I'm glad you love me and that you appreciate the length. I was afraid that everyone would hate me for morphing the drabble into something it was never meant to be!
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Date: 2007-02-05 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-10 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-10 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-06 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-10 03:37 am (UTC)They like it! Hey, Mikey!
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Date: 2007-02-10 01:48 am (UTC)I prefer the long stories as well. Especially when they are full of teh hot man secks, whether it be oral or anal. Damn, this was soooooo good, dude, you don't even know...
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Date: 2007-02-10 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-17 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-22 12:12 am (UTC)especially the latest drabble x)
Wilson kneeling on a newspaper - it's so typical *_*
ah, and number 30. ^_^
be there and see it... Poor House and Wilson, mwhahahaha x)
thanks for share!