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sick_wilson2014-07-18 07:33 pm
mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com) wrote in sick_wilson2014-07-18 07:33 pm
Entry tags:
Heat Wave
Title: Heat Wave
Author: MnstrTruckSlash
Words: 2,500
Rating: R/NC-17 for a full on, graphic sex scene and a few swear words but otherwise mostly clean. House is naked a lot but I don’t describe it graphically.
Summary: House just got out of Mayfield and Wilson is staying home for a few days to take care of him. There is a sudden heat wave, and they are stuck without air conditioning, which leads to House lying around naked, and sucking on popsicles a lot. This is emotionally difficult for Wilson. Eventually, he ends up with a physically injury too.
Warnings: Somewhat OOC, hardcore slash here, sex scene towards the end, it’s also a sort of alternate universe where House and Wilson, and my other usual stuff. No child abuse or anything, though.
Characters: House and Wilson
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the show or the characters, or anything related to Fox.
Additional Note: I originally had Wilson injure a slightly different part of his body. I didn't change much but if anything doesn't make sense following the injury scene, let me know.
House was released from Mayfield the same day my landlord removed all the outdoor air conditioning units from our building. It is late August, so he probably didn’t except there to be this much trouble in fixing the building’s AC system, but this week New Jersey is struggling through one of the worst heat waves I have ever seen. Add in a bored, currently jobless House—who I am terrified to leave alone right now—and it’s not exactly the vacation I’d pictured when I asked for two weeks off of work.
Sure, we’ve been hanging out, laughing a lot, playing video games, and stuff. It’s been a lot of fun overall, but it’s also hot, and sweaty, and disgusting. Plus, we can’t go anywhere because it’s so damn warm out. This morning, I woke up drenched in sweat, with Greg nowhere to be found. He had left a note in the kitchen.
Don’t worry Wilson; I’m not out trying to score drugs. I went to get groceries. We’re out of beer and ice cream. I grabbed myself a quick, icy shower, trying to cool down. In every sense of the word. You see, Greg has taken to lounging around in the nude to combat the heat.
I can’t say I blame the guy, but it’s making my other problems so much worse. Before we started living together, I managed to control this crush without much difficulty. I was able to hide my feelings and pretend we were just friends. Now that we’re together all the time, sleeping in close proximity, I’d be struggling even without the pants-free jerk stretched out on my sofa.
After my shower, I throw on a t-shirt, some clean boxers, and a pair of linen pajama bottoms. When I emerge from my room the second time, Greg is standing behind an open Styrofoam cooler, two empty bags of ice on the ground in front of him.
“The grocery store was out of good ice cream flavors. So, I settled for popsicles, and ice. Lots of ice.” I nod. My best friend is relaxing in the cooler, which he has filled with ice cubes. He is wearing swim trunks this time. At least he’s not naked.
“There have to be more comfortable ways to keep from getting overheated,” I suggest, nodding towards the ice. “A cold shower or bath perhaps?”
“Even if I wasn’t in agonizing pain, I couldn’t stand in the shower long enough for it to help,” he replies. “And cold baths…” Greg shudders slightly. “This is barely tolerable. I even put a pair of briefs on the trunks. My boys are actually holding up fairly well,” he says with a chuckle. “If you wanna join, I can scoot over. It’s a good way to avoid heat stroke” I giggle, but there’s no way I’m sitting so close to him. Might not be able to control myself.
“The popsicles you bought, you’re not sitting on those, right?” I ask. Greg shakes his head and laughs. “Then, I think just grab one of those. You want?” He says yes. I race to the kitchen, praying my best friend hasn’t noticed me staring at his abs. I should have known cohabitation would be a bad idea. During Julie and my separation, I nearly gave myself an ulcer trying to hold my feelings in. How am I going to handle this without exploding?
“Wilson, I’m hot,” Greg moans, dragging out the “ah” sound on the word hot. Boy you have no idea! I grabbed a couple popsicles and carried them back into the living room. Greg begins to lap at his treat, in an absurdly sexualized fashion. I know he is taunting me, but House just thinks he’s being funny. Jackass. I collapse on the sofa, arms and legs spread out, head lolled back, panting. He tosses a handful of ice at me, aiming for my open mouth.
“You’re a disgusting pig,” I mock, but I barely mean it. Hell, even Greg barely means his quips. I think
“You’re the one who won’t let me go back to my place,” he sighs, massaging his thigh. “I have working AC, won’t need run around in the buff. Hell, if you’re worried about me using or being alone, why not come with?”
“I know it’s uncomfortable…” I start, but don’t finish. Honestly I don’t know how to finish my sentence. Sure the temptation to start using his pills again will be stronger with them in every room, but if I’m there I can keep an eye on the man. Of course, I’ll have to sleep on his sofa but being in a bed will be easier on his leg, which will make him less likely to want to start popping Vicodin again. Plus, out in the open, I won’t be as able to fantasize about having sex with him all night. The more time I spend thinking about this, the more likely I’ll be to act on my desires.
Once, back a Greg’s place, he cranks up the AC and I push he couch under a vent, where we sit, enjoying the cool breeze. House closes his eyes and lets out a loud, low moan, as he drapes himself over the sofa, his hand landing on my thigh. Five seconds later, he’s fast asleep. Based on the dark circles under his eyes, I’d guess he hasn’t slept well the last few days. Not that House is normally a great sleeper, on or off the Vicodin. To tell the truth, I myself haven’t been getting much rest either. I’m out cold almost as soon as he is, and then I start dreaming about…well you know, with House.
xx
“Hey, Jimmy; wake up!” House declares, shaking me by the shoulder. I bolt upright, suddenly aware of my location. “So um…I think we need to talk,” he says, and at first I have no idea what he means. Then, I realize my head is resting on House’s shoulder, and I have an erection. I think I was even talking in my sleep.
I jump to my feet and race for the door. “Hey, quit running, jerk-wad. I’m a cripple, can’t keep up.” I pause, waiting for him to make it to my side. I don’t know why I’m bothering. I can only imagine the barrage of insults about to come my way. So, I wrap my arms around Greg’s body and kiss him with all the love and passion and care I can muster. Then, I steady myself for a blow.
“Well that took longer than I expected,” he exclaims. “For crying out loud, Wilson, I was lying around completely naked and I gave a blowjob to a popsicle! Do you really think I’m so incredibly oblivious I didn’t realize what was going on?” I shrug my shoulders.
“I figured you were messing with me,” I confess, running my fingers along the short hair. “It’s not like you’ve ever shown any interest in dating me or anything. You might be getting better but you are still a jerk.”
“I never said anything because I wasn’t sure you felt the same way. I figured it out yesterday for sure.” I shot him a dirty look. “I am getting better but I still have no clue how to talk about my feelings. You saw how I was with Cuddy, and with Stacy.” House sighs. “But I do like you. Also, since we’ve known each other for half our lives, do you think we can skip the stupid, boring dating crap that no one actually likes? I mean, you don’t expect me take you out for expensive meals at restaurants neither of us likes or to chick flicks or whatever? I mean, I love you and all, but I don’t hafta, like, ask you about your dreams and hopes and aspirations to get to the good stuff, do I?” I couldn’t control my gigging.
“If you’re just looking for a fuck buddy, this isn’t going to work. I certainly don’t need chick flicks or visits to trendy restaurants, but if we do this, we have to actually date each other, okay?”
“So what? We go out for bowling and pizza, and then we come back here and do it?” he asked sounding confused, perhaps even a bit scared. “Because I’m pretty sure I just defined fuck buddies.”
“Not if we spend the night together after. We both know you and I have basically been a couple for the last two years, maybe longer. I wanna make it official. Also, dating would mean being exclusive, and maybe—eventually—telling people how we feel about each other. At some point we should probably move all your things into my place or vice versa,” I explained. Greg stared at me like he was still concerned about something. “For now, I think we should just try and stay calm and see where this goes, alright?” Another nod. “Are you worried this is a hallucination?”
“Of course not, you moron,” he moans, pulling his t-shirt off and dropping it to the ground. I know House well enough to expect this sort of behavior. Trying to discuss anything of importance can be a real struggle, but if I push just hard enough, he sometimes opens up and I get the chance to truly help him. “…Maybe I’m a little uncomfortable being back here after everything I went through, but it helps having you close by,” he confesses. Greg wraps his arm around my waist.
“If things ever start to get…” House cut me off by kissing me hard on the mouth, and stroking my hair as we made out. “Just try and remember I’m still your best friend, regardless of whether or not this works out.”
“Are you going to talk like this all time? It’s really annoying,” Greg gripes. I grin. “If I say “I love you” again, can we skip to the good stuff?”
“I love you too, Greg and some of the talking, and sharing feelings, and whatnot is the good stuff.” He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t it feel nice when I say, ‘I love you?’”
“Yes, but we need to start with whatever we’re going to do. I’m starting to feel a bit blue, and I don’t mean emotionally.” He points towards his crotch. House and I pull our clothes off, as we make our way towards his room. Greg plops down onto the bed, legs spread apart, displaying his thin, naked, muscular body and soft skin.
“I love you,” I repeat, because I want to make him feel good in every sense possible. I climb on top of him, massaging his thigh with one hand. I grab some lube and gently start to stretch him out with the other. I kiss all up and down his neck and shoulders. Then, I lightly nip at and start to suck on his left nipple.
“You really are—mm…ohh…wow,” House exclaims, his hips bucking slightly. He is grinning like crazy. Greg is lying sort of halfway on his back and half on his side, a pillow under his right thigh, legs spread. I move my leg hand up to his hard cock and begin to stroke him.
“It’s nice to see you smile,” I reply, touching his face, and pausing to kiss his cheek very quickly. “Are you ready?” I pause, removing my fingers. Greg nods. I gently press myself against his entrance. House swallows hard. I push into him. He reaches down, and runs his fingers through my hair. Greg’ grin spreads across his face, his usually gruff exterior melting away like a pad of butter on warm pancakes. His body is relaxed and loose and responding to my every touch. He lets out a low—good—moan, pushing up with his hips again. I’m able to brace myself with one arm, as I play with his manhood with the other. My fingertips trail up and own the shaft, while I trace small circles over the head, with my thumb pad. There’s this spot near where House’s neck and shoulders meet, and it seems to drive him crazy to have my mouth there: nipping, sucking, kissing, and licking
I don’t know if it’s because we’re both twisted in an unusual position to keep his leg comfortable, or perhaps it is something to do with me getting older, maybe I just got overexcited because I’m finally doing something I’ve dreamt of for years, but I’ve been feeling a bit strange the entire time we’ve been going at it. I keep my mouth shut, however. No sense worrying Greg over what’s probably nothing. Plus we’re both nearly finished.
“Jimmy,” House exclaims, panting slightly as he reaches orgasm. “Fuck, I haven’t cum so hard in years.” I smile, as I trust into him, twisting myself at a sort of awkward angle. Suddenly, there’s a quiet cracking sound in my pelvis and my hips explode in a fireball of agony. I scream in pain, falling over curling on my side. “Wilson?” You know the situation is bad when Gregory House sounds like a worried mother fawning over a scraped knee.
“My hip,” I sob, barely breathing. As a doctor, I know what has most likely happened to me. My hip is probably broken, or maybe popped out of the socket. House leans over me to reach for his cell phone. “Please don’t. I can’t go to the hospital like this. People are going to be giggling behind my back the rest of my life.”
“Sure, let’s ignore a medical emergency; maybe even refuse treatment just to avoid a little embarrassment.” House shouts, grabbing his cell. “Wilson, you need surgery, and soon. I can examine you here but if you don’t get this x-rayed and fixed soon, you could end up living with chronic, life long pain. You might not be able to walk either without a cane, which—trust me on this—is not as fun as it looks. So, are we calling 9-1-1, or do you wanna try and cure this with an ice pack and herbal tea?” he mocks.
“Okay fine,” I spit. “Make the call.” He’s right, of course but this is still going to be mortifying. The pain, however, is significantly worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. Obviously, I have no choice.
“I’ll make you a deal, okay?” Greg whispers. “Anyone makes fun of you, and I kick their ass. It’s not like they would hit me back. Sure, I deserve it but punching a crippled guy looks really bad, no matter how big of a jerk he is.” House hugs me, and we both giggle. Then, he calls 9-1-1. “So, it might be a while before we can have sex again. I guess this means we’ll be stuck dong some of that normal, boring relationship stuff,” he explains. I can’t really talk for now. So, I just nod. “Maybe we can still have fun though. And I promise not to leave you for someone without old man hips.” As obnoxious as House is, it’s comforting to know he loves me and that some things will never change.
Author: MnstrTruckSlash
Words: 2,500
Rating: R/NC-17 for a full on, graphic sex scene and a few swear words but otherwise mostly clean. House is naked a lot but I don’t describe it graphically.
Summary: House just got out of Mayfield and Wilson is staying home for a few days to take care of him. There is a sudden heat wave, and they are stuck without air conditioning, which leads to House lying around naked, and sucking on popsicles a lot. This is emotionally difficult for Wilson. Eventually, he ends up with a physically injury too.
Warnings: Somewhat OOC, hardcore slash here, sex scene towards the end, it’s also a sort of alternate universe where House and Wilson, and my other usual stuff. No child abuse or anything, though.
Characters: House and Wilson
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the show or the characters, or anything related to Fox.
Additional Note: I originally had Wilson injure a slightly different part of his body. I didn't change much but if anything doesn't make sense following the injury scene, let me know.
House was released from Mayfield the same day my landlord removed all the outdoor air conditioning units from our building. It is late August, so he probably didn’t except there to be this much trouble in fixing the building’s AC system, but this week New Jersey is struggling through one of the worst heat waves I have ever seen. Add in a bored, currently jobless House—who I am terrified to leave alone right now—and it’s not exactly the vacation I’d pictured when I asked for two weeks off of work.
Sure, we’ve been hanging out, laughing a lot, playing video games, and stuff. It’s been a lot of fun overall, but it’s also hot, and sweaty, and disgusting. Plus, we can’t go anywhere because it’s so damn warm out. This morning, I woke up drenched in sweat, with Greg nowhere to be found. He had left a note in the kitchen.
Don’t worry Wilson; I’m not out trying to score drugs. I went to get groceries. We’re out of beer and ice cream. I grabbed myself a quick, icy shower, trying to cool down. In every sense of the word. You see, Greg has taken to lounging around in the nude to combat the heat.
I can’t say I blame the guy, but it’s making my other problems so much worse. Before we started living together, I managed to control this crush without much difficulty. I was able to hide my feelings and pretend we were just friends. Now that we’re together all the time, sleeping in close proximity, I’d be struggling even without the pants-free jerk stretched out on my sofa.
After my shower, I throw on a t-shirt, some clean boxers, and a pair of linen pajama bottoms. When I emerge from my room the second time, Greg is standing behind an open Styrofoam cooler, two empty bags of ice on the ground in front of him.
“The grocery store was out of good ice cream flavors. So, I settled for popsicles, and ice. Lots of ice.” I nod. My best friend is relaxing in the cooler, which he has filled with ice cubes. He is wearing swim trunks this time. At least he’s not naked.
“There have to be more comfortable ways to keep from getting overheated,” I suggest, nodding towards the ice. “A cold shower or bath perhaps?”
“Even if I wasn’t in agonizing pain, I couldn’t stand in the shower long enough for it to help,” he replies. “And cold baths…” Greg shudders slightly. “This is barely tolerable. I even put a pair of briefs on the trunks. My boys are actually holding up fairly well,” he says with a chuckle. “If you wanna join, I can scoot over. It’s a good way to avoid heat stroke” I giggle, but there’s no way I’m sitting so close to him. Might not be able to control myself.
“The popsicles you bought, you’re not sitting on those, right?” I ask. Greg shakes his head and laughs. “Then, I think just grab one of those. You want?” He says yes. I race to the kitchen, praying my best friend hasn’t noticed me staring at his abs. I should have known cohabitation would be a bad idea. During Julie and my separation, I nearly gave myself an ulcer trying to hold my feelings in. How am I going to handle this without exploding?
“Wilson, I’m hot,” Greg moans, dragging out the “ah” sound on the word hot. Boy you have no idea! I grabbed a couple popsicles and carried them back into the living room. Greg begins to lap at his treat, in an absurdly sexualized fashion. I know he is taunting me, but House just thinks he’s being funny. Jackass. I collapse on the sofa, arms and legs spread out, head lolled back, panting. He tosses a handful of ice at me, aiming for my open mouth.
“You’re a disgusting pig,” I mock, but I barely mean it. Hell, even Greg barely means his quips. I think
“You’re the one who won’t let me go back to my place,” he sighs, massaging his thigh. “I have working AC, won’t need run around in the buff. Hell, if you’re worried about me using or being alone, why not come with?”
“I know it’s uncomfortable…” I start, but don’t finish. Honestly I don’t know how to finish my sentence. Sure the temptation to start using his pills again will be stronger with them in every room, but if I’m there I can keep an eye on the man. Of course, I’ll have to sleep on his sofa but being in a bed will be easier on his leg, which will make him less likely to want to start popping Vicodin again. Plus, out in the open, I won’t be as able to fantasize about having sex with him all night. The more time I spend thinking about this, the more likely I’ll be to act on my desires.
Once, back a Greg’s place, he cranks up the AC and I push he couch under a vent, where we sit, enjoying the cool breeze. House closes his eyes and lets out a loud, low moan, as he drapes himself over the sofa, his hand landing on my thigh. Five seconds later, he’s fast asleep. Based on the dark circles under his eyes, I’d guess he hasn’t slept well the last few days. Not that House is normally a great sleeper, on or off the Vicodin. To tell the truth, I myself haven’t been getting much rest either. I’m out cold almost as soon as he is, and then I start dreaming about…well you know, with House.
xx
“Hey, Jimmy; wake up!” House declares, shaking me by the shoulder. I bolt upright, suddenly aware of my location. “So um…I think we need to talk,” he says, and at first I have no idea what he means. Then, I realize my head is resting on House’s shoulder, and I have an erection. I think I was even talking in my sleep.
I jump to my feet and race for the door. “Hey, quit running, jerk-wad. I’m a cripple, can’t keep up.” I pause, waiting for him to make it to my side. I don’t know why I’m bothering. I can only imagine the barrage of insults about to come my way. So, I wrap my arms around Greg’s body and kiss him with all the love and passion and care I can muster. Then, I steady myself for a blow.
“Well that took longer than I expected,” he exclaims. “For crying out loud, Wilson, I was lying around completely naked and I gave a blowjob to a popsicle! Do you really think I’m so incredibly oblivious I didn’t realize what was going on?” I shrug my shoulders.
“I figured you were messing with me,” I confess, running my fingers along the short hair. “It’s not like you’ve ever shown any interest in dating me or anything. You might be getting better but you are still a jerk.”
“I never said anything because I wasn’t sure you felt the same way. I figured it out yesterday for sure.” I shot him a dirty look. “I am getting better but I still have no clue how to talk about my feelings. You saw how I was with Cuddy, and with Stacy.” House sighs. “But I do like you. Also, since we’ve known each other for half our lives, do you think we can skip the stupid, boring dating crap that no one actually likes? I mean, you don’t expect me take you out for expensive meals at restaurants neither of us likes or to chick flicks or whatever? I mean, I love you and all, but I don’t hafta, like, ask you about your dreams and hopes and aspirations to get to the good stuff, do I?” I couldn’t control my gigging.
“If you’re just looking for a fuck buddy, this isn’t going to work. I certainly don’t need chick flicks or visits to trendy restaurants, but if we do this, we have to actually date each other, okay?”
“So what? We go out for bowling and pizza, and then we come back here and do it?” he asked sounding confused, perhaps even a bit scared. “Because I’m pretty sure I just defined fuck buddies.”
“Not if we spend the night together after. We both know you and I have basically been a couple for the last two years, maybe longer. I wanna make it official. Also, dating would mean being exclusive, and maybe—eventually—telling people how we feel about each other. At some point we should probably move all your things into my place or vice versa,” I explained. Greg stared at me like he was still concerned about something. “For now, I think we should just try and stay calm and see where this goes, alright?” Another nod. “Are you worried this is a hallucination?”
“Of course not, you moron,” he moans, pulling his t-shirt off and dropping it to the ground. I know House well enough to expect this sort of behavior. Trying to discuss anything of importance can be a real struggle, but if I push just hard enough, he sometimes opens up and I get the chance to truly help him. “…Maybe I’m a little uncomfortable being back here after everything I went through, but it helps having you close by,” he confesses. Greg wraps his arm around my waist.
“If things ever start to get…” House cut me off by kissing me hard on the mouth, and stroking my hair as we made out. “Just try and remember I’m still your best friend, regardless of whether or not this works out.”
“Are you going to talk like this all time? It’s really annoying,” Greg gripes. I grin. “If I say “I love you” again, can we skip to the good stuff?”
“I love you too, Greg and some of the talking, and sharing feelings, and whatnot is the good stuff.” He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t it feel nice when I say, ‘I love you?’”
“Yes, but we need to start with whatever we’re going to do. I’m starting to feel a bit blue, and I don’t mean emotionally.” He points towards his crotch. House and I pull our clothes off, as we make our way towards his room. Greg plops down onto the bed, legs spread apart, displaying his thin, naked, muscular body and soft skin.
“I love you,” I repeat, because I want to make him feel good in every sense possible. I climb on top of him, massaging his thigh with one hand. I grab some lube and gently start to stretch him out with the other. I kiss all up and down his neck and shoulders. Then, I lightly nip at and start to suck on his left nipple.
“You really are—mm…ohh…wow,” House exclaims, his hips bucking slightly. He is grinning like crazy. Greg is lying sort of halfway on his back and half on his side, a pillow under his right thigh, legs spread. I move my leg hand up to his hard cock and begin to stroke him.
“It’s nice to see you smile,” I reply, touching his face, and pausing to kiss his cheek very quickly. “Are you ready?” I pause, removing my fingers. Greg nods. I gently press myself against his entrance. House swallows hard. I push into him. He reaches down, and runs his fingers through my hair. Greg’ grin spreads across his face, his usually gruff exterior melting away like a pad of butter on warm pancakes. His body is relaxed and loose and responding to my every touch. He lets out a low—good—moan, pushing up with his hips again. I’m able to brace myself with one arm, as I play with his manhood with the other. My fingertips trail up and own the shaft, while I trace small circles over the head, with my thumb pad. There’s this spot near where House’s neck and shoulders meet, and it seems to drive him crazy to have my mouth there: nipping, sucking, kissing, and licking
I don’t know if it’s because we’re both twisted in an unusual position to keep his leg comfortable, or perhaps it is something to do with me getting older, maybe I just got overexcited because I’m finally doing something I’ve dreamt of for years, but I’ve been feeling a bit strange the entire time we’ve been going at it. I keep my mouth shut, however. No sense worrying Greg over what’s probably nothing. Plus we’re both nearly finished.
“Jimmy,” House exclaims, panting slightly as he reaches orgasm. “Fuck, I haven’t cum so hard in years.” I smile, as I trust into him, twisting myself at a sort of awkward angle. Suddenly, there’s a quiet cracking sound in my pelvis and my hips explode in a fireball of agony. I scream in pain, falling over curling on my side. “Wilson?” You know the situation is bad when Gregory House sounds like a worried mother fawning over a scraped knee.
“My hip,” I sob, barely breathing. As a doctor, I know what has most likely happened to me. My hip is probably broken, or maybe popped out of the socket. House leans over me to reach for his cell phone. “Please don’t. I can’t go to the hospital like this. People are going to be giggling behind my back the rest of my life.”
“Sure, let’s ignore a medical emergency; maybe even refuse treatment just to avoid a little embarrassment.” House shouts, grabbing his cell. “Wilson, you need surgery, and soon. I can examine you here but if you don’t get this x-rayed and fixed soon, you could end up living with chronic, life long pain. You might not be able to walk either without a cane, which—trust me on this—is not as fun as it looks. So, are we calling 9-1-1, or do you wanna try and cure this with an ice pack and herbal tea?” he mocks.
“Okay fine,” I spit. “Make the call.” He’s right, of course but this is still going to be mortifying. The pain, however, is significantly worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. Obviously, I have no choice.
“I’ll make you a deal, okay?” Greg whispers. “Anyone makes fun of you, and I kick their ass. It’s not like they would hit me back. Sure, I deserve it but punching a crippled guy looks really bad, no matter how big of a jerk he is.” House hugs me, and we both giggle. Then, he calls 9-1-1. “So, it might be a while before we can have sex again. I guess this means we’ll be stuck dong some of that normal, boring relationship stuff,” he explains. I can’t really talk for now. So, I just nod. “Maybe we can still have fun though. And I promise not to leave you for someone without old man hips.” As obnoxious as House is, it’s comforting to know he loves me and that some things will never change.