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lilyleia78More flist flooding, but for an (almost) entirely different set of people. ^_^ ♥
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sg_prompts is hosting WIPs for commenting/feedback. So I thought I'd do one for each fandom. For the record, if anyone has help/suggestions/ideas/chocolate bribes to make me work faster, that would be awesome. Also, if anyone wants to take an idea and run with it/comment fic on it that would be awesome-er (what? It's a word) and wouldn't prevent me from continuing mine.
I started this with the idea that House is unexpectedly vocal about his feelings, surprising even himself with how easily he uses 'the L word.' Knowing that 'everyone lies' in House's world, Wilson isn't saying it, he's trying to show it. House takes awhile to catch on.
The steady throb of pain in House’s thigh drug him slowly from the most marvelous dream. It was an old companion, not the mind-shattering pain it had been in the beginning But a low pull on his consciousness, a gentle, persistent reminder that sometimes the best medicine was the preventative kind. Obedient to this one thing only, House flung an arm out to grope for his little orange lifeline.
“Ow,” a sleepy voice garbled as House’s arm hit miles of smooth warm skin. Instinctively, House began stroking, tracing the line of Wilson’s spine with his hands. Wilson hummed appreciatively and arched into the caress.
House’s mouth immediately bypassed his brain, and he whispered, “I love you.” before he’d even had time to process this day as their official awkward ‘morning after’
Wilson smiled groggily and shifted the necessary inch closer to place a sloppy, slightly sour kiss on House’s lips. It took more willpower than most people would believe House possessed to stop himself from deepening the kiss, crushing Wilson to him and trying to outdo last night’s impressive performance. Only the casual reminder from his thigh kept him in line.
“Morning breath,” House complained instead, making a face.
Wilson let out a laugh on a puff of breath, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Really? Your breath is like sunshine and roses. Your love hasn’t magically transformed my mouth into a self-cleaning cave of minty freshness?”
“No more love for you until you brush,” House told him gruffly, leaning over Wilson to grab the bottle that had been his original goal. He swallowed one quickly, mentally reviewed the new activities he’d engaged in last night, and downed a second.
He glared down at the man half pinned beneath him, prepared to give Wilson a lecture if he thought sleeping with House meant he could be even more disapproving of his Vicodin habit. But Wilson was paying no attention to House’s actions. He was staring with rapt fascination at House’s throat. When he saw House noticing him, Wilson flashed him the smile that made women three states over swoon and leaned up to drag his tongue slowly from the spot capturing his attention to the curve of House’s ear.
House shivered and cursed himself for being twelve kinds of an idiot before repeating, “I love you.”
Wilson surged up at the words and latched onto House’s mouth with his own, thoroughly exploring every centimeter of House’s palate with his tongue. When Wilson released him, House slid bonelessly down to his side of the bed, panting heavily.
Wilson propped himself up on an elbow to smile down at the older man. “See? Sunshine and roses,” he remarked before sliding out of bed and padding down to the bathroom.
House watched the spectacular sight of Wilson’s naked ass until it disappeared from his line of vision. Once there was no longer a good reason to be awake, House rolled over into the spot Wilson had just vacated and allowed sleep to reclaim him.
The strangely domestic sounds of cooking woke House up next. The smells were enough to drag a weaker man out of bed and right into the welcome embrace of morning. But House was not a weaker man. He wasn’t going to get up a second earlier than normal; no matter how much Wilson tried to seduce him with pancakes and syrup.
sg_prompts is hosting WIPs for commenting/feedback. So I thought I'd do one for each fandom. For the record, if anyone has help/suggestions/ideas/chocolate bribes to make me work faster, that would be awesome. Also, if anyone wants to take an idea and run with it/comment fic on it that would be awesome-er (what? It's a word) and wouldn't prevent me from continuing mine.I started this with the idea that House is unexpectedly vocal about his feelings, surprising even himself with how easily he uses 'the L word.' Knowing that 'everyone lies' in House's world, Wilson isn't saying it, he's trying to show it. House takes awhile to catch on.
The steady throb of pain in House’s thigh drug him slowly from the most marvelous dream. It was an old companion, not the mind-shattering pain it had been in the beginning But a low pull on his consciousness, a gentle, persistent reminder that sometimes the best medicine was the preventative kind. Obedient to this one thing only, House flung an arm out to grope for his little orange lifeline.
“Ow,” a sleepy voice garbled as House’s arm hit miles of smooth warm skin. Instinctively, House began stroking, tracing the line of Wilson’s spine with his hands. Wilson hummed appreciatively and arched into the caress.
House’s mouth immediately bypassed his brain, and he whispered, “I love you.” before he’d even had time to process this day as their official awkward ‘morning after’
Wilson smiled groggily and shifted the necessary inch closer to place a sloppy, slightly sour kiss on House’s lips. It took more willpower than most people would believe House possessed to stop himself from deepening the kiss, crushing Wilson to him and trying to outdo last night’s impressive performance. Only the casual reminder from his thigh kept him in line.
“Morning breath,” House complained instead, making a face.
Wilson let out a laugh on a puff of breath, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Really? Your breath is like sunshine and roses. Your love hasn’t magically transformed my mouth into a self-cleaning cave of minty freshness?”
“No more love for you until you brush,” House told him gruffly, leaning over Wilson to grab the bottle that had been his original goal. He swallowed one quickly, mentally reviewed the new activities he’d engaged in last night, and downed a second.
He glared down at the man half pinned beneath him, prepared to give Wilson a lecture if he thought sleeping with House meant he could be even more disapproving of his Vicodin habit. But Wilson was paying no attention to House’s actions. He was staring with rapt fascination at House’s throat. When he saw House noticing him, Wilson flashed him the smile that made women three states over swoon and leaned up to drag his tongue slowly from the spot capturing his attention to the curve of House’s ear.
House shivered and cursed himself for being twelve kinds of an idiot before repeating, “I love you.”
Wilson surged up at the words and latched onto House’s mouth with his own, thoroughly exploring every centimeter of House’s palate with his tongue. When Wilson released him, House slid bonelessly down to his side of the bed, panting heavily.
Wilson propped himself up on an elbow to smile down at the older man. “See? Sunshine and roses,” he remarked before sliding out of bed and padding down to the bathroom.
House watched the spectacular sight of Wilson’s naked ass until it disappeared from his line of vision. Once there was no longer a good reason to be awake, House rolled over into the spot Wilson had just vacated and allowed sleep to reclaim him.
The strangely domestic sounds of cooking woke House up next. The smells were enough to drag a weaker man out of bed and right into the welcome embrace of morning. But House was not a weaker man. He wasn’t going to get up a second earlier than normal; no matter how much Wilson tried to seduce him with pancakes and syrup.
