Ok, I rate this as M. M rating states that it should be suitable for people 16 years of age - yes, this is kind of explicit but THE AUTHOR is 16 years of age, and I think this is perfectly suitable for people of my age. Something I have noticed: I know nothing about cars, and it was only pointed out to me after I'd written this that Corvette's don't have back doors. So sorry about that part -blush-

Disclaimer: House MD and all it's character's belong to David Shore and the good corporate whores at Fox.


"I'm bored." House announced, the glow from the cafeteria heat lamps faintly permeating his jack and red tee shirt at add to his already near-breaking point restlessness.

"I told you – I'm not buying you any new toys until you start buying your own lunch." Wilson countered as the lunch lady rang up their meals. He laughed, suddenly seeing her view of them – eating together each day, paying together and now…toys.

"What?"

"Nothing." Wilson nodded a thank you when he received his change and headed towards a free table. "It's just we're a gay couple, and we're the only ones that don't know about it."

"Yes, I can see how that could be amusing. You wouldn't have happened to get into the medicine cabinet this morning, would you?"

"Oh no, god forbid. Something like that could start an addiction." Under examination, House only say Wilson's eyes twinkling, they were in no way blood shot.

"Laughter, thinly veiled subtext…should I break out my white board and marker pens?"

Wilson just laughed again in response and stole a fry from House's plate. Julie was out of town, he had no pressing cases, for the time being he was free. Even better than that, House was bored. As scary a prospect as that would have been to some, Wilson anticipated fun. He wasn't wrong.

"You know what I've never done?" House asked. "That road trip thing. Get in a car and go anywhere."

"Sounds like a proposition to me."

"I have a nice car to do it in."

"Now I know that was a proposition."

"Well, are you gonna come?"

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"I have to work." Wilson said, protesting feebly.

"I'll spend the afternoon with Cuddy, and she'll do anything I ask."

"Well…"

"Come on!" House whined. "I'm bored! And when I'm bored, it gets taken out on pretty blonde things. You'd be saving a wombat from hours of torture."

"I guess…someone has to be there if you need bailing out of jail."

If House could dance, he would have done a victory shimmy around the cafeteria. And Wilson might even have joined him.

"Come in." Wilson was expecting it to be House who entered, so didn't even glance up from his paper work until the click of high heels surprised him. "Oh, Dr Cuddy, hello."

"I just wanted to let you know that of course you can take the time off. I don't know how you convinced him, but well done."

"Oh…erm…thank you."

"It's not going to be easy for him, and I know he's only just beginning to consider the programmes but it's a first step. I'm glad you're going to help him with it."

Wilson blinked. "Programmes…House told you we were going to take a look at some pain management programmes?"

"Yes." Cuddy eyed him suspiciously.

"Oh, well yes, I just wasn't expecting him to say to you…I mean, I didn't think he'd be that open with you about it. He's really doing extremely well."

"You're a good friend to him, Dr Wilson. Make sure you take this slowly." And with that, Cuddy left Wilson alone in his office mulling over why exactly she raised that eyebrow with her last comment.

"I can't believe you told her that!"

"Then why didn't you tell her I was lying?" House smirked.

Wilson sighed and stared out the window. House had come by soon after Cuddy and has refused to let Wilson go home to pick up any stuff. Now they were driving through the very outskirts of Princeton – suburbs had recently given way to a scattering of open land, forestry and singular houses. Wilson had to admit, though House had already started to get on his nerves and he was exhausted from a day at work…this was fun, especially in a car like the 'Vette. There wasn't anywhere else he would want to be. "Let me know when you want to swap around the driving."

"It's been half an hour. Calm down."

"I am calm. It's just when I drive we might actually get somewhere."

"Do you want to end up wrapped around a tree?"

"Man, I always forget how old you are."

" 'Man'?" House chuckled. "Do you forget how old you are, Jimmy?"

"You're just jealous. My skin is still soft and my hair is still thick. And I won't be needing the little blue pills for a while yet." Wilson laughed, then dodged as House threw the little hula girl doll that had been sitting on his dash.

City lights twinkled below them. Neither had any idea which city – House had thrown the map out of the window as soon as Wilson started trying to plan a route, and they'd both long since lost track of the sign posts. The little clock in the dashboard shyly proclaimed that it was a little past 10.30. The buzz of the city rose up filled the air pleasantly, making the silence feel warm, comforting. They had spent the past hour driving along an unmarked, one lane road having to reverse half a mile whenever they met another car, but right now it seemed worth it. They had eaten a light, put together meal of bits and pieces that they picked up at a gas station. For the first time in days, Wilson felt at peace and he could tell that House did too – he hadn't reached for his Vicodin since they had been sat here, and Wilson was fairly sure he hadn't had any for a few hours before that either.

They spoke softly and infrequently, keeping a general conversation going but mostly enjoying the comfortable feeling that had spread over them. Back and forth they passed the brandy that House had bought from the gas station, though he hadn't had the insight to pick up any glasses. The bottle was passed without thank you's, or even a glance in the other's direction. Wilson's head snapped around when he felt the car shake and heard the ignition whirr.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to find somewhere to sleep."

"House, you can't drive. You're drunk."

"Oh, am not. It's just down into the city, and I'm not sleeping in a car."

"What if you get pulled over?"

"I can say the alphabet backwards well enough to fool any cop, thank you very much." House said indignantly.

"You might have problems with walking in a straight line though."

"Nice." House started the engine again.

"House! I'm not gonna let you drive!" Wilson said.

"If I can't, neither can you and we have to spend the night in the 'Vette."

"Whatever House, I'm not going to let you drive. Turn the engine off."

"Ooh, commanding." House smirked. "Make me."

Wilson's arm darted out to reach across and grab the keys, but House blocked him, smiling. Wilson twisted his arm and held onto House's wrist, and reached over with the other arm, and fumbled for the keys with House pushing against his chest, holding him back, giggling. He slipped out of his seat and lunged forward, ending up have sprawled over House's knees. In the final attempt, he managed to switch the engine off, though not without grabbing hold of House's other wrist. He sat panting and giggling for a few seconds, before House suddenly jerked his hands upwards, pulling Wilson up so they were face to face.

Wilson found himself suddenly very aware that House's lips, which looked surprisingly soft, where only inches from his. Every time his chest heaved, trying to catch his breath, he heard their shirts brushing together. Wilson was holding himself above House's hips and if he just thrusted a little...he was suddenly aware of all his blood rushing to his groin. He moved a small amount, barely brushing himself against the older man's pants and got a small moan in response – he didn't even hear it, he just felt the expulsion of air against his cheek.

House's eyes were closed and his mouth partly open. His tongue flicked out and whetted his lips. Wilson's own tongue copied the movement, running slowly along House's bottom lip and then sliding into his mouth. Their lips crushed together and Wilson starting fumbling with the buttons of House's shirt as he slowly ground his hip down onto his groin. He felt House moan into his mouth and pushed him hard back against the seat, biting his lips and running his hands all over his body.

"Back seat?" House suggested breathlessly, sliding one hand into Wilson's pants and squeezing his cock.

Wilson bit down on House's shoulder. "Oh god, yes please."

They dragged themselves out of the car, bodies still tightly pressed together and writhing, still kissing and licking and biting. House tasted blood in his mouth. Wilson grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the side of the car. He settled one leg between House's thighs and rubbed his cock against House's hip, covering his neck in small bite marks.

"Oh god...James..." House groaned. He bent his head flicked his tongue across Wilson's ear lobe. "James," he whispered, "do you want me inside you?"

A delicious shiver ran down his spine. "I...oh god, yes." He pulled the back door open and pushed House inside. Any concern he had for the slight grimace of pain he saw was soon forgotten when House pulled his pants and boxers down around his knees. Wilson shed his own completely then came into the car, straddling House and leaning down to kiss him, gently nipping his lip. "Lube?"

"Shit..." House pointed to the bag that contained the remnants of their dinner. "There's some butter in there."

Wilson raised an eyebrow, but House wiggled beneath him in a way that would have made him willing to use peanut butter (smooth, not chunky) if nothing else was available. He put the carton on House's chest and scooped some out onto his fingers. He worked it soft and warm between his hands, then slicked it over House's dick. When his thumb brushed the head, House's hips bucked.

House pulled James' hand to his lips and sucked the butter from his fingers, swirling his tongue in languid motions inside his mouth, as he ran one of his own butter-covered fingers around Wilson's opening. His muscles were already relaxed, anticipatory, and two fingers slid in without difficulty. He brushed the prostate and James' gasped. House held a finger lightly between his teeth and smiled.

Wilson edged forward and positioned himself over House's dick, feeling the blunt pressure against him for a moment before lowering. House's back arched as soon as he was taken inside, overwhelmed by how hot he was, how tight he was. Wilson's knees pushed against his hips, gaining leverage, as he began to move faster. his head fell forward and he released a deep, guttural moan as his prostate was hit. House thrust his hips up to meet him, and dug his finger nails into Wilson's thighs.

"Oh...oh my god...Greg..." Wilson whimpered through gritted teeth.

House moaned, his head back and turning against the seat. He reached out blindly and found Wilson's cock. He started stroking, circling his thumb over the head and twisting his fingers. Wilson felt sparks fly from the base of his spine with every new hit to his prostate, and House's moaning became louder, more frantic. He was close, painfully so, and loosing control he pumped his hand rapidly over Wilson's dick. He closed his eyes. Breathing filled his ears and all he could smell was sweat, then he felt sharp bursts of hot come on his chest. He was over the edge – his cock jerked inside Wilson, coming hard, dots forming in front of his eyes like they hadn't done in years. Somewhere far off, he heard someone shout "James."

Wilson slumped down onto House, breathing hard, and gently kissed his neck. "Still bored?" he smiled.

"Definitely not."

"Think you'll be bored again any time soon?"

"If I am, I'll call you." House smiled back. "But next time, try not to get anything on my shirt, ok?"