The two stumbled up the steps to the apartment, hands here, lips there, barely able to remain decent long enough to get inside.
"Nn…" House grunted as he pushed the younger man against the wall of the hallway, fumbling for his key.
"Oof!" Wilson replied as the air was knocked from his lungs, then "Mmm…" as House's lips once again covered his own.
As he jammed the key into the lock, turning it the wrong way four or five times, House found he was having more trouble controlling himself than he'd ever had before. His kisses were sloppy, like a junior high school boy having his first snog; more passion than precision, and more than enough spit, but Wilson didn't seem to mind, which was good, since he couldn't seem to secure any of the skill or grace that usually comes with nearly 40 years of practice in an activity.
"Mn… couch." Wilson warned as they stumbled through the door, reminding House that it wouldn't be there for them to land on.
House grunted in reply, elbowing the door shut awkwardly behind them and half pushed, half directed the younger man towards his room.
Once there, he stripped Wilson of his tie and shirt and stood back, appraising his toned body for a moment. "Merry Christmas to me." He grinned a bit lecherously.
Wilson blushed, embarrassed by the man's attentions. "I… I should have started sooner."
House gave him an incredulous look. "You're just fishing for compliments." He returned. Before the younger man could protest, House captured his mouth in another kiss, biting his lower lip sensually.
Wilson's eyes closed and he was kissing the man back. Suddenly, he snorted.
House pulled away, his face slightly incredulous. "You're laughing?" he accused in an offended voice.
"Sorry…" he replied, a bit flustered, rubbing the side of his face. "Your stubble tickles."
The older doctor raised an eyebrow and then rubbed his beard wickedly against the side of the man's neck.
"Stop- stop it!" Wilson struggled to get away from him, but his struggles stopped and his complaints turned into impatient whimpers as House suddenly switched gears, sucking the man's collarbone, his mouth hot and wet.
"Oh…." He moaned. "Nn… G-god…"
House pushed him down onto the bed lightly, grunting a little as the effort put a strain on his bad leg.
Ever attentive, Wilson's eyes shot open in concern and he searched his long-time best friend's face. "You okay?" he panted.
"Shut up." House replied gruffly, shifting his weight to kneel on the bed.
"Shut up." He repeated, arresting the man's mouth in another fiery kiss.
The air seemed heavy with their heartbeats and their movements were small and stiff. House found himself swallowing repeatedly as he continued to kiss the man, concentrating on mouth and teeth and tongue; forgetting bodies and hands momentarily as his own hand did no more than rub the same path up and down Wilson's thigh.
The oncologist broke the kiss for a second, pressing his face into the man's shoulder. He seemed to be hesitating, searching for words, requests too thwarting to voice.
"What?" House asked breathily, his blue-grey eyes flicking down to the brunette for an answer.
"Mnn…" was the only reply he got.
He raised an eyebrow at the feeling of the younger man's hands trembling at his neck. "D'you want me to stop?" he asked.
A headshake no.
He smiled. "Then you want me to continue."
A pause. A nod.
He chuckled lightly as he gently pulled the man's arms from around his neck and pushed him back into the pillows.
Wilson's eyes were shut, his cheeks pink with too many emotions that make them that way.
House smiled, just appraising that newly toned body for a few moments before he moved his lips to the younger doctor's chest, kissing, sucking, licking, teasing the man's fevered skin. He moved his lips lower, his hands sliding down the man's sides in unison. When he reached the hem of the oncologist's trousers, he slid his fingers skillfully to the button of Wilson's pants.
"I'm going Bass fishingOut on lake Tuschwilla,I might catch me a ten foot gator With my little green caterpillar!" the tinny baritone erupted from the corner of the room, startling the nephrologist so much that he lost his footing and nearly toppled off of the bed.
He snapped his attention back to his bed partner as Wilson burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Methinks you've been bested at your own game!" he grinned.
House glowered at him for only a moment before sliding off of the bed and stalking towards the garish fish.
"There's no telling what's biting todayExcept these mad mosquitos..."
House grabbed the fish, jerking off it's battery cover and tossing it across the room where it his the wall with the unsatisfying –punk- sound of rubber on drywall and tumbled into the hamper. He stood panting a few seconds before returning to the bed, crawling back over the younger man possessively.
Wilson smiled up at him in a mixture of gratefulness and I told you so. "Where were we?" he asked a bit hackneyed.
House smirked, moving his lips to the man's neck once again. "A little bit after this point." He murmured. He kissed the man's neck softly for a moment, liking the way it made the oncologist squirm and the soft sounds he replied to the kisses with.
He smirked. "Going Bass fishing…" he began to croon softly.
"Stop." Wilson mumbled.
"Out on Lake Tuschwilla! Might catch me a ten foot gator!!!" his voice increased both in decibel and incapacity and he sat back, straddling the man, pinning him as a helpless audience.
"Stop!!" he demanded, trying to wriggle away.
"No telliiiiiiiiiing what's biting to-day! 'Cept these MAD mos-kwee-toes!"
James Wilson slept peacefully through Christmas morning. Ten o'clock clicked onto the digital alarm and glowed quietly, keeping the shorthand of the man's newly discovered life.
Sun was streaming through the slatted blinds and crisscrossing the blankets; still touseled from the night's endeavor.
He sighed, deeply content and slowly began to blink sleep from his mind. He stretched out and stopped, slowly realizing that he was not in his own single bed. He was not in his own dim apartment. Sound from the television in the other room slipped under the crack and into the bedroom. Someone was watching the parade. He yawned, sitting up in bed and stopped, swallowing thickly.
There, at the foot of the bed, sat eight little packages. There was a note propped against them in a slap-dash sort of doctor's scrawl.
"In case I was wrong."
A/N: Oh my god!!!! It's the first fic I've ever finished!!!!! Sorry it took me so long. I meant to finish it my Christmas and here it is almost the fourth of July!!