Rating: R / Warnings: minor spoilers for MLC
Disclaimer: If I owned House and Wilson, I'd be a lot less horny
Summary: Written for sick!Wilson holiday prompt #2 - Wilson injures himself by doing something ordinary
It was Christmas Eve, and Wilson was spending it with House. It was better than being alone in his hotel room, and even though he was Jewish, he had a certain fondness for the holiday, mostly from memories of spending the holiday with House. They'd eat Chinese food and watch and ridicule holiday movies on TV. They'd drink beer, and maybe, if House were feeling it, he'd play carols on the piano. Wilson tried not to think of last Christmas, and what he found when he came over.
This Christmas Eve was similar to the ones before last. The Chinese had been ordered; it would arrive in an hour. The wind was howling, and light, fluffy snow was beginning to fall. Wilson had got his hand on some gingerbread cookies from some fancy bakery, which House was starting to devour. Wilson managed to get House to slow down on the cookies, with the promises of homemade hot chocolate to go with them.
House settled himself with the plate of cookies on the couch, and Wilson busied himself in the kitchen with the necessary ingredients to make the hot chocolate. House was watching the cartoon version of "Frosty the Snowman" and making cracks at how incredulous the cartoon characters were to believe a snowman had actually come to life.
House was snatched out of his reverie, by a resounding crash and a howl from Wilson. Surprisingly, House was at Wilson's side in a flash, and began to assess the situation.
"Wilson, what happened?" House reached over and took Wilson's hand in his as careful as he could.
"Hot pan, the milk spattered on my hand, when I grabbed and released it; I forgot I had already turned on the stove." Wilson looked sheepishly up at House, feeling foolish over something so silly that could have been prevented.
House cautiously took Wilson's hand and ran it under cold water for a few minutes. He removed it and reassessed it. "Seems ok. Doesn't look like a bad burn, not even really first degree. You'll be fine. The stove's sticky though." Wilson snorted at that comment, realizing a caring House would only be around for so long. "I'll clean it up," Wilson said. "I think I'm going to pass on making the hot chocolate though." House just nodded and looked around the kitchen. He saw the already melted chocolate and got an idea. "I think we can still have hot chocolate," he said, leering at Wilson suggestively.
House leaned over and stuck his finger in the chocolate and licked it seductively off of his finger. He repeated the same motion; only this time placing his finger in Wilson's mouth and Wilson greedily licked it off. They continued in this fashion, alternatively licking the chocolate off each other's fingers until they finally met one another's eyes and kissed.
House aggressively kissed Wilson, and began to unbutton Wilson's jeans, then sliding them down over Wilson's hips. He lifted up Wilson's sweatshirt so, that it was above his navel, and then began to paint the chocolate all over Wilson's pink, eager, length. Wilson moaned at the touch, and then gasped as House braced himself against the counter. He felt House's hot, tight mouth engulf him. House sucked him off expertly, savoring the chocolatey goodness that was James Wilson. Wilson made sure his fingers were chocolate free, and began to run them through House's hair.
House paused to get more chocolate, and Wilson keened at the cool air over his moist cock. He felt the still warm chocolate being painted over him once again, and the sensation of House's wet mouth over him brought him to the edge. "Fuck! House!" It was all Wilson was able to manage as he spilled over into House's waiting and eager mouth.
House pulled himself up, somewhat shakily, leaning on Wilson. "Hello, cripple here!" Wilson, in post orgasmic bliss, braced House, more or less. Wilson was doing House no help in his condition, but was able to pass him his cane nonetheless. At that moment the doorbell rang, and House pulled Wilson's jeans up off the ground, and up over Wilson's hips. With that same motion he grabbed Wilson's wallet, and headed for the door. "Looks like dinner is on you, Wilson. But dessert, dessert is on me." Wilson smiled at that, and said deadpan, "No House, dessert is in you. I'll be expecting my share after dinner."