Kissing Wilson had been an accident. A mistake. An impulse urged on by anger and frustration because House was running out of options.
At least, that's what House told himself when it was all over. How many more times were he and Wilson going to trip over the same fight again and again, that Amber was dead, that House was sorry, that Wilson running away from his grief and his problems wasn't going to solve a single damn thing?
Wilson mouth was rough, hot and unforgiving against House's, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and House had to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand when the kiss finally broke off. The only sound between them for the next agonisingly long minute was their breathing, heavy and laboured, while Wilson stared at him with a fierceness that made House almost want to cower. And at first, he thought Wilson was going to take a swing at him when Wilson raised a hand and stepped back into his personal space. He braced himself for it. He deserved it, after all. If it wasn't for him, Amber wouldn't be dead.
The air was knocked out of him in a rush of surprise as Wilson's mouth collided with his again. House stumbled back, gripping onto Wilson's shirt in a frantic bid to regain his balance. The kiss was hard, fast and messy, and House wasn't sure who decided to push whom down towards the bedroom but once he'd struggled through the door with Wilson, everything picked up to a furious pace. Clothes stripped off, aggressive kisses that left House's lips feeling bruised, hands angrily grabbing in places that House hadn't been touched in a long time. The fight carried onto the bed until House found himself being pinned on his back, his wrists held tight in Wilson's grip and shoved back onto the pillow. Fear coiled in the pit of his stomach at how out of control he felt, how unfamiliar Wilson was to him right now. Yet, he was helpless to stop a needy sound escaping him as Wilson's full weight settled on top of him.
Their erections rubbed together in a fast, clumsy rhythm and when Wilson let his wrists go, House grabbed Wilson's ass and tugged him closer with a sharp roll of his hips. He arched his head into the pillow with a grunt, Wilson's saliva-slicked mouth pressed wide and wet on his jaw. The motion of their hips was jerky and kept falling out of sync until Wilson shifted off to the side, House rolling with him, and the shock of feeling Wilson's sweaty hand wrap around his penis was lost on how good it felt. He fumbled for Wilson's erection, the unfamiliarity of the whole situation striking him again in a brief but bright flash while feeling Wilson thick and hard, intimate, in his hand.
House began stroking him hard and fast, his forehead pressed to Wilson's. The rhythm was continually interrupted by their hands bumping together and House's arm was quickly cramping up from how awkward the angle was. Wilson's breath blew in hot, quick puffs against his chin and lips, hitching with a stifled groan as he came. House felt Wilson's semen dribble down over his fingers, making his grip on Wilson slippery, and he was left aching and frustrated as Wilson's hand on him faltered and then stopped altogether.
"Please," House gasped quietly after a long moment of nothing except the sound of Wilson's breathing.
He wiped his hand on the sheet beneath him and was about to reach for Wilson, his mouth snapping open with another needy gasp as Wilson gathered his penis back in his hand and resumed jerking him off. Quick, fast, furious strokes, and House clung to the back of Wilson's neck while thrusting his hips to push himself even faster, harder within Wilson's grasp. He pushed his face into the side of Wilson's throat to muffle his grunts, seizing up as he hit orgasm. His body jerked until he was still and silent, save for his heavy breaths, and he felt Wilson slide a wet, sticky hand onto his hip. Their mouths ghosted over each other, so tender and gentle that it jerked House back to reality.
He abruptly shoved Wilson away.
"House," Wilson began.
House didn't like the unfamiliar rawness in Wilson's voice. Fear was creeping back in, thick and unsettling. Things had already changed too much between them, change that was reversible over time. This, however, was irreversible change.
An accident, he frantically told himself as Wilson dressed and left his apartment with a stifling silence that kept House on edge. He wiped away the semen left smeared on his lower stomach and on the bedsheets, the bitter smell a taunting reminder of what had just happened as much as the sweat drying on his skin was. A mistake. One he'd never repeat again.
Unless he had no other option.