Wilson gradually became aware of soft, warm pressure on his bare chest, moving upward in a slow, sensual caress. He was tired and reluctant to leave sleep for the demands of another day, but the soft, teasing kisses – because he was vaguely aware by this point that he was being kissed – were becoming incentive enough to awaken.
He let out a soft murmur, his hands instinctively rising to pull his lover closer to him, running listlessly over the familiar swells and planes of House's shoulders and arms. He didn't open his eyes, simply allowed himself to feel the heat of House's mouth as it closed over one of his bare nipples, teeth closing lightly before moving upward toward his throat.
A groan escaped his lips as a tender kiss intensified until House was sucking on his throat, and Wilson knew that there would be a bruise later. He let out a little growl of mild irritation, both at the fact that he would have to be careful to hide the mark at work today – and at the fact that he was being distracted by such unpleasant thoughts as work at all.
Not yet… just want to stay here… a little longer…
As House's lips momentarily left his skin, Wilson tipped his head downward, somehow managing to capture House's mouth with his own blindly, by sheer instinct. House laughed, low and rumbling and infectious, against his mouth, and Wilson couldn't keep from smiling. Finally, he allowed his eyes to drift open to take in the sight of House, grinning down at him with a sense of satisfaction, but also with an eager hunger in his eyes.
A slave to his routine and responsibilities, almost against his will Wilson turned his head to glance at his alarm clock on the nightstand. He was pleased and relieved to see that it had not yet gone off at all, as it was still more than an hour before he needed to get up.
"We've got plenty of time," House reassured him, his sleep-graveled voice drawing Wilson's attention back to his face. "You can screw me senseless without having to sacrifice your flawless reputation of anal-retentive dependability."
"Mmmm, sounds good," Wilson murmured as House began a trail of kisses from his jaw down to his throat again. "Yeah… we've got time…"
Wilson ran his hands slowly down from House's shoulders, tracing the length of his arms where they braced him on either side of Wilson's body so that he was hovering over the younger man. As he neared House's hands, however, House abruptly jerked one hand away, throwing himself off balance in his haste and causing him to drop down so that his full weight was resting on Wilson's body.
Wilson frowned, puzzled, letting out a surprised laugh as his hand automatically continued past House's wrist; and suddenly, all at once, he remembered and understood, as his fingertips encountered the feeling of smooth leather – the bondage gloves in which he had restrained House's hands the night before.
Wilson's smile became a disapproving glare as he gave House a gentle but firm push over onto his back beside him. He let out a soft groan of frustration, raising his hands to push against his eyes as he sighed heavily.
"Great. Just great."
"You know… you don't have to go to work all hot and bothered and frustrated. You do have options here," House reminded him, his voice taking on a slightly wheedling note of desperation.
"Yes, I do," Wilson acknowledged, turning his head to meet House's eyes. "But you don't. I'm not backing up on that, House. So… you've really succeeded in nothing with your little trick, except I'd imagine to make things even harder on yourself than they already are." Wilson allowed himself a little smirk, but did not otherwise call attention to his unintentional pun.
"Oh, I think I've accomplished a little more than that," House argued with a smug laugh as Wilson got out of bed. "I've definitely succeeded."
But Wilson could hear the strained tremor in his voice, knew that he was merely attempting to cover his own desperation. Wilson knew that House would not have made his ploy to get Wilson to relent if he was not nearly frantic with need by this point.
Well, congratulations, House. You've just ensured that you'll have to wait just a little bit longer.
"Shut up," Wilson grumbled, albeit good-naturedly, as he stumbled toward the bathroom to take care of the problem with which House's attentions had left him.
"Hey, Wilson," House called after him just as he reached the hallway. "Did you really erase my Tivo?"
Wilson peeked his head around the door for a moment, giving House a ruefully indulgent smile. "No, House," he admitted. "I wouldn't do that." He paused before adding, "I haven't seen the Miss America pageant yet, either."
Both irritated and amused by House's predicament, and the lengths it had driven him to in order to have it relieved, Wilson decided to take his time in the bathroom. After all, it was called punishment for a reason, wasn't it? House had already waited all night; it wouldn't kill him to wait another twenty minutes or so.
Wilson turned on the shower, adjusting the water until it was perfect, then undressed and stepped into the steamy spray. He stood there a few minutes, allowing the pounding heat to ease some of the tension in his muscles as he washed his body, before finally closing his eyes and reaching with one soap-slippery hand to encircle the aching erection House had given him.
His head fell back, his breath quickening as he allowed images from the night before to play over and over in his head.
It was true, he was doing this for House – the whole dominant/submissive arrangement – but he was definitely getting something out of it as well. He didn't want to admit to House exactly how much he enjoyed the sight of House on his knees, blindfolded, bound… helpless… utterly at Wilson's mercy.
He remembered House's awkward submission, as well as his defiance, and the struggle he'd waged to bring House back under control – the feeling of House's heated skin, faintly trembling under his touch – the soft sounds of muffled frustration House had made as he struggled to remain obediently silent as Wilson stroked him slowly to a torturous state of arousal…
… the same state he was still in at this moment, waiting helplessly in the other room for Wilson to grant him his release…
And Wilson found his own release at that thought, choking back a guttural sound of pleasure and relief as his frustration eased. He finished cleaning himself off and got out of the shower, wrapping a soft towel around his waist before returning to the bedroom.
House was sitting on the side of the bed, his arms crossed impatiently over his chest, staring at the small television screen across the room while he waited for Wilson to return. As Wilson stepped into the bedroom, House turned to look at him with a smirk, a single knowing brow raised.
"Better than you."
Wilson retorted with a smirk of his own as he approached House, who automatically turned toward him, eager to be free of the punishment inflicted upon him. Wilson took his hands and raised them in his own, unabashedly leering down at House's bound, engorged erection, clearly enjoying the sight.
"Come on," House muttered irritably, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Get on with it."
Wilson raised his eyes to meet House's impatient gaze, his own eyebrows raising dubiously. "Should I?" he said pointedly, his tone exaggeratedly thoughtful. "Have you learned anything from all this?"
House's brow furrowed in an anxious frown, and his subdued voice held a note of panic as he quickly adjusted. "Sorry," he said softly. "Wilson… please…"
As he whispered the last word, he glanced up at Wilson through wide, somehow innocent eyes – and Wilson swallowed hard as the intensity and submission in that piercing gaze went straight to his groin, threatening to renew the problem he'd just taken care of. His voice shook slightly as he responded.
He focused his eyes studiously on the right glove, unbuckling it swiftly with trembling fingers, deliberately not meeting House's eyes again – and therefore missing the hint of smug amusement on House's face at the desired result brought about by his deliberately sultry expression. Wilson removed both gloves and set them aside, then stepped away so that House could stand up and move past him into the bathroom.
House's hands were trembling almost too hard to unfasten the tiny buckle on the leather strap that bound him, and he cursed under his breath in frustration before finally wrestling the device into submission. By this point his throbbing cock was nearly purple, his balls heavy and taut with the depth of his need.
He stepped into the shower, the air around him still warm and damp with the remnants of the steam from Wilson's shower. He turned on the water, allowing the heat to pour down over his back as he hurriedly, roughly fisted his erection, his hand shaking slightly as it pumped quickly up and down.
His mind was on the night before as well, though there was little visual stimulation in his memories. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, focusing on the memory of Wilson's commanding voice, demanding from him levels of submission he hadn't thought himself capable of giving – Wilson's strong hands leaving trails of icy flame as they trailed over his over-sensitized skin – Wilson bringing him to the brink of release, then leaving him on the edge, desperate and all but begging for just a little more contact, just a little more… just a little more…
Within a few brief minutes, House found the release that had been withheld from him, biting back a hoarse moan of relief as his spendings washed down the drain with the hot water that flowed over him. He leaned back against the wall, weak and shaking with the force of his orgasm, gasping for breath, while the tantalizing images still played over in his mind.
He frowned slightly as he opened his eyes, wondering what it said about him that he was so turned on by the idea of being dominated by Wilson, surrendering the control to which he clung so tightly in every other area of his life. It was frightening and unsettling, but also exhilarating and exciting and… a little bit of a relief… to give up and let his walls down, and let someone else call the shots for a change.
True, it was terrifying. He had been wary and anxious and on edge the night before, a large part of him wondering whether or not Wilson might take advantage of the power House had yielded to him and use it against him.
Wilson had asked House for his trust, asked him to surrender control and believe that Wilson would not hurt him – and then, he had proven himself worthy of that trust. House's walls had been in place for a long time, and he knew that it would be a long time coming, if it was possible at all, for him to reach a place where his fears were gone for good; but with every test that Wilson passed, it was becoming easier to lay them aside and lose himself in the blissful relief of surrender.
Maybe… finally… I think this just might work…