Title: Cravings

Author: julefontane/~anouk zucker

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: NC-17 for adult concepts and smut

Warnings: AU, means here: mpreg (male pregnancy) and male lactation.

If the idea of male pregnancy in fiction doesn't suit you, leave it, do not read this story, go directly (or straight, hehe) to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200! Please, do yourself the favor. All others: proceed.

Summary: Cravings during pregnancy…

Excerpt: "Everything is strewn around him like a halo. It's not the first time House has been hiding here from Wilson, slaking his cravings."

A/N: Good to know! Background for this story: I like to think that House, here, always had two sexes, meaning both, fully functioning male and female reproductive parts. He has ovaries, a womb and a birth canal which forms an opening in his perineum (I don't have a name for it, yet); he does not have a menstrual cycle. He managed to keep this hidden; only his parents knew, which strained the relationship with his dad; and maybe someone in college found out; and Stacy knew, the only partner he lived with for a longer period of time. Since Mayfield he's toxin free and able to conceive. One night with Wilson after they moved in together was enough for him to get pregnant. Here, Male pregnancy is not as long as female; House's baby grows four pounds in six month, average is three pounds. This is set before "All New", therefore can be read before, after or not at all. About hamlet fishes, among others: Behavior – Animal Attraction .com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,993156, And now for something completely different:


Wilson closes the door to the loft with his butt and throws the keys on the small antique table in the foyer.

"House?" He listens, then puts the groceries on the kitchen counter and the ice cream in the freezer. His coat and jacket get thrown on the back of the sofa. He slips out of his narrow Italian shoes, wriggling his toes. Comfortable at last. They have been living together now for four month, and House has been pregnant for most of the time. He still gets this unreal feeling whenever he thinks about it. House pregnant. He has always attracted both sexes, though his partners have been women in the past. Wilson knows something happened in House's college time that made him give up on men, but he's never got it out of him, yet.

"House, I'm home! Where are you?" He listens again, then looks inside House's room. It was deserted, medical journals strewn all over the floor. He passes the first bathroom and their bedroom – no House. He frowns. Then he sets out into the more remote 'chambers' and meanders through the loft. Eventually he discovers House in the spare bedroom with the queen sized bed, bookshelves and, most importantly, a small TV set. House is fast asleep on top of the comforter, and the TV is telling Wilson that the black hamlet is the rare vertebrate that has both sexes at once and that two mates change sex roles several times during the mating ritual. Wilson fishes for the remote and turns it off. Apparently, House has eaten his way through a bag of chips, several chocolate bars and some Twizzlers. An empty bowl with the remains of cloggy cereals is resting in the middle of the bed and a half empty bucket of melting ice cream leaning against it.

Everything is strewn around him like a halo. It's not the first time House has been hiding here from Wilson, slaking his cravings; stuffing himself with the most greasy, sugary, spicy food he can find, watching TV, or rather watching porn, Wilson suspects, because the bed is so convenient and some of House's porn stash is in one of the cupboards. And House is constantly horny now. He smiles at that; not a bad thing all together.

House has changed into his pajamas and a shirt for his afternoon nap to be more comfortable. He's far along the pregnancy and his too tight t-shirt is riding up over his swollen belly. He's lying on his side, one long leg stretched out, one bend. Wilson is overcome with longing at the sight of sleepy, cozy, warm House, although he sees him everyday. It's his peaceful expression, the life growing inside him, nestled securely inside him, their little child. House had never wanted kids, except he did, under the right circumstances.

Well, this pregnancy certainly wasn't planned and no one had expected it to happen. Now that it's done, it's a good feeling mixed with a small portion of fear. Were they ready, will everything be alright, will they be able to handle everything? It's exciting and new and scary, but it's too late to turn back. House told him once that this feeling of things rolling on unstoppable like an avalanche, unavoidable, and not being able to say, 'ok, I've had enough of this, I don't want this anymore, trial over', is scaring him the most. No escape, this thing in him grows and will want to come out eventually. And he dreaded birth, the pain, the immense stamina he'll need to go through with it.

House stirs and makes a distressed noise. Wilson leans forward and feels his belly. And there it is, the small tapping, the baby kicking, their baby. Before he can stop himself he kisses House impulsively, clenching his teeth against the onslaught of possessive feelings and heavy arousal. House whimpers a little, lifting an uncoordinated hand, finding Wilson's tie and pulling. Wilson slides his hand from House's belly to his back and dips it into his pajama bottoms, wanting to feel House, touch him right where he wants to put his penis next. He slides his fingers inside House's warm, soft, slick opening, hearing a small moan and gasp at the intrusion, one leg shifting a fraction, House's pelvis tipping back, his back arching, opening him up for Wilson, ready to receive him, reacting to his bold request. The next shock of arousal shoots down Wilson's body and stabs his groin with new intensity, almost too much, he already sees himself sliding in, pumping. "House" he spits out, needy, voice breaking. Heavy-lidded blue eyes, surprise and arousal making them dilate, look at him, mouth open and panting, lips shiny. Breathing heavily, moaning on every exhale he yanks off House's pants, opens his own, butchering the zipper in the process, getting in bed behind House, positioning himself and driving in as if their lives depend on it. And, ironically, on an evolutionary basis it does. They both cry out at the heady, dizzying, incomparable feeling of it, the slick, hot joining, every molecule in their bodies screaming at them to proceed, that this is the right place to go. Wilson drives in again, sinking in deeper, establishing hefty, firm thrusts. House's body arches into him, taking him in, engulfing him, their fluids mingling, the sweet friction producing ever more lubricant, the slippery feeling incredible. Wilson lays his mouth against the corner of House's, wanting to be so impossibly close to him, listening to his harsh breathing. He winds both arms around him. He slides House's shirt up under his arms and roams his hands all over him, stroking the beautiful, huge belly, House's hard penis and silky balls and back up to his subtly swollen chest, cupping him there kneading carefully. House yields to his every touch and push, soft and perfect, moaning voluptuously as Wilson hooks his hand under House's knee and lifts it to spread him wider, to thrust deeply, moving his cock around inside him. When he feels House nearing his climax he lets his thrusts become fast and shallow and lays a hand on his belly. He looks at the side of House's face, sees it when the waves hit him, his eyes snapping open as if in shock, his slack, panting mouth opening wider, helpless, rhythmic, raspy moans pressed out, his eyes rolling back and closing, reopening again. Wilson feels him squeeze around him, his belly going taut, his dick spurting pearly dollops of come on it. Wilson pumps one, two, three more times into the slick, still contracting heat until the essence in his body and mind seems to light up white hot and he helplessly holds onto his lover, jerking, sobbing at the waves of intense pleasure that run through him.

They lie together, breathing slow and deep, almost as if nothing's happened. Wilson has undressed completely, wanting to feel House, no barriers. He delicately lets his hand slide over all of House, feeling his warmth, the slightly sweaty skin. He marvels at the softness there. He never had had rough skin to begin with and for a man his bodily hair is rather sparse, but since the early days of pregnancy his skin has become softer, smoother, deft, and the glow isn't a cliché. There is an open quality to it, inviting to be touched and stroked, smelled and tasted. Something sweet and precious and unique lying underneath, something of them both. He shudders at the thought, never has he wanted to be closer to House or to anyone before in his life. He chuckles, those hormones really do their job pretty well. House slowly turns his head, peering at him, then goes slack again. He must really be exhausted – and content; otherwise he would have taken the chuckle the wrong way and risen to the bait. Wilson feels a warm glow; it is rare that House isn't feeling combative enough to snark. House's soft, slightly hoarse and slurry voice almost dribbled into the silence of the room.

"Why're you home early? I'm a mess." He sighs and snuggles deeper into the pillow.

"You're a mess now, after I debauched you." Wilson smiles at the ceiling, so pleased with his comeback. House makes a 'pfff" sound to show how unimpressed he is, but Wilson can see the line of his cheek from his position and he saw the tiny twitch of a smile.

"I'm home early because a patient canceled her appointment. And because I wanted to be with you. I brought Minestrone and corn bread, and green olives, oh, and ice cream…" at that House sits up suddenly, twisting to look at Wilson, his face showing traces of hunger, surprise and urgent demand. He scrambles to climb over Wilson in order to get to the kitchen but Wilson grabs a slender ankle and holds on.

"Hey! Let go – or I sit on your chest and crush you!" House gives him his best mean stare.

"I thought we could have a bath first and you could give me a back rub, then we'll have a nice TV dinner and watch whatever you want." Wilson let's go of House and leans back, stretching and crossing his ankles, looking nonchalantly.

"No. I call the shots! We have dinner now and everything else… sometime after. I need nutrition right now." He gets up pinching his lips, holding his belly. His leg is acting up under the extra weight sometimes. And he often feels light cramping of the uterus after sex. He looks at Wilson who has sat up, ready to help. House rolls his eyes at him, picking up his pajama bottoms and struggling into them, pulling down the ill-fitting, tight shirt.

"Down boy, I'm fine. After all, you did this to me! If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have to carry around this paunch." He picks up his cane and turns to leave the room.

"Oh, this is typical! You love being waited on and fussed about, House! Admit it!" Wilson gets up and follows House through the interior of the loft, naked, pointing a pointless finger at him. House turns to him while walking, smiling dangerously, eyes wide.

"I admit that you love it more than ever, it's your dream come true, me pregnant, helpless and needy like a … beetle thrown on its back." They reach the kitchen and House fishes a soda out of one of Wilson's bags, opening it and gulping it down. Then he looks defiantly at a bewildered, naked Wilson, arms spread, mouth agape.

"Well, I guess we are both very lucky, then." He says it thoughtful, then a smirk forms on his face. He advances on House, who, suspicious, backs into the counter. He looks at Wilson expectantly. Wilson slides a hand up his belly, feeling it, a stunned look in his eyes for the ten thousands time, quietly musing about how they managed to do this.

"We don't need to have this conversation over and over again, you know. Actually we both win." House raises his eyebrows and steps back a little to drag himself up on the nearby stool, touching his baby belly tenderly. Wilson follows him, standing between his legs.

"Think the baby is happy now, with all the endorphins circling around?" Wilson lays his hand on House's lower belly, stroking lightly.

"I think he's sleeping now. You rocked him to sleep." Now House was smiling at him mischievously, taking in Wilson's slightly smug expression. "Oh, get over yourself! And get dressed. I tivo-ed a documentary about fish. And I'm hungry." He cocks his head as he watches Wilson's retreating… back.