Title: Beautiful Morning
Author: julefontane/~ anouk zucker
Pairing: House/Wilson
Words: ~ 3000
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. And: this is kind of het because House has two sexes *mind blows*
A/N: This is the promised sequel to All New and Cravings - took a while, busy holidays and friends visiting... There is going to be another sequel to this one when I'm done. Hope you bear with me!

Beautiful Morning

House jerks awake. He hears little hiccupping sobs from the next room. Oh crap, he just fell asleep a minute ago! He moans and unglues his heavy eyelids to blink open his eyes and check the alarm clock – 5:15 a.m. Three hours just aren't enough to go through all sleep stages. And the previous nights hadn't been exactly filled with healthy, uninterrupted sleep either. He turns his head groggily to look at Wilson, soundly and blissfully asleep, his arms firmly wrapped around House, snoring lightly and blowing puffs of morning breath into House's face. To top all of these really uncalled-for affections the palm of his left hand is cupping House's genitals. What a lovely picture they make, House thought, crinkling his nose. The sobs do not subside but develop into outright crying and it tugs at House's heart. He sighs and starts to untangle Wilson's clingy tentacles, elbowing him in the ribs in the process. House knows it's his turn tonight to get up when their son demands attention but Wilson should at least know how much House is making an effort, and how often. Wilson grunts at the disturbance and mumbles a sleepy curse.

"'ousss? Whus wrongmm?" he blinks confused into the still darkness of their bedroom on this early February morning. House sits up and fishes for the plaid bath robe. They both sleep naked, it's warmer this way, indeed. He shivers in the cold air of the loft, the heating not on full blast at that time of day, or rather night.

"It's fine, I got it. Go back to sleep." Wilson's arm reaches out and holds him back and, with a surprisingly well coordinated and well aimed, smooth movement, drags himself up and kisses House's neck just below his ear, pressing his morning erection into House's hip.

"Mmmm, 'm not sleepy any more – when you get back I know what we could do!" House avoids Wilson's kissy mouth and winds out of his arms.

"If you're not sleepy, I know what you could do right now, so I can go back to sleep!" Wilson looks a little apologetic at him but doesn't react to that sour tone. They both know it's a rough patch with Lawrence teething again. And Wilson's been the one to get up every three hours the last two nights, standing in for House because he had a case. Sleepless nights, stressful days at work, all adds up to a really irritated parent sometimes.

"How about I fix a bottle in the kitchen?" Wilson offers. House looks a little sheepish at him when he limps out of the room and nods. He fastens his robe and enters the nursery where his small son bawls pitifully in his crib, calming immediately a little at the sight of his father. House speaks to him softly, picking him up, wrapped in his baby blanket and taking him into his arms, cupping the back of his head.

"Hey, shhh, alright, shhhh, oh, it can't be that bad, shshshh." He kisses Lawrie's brow and looks into his face. His left cheek has a red blotch and he feels a little hot. Not a medical mystery. He picks up the gum-salve and applies a little on the place where a new tooth should be showing soon – under protest and more pitiful crying. When Wilson arrives with the bottle with chamomile tea, House has sat down in the rocking chair, a shaken but calm Lawrie on his lap, showing him his stuffed animals, a camel – deemed the Camel Toe – and a nasty rubber tarantula with red eyes. Wilson smiles as he crouches at House's side and hands him the bottle. He strokes Lawrie's poor, blotchy cheek tenderly. Lawrie looks at him with those big, baby blue eyes, still traces of tears in them, lids swollen, his small mouth pouting, his breath still hitching occasionally. But he suddenly smiles, making a little pleased sound and his features lighten, his six gorgeous teeth showing. Wilson's heart swells and he laughs back, just a little chuckle that can't possibly be held back. Lawrie stretches his arm and touches his dad's mouth, inspecting his smile, his teeth, breathing laboredly with the effort, eyes round.

"How can he be so cheerful when he looks at all those large white squares in your mouth? He has only six, way to go, and every single one will hurt just as much! "

Wilson looks into the older, even bigger, but equally baby blue and curious eyes.

"He trusts that he'll get through it. It's sense of basic trust. That's what he's hopefully learnt here. To trust that the world is a benign place and bad experiences get rectified." Wilson importantly lifts his eyebrows, pursing his lips. House looks at him, an amused but belligerent twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course, the world is such a splendid place to live in. All sunshine and puppies in Wilson-land. And by the way, I know what sense of basic trust is! Just because you think I've never had it…"

"I don't think that. You may have some trust issues but you have a sense of basic trust, House. And yes, I like to think that our little world here, Lawrie's world, is a good place to live in."

"O.K. you can go back to sleep now, it's way too early for this kind of conversation." House cradles Lawrie in his right arm and gives him the baby bottle to suckle on. Wilson smiles and gets on his feet. He bends down to kiss Lawrie's brow and then puts his lips to House's, nuzzling a little, whispering.

"I'll go back to bed, warming it for you! We still got an hour left before I got to get up. Maybe he actually falls asleep again." He delicately caresses Lawrie's brow and watches his drooping eyelids, his little mouth drinking from the bottle, one hand lightly and convulsively pinching House's chest. He still remembers his first food source; House had just stopped breastfeeding two weeks ago and had been more than pleased – after eight months his nipples were his again and he could eat and drink everything he wanted for the first time in over a year. That also meant that they had to establish using birth control which had not been necessary until then. The hormones in House's body no longer prevent a new pregnancy and they haven't really talked about any more children. Wilson is almost certain House is through with it. He wishes he wasn't. When he looks at their baby, the perfect little hands and feet, the lovely face with the Houseian eyes and nose and Wilsonian cheekbones he can't help but want another one, a girl maybe. And when he looks at House holding their child in his arms, and imagines his belly grow round again he wants yet another one, maybe. He straightens and stretches, yawning hugely, and when he leaves the nursery he turns back to catch House looking at him.

"I'll be there in a minute." House whispers, smirking slightly. Then he watches Lawrie slowly fall asleep.

When House enters their bedroom, Wilson is sprawled out over both halves of the bed, a little tin foil packet between his fingers, wearing nothing but a smoldering look. House snorts.

"Oh god, this isn't going to work!" He stops at the foot of the bed. Wilson smiles and turns the bedside lamps off, then crawls over to House.

"Oh it will, in a second." He kneels before House, his breathing quickening as he parts the robe, laying his hands on House's waist, delicately circling his navel with his thumbs, tracing the thin trail of hair leading down to his dual sex. House sighs as Wilson lets his fingers ghost over his chest, brushing one nipple again and again with feather-light touches, while the fingers of his other hand sink into the curls of his pubic hair, gently pressing his palm to his almost soft penis, feeling him. He brings his hands back to House's waist, kneading his sides, then roaming up to his shoulders, nuzzling his chest, the faint smell of lactation still detectable. In a swift move Wilson brushes the garment off his shoulders and pulls him down onto the bed. He gently guides him to lie on his back and softly spreads his legs to kneel between them. When he leans down to brush House's lips he hears and feels him inhale shakily. And when he lowers his hips to touch his hard penis to House's slowly filling one they both groan and House writhes beneath him, seeking more friction, one leg sliding over Wilson's hip, a knee touching Wilson's armpit. Wilson can feel House tip his pelvis, rounding his back already, so the tip of his penis, almost of its own accord, slips over House's balls to his perineum, to this incredibly silky and slick opening that yields when he presses inside. He hears House gasp as he enters him fully, hears his own harsh breathing, groaning at the first sharp thrust, the hot tightness dizzying. They fit perfectly, moving together, meeting, parting, meeting again, the waves rushing through their bodies building ever higher, their voices overlapping, mingling, echoing each other, sweet, insane, intoxicating lust for one another. Not enough. Wilson pauses, grunting harshly as he slides House's legs over his shoulders and leans into the next deep thrust, House crying out, bruising the skin on Wilson's upper arms as he holds onto him. Coming, coming, oh, Wilson can see them both coming together, him filling House, making a mess inside him –

"Wlsn, uh – uh – Wlsn! Uh – stop – ah – condom – " Hearing House moan and say his name was a huge turn-on, but the word condom made Wilson groan and clench his teeth, the concentration and bodily effort to not just spill inside House, as he's done for the last year, almost too painful. He manages to tip back his hips and pull his pulsating penis out of the hot, engulfing slickness before his orgasm hits him and he helplessly jerks himself two times to then bathe House's sex in his semen, pumping, groaning. They stare at each other, wide-eyed, panting.

"S- 'm sorry! That was – close..." He bites his lip against the aftershocks running through him, his penis still hard and dripping on House, nudging between his folds when he shifts. A second longer and there would possibly have been another decision to be made – another baby? House's sharp tone startles him.

"Yeah, now get your thing away from my thing!" House's eyes are fierce and he pushes at Wilson's hip and shoulder.

"No, House – I'm so sorry!" He leans on House to trap him, he wants him to stay and listen, and with his legs still hooked over Wilson's shoulders he is quite immobile. House looks at him surprised, then he pinches his lips into an angry line and starts to clench his thighs on either side of Wilson's neck. Wilson grabs his knees and makes a strangled noise, easing off him. House scrambles away and sits on the edge of their bed. Fuming he grabs a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, spreads his legs and cleans himself up. He turns to Wilson who is still kneeling motionless on rumpled sheets, dumbfounded by his own and House's reactions and throws the used wads of paper at him, hitting his brow and his ear. Wilson blinks. He doesn't know what just happened a few moments before. He feels sick to his stomach and paralyzed. House stares at him, scowling.

"Are you going to sit there all day and let me throw things at you?" Wilson looks down, exhaling a long held breath. He can hear the forgiveness in House's voice, his cue to act, defreeze, make it up. He finds House's eyes again.

"If that's what you want – yeah." He shifts and slowly knee-walks over to House, sighing with relief as House turns fully to him, his gaze serious, but the fierceness gone. Wilson reaches out and tenderly strokes his knuckles over House's soft cheek. He feels a stab in his chest and tears spring to his eyes. He loves House so much and it breaks his heart that it was him, Wilson, who just did something to hurt him. And House just forgives it, always does. He leans in and nuzzles House's cheek, their mouths finding each other and then they are kissing, Wilson caressing House's neck. He needs these physical reassurances with House. It's what he understands.

At 6:15 a.m. they both jump as the alarm goes off – the radio playing 'It's a Beautiful Morning'. Turning it off, Wilson smiles at the irony and watches House let himself fall back into the pillows, sprawling, stretching like a cat and making similar noises. He studies Wilson from under lowered lashes. Then he parts his legs, spreading them wide, letting Wilson have a good look at him. He lifts his eyebrows.

"You still owe me!" Wilson nods, smiling, moving between the long legs and bending down to kiss House there. House inhales sharply and presses his head back. He lets Wilson stroke the insides of his thighs, lets him kiss and trace his sensitive folds with his lips and lave his sweet spot where the folds meet his balls with his tongue. Wilson delicately pulls the folds apart with his fingers and slips his tongue inside, listening to House's sweet moans, his voice thin and thready, his hips writhing as if to attempt to escape. But Wilson doesn't let off, following House's movements, until he groans harshly, and begins to moan rhythmically in time with Wilson's thrusts. He moans with abandon as he pulls his legs further up, digging his heals into the mattress, meeting every in-stroke. Wilson shoves his hand under House's ass, breaking the thrusting and licking broadly up to the most sensitive spot, closing his lips around it and sucking tenderly. House tilts his hips into the sensation, holding still, gasping little moans into the silence. He feels like his whole lower body is bathed in warm water. Wilson puts two fingers between the folds and gently slips them in, feeling around and finding the right area to stroke. House keens and tips his hips back, beginning to meet Wilson's thrusts again. Wilson feels House's fingers touch his hair, then cup his head gently. He feels House's inner walls start to contract around his fingers and he increases the intensity of his tongue caresses. With his other hand he feels for House's deliberately neglected penis and strokes him once, twice, and presses his open mouth to the plum balls as House desperately keens, his legs shaking and he comes squeezing Wilson's fingers, his balls drawing up and after a second the first drops of his seed spill out of his penis. Wilson leaves his fingers inside House, feeling the incredible slickness, lightly kneading his balls, hearing House moan with his subsiding orgasm. He looks up into his face, watching the eyeballs roll behind closed lids, the open mouth and wet lips, the rosy tint to the cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat. Wilson pulls his fingers out a fraction and slides them in again, marveling at House's writhing body, his thighs falling open wider again. He feels himself desperately wanting to be inside House.

He crawls up his body and leans down to capture the slack mouth, sliding his nose along a cheek behind one ear and inhaling deeply. He loves House's smell, all his smells, and his tastes, he just can't get enough. He lowers himself carefully on top of House, burying his face in his neck and letting him feel his arousal, silently asking. He hears and feels House groan and shift, but in the next second the tin foil pack is being pressed to his cheek and a sleepy voice says,

"Have at it…but don't wake me. And I thought you had work today or some other important, manly stuff to bring home the money and fill our plates." Wilson gets up on his elbows and looks at the alarm clock. It is 6:43 and he should be in the shower by now, if he calculates in blow drying and at least one coffee. He doesn't want a rushed lay after all that had happened in the past hour. He takes the condom from House and places it on the nightstand. When he looks back at him House smirks slightly and closes his eyes.

"I'll save it. Maybe we can try tonight. Then I have something to look forward to all day." He pushes up on his hands and knees, leaning down to kiss House again, wanting to stay here with him in bed a little longer, then have breakfast with him and Lawrie, watching the two, and then go out to the park for a winter walk.

He gets up and takes a quick shower, skipping some of his morning routine and fixes himself a bowl of cereals and a cup of coffee. Before he leaves the loft smelling like baby powder and soap and coffee and possibly a little like sex he looks first into their bedroom to see House tangled in the sheets and fast asleep and then in the nursery to find Lawrie breathing deeply and loudly in oblivious sleep, his little arms and fists on either side of his face, eyes shut tight, still slightly puffy from crying and sleep, the long, dark lashes fanning out over one pale and one rosy cheek.

Wilson closes the apartment door softly on this domestic little heaven and begins to whistle after greeting their neighbor Nora with a pleasant smile, stepping into the elevator. What a beautiful morning.