This is an answer to a prompt on my LJ; "House in pain, Wilson think he's faking, then feels guilty if he finds out House isn't faking"
Disclaimer: I don't own House. It would be a totally different show if I did.
"Jaaaames!" House called from their bedroom. Wilson sighed, but continued to wash away at the dishes piled up by the sink. Since the start of their relationship two weeks ago, House had been very keen to explore the new aspects of it, often dragging Wilson away from paperwork for a quickie in the nearest broom cupboard – or in this case housework for a bout of lovemaking. The amount of times they'd had sex, it's a wonder House could still walk. He came up with the strangest reasons as to why they needed to have sex; Wilson's personal favourite was "I need inspiration for this case or my patient dies in 24 hours."
So when Wilson woke up this morning to House gripping his thigh in agony, he thought he was joking. "Oh come on, Greg, I'm not that stupid! What do you want me to do, kiss it better? You'll have to do better than that if you want sex at this time of the morning!" He then got up to get dressed, leaving House burying his face in his pillow, gritting his teeth.
"James, please! I need your help, it really hurts!" House begged, his voice cracking on the last word. Why couldn't Wilson see that he was in pain? In his defence though, House had pretended to be in pain just a few days ago to get sex.
Hearing the tone of Houses voice, Wilson stopped running a cloth over the counter and leaned against it. Maybe this isn't a prank... when Greg said he was in pain the other day, he was busy getting my pants off by now, he pondered. Sighing, Wilson made his way to their bedroom. "Alright, I'm on my way! This better be-" When he got to the doorway and saw House writhing on the bed in agony, he stopped in his tracks. "-good. Shit, Greg!" Wilson sprinted over to Houses side of the bed, opened the bedside cabinet and pulled out the heat pad. He frantically plugged it in and wrapped it around Houses ruined thigh before moving to sit by his head. In a vain effort to calm him down, Wilson gently stroked Houses head, running his fingers through his hair. In response, House gripped Wilsons boxers and buried his face in the fabric, eyes clamped shut.
"Thought you were never gonna come," House mumbled through clenched teeth. Wilson bowed his head in shame and stopped his gentle caresses, instead he reached down and rubbed circles on Houses back.
"You have to admit, after the stunt you pulled the other day I wasn't exactly convinced." House nodded, and slowly turned to lie on his back.
"Didn't you realise that by now I'd have gotten your pants off?" He asked with a hint of a smirk on his face.
"Yes, and that was when I came in here! I really am sorry, Greg." Wilson sighed, and moved to lie down next to him. "How's the pain now?"
"Fine." Then an idea hit him. "I guess you fucking me while we're in the bathtub is out of the question now, huh?" House smiled at him, a smile he reserved only for his partner. Wilson pretended to think about that, before leaning in to softly kiss him.
"Well I have heard that the effects warm water has on an injury are very good." House's smirk quickly turned into a surprised look as he felt Wilsons hand reach down to cup his balls through his boxers. As he kissed him again, House felt Wilsons hand travel further downwards and a finger press against his cloth-coated entrance which caused him to moan into the kiss before he broke it, resting his forehead against Wilsons.
"Bath. Now." House whispered. Wilson grinned, and helped his lover off the bed before leading him to the bathroom, resisting the urge just to turn around and fuck him on their bed – he had some making up to do.