DVD Commentary for Plural Possessive
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ficcommentary
Welcome to the DVD commentary for “Plural Possessive.” This is the eighteenth fic/ficlet I wrote in the “My Fathers’ Son” universe. After 16 fics in the ‘verse without explicit sex, for some reason #17 and #18, posted within a week of each other, were both NC-17. I don’t know how that happened.
Title: Plural Possessive (fic here)
The title was last-minute (as they usually are for me), but I really, really like it. I went to wikipedia to look up what day Father’s Day will be in 2010 (June 20) and found this note:
Although normal English punctuation guidelines indicate that the holiday should be spelled "Fathers' Day" (as it is a plural possessive), common usage dictates that the ostensibly singular possessive "Father's Day" is the preferred spelling.
Plural Possessive seemed absolutely perfect, representing both the plural possessive in the “My Fathers’ Son” title, and the way both House and Wilson in this ‘verse are possessive of each other.
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2101
Summary: House helps Wilson celebrate his first Fathers' Day.
Normally I hate my summaries but this one is succinct and conveys the mood of the fic well. Note also the intentional plural possessive, given that Jack’s household has two fathers.
Notes: No spoilers for Season Four, Three, or Two. Prequel to My Fathers’ Son. Custom written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
galaxygirl76 as a thank-you for donating to The Robert Sean Leonard Birthday Charity Drive benefiting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Thank you to nightdog_barks and bironic for support, and to daisylily for beta.
The RSL Birthday Charity Drive was an awesome event raising over $4400 for a great charity. A few of us offered custom fics or arts to those who donated. I’m glad I participated, but I way over-extended myself, which is why this particular custom fic showed up over three months late. Thank you for your patience,galaxygirl76!
Wilson was having the strangest alien abduction dream.
The aliens had beamed him up just after he’d dropped Jack off for some quality time with John House, Hippocrates, and George Washington.
Get the theme there? Father of Greg House, father of medicine, father of our country. LOL me going overboard.
Wilson couldn’t figure out how many aliens there were; they were in constant motion around him as they stripped him naked and strapped him to the surprisingly comfortable exam table on his back. They were tall, though, and purple, and had faces like boxers. The dogs, not the athletes. Their instruments were attached to long robotic arms that looked a lot like the ones used in automobile factories, with pincers and welders and paint-sprayer-looking nozzles.
The exam table had a specific shape, and a specific look to it, but as I started typing I realized I was stealing it whole hog from anightdog_barks fic. Oops. Back to the simple “exam table.”
Y’all know what the instruments really looked like, don’t you? That’s right, the surgery robot thing that House killed the patient with in his hallucination in “No Reason.” But when I realized we’ve never seen it outside of House’s hallucination, and therefore it might not be real, I switched to the auto factory robot arms. Wilson has never been in a factory (I assume), but he’s got to have seen the car ads. Not to mention the Michael Keaton movie Gung Ho.
Also, paint-sprayer nozzles are funny. Wilson thinks he’s going to get airbrushed!
All of that was pretty typical, though, according to pop culture and that Tales from Beyond Our World video that House had been obsessively watching and re-watching over the past month.
Doesn’t it seem like (a) House would adore alien abduction videos; and (b) there ought to be one out there named “Tales From Beyond Our World”? My Google search for that phrase only produced one hit, though, for an editorial on New Year’s Day. (“In an ideal world I’d be ... writing this particular editorial in a quaint Italian café. While waiting for my pancakes. With wandering musicians, through their melodies, alluding to tales from beyond our world.”)
No, the strange thing was that they kept rubbing the vibrating anal probe along his crack but would never actually penetrate him. Back and forth, buzzing, buzzing, for ages. It was so stupid. The instrument was clearly marked Anal Probe. A probe was an instrument used for exploration inside a body cavity, so why the hell weren’t they sticking it in his anus?
Oh, Wilson. So conformity-minded. The label on the probe was really big, too, with “Anal Probe” in black letters an inch and a half high. I wonder if it was Acme brand.
“Stop teasing,” he snapped at the fifty-two minute mark, and then the vibration was finally in him, yar, and he woke to the rumble of House’s laughter against his thigh.
The “fifty-two minute mark” is a tribute to this quote by Robert Sean Leonard about the show: “We misdiagnose someone at 9:11, then again at 9:23, then at 9:41, and we figure it out at 9:52.” Of course, in the fic it wasn’t actually 52 minutes – House would’ve gotten bored long before then – but it seemed that way to Wilson in weird dream-time.
“I knew you were faking sleep,” House said smugly as he wiggled the slim vibrator from side to side.
“I – unh – actually wasn’t,” Wilson replied, and tried to keep himself from tensing up. He’d been perfectly relaxed in his dream – the aliens had drugged him maybe? – but now the unfamiliar pressure of an object in his ass was getting to him. “More lube,” he ordered.
House thinking that Wilson had known it was him tickles me to no end. I think when Wilson denies it, House thinks he’s lying.
In this ‘verse, this is the first time Wilson’s had a sex toy up his butt. Of course House chooses to introduce the idea while Wilson’s asleep. Of course. But you see that Wilson’s not exactly saying no.
House reached up past Wilson’s torso for something on the bed, and dragged the cold bottle across Wilson’s erection on the way back down. Wilson couldn’t help flinching, and House laughed again.
Teeny bits of teasing torture: House loves it.
“House, you –” was all he got out before damp heat surrounded the head of his dick and cool gel tingled the sensitive nerves of his anus.
I flipped the wetness vs. temperature between “damp heat” and “cool gel” on purpose, for effect. Not sure it actually did anything, though. LOL writing technique. Also, there are not enough words for the slick wet feeling of lube. Not nearly enough.
The stretching of his muscles to accommodate the hard, unyielding vibrator was an intriguing sensation. Not pleasurable exactly, but not painful, and definitely novel.
I’m straddling the line on anal penetration here. (Boy, that’s a weird sentence to write.) Some people say it’s painful at first; some people say it feels good; I went with middle ground here. Also, the vibrator is thin, so that helps.
The suction on his cock, on the other hand, was thrillingly familiar. House was using Wilson’s favorite rhythm: slow and tight, with intermittent licks around the rim of the head. Nothing fancy, tried and true, and it was good.
Conformity Boy strikes again. I love him.
Vibrator in and out, House’s mouth up and down: good. Good good good. Wilson’s left hand had found its customary position lying lightly over House’s right ear, House’s hair tickling his fingertips. His right hand was splayed across his chest, his heartbeat thrumming right into his palm.
Aww, Wilson likes touching House during blow jobs.
It was good, very good, so good, and then it was quickly scaling toward incredible. He drew his knees up, planted the soles of his feet firmly on the mattress, and the vibration in his ass had suddenly doubled, and House, House, House...
Repetitive use of the word “good” was intentional, to illustrate Wilson losing his ability to think complex thoughts as the pleasure builds.
He knew he was making the sounds House derisively called the steam engine puffs but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. House was on him and every nerve was screaming, screaming, screaming. Ecstasy consumed him and destroyed him, leaving him scattered in pieces across the sheets.
God, Wilson loved morning orgasms.
The “steam engine puffs” are not exactly the panting Wilson has done in canon, but close.
I got dinged by an early reader for the “ecstasy” sentence because it’s too flowery compared to the rest of the fic. I tweaked it a little but ultimately left it in for one simple reason: I’m tired of writing orgasms and couldn’t think of anything else. I shot my wad (pun intended) with Cam’s in the genderswap universe (“All the energy of the universe just shot out of the end of her penis.”) and have no creativity left for it.
“Off,” was the first thing he said when he could breathe. Then he had to yank House back onto him and shove against House’s right arm, because House had obviously misinterpreted. He wanted the sex toy off, because the vibrations were starting to aggravate rather than please. Fortunately he’d picked a genius to share his bed. The vibrator stilled and then pulled out, sending a ripple through him as it slipped past his inner sphincter.
I spent way too much time on wikipedia trying to figure out the anatomy of the anus. I’m pretty sure it’s the inner (involuntary) sphincter that would be the tightest and thus cause that ripple, but if you know different, let me know.
House’s left arm snuck under Wilson’s back and tightened around his waist, as House nuzzled into his pubic hair in the customary attempt to annoy him into wiggling. Nothing doing; Wilson was too pleasantly exhausted to move at all.
Yay, found a different way to say “boneless”!
House looked up at him and grinned. “Happy Father’s Day. Good present, huh?” Hanging from the cord clenched between House’s fingers, the vibrator dangled in the air. It was shorter than Wilson had thought, slim, and, coincidentally, the same shade of purple the dream aliens had been. Weird.
Yes, it’s a corded vibrator. Yes, it’s purple. I have no idea how Wilson came up with same shade of purple in his dreams.
Wilson’s face must’ve expressed that thought, because House continued sarcastically, “Thank you, House. How nice of you to remember, House. Let me take care of that hard-on for you, House.” With a low grumble, he tried to tug his arm free.
“House.” Wilson pressed the small of his back toward the bed, trapping House’s arm, and waited for House to look up at him. It took a moment of struggle, half-playful and half-serious, but eventually House deigned to favor him with a glance.
Figuring out how to describe the tussle between Wilson and House here took a lot longer than I expected. House is in retreat; Wilson knows he shouldn’t be; but rather than just say that, they always have to be difficult. While still loving each other. Oh, boys.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Wilson asked, in the huskiest voice he could manage.
Everything stopped for a long few seconds as House’s expression morphed from annoyed to confused to suspicious. “We don’t do it like that,” he finally said.
House and Wilson have been having sex for two and a half years now (not continuously, sheesh) in this ‘verse, and this is the first time Wilson’s offered to bottom. I explained in the previous ficlet, Genesis that most of the time they prefer oral sex and frottage, and when they do have anal, House bottoms. Because House is greedy and is hoarding the prostate stimulation for himself, Wilson concludes later in this fic.
“We could now,” Wilson replied, “if you wanted.” He looked into House’s eyes, reading the faint anxiety behind the lust behind the mistrust of anything freely offered. “I’m relaxed; I’m open; why not?”
The idea that House mistrusts anything freely offered didn’t come to me until I was writing that sentence, but boy howdy do I think it’s true.
House looked down toward his thigh, and oh ho, that was not going to derail this, no way. Wilson found the energy to lunge toward House and grab him under the arms, pulling, twisting and turning until House’s head was on top of the pillow and House’s hips were under Wilson’s ass.
Has Wilson done the “oh ho” or is that only RSL? Doesn’t matter; it cracks me up anyway.
Poor House, anxious about his leg holding up if he’s going to top. He didn’t seem anxious about it with Stacy, now that I think of it, but, um, it’s different with anal? Or maybe it hurts more in the morning than at night? See, this is why I almost never address issues of House’s leg pain when it comes to sex. Because I don’t know how it works and canon has not been a very reliable guide. See the CIA episode where House climbs a whole flight of stairs to the helipad, when in prior eps he couldn’t go up more than two or three steps.
“You’re –” House began, but Wilson kissed away the rest of the words. He rolled his body against House’s, from groin to chest and back again, until House was rolling against him as well, and then he carefully guided House’s cock into him.
It was slightly more pliant than the vibrator but a lot bigger, so Wilson had to take things slower than he expected. House’s moans seemed to indicate that House was fine with that, so he inched his way down the shaft, rocking gently and focusing his breathing for relaxation. It was unexpectedly good, even just that, the push and heat of House filling him.
House was behaving himself nicely, keeping his hips still so that Wilson could control the pace. Wilson wasn’t sure he could be quite as much of a gentleman if their positions were reversed now. The thought that House not only could, but would, was hot. Really hot. ‘I think I need this cock all the way in my ass’ hot.
House being caring turns Wilson on. Is anyone surprised by this? I thought not.
Wilson breathed out, forcibly relaxed, and sank abruptly, his butt slapping onto House’s pelvis.
“Jesus,” House groaned, hands digging into the top of Wilson’s thighs.
Sitting proudly on House’s cock, full and warm, Wilson laughed breathlessly. “He was a Jew, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re not the – oh...” House let out a short grunt of a moan as Wilson began to move up his cock again. “...messiah.”
Slowly and as smoothly as possible, Wilson pulled himself to the head of House’s cock and then began pushing himself back down. “Sure about that?”
Jew jokes are really more of House’s thing, but I gotta think if they’ve been together for over two years, Wilson will have absorbed the humor by osmosis if nothing else. Plus, deep down Wilson’s totally got enough ego to compare himself to a savior of mankind, don’t you think?
Writer thing: I still can’t decide how I should punctuate it when I have a full sentence of action that occurs within a line of dialogue. Ellipses inside the quotation marks? Dashes inside the quotation marks? Dashes outside the quotation marks? Oy.
House groaned again, loud and long, and his legs began to shake. “God, you’ve gotta,” he moaned and grabbed at Wilson’s hips. “You gotta, you gotta...”
Wilson got the picture and sped up. The fingers digging into his ass and House’s plummet into complete inarticulacy let him know he’d made the right decision.
“Inarticulacy” is a weird-looking word, but “inarticulateness” – my other choice – is even weirder looking.
Smugly satisfied at House’s obvious gratification, he was thinking how pleasant the warm, smooth friction inside him was when House shifted his hips. On the next slide down, House’s dick slammed into his prostate.
Friction by definition is not smooth, so let’s call that literary license, shall we?
“Holy shit,” he gasped and fell forward, catching himself with his hands on House’s shoulders. House grinned up at him and began to thrust.
“Oh god,” Wilson moaned. “I’m going to come again.” He looked down just for visual confirmation that he was still flaccid. “How can...” His prostate was jolted again, and he forgot what he was saying.
This is what I’ve been told intense direct prostate stimulation feels like: like you’re going to come or are coming, even when you’re not. The fact that Wilson knows he can’t be hard because he just came (daisylily commended me for realism for that) makes it even more exciting for him emotionally.
“You won’t come,” House said around grunts. “Just, uh, how it feels.”
He’d been fingered before, a few times, but it had never felt quite like this. House had been holding out on him, the bastard. Greedy, lazy, oh god, too fucking much, this had to stop. He clenched around House’s cock mid-stroke, and that did it. House tensed, let out a choking, gasping grunt, and came, thrusting a few more times before collapsing into the mattress.
Wilson had been fingered, and subsequently had had his prostate stroked, but it hadn’t been hit with as much pressure. Wilson likes it, oh yes he does – enough to curse House out for hogging it all to himself – but it can get too intense and overwhelming (or so I’ve been told). Wilson learned the clamp-down trick from having it done to him, I’m thinking.
“God,” Wilson groaned as he gingerly lifted himself, wincing as House’s still stiff penis pulled out. Once he was free, he let himself gently down to sprawl over House’s chest and legs.
He was exhausted; his muscles were twitching as if he’d sprinted a mile; and the sensation of wetness in his rear was too weird to even think about. When they did this again, he was going to make House wear a condom.
Fluid in your butt’s just got to feel weird. I know some fics have guys enjoying it, but I can’t imagine it. Condom would make the aftermath much cleaner. Also, notice Wilson says “when,” not “if.” He enjoyed himself a lot. *g*
Wilson was just starting to get some brain cells back – what to make for breakfast, good easy topic – when House murmured something that stopped him in his tracks. “Damn,” Wilson breathed.
“What?” House asked, poking him to look up. House’s brow was drawn in in confusion, and he seemed hurt as well, which was odd.
House’s face is very woobie when he feels hurt. Characters on the show don’t seem to notice it as much as home viewers do, which is odd.
“Nothing,” Wilson replied. “I just have a busy week coming up, and I don’t know how I’m going to fit in a visit to the audiologist.”
House’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I need to get to the audiologist, because my hearing’s going. You were complaining about me not listening last week, and then just now instead of, ‘Your ass is hairy,’ or whatever it was, I thought you said, ‘Let’s get married.’” Wilson shook his head, looking over at the wall and mentally going through his calendar. “Maybe Thursday afternoon,” he mused, “if I move –”
In case you had any doubt, Wilson is not teasing House here. He’s 100% certain that he mis-heard.
“That is what I said.”
Wilson couldn’t think for a moment. He’d heard right, so... a joke? House didn’t look like he was kidding, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred Wilson could tell. “You said we should get married.”
It’s amusing to me how often in canon House can’t tell whether Wilson is kidding or not. I’m thinking Wilson’s got it down on his part, though.
House nodded. “Yeah. I’m tired of secretly living in sin.”
“So you want to come out... No.” House’s such an idiot face easily demonstrated that was wrong. “You don’t want to secretly live in sin; you want to secretly live in the sacred covenant of marriage.”
“Something like that,” House agreed.
House is such a closet romantic. In addition to being completely in the closet in this ‘verse. He’s seriously fucked up about it. Oh, House.
Wilson still couldn’t think, or, more accurately, couldn’t organize his thoughts in any order that made sense. “So many questions, but let’s start with: Why?”
“You were the one who proposed to your wives, right? Because you’re really crappy at responding to the proposal when someone else makes it.”
“I just want to –”
“Telling you how I feel sucks,” House interrupted. “It seems so pathetic and useless, even though I know you want to hear it.”
When I started writing this fic, I knew that House was going to propose, but I had no clue how it would go. I was struggling mightily to keep it in character, because even though House and Wilson have been together a long time – and, you know, have a kid together – they still don’t really talk about their feelings.
Throwing in an insult to Wilson and some complaining made me feel much better about the sappiness of a marriage proposal – I think it made House feel better, too.
Wilson had twisted and shifted to face House. His heart was pounding, apparently having caught up to the seriousness of the situation before his brain could. House’s expression was open, raw, and Wilson couldn’t look away.
“So,” House continued, “I want to stand up and make it official, so you’ll have the proof. I won’t have to say anything, and you won’t have to doubt me.”
As it generally goes with House, this reasoning is the truth but not the whole truth. Y’all probably figured that out without me saying it.
Wilson’s lips lifted, and he let a soft “ha” of amusement escape. “I don’t doubt you now.”
“But you don’t –”
He kissed House then, a press of lips, a tease of tongue, another warm press before pulling back. “House, I have a ten-month-old in the other room who’s going to start calling for us any minute. Your ten-month-old. He’s the proof. You told me that at Christmas time, and it’s not any less true now.”
My second concern with the proposal was how to wrap it up without Wilson getting too schmoopy. Fortunately, as I was writing, my brain reminded me that I’d already gone down the “proof” path in Luminescence. Wilson had gotten pissy and asked House if House ever took Wilson seriously. After an extended application of the Socratic method, House declares that Jack is the proof of House’s regard and love for Wilson. D’awww. So here Wilson refers back to that and we’re done without getting bogged down. Huzzah!
House pulled him down again into a longer kiss that was no less warm. When it broke, House breathed, “Damn,” across Wilson’s lips.
“What?” Wilson replied from an inch away.
“I was really just angling for the honeymoon.” Gentle brush of lips. “Amsterdam for a week in July, late birthday present for me.”
Wilson was grinning, tucked in House’s arms. “Is your memory going, old man? I already got you a very nice birthday present.”
daisylily pointed out that Wilson really ought not to be surprised that House wants more than one present. Hee.
House has picked Amsterdam very deliberately, because it’s the most gay-friendly city in Europe, if not the world. It’s so gay-friendly, one gay travel website says, that it’s hard to make a list of “gay” bars; almost all the bars have a mix of straight and gay patrons. It’s also over 3500 miles from New Jersey. House is thinking that in Amsterdam he might actually be willing to be open about his relationship with Wilson – might let Wilson lean against him, or ruffle his hair, or hold his hand. House would like that a lot, and he knows for sure Wilson would like it. It’s been a long time since House has been in an open committed relationship, and he won’t admit to missing that kind of thing, but he does.
“Late Father’s Day, then.”
“You get me a vibrator, and I get you a week-long overseas vacation.”
The contrast is pretty funny when you state it baldly like that.
House kissed him again as the familiar whine of “Pop; up, Pop” came out of the baby monitor. Wilson pulled away reluctantly, grabbed his shorts from the floor, and went to go fetch his proof.
Jack’s definitely smart enough to call out for Pop (Wilson) instead of Dad (House). Also, I originally had Wilson walking straight out the door but realized he probably wouldn’t go get his son stark naked, so I added the grabbing of shorts.
“It seems fair to me,” House called after him, and Wilson realized with a smile that it seemed fair to him too.
See, when you think about it, both presents are for both of them, so it does turn out fair in the end.
Thanks for reading! If you have any questions, about this fic or anything in the My Fathers’ Son-verse, feel free to ask.
ficcommentaryWelcome to the DVD commentary for “Plural Possessive.” This is the eighteenth fic/ficlet I wrote in the “My Fathers’ Son” universe. After 16 fics in the ‘verse without explicit sex, for some reason #17 and #18, posted within a week of each other, were both NC-17. I don’t know how that happened.
Title: Plural Possessive (fic here)
The title was last-minute (as they usually are for me), but I really, really like it. I went to wikipedia to look up what day Father’s Day will be in 2010 (June 20) and found this note:
Although normal English punctuation guidelines indicate that the holiday should be spelled "Fathers' Day" (as it is a plural possessive), common usage dictates that the ostensibly singular possessive "Father's Day" is the preferred spelling.
Plural Possessive seemed absolutely perfect, representing both the plural possessive in the “My Fathers’ Son” title, and the way both House and Wilson in this ‘verse are possessive of each other.
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2101
Summary: House helps Wilson celebrate his first Fathers' Day.
Normally I hate my summaries but this one is succinct and conveys the mood of the fic well. Note also the intentional plural possessive, given that Jack’s household has two fathers.
Notes: No spoilers for Season Four, Three, or Two. Prequel to My Fathers’ Son. Custom written for
galaxygirl76 as a thank-you for donating to The Robert Sean Leonard Birthday Charity Drive benefiting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Thank you to nightdog_barks and bironic for support, and to daisylily for beta.The RSL Birthday Charity Drive was an awesome event raising over $4400 for a great charity. A few of us offered custom fics or arts to those who donated. I’m glad I participated, but I way over-extended myself, which is why this particular custom fic showed up over three months late. Thank you for your patience,
galaxygirl76!Wilson was having the strangest alien abduction dream.
The aliens had beamed him up just after he’d dropped Jack off for some quality time with John House, Hippocrates, and George Washington.
Get the theme there? Father of Greg House, father of medicine, father of our country. LOL me going overboard.
Wilson couldn’t figure out how many aliens there were; they were in constant motion around him as they stripped him naked and strapped him to the surprisingly comfortable exam table on his back. They were tall, though, and purple, and had faces like boxers. The dogs, not the athletes. Their instruments were attached to long robotic arms that looked a lot like the ones used in automobile factories, with pincers and welders and paint-sprayer-looking nozzles.
The exam table had a specific shape, and a specific look to it, but as I started typing I realized I was stealing it whole hog from a
nightdog_barks fic. Oops. Back to the simple “exam table.”Y’all know what the instruments really looked like, don’t you? That’s right, the surgery robot thing that House killed the patient with in his hallucination in “No Reason.” But when I realized we’ve never seen it outside of House’s hallucination, and therefore it might not be real, I switched to the auto factory robot arms. Wilson has never been in a factory (I assume), but he’s got to have seen the car ads. Not to mention the Michael Keaton movie Gung Ho.
Also, paint-sprayer nozzles are funny. Wilson thinks he’s going to get airbrushed!
All of that was pretty typical, though, according to pop culture and that Tales from Beyond Our World video that House had been obsessively watching and re-watching over the past month.
Doesn’t it seem like (a) House would adore alien abduction videos; and (b) there ought to be one out there named “Tales From Beyond Our World”? My Google search for that phrase only produced one hit, though, for an editorial on New Year’s Day. (“In an ideal world I’d be ... writing this particular editorial in a quaint Italian café. While waiting for my pancakes. With wandering musicians, through their melodies, alluding to tales from beyond our world.”)
No, the strange thing was that they kept rubbing the vibrating anal probe along his crack but would never actually penetrate him. Back and forth, buzzing, buzzing, for ages. It was so stupid. The instrument was clearly marked Anal Probe. A probe was an instrument used for exploration inside a body cavity, so why the hell weren’t they sticking it in his anus?
Oh, Wilson. So conformity-minded. The label on the probe was really big, too, with “Anal Probe” in black letters an inch and a half high. I wonder if it was Acme brand.
“Stop teasing,” he snapped at the fifty-two minute mark, and then the vibration was finally in him, yar, and he woke to the rumble of House’s laughter against his thigh.
The “fifty-two minute mark” is a tribute to this quote by Robert Sean Leonard about the show: “We misdiagnose someone at 9:11, then again at 9:23, then at 9:41, and we figure it out at 9:52.” Of course, in the fic it wasn’t actually 52 minutes – House would’ve gotten bored long before then – but it seemed that way to Wilson in weird dream-time.
“I knew you were faking sleep,” House said smugly as he wiggled the slim vibrator from side to side.
“I – unh – actually wasn’t,” Wilson replied, and tried to keep himself from tensing up. He’d been perfectly relaxed in his dream – the aliens had drugged him maybe? – but now the unfamiliar pressure of an object in his ass was getting to him. “More lube,” he ordered.
House thinking that Wilson had known it was him tickles me to no end. I think when Wilson denies it, House thinks he’s lying.
In this ‘verse, this is the first time Wilson’s had a sex toy up his butt. Of course House chooses to introduce the idea while Wilson’s asleep. Of course. But you see that Wilson’s not exactly saying no.
House reached up past Wilson’s torso for something on the bed, and dragged the cold bottle across Wilson’s erection on the way back down. Wilson couldn’t help flinching, and House laughed again.
Teeny bits of teasing torture: House loves it.
“House, you –” was all he got out before damp heat surrounded the head of his dick and cool gel tingled the sensitive nerves of his anus.
I flipped the wetness vs. temperature between “damp heat” and “cool gel” on purpose, for effect. Not sure it actually did anything, though. LOL writing technique. Also, there are not enough words for the slick wet feeling of lube. Not nearly enough.
The stretching of his muscles to accommodate the hard, unyielding vibrator was an intriguing sensation. Not pleasurable exactly, but not painful, and definitely novel.
I’m straddling the line on anal penetration here. (Boy, that’s a weird sentence to write.) Some people say it’s painful at first; some people say it feels good; I went with middle ground here. Also, the vibrator is thin, so that helps.
The suction on his cock, on the other hand, was thrillingly familiar. House was using Wilson’s favorite rhythm: slow and tight, with intermittent licks around the rim of the head. Nothing fancy, tried and true, and it was good.
Conformity Boy strikes again. I love him.
Vibrator in and out, House’s mouth up and down: good. Good good good. Wilson’s left hand had found its customary position lying lightly over House’s right ear, House’s hair tickling his fingertips. His right hand was splayed across his chest, his heartbeat thrumming right into his palm.
Aww, Wilson likes touching House during blow jobs.
It was good, very good, so good, and then it was quickly scaling toward incredible. He drew his knees up, planted the soles of his feet firmly on the mattress, and the vibration in his ass had suddenly doubled, and House, House, House...
Repetitive use of the word “good” was intentional, to illustrate Wilson losing his ability to think complex thoughts as the pleasure builds.
He knew he was making the sounds House derisively called the steam engine puffs but he didn’t care, couldn’t care. House was on him and every nerve was screaming, screaming, screaming. Ecstasy consumed him and destroyed him, leaving him scattered in pieces across the sheets.
God, Wilson loved morning orgasms.
The “steam engine puffs” are not exactly the panting Wilson has done in canon, but close.
I got dinged by an early reader for the “ecstasy” sentence because it’s too flowery compared to the rest of the fic. I tweaked it a little but ultimately left it in for one simple reason: I’m tired of writing orgasms and couldn’t think of anything else. I shot my wad (pun intended) with Cam’s in the genderswap universe (“All the energy of the universe just shot out of the end of her penis.”) and have no creativity left for it.
“Off,” was the first thing he said when he could breathe. Then he had to yank House back onto him and shove against House’s right arm, because House had obviously misinterpreted. He wanted the sex toy off, because the vibrations were starting to aggravate rather than please. Fortunately he’d picked a genius to share his bed. The vibrator stilled and then pulled out, sending a ripple through him as it slipped past his inner sphincter.
I spent way too much time on wikipedia trying to figure out the anatomy of the anus. I’m pretty sure it’s the inner (involuntary) sphincter that would be the tightest and thus cause that ripple, but if you know different, let me know.
House’s left arm snuck under Wilson’s back and tightened around his waist, as House nuzzled into his pubic hair in the customary attempt to annoy him into wiggling. Nothing doing; Wilson was too pleasantly exhausted to move at all.
Yay, found a different way to say “boneless”!
House looked up at him and grinned. “Happy Father’s Day. Good present, huh?” Hanging from the cord clenched between House’s fingers, the vibrator dangled in the air. It was shorter than Wilson had thought, slim, and, coincidentally, the same shade of purple the dream aliens had been. Weird.
Yes, it’s a corded vibrator. Yes, it’s purple. I have no idea how Wilson came up with same shade of purple in his dreams.
Wilson’s face must’ve expressed that thought, because House continued sarcastically, “Thank you, House. How nice of you to remember, House. Let me take care of that hard-on for you, House.” With a low grumble, he tried to tug his arm free.
“House.” Wilson pressed the small of his back toward the bed, trapping House’s arm, and waited for House to look up at him. It took a moment of struggle, half-playful and half-serious, but eventually House deigned to favor him with a glance.
Figuring out how to describe the tussle between Wilson and House here took a lot longer than I expected. House is in retreat; Wilson knows he shouldn’t be; but rather than just say that, they always have to be difficult. While still loving each other. Oh, boys.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Wilson asked, in the huskiest voice he could manage.
Everything stopped for a long few seconds as House’s expression morphed from annoyed to confused to suspicious. “We don’t do it like that,” he finally said.
House and Wilson have been having sex for two and a half years now (not continuously, sheesh) in this ‘verse, and this is the first time Wilson’s offered to bottom. I explained in the previous ficlet, Genesis that most of the time they prefer oral sex and frottage, and when they do have anal, House bottoms. Because House is greedy and is hoarding the prostate stimulation for himself, Wilson concludes later in this fic.
“We could now,” Wilson replied, “if you wanted.” He looked into House’s eyes, reading the faint anxiety behind the lust behind the mistrust of anything freely offered. “I’m relaxed; I’m open; why not?”
The idea that House mistrusts anything freely offered didn’t come to me until I was writing that sentence, but boy howdy do I think it’s true.
House looked down toward his thigh, and oh ho, that was not going to derail this, no way. Wilson found the energy to lunge toward House and grab him under the arms, pulling, twisting and turning until House’s head was on top of the pillow and House’s hips were under Wilson’s ass.
Has Wilson done the “oh ho” or is that only RSL? Doesn’t matter; it cracks me up anyway.
Poor House, anxious about his leg holding up if he’s going to top. He didn’t seem anxious about it with Stacy, now that I think of it, but, um, it’s different with anal? Or maybe it hurts more in the morning than at night? See, this is why I almost never address issues of House’s leg pain when it comes to sex. Because I don’t know how it works and canon has not been a very reliable guide. See the CIA episode where House climbs a whole flight of stairs to the helipad, when in prior eps he couldn’t go up more than two or three steps.
“You’re –” House began, but Wilson kissed away the rest of the words. He rolled his body against House’s, from groin to chest and back again, until House was rolling against him as well, and then he carefully guided House’s cock into him.
It was slightly more pliant than the vibrator but a lot bigger, so Wilson had to take things slower than he expected. House’s moans seemed to indicate that House was fine with that, so he inched his way down the shaft, rocking gently and focusing his breathing for relaxation. It was unexpectedly good, even just that, the push and heat of House filling him.
House was behaving himself nicely, keeping his hips still so that Wilson could control the pace. Wilson wasn’t sure he could be quite as much of a gentleman if their positions were reversed now. The thought that House not only could, but would, was hot. Really hot. ‘I think I need this cock all the way in my ass’ hot.
House being caring turns Wilson on. Is anyone surprised by this? I thought not.
Wilson breathed out, forcibly relaxed, and sank abruptly, his butt slapping onto House’s pelvis.
“Jesus,” House groaned, hands digging into the top of Wilson’s thighs.
Sitting proudly on House’s cock, full and warm, Wilson laughed breathlessly. “He was a Jew, too.”
“Yeah, but you’re not the – oh...” House let out a short grunt of a moan as Wilson began to move up his cock again. “...messiah.”
Slowly and as smoothly as possible, Wilson pulled himself to the head of House’s cock and then began pushing himself back down. “Sure about that?”
Jew jokes are really more of House’s thing, but I gotta think if they’ve been together for over two years, Wilson will have absorbed the humor by osmosis if nothing else. Plus, deep down Wilson’s totally got enough ego to compare himself to a savior of mankind, don’t you think?
Writer thing: I still can’t decide how I should punctuate it when I have a full sentence of action that occurs within a line of dialogue. Ellipses inside the quotation marks? Dashes inside the quotation marks? Dashes outside the quotation marks? Oy.
House groaned again, loud and long, and his legs began to shake. “God, you’ve gotta,” he moaned and grabbed at Wilson’s hips. “You gotta, you gotta...”
Wilson got the picture and sped up. The fingers digging into his ass and House’s plummet into complete inarticulacy let him know he’d made the right decision.
“Inarticulacy” is a weird-looking word, but “inarticulateness” – my other choice – is even weirder looking.
Smugly satisfied at House’s obvious gratification, he was thinking how pleasant the warm, smooth friction inside him was when House shifted his hips. On the next slide down, House’s dick slammed into his prostate.
Friction by definition is not smooth, so let’s call that literary license, shall we?
“Holy shit,” he gasped and fell forward, catching himself with his hands on House’s shoulders. House grinned up at him and began to thrust.
“Oh god,” Wilson moaned. “I’m going to come again.” He looked down just for visual confirmation that he was still flaccid. “How can...” His prostate was jolted again, and he forgot what he was saying.
This is what I’ve been told intense direct prostate stimulation feels like: like you’re going to come or are coming, even when you’re not. The fact that Wilson knows he can’t be hard because he just came (
daisylily commended me for realism for that) makes it even more exciting for him emotionally.“You won’t come,” House said around grunts. “Just, uh, how it feels.”
He’d been fingered before, a few times, but it had never felt quite like this. House had been holding out on him, the bastard. Greedy, lazy, oh god, too fucking much, this had to stop. He clenched around House’s cock mid-stroke, and that did it. House tensed, let out a choking, gasping grunt, and came, thrusting a few more times before collapsing into the mattress.
Wilson had been fingered, and subsequently had had his prostate stroked, but it hadn’t been hit with as much pressure. Wilson likes it, oh yes he does – enough to curse House out for hogging it all to himself – but it can get too intense and overwhelming (or so I’ve been told). Wilson learned the clamp-down trick from having it done to him, I’m thinking.
“God,” Wilson groaned as he gingerly lifted himself, wincing as House’s still stiff penis pulled out. Once he was free, he let himself gently down to sprawl over House’s chest and legs.
He was exhausted; his muscles were twitching as if he’d sprinted a mile; and the sensation of wetness in his rear was too weird to even think about. When they did this again, he was going to make House wear a condom.
Fluid in your butt’s just got to feel weird. I know some fics have guys enjoying it, but I can’t imagine it. Condom would make the aftermath much cleaner. Also, notice Wilson says “when,” not “if.” He enjoyed himself a lot. *g*
Wilson was just starting to get some brain cells back – what to make for breakfast, good easy topic – when House murmured something that stopped him in his tracks. “Damn,” Wilson breathed.
“What?” House asked, poking him to look up. House’s brow was drawn in in confusion, and he seemed hurt as well, which was odd.
House’s face is very woobie when he feels hurt. Characters on the show don’t seem to notice it as much as home viewers do, which is odd.
“Nothing,” Wilson replied. “I just have a busy week coming up, and I don’t know how I’m going to fit in a visit to the audiologist.”
House’s arm tightened around his shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I need to get to the audiologist, because my hearing’s going. You were complaining about me not listening last week, and then just now instead of, ‘Your ass is hairy,’ or whatever it was, I thought you said, ‘Let’s get married.’” Wilson shook his head, looking over at the wall and mentally going through his calendar. “Maybe Thursday afternoon,” he mused, “if I move –”
In case you had any doubt, Wilson is not teasing House here. He’s 100% certain that he mis-heard.
“That is what I said.”
Wilson couldn’t think for a moment. He’d heard right, so... a joke? House didn’t look like he was kidding, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred Wilson could tell. “You said we should get married.”
It’s amusing to me how often in canon House can’t tell whether Wilson is kidding or not. I’m thinking Wilson’s got it down on his part, though.
House nodded. “Yeah. I’m tired of secretly living in sin.”
“So you want to come out... No.” House’s such an idiot face easily demonstrated that was wrong. “You don’t want to secretly live in sin; you want to secretly live in the sacred covenant of marriage.”
“Something like that,” House agreed.
House is such a closet romantic. In addition to being completely in the closet in this ‘verse. He’s seriously fucked up about it. Oh, House.
Wilson still couldn’t think, or, more accurately, couldn’t organize his thoughts in any order that made sense. “So many questions, but let’s start with: Why?”
“You were the one who proposed to your wives, right? Because you’re really crappy at responding to the proposal when someone else makes it.”
“I just want to –”
“Telling you how I feel sucks,” House interrupted. “It seems so pathetic and useless, even though I know you want to hear it.”
When I started writing this fic, I knew that House was going to propose, but I had no clue how it would go. I was struggling mightily to keep it in character, because even though House and Wilson have been together a long time – and, you know, have a kid together – they still don’t really talk about their feelings.
Throwing in an insult to Wilson and some complaining made me feel much better about the sappiness of a marriage proposal – I think it made House feel better, too.
Wilson had twisted and shifted to face House. His heart was pounding, apparently having caught up to the seriousness of the situation before his brain could. House’s expression was open, raw, and Wilson couldn’t look away.
“So,” House continued, “I want to stand up and make it official, so you’ll have the proof. I won’t have to say anything, and you won’t have to doubt me.”
As it generally goes with House, this reasoning is the truth but not the whole truth. Y’all probably figured that out without me saying it.
Wilson’s lips lifted, and he let a soft “ha” of amusement escape. “I don’t doubt you now.”
“But you don’t –”
He kissed House then, a press of lips, a tease of tongue, another warm press before pulling back. “House, I have a ten-month-old in the other room who’s going to start calling for us any minute. Your ten-month-old. He’s the proof. You told me that at Christmas time, and it’s not any less true now.”
My second concern with the proposal was how to wrap it up without Wilson getting too schmoopy. Fortunately, as I was writing, my brain reminded me that I’d already gone down the “proof” path in Luminescence. Wilson had gotten pissy and asked House if House ever took Wilson seriously. After an extended application of the Socratic method, House declares that Jack is the proof of House’s regard and love for Wilson. D’awww. So here Wilson refers back to that and we’re done without getting bogged down. Huzzah!
House pulled him down again into a longer kiss that was no less warm. When it broke, House breathed, “Damn,” across Wilson’s lips.
“What?” Wilson replied from an inch away.
“I was really just angling for the honeymoon.” Gentle brush of lips. “Amsterdam for a week in July, late birthday present for me.”
Wilson was grinning, tucked in House’s arms. “Is your memory going, old man? I already got you a very nice birthday present.”
daisylily pointed out that Wilson really ought not to be surprised that House wants more than one present. Hee.House has picked Amsterdam very deliberately, because it’s the most gay-friendly city in Europe, if not the world. It’s so gay-friendly, one gay travel website says, that it’s hard to make a list of “gay” bars; almost all the bars have a mix of straight and gay patrons. It’s also over 3500 miles from New Jersey. House is thinking that in Amsterdam he might actually be willing to be open about his relationship with Wilson – might let Wilson lean against him, or ruffle his hair, or hold his hand. House would like that a lot, and he knows for sure Wilson would like it. It’s been a long time since House has been in an open committed relationship, and he won’t admit to missing that kind of thing, but he does.
“Late Father’s Day, then.”
“You get me a vibrator, and I get you a week-long overseas vacation.”
The contrast is pretty funny when you state it baldly like that.
House kissed him again as the familiar whine of “Pop; up, Pop” came out of the baby monitor. Wilson pulled away reluctantly, grabbed his shorts from the floor, and went to go fetch his proof.
Jack’s definitely smart enough to call out for Pop (Wilson) instead of Dad (House). Also, I originally had Wilson walking straight out the door but realized he probably wouldn’t go get his son stark naked, so I added the grabbing of shorts.
“It seems fair to me,” House called after him, and Wilson realized with a smile that it seemed fair to him too.
See, when you think about it, both presents are for both of them, so it does turn out fair in the end.
Thanks for reading! If you have any questions, about this fic or anything in the My Fathers’ Son-verse, feel free to ask.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 12:09 am (UTC)Do you have a list of the order of the stories? I actually keep the stories in Word files and want to make sure they are all together in the right order.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 12:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 02:44 am (UTC)*snerks*
Dee, you can steal anything you want from me. I won't mind.
Wonderful commentary!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 03:46 am (UTC)Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 04:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 07:24 am (UTC)HA!
I have no idea how Wilson came up with same shade of purple in his dreams.
I assumed that the color featured prominently in Tales from Beyond Our World, causing House to select it (consciously or un-) when buying the vibrator and Wilson's dream to include it.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 01:05 pm (UTC)That's so much better than the real reason the vibrator is purple! You're awesome.
Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 02:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 05:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 05:13 pm (UTC)As for the leg-thing, I suppose, if I may offer my 2 cents, you can safely assume House's got "good-leg-days", "bad-leg-days" and "I-just-want-to-cut-it-off-leg-days", as that's how bum legs tend to behave.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-28 05:50 pm (UTC)That makes sense, about House's leg, that he'd feel differently on different days. I guess in most of my stories he's having good days!