Out of Clean Clothes (R)
Jan. 27th, 2007 07:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deelaundryPosted on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
house_wilson
Title: Out of Clean Clothes
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: R
Summary: “I’m out of clean clothes,” House said. “Somebody didn’t pick up the laundry.”
Note: From the timestamp meme, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
axmxz, who requested: “What happened in Why Dr. House Cancelled Poker Night, right after the boys got home from the airport." Beta by the awesome daisylily.
The moment they walked in the door after getting home from the airport, House pulled Wilson into a tight embrace.
“House!” Wilson yelped. “Let me put down my bags.”
“Just a simple release motion, Wilson. You can even do it with my arms around you.”
Wilson smirked, and let go, the bags falling to either side of his feet. He brought his hands to House’s waist and leaned into the crazy bastard he’d missed so much.
Then the odor emanating from House hit his nostrils, and he jerked back. “Your shirt smells horrible! Take it off.”
House shrugged with the fakest of nonchalance and replied, “If you insist.” Two buttons undone, and then in one fluid move House pulled the shirt over his head and flung it behind him.
Wilson smiled, and leaned in again, and fuck, that smell was still there. “The t-shirt’s just as bad.”
“Oh my,” said House, his arms crossing and his hands going to his sides. “Guess I’ll just have to take that off as well.” He peeled the shirt slowly off, inch by inch, because he was a dastardly, evil tease who was going to get his ass kicked if he didn’t hurry the fuck up. Wilson refrained from saying any of that out loud, because House liked getting his ass kicked, albeit in very specific ways.
He instead waited until House’s face was covered by cloth and then leaned down to lick a sensitive patch of skin near House’s ribcage. His tongue was an inch away, when again the odor assaulted.
“Fuck!” he yelled, startling House, who stumbled briefly and got his t-shirt caught on his left ear. Wilson steadied him, and grabbed the t-shirt off him, tossing it firmly across the room.
“It wasn’t the shirts. You still smell.”
“Hm,” House replied, and rubbed his own jaw in “contemplative thought.” “Maybe it was my underwear that I wore multiple times this week.”
Wilson was already walking down the hall. “Now, that’s just gross. I’m going to get the clothes together for tomorrow’s dry cleaning pick-up. You go shower!”
Shocked, he stopped in the doorway to their bedroom. “House!” he bellowed, and a few moments later a long, lean, very naked body pressed up into him from behind.
“You rang?” House murmured in his ear.
“What are all my clean clothes doing scattered across our bed?” He was going to hold onto this exasperation until his questions were answered, no matter what his body might be feeling in response to House’s roaming hands.
House shifted, kissed the back of Wilson’s neck and then the side. “I’m not sure they’re clean any more.”
Scowling, Wilson pulled his arms out from under House’s and brought his hands to his hips.
House kissed his bent right elbow, and damn it, that was not cute. Or adorable.
“I missed you,” House said in a tone that was half-pout and half-whine, and that was not endearing, either. “I missed you in our bed, and I wanted your scent around me, so I slept on your clothes.”
Wilson closed his eyes and sighed. “Did it have to be all my clothes?” he asked, knowing even as the words left his lips that the question was largely rhetorical.
“Well, I was going to leave some of them in the closet, but the thought of you walking around the apartment naked was just too exciting.” House pressed the evidence of his excitement against Wilson’s ass, but that was just too damn bad.
Wilson was not a horny teenager. He could control himself in order to get an issue hashed out, even after a week away, even if the longest they’d previously gone without sex during their relationship was something on the order of twenty-three hours.
He realized a second later that he’d only made it to about the word “without” in that thought before turning around and grabbing House’s ass. His lips were occupied, and his tongue was busy, and his mind was just going to have to wait for a minute.
House was leaning on him, using him for support and pushing him back toward the bed at the same time. Wilson was going willingly, but he really was going to have to insist that that great butt come with, as close to him as humanly possible.
Then the clothes off Wilson’s back, which despite the plane ride were in reasonably good condition, were getting mixed in with Wilson’s clothes on the bed, which were not in terribly good condition, smelling as they did of sweat and dirt and crusty as they were with –
“House,” Wilson asked in the first second he could get his lips back, “how many times did you masturbate in here this week?”
“Every time I thought of you,” House replied, in between nips to Wilson’s neck.
Oh, crap. “What am I going to wear tomorrow?”
Moving his hips in an oh so intriguing rhythm that shoved Wilson further into the pile of clothes, House replied, “I told you; tomorrow is naked day for you. Well, really it’s for me, but you’re the one who’ll be naked.”
“House,” Wilson groaned, and it was half exasperation and half what House was doing with his thumbs. The smell was but a minor inconvenience now, when weighed against the multi-sensory experience that was House. “I have to go into work tomorrow.”
Perturbed, House stopped everything he was doing, earning another groan from Wilson. “You were gone for a week.”
“Exactly. The paperwork has piled up –”
“Which you can assign to one of the twenty lackeys you have working for you.” House’s self-imposed hiatus ended; Wilson shuddered and dug his fingers deeper into House’s gluteus maximus.
“And emails –” Wilson managed to get out, just barely.
“Which you can respond to at home, naked.” House dragged his teeth lightly across Wilson’s jaw.
“And –” Wilson swallowed and allowed himself one more press up into House’s firm body before he stilled. “I promised the Landrys that I’d meet with them one last time before his surgery, which is tomorrow at two.”
“You went to this conference for career advancement, right?” House smirked, and there went his thumbs again… “If you want to make a bigger name for yourself, ‘The Nude Oncologist’ would be a really good hook.”
Wilson willed himself not to move, not to respond to anything further House did. His dick had – as was the case on so many previous occasions – a mind of its own; not much he could do to control that. But he kept his hands and his mouth to himself, and waited.
It was a pleasant wait, given everything House kept doing, but short.
House bit Wilson’s pinky lightly in playful frustration. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “In the bottom drawer of the dresser, under my pajamas, which you know are clean because I never wear them any more, is one set of clean clothes for you.”
“Work slacks and a button-down?” Wilson asked hopefully.
House shook his head, which at that particular moment, meant his hair was lightly grazing Wilson’s stomach. “Jeans and a sweater. It’s the weekend for Christ’s sake, I’m sure the whoever-they-are’s won’t mind.”
“Underwear?”
“You won’t even go commando for me?” House pouted prettily and then resumed his stealthy but steady descent. “Yeah, yeah, underwear, too.”
Wilson smiled. He was never going to send flowers or buy chocolates, but every once in a while Gregory House could pull a sweet, thoughtful gesture out of his ass.
Hmm. Wilson wondered what else House might have in his ass. He’d better go explore.
house_wilsonTitle: Out of Clean Clothes
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: R
Summary: “I’m out of clean clothes,” House said. “Somebody didn’t pick up the laundry.”
Note: From the timestamp meme, for
axmxz, who requested: “What happened in Why Dr. House Cancelled Poker Night, right after the boys got home from the airport." Beta by the awesome daisylily.The moment they walked in the door after getting home from the airport, House pulled Wilson into a tight embrace.
“House!” Wilson yelped. “Let me put down my bags.”
“Just a simple release motion, Wilson. You can even do it with my arms around you.”
Wilson smirked, and let go, the bags falling to either side of his feet. He brought his hands to House’s waist and leaned into the crazy bastard he’d missed so much.
Then the odor emanating from House hit his nostrils, and he jerked back. “Your shirt smells horrible! Take it off.”
House shrugged with the fakest of nonchalance and replied, “If you insist.” Two buttons undone, and then in one fluid move House pulled the shirt over his head and flung it behind him.
Wilson smiled, and leaned in again, and fuck, that smell was still there. “The t-shirt’s just as bad.”
“Oh my,” said House, his arms crossing and his hands going to his sides. “Guess I’ll just have to take that off as well.” He peeled the shirt slowly off, inch by inch, because he was a dastardly, evil tease who was going to get his ass kicked if he didn’t hurry the fuck up. Wilson refrained from saying any of that out loud, because House liked getting his ass kicked, albeit in very specific ways.
He instead waited until House’s face was covered by cloth and then leaned down to lick a sensitive patch of skin near House’s ribcage. His tongue was an inch away, when again the odor assaulted.
“Fuck!” he yelled, startling House, who stumbled briefly and got his t-shirt caught on his left ear. Wilson steadied him, and grabbed the t-shirt off him, tossing it firmly across the room.
“It wasn’t the shirts. You still smell.”
“Hm,” House replied, and rubbed his own jaw in “contemplative thought.” “Maybe it was my underwear that I wore multiple times this week.”
Wilson was already walking down the hall. “Now, that’s just gross. I’m going to get the clothes together for tomorrow’s dry cleaning pick-up. You go shower!”
Shocked, he stopped in the doorway to their bedroom. “House!” he bellowed, and a few moments later a long, lean, very naked body pressed up into him from behind.
“You rang?” House murmured in his ear.
“What are all my clean clothes doing scattered across our bed?” He was going to hold onto this exasperation until his questions were answered, no matter what his body might be feeling in response to House’s roaming hands.
House shifted, kissed the back of Wilson’s neck and then the side. “I’m not sure they’re clean any more.”
Scowling, Wilson pulled his arms out from under House’s and brought his hands to his hips.
House kissed his bent right elbow, and damn it, that was not cute. Or adorable.
“I missed you,” House said in a tone that was half-pout and half-whine, and that was not endearing, either. “I missed you in our bed, and I wanted your scent around me, so I slept on your clothes.”
Wilson closed his eyes and sighed. “Did it have to be all my clothes?” he asked, knowing even as the words left his lips that the question was largely rhetorical.
“Well, I was going to leave some of them in the closet, but the thought of you walking around the apartment naked was just too exciting.” House pressed the evidence of his excitement against Wilson’s ass, but that was just too damn bad.
Wilson was not a horny teenager. He could control himself in order to get an issue hashed out, even after a week away, even if the longest they’d previously gone without sex during their relationship was something on the order of twenty-three hours.
He realized a second later that he’d only made it to about the word “without” in that thought before turning around and grabbing House’s ass. His lips were occupied, and his tongue was busy, and his mind was just going to have to wait for a minute.
House was leaning on him, using him for support and pushing him back toward the bed at the same time. Wilson was going willingly, but he really was going to have to insist that that great butt come with, as close to him as humanly possible.
Then the clothes off Wilson’s back, which despite the plane ride were in reasonably good condition, were getting mixed in with Wilson’s clothes on the bed, which were not in terribly good condition, smelling as they did of sweat and dirt and crusty as they were with –
“House,” Wilson asked in the first second he could get his lips back, “how many times did you masturbate in here this week?”
“Every time I thought of you,” House replied, in between nips to Wilson’s neck.
Oh, crap. “What am I going to wear tomorrow?”
Moving his hips in an oh so intriguing rhythm that shoved Wilson further into the pile of clothes, House replied, “I told you; tomorrow is naked day for you. Well, really it’s for me, but you’re the one who’ll be naked.”
“House,” Wilson groaned, and it was half exasperation and half what House was doing with his thumbs. The smell was but a minor inconvenience now, when weighed against the multi-sensory experience that was House. “I have to go into work tomorrow.”
Perturbed, House stopped everything he was doing, earning another groan from Wilson. “You were gone for a week.”
“Exactly. The paperwork has piled up –”
“Which you can assign to one of the twenty lackeys you have working for you.” House’s self-imposed hiatus ended; Wilson shuddered and dug his fingers deeper into House’s gluteus maximus.
“And emails –” Wilson managed to get out, just barely.
“Which you can respond to at home, naked.” House dragged his teeth lightly across Wilson’s jaw.
“And –” Wilson swallowed and allowed himself one more press up into House’s firm body before he stilled. “I promised the Landrys that I’d meet with them one last time before his surgery, which is tomorrow at two.”
“You went to this conference for career advancement, right?” House smirked, and there went his thumbs again… “If you want to make a bigger name for yourself, ‘The Nude Oncologist’ would be a really good hook.”
Wilson willed himself not to move, not to respond to anything further House did. His dick had – as was the case on so many previous occasions – a mind of its own; not much he could do to control that. But he kept his hands and his mouth to himself, and waited.
It was a pleasant wait, given everything House kept doing, but short.
House bit Wilson’s pinky lightly in playful frustration. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “In the bottom drawer of the dresser, under my pajamas, which you know are clean because I never wear them any more, is one set of clean clothes for you.”
“Work slacks and a button-down?” Wilson asked hopefully.
House shook his head, which at that particular moment, meant his hair was lightly grazing Wilson’s stomach. “Jeans and a sweater. It’s the weekend for Christ’s sake, I’m sure the whoever-they-are’s won’t mind.”
“Underwear?”
“You won’t even go commando for me?” House pouted prettily and then resumed his stealthy but steady descent. “Yeah, yeah, underwear, too.”
Wilson smiled. He was never going to send flowers or buy chocolates, but every once in a while Gregory House could pull a sweet, thoughtful gesture out of his ass.
Hmm. Wilson wondered what else House might have in his ass. He’d better go explore.