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Bananas, Red Meat And Clorox (H/W, NC-17)
Title: Bananas, Red Meat and Clorox
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,100
Disclaimer: When the vulture flies sideways, the moon has hair on its upper lip.
Teaser: House threw the door to Wilson’s office open, and it would’ve been a random, intrusive visit like any other if it wasn’t for the plastic bag House was holding in his hand.
A/N: House/Wilson muse! Hello! Long time, no see! Why are you paying me a visit at 4 in the morning? You bastards.
“This isn’t a relationship,” House remarked after he spat Wilson’s semen out into a tissue.
Wilson lifted his head from the pillow to peer down at House lying between his naked thighs with that glazed, sated look he always bore post-orgasm. “Way to kill the mood.”
“Yeah, well--” House wiped his mouth with the scrunched-up tissue and aimed it at the wastepaper basket by his bed “--I’m just saying.”
“Do you really think I’m thinking about relationships right now?”
House threw the tissue. It hit the rim of the bin, ricocheted off and landed on the floor. “You think a lot of schmoopy things after sex.”
“All I care about is the blow job you’ve just given me.” Wilson let his head fall back against the pillow and he slung his arm up over his face.
House propped himself up onto his elbows and pulled a face as though he’d just eaten something unpleasant. “Speaking of which, you really need to lay off the red meat.”
Wilson lifted his head from the pillow again and gave House a weird look. “What?”
“Your semen.” House licked his lips sourly. “Tastes gross.”
The weird look Wilson was giving him morphed into something that resembled perturbation; the kind of look House imagined Wilson would give if he told Wilson he had a split in the ass of his pants at work. “What d’you mean, it tastes gross?”
House stiffly pushed himself up from between Wilson’s thighs. “Exactly what it sounds like,” he grunted before he tipped over onto his back heavily beside Wilson. He closed his eyes and stretched out luxuriously, though he could feel Wilson’s eyes on him. Wilson’s perturbation was radiating off him like a furnace.
He felt the bed shift as Wilson propped himself up onto his elbows. “Tastes gross? What does it taste of?”
“I told you: red meat,” House replied without opening his eyes.
“How can you even taste red meat in my semen?”
“It’s acidic. Red meat makes semen taste acidic.” House made another face, though still had his eyes closed. “Ugh,” he added childishly, giving a shudder.
He felt the bed shift again as Wilson slumped back against the pillow with a sigh. “You really should’ve stuck with the non-relationship talk. Way less of a mood killer than you telling me my semen tastes like livestock.”
House tsked and turned his head, opening his eyes to look at Wilson. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
Wilson turned his head to look at House. “I don’t comment on how your semen tastes,” he retorted.
“That’s because -- like I said -- you’re too busy thinking schmoopy thoughts after sex to want to spoil the mood by telling me my come tastes like Burger King.”
“Actually, it’s more a case of, you have this habit of saying really bizarre things at really bad moments. Or good moments, like after sex.”
“See? Schmoopy.”
“That wasn’t schmoopy!” Wilson protested.
“‘Good moments’,” House replied pointedly. “Only people thinking schmoopy thoughts about relationships after sex, think of sex as a ‘good moment’.”
“As opposed to what? A good fuck?”
“Pretty much.” House pushed himself up to a sitting position and started to scoot off the bed. “People who just fuck don’t think of the fuck as a ‘good moment’; they just think of it as a good fuck. People like you, on the other hand, get this insane idea that just because we’re fucking, we’re in a relationship.”
“Where’re you going?”
“To brush my teeth.” House stood up and reached for his cane. “Get rid of the acidic grit your come has left on them.”
He heard Wilson give an exasperated snort. “Is this how you talked to women after giving them oral sex, too?”
“Women don’t appreciate being told they taste like Cheerios,” House remarked as he moved towards the door.
“Cheerios,” Wilson echoed incredulously. “I’ve never thought of a woman’s vaginal fluids tasting like Cheerios.”
House looked back at him when he reached the door. “Or a musty armpit.” He shrugged. “Depends on the woman.”
He slipped out into the hallway before Wilson could reply to that, though he heard an exclaimed, “What?! You told a woman she tasted like a musty armpit?!” as he headed for the bathroom.
+
House threw the door to Wilson’s office open, and it would’ve been a random, intrusive visit like any other if it wasn’t for the plastic bag House was holding in his hand. He watched Wilson give him that annoyed ‘Don’t you ever think of knocking?’ look as he lifted the bag and dumped it in front of Wilson on the desk.
Wilson glanced down at it questioningly and then looked back up at House. “What’s this?”
House waved his hand impatiently at the bag. “Open it.”
“You’re not the gift-giving type.”
“Just open it.”
Wilson eyed him warily. He pulled the bag towards him and peered in before giving House a confused look. “Bananas?”
“Yep.” House pronounced the ‘p’ with a loud popping sound.
“You bought me bananas.”
“Yes?”
Wilson quirked his brows. “Why?”
“I don’t know, maybe to eat?” House suggested in a sarcastic tone.
Wilson gave him an even look and then peered back into the bag. He reached in and pulled the large bunch of bananas out. “Why?”
“Like I said. To eat.”
“Yes, but why?” Wilson looked back up to him, holding the bananas in his hand.
House leaned forward over Wilson’s desk. “They sweeten things,” he replied in a low voice, as if sharing a secret. He then rolled his eyes at the clueless look Wilson gave him. “I’d rather sweet grit on my teeth than acidic.”
Wilson suddenly caught on to what House was saying. But then he frowned. “Why are you giving me these now?”
“To eat, you dumbass.”
“What? When?” He then raised his brows. “You mean, today?”
“It takes a few hours for your semen to be marinated with banana. Make a start now, you’ll be ripe and tasty later tonight.”
Wilson shot a quick look at his office door, which was open ajar, and then looked back to House. “And have a potassium overdose in the process?” He placed the bananas back on the desk. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ll lower your risks of hypertension,” House cheerfully remarked.
“House, I don’t even like bananas.”
“And I don’t like guzzling on meat-flavoured Clorox.”
“Guzzling?” Wilson pulled a face; somewhere between revulsion and incredulity. “Your descriptive metaphors of my seminal fluids really aren’t all that ego-boosting.”
House pointed at the bananas. “Eat those, and that’ll change.”
“I don’t like bananas, House.”
House watched Wilson’s face for a moment, before he reached across the desk for the bananas. “Okay,” he replied simply, picking the bananas up. “No blow job.”
“What?”
House was starting to put the bananas into the bag. “No blow job,” he repeated. “No bananas, no love.”
Just as he was about to pick the bag up from the desk to head out of Wilson’s office, Wilson snatched the bag from him with a scowl on his face. “Get out. I’ve got work to do.”
“Not without my bananas.”
Wilson gave House an even look as he dragged the bag from the desk and lowered it beside him to the floor. “Go away.” House opened his mouth to retort, but Wilson beat him to it. “Out,” he ordered.
House smirked at Wilson before he headed for the door.
+
“This had so better be worth me eating an entire bunch of bananas,” Wilson remarked as he settled back against the pillows.
House grunted as he shifted onto his belly, so he was lying comfortably between Wilson’s spread thighs, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. “You ate the whole bunch?”
“Yes,” Wilson replied grimly.
House smirked. He leaned in and lightly bit the inside of Wilson’s thigh before propping himself up onto his elbows. “Said with such love.”
“Not a relationship, remember?”
House shifted closer, so he was leaning over Wilson’s dick. “Oh right. Forgot about that part.”
Wilson snorted.
Leaning down to press a kiss to the crease of Wilson’s groin, House smoothed his hand onto Wilson’s balls and rubbed them lightly. He heard an appreciative sound coming from Wilson, followed by Wilson’s fingers threading through his hair in encouragement as House licked his tongue slowly up the length of Wilson’s penis.
“You know, technically,” House continued, looking up at Wilson, “this could be a relationship.”
“Shut up,” Wilson murmured. House could see his eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed in concentration as though he was trying to shut out anything House was saying.
House ignored him. “I mean, we’re doing the regularly fucking each other thing,” House said, propping himself up onto his elbows again. “There’s got to be something in that, right?”
Wilson opened one eye and shot House a scathing look. “Shut up and blow me.”
“Ooh, demanding.”
House felt Wilson’s fingers twist in his hair, and he gave a hiss at the way his hair was sharply tugged. “I didn’t eat all those bananas to lie here and discuss whether we’re in a relationship or not.”
“We’re not.”
“Except for the part where we are,” Wilson replied impatiently. “You just hate the word ‘relationship’ because it means if you are in one, then you actually care about the other person more than you’re comfortable with letting on.”
“Don’t start waxing philosophical.”
“I’ll start waxing your pubic hair if you don’t get on with it.”
“Point taken.” House grasped the base of Wilson’s penis and angled it up, craning his neck so he could take the head into his mouth. He shifted in closer and started to slide his mouth up and down, using his tongue to massage and stimulate all the places he’d learned that Wilson liked. He heard Wilson give quiet moans of pleasure now and again, felt Wilson’s hands sliding down to his shoulders, back up to his head, felt his fingernails scratching lightly through his hair.
House interrupted the momentum a few times to try and get himself into a comfortable position every time his neck started to ache, and took to licking and nipping down the length of Wilson’s penis when his jaw got tired from being open for too long. Sucking Wilson off always took a while -- partly because House always eventually found the position uncomfortable, and partly because Wilson tended to take a while to get to the point of orgasm.
“Mmm,” House heard Wilson sound when he started to move his hips in time with House’s mouth. House cupped his ass in one hand and urged him to thrust a little more, and soon Wilson was coming into his mouth.
House groped for the tissues, which Wilson lazily handed to him before slumping back against the bed with a satisfied sigh. “What’s the point in making me eat all those bananas if you’re not going to swallow?” Wilson asked in a relaxed voice.
House hefted himself up onto his elbows and spat the semen into the tissue. He folded the tissue and spat again before he licked his lips and glanced up at Wilson. “I hate the consistency. Wet, soggy bread? No thanks.” He spat again into the tissue.
Wilson lifted his head from the pillow to look down at him, casually stroking his hand through House’s hair. “Wet, soggy bread?”
“Sounds better than saying thick, gluggy snot.” He aimed the tissue at the wastepaper basket.
“Ew.”
“Yeah, ‘tis.” He got the tissue into the bin, and after he slapped the box of tissues on Wilson’s stomach, which Wilson then placed back onto the bedside table, House started to shift himself up over Wilson until he was lying on top of him. “At least your semen tasted sweet this time.”
He felt Wilson’s hands run down his back and then cup his ass. “Does it really make any difference if you’re just going to spit it out?”
“That’s like saying does it really matter if food tastes good, seeing you’re just going to shit it out later.”
“True,” Wilson replied thoughtfully.
House peered down at Wilson, studying his face for a moment and then leaned in to kiss him softly. “This isn’t a relationship, you know,” he said when he pulled back.
“Even though, technically, it is.”
House shook his head defiantly. “No, it’s not.”
He then gave Wilson a brief smile before he leaned back down and kissed him softly once again.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,100
Disclaimer: When the vulture flies sideways, the moon has hair on its upper lip.
Teaser: House threw the door to Wilson’s office open, and it would’ve been a random, intrusive visit like any other if it wasn’t for the plastic bag House was holding in his hand.
A/N: House/Wilson muse! Hello! Long time, no see! Why are you paying me a visit at 4 in the morning? You bastards.
+++
“This isn’t a relationship,” House remarked after he spat Wilson’s semen out into a tissue.
Wilson lifted his head from the pillow to peer down at House lying between his naked thighs with that glazed, sated look he always bore post-orgasm. “Way to kill the mood.”
“Yeah, well--” House wiped his mouth with the scrunched-up tissue and aimed it at the wastepaper basket by his bed “--I’m just saying.”
“Do you really think I’m thinking about relationships right now?”
House threw the tissue. It hit the rim of the bin, ricocheted off and landed on the floor. “You think a lot of schmoopy things after sex.”
“All I care about is the blow job you’ve just given me.” Wilson let his head fall back against the pillow and he slung his arm up over his face.
House propped himself up onto his elbows and pulled a face as though he’d just eaten something unpleasant. “Speaking of which, you really need to lay off the red meat.”
Wilson lifted his head from the pillow again and gave House a weird look. “What?”
“Your semen.” House licked his lips sourly. “Tastes gross.”
The weird look Wilson was giving him morphed into something that resembled perturbation; the kind of look House imagined Wilson would give if he told Wilson he had a split in the ass of his pants at work. “What d’you mean, it tastes gross?”
House stiffly pushed himself up from between Wilson’s thighs. “Exactly what it sounds like,” he grunted before he tipped over onto his back heavily beside Wilson. He closed his eyes and stretched out luxuriously, though he could feel Wilson’s eyes on him. Wilson’s perturbation was radiating off him like a furnace.
He felt the bed shift as Wilson propped himself up onto his elbows. “Tastes gross? What does it taste of?”
“I told you: red meat,” House replied without opening his eyes.
“How can you even taste red meat in my semen?”
“It’s acidic. Red meat makes semen taste acidic.” House made another face, though still had his eyes closed. “Ugh,” he added childishly, giving a shudder.
He felt the bed shift again as Wilson slumped back against the pillow with a sigh. “You really should’ve stuck with the non-relationship talk. Way less of a mood killer than you telling me my semen tastes like livestock.”
House tsked and turned his head, opening his eyes to look at Wilson. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
Wilson turned his head to look at House. “I don’t comment on how your semen tastes,” he retorted.
“That’s because -- like I said -- you’re too busy thinking schmoopy thoughts after sex to want to spoil the mood by telling me my come tastes like Burger King.”
“Actually, it’s more a case of, you have this habit of saying really bizarre things at really bad moments. Or good moments, like after sex.”
“See? Schmoopy.”
“That wasn’t schmoopy!” Wilson protested.
“‘Good moments’,” House replied pointedly. “Only people thinking schmoopy thoughts about relationships after sex, think of sex as a ‘good moment’.”
“As opposed to what? A good fuck?”
“Pretty much.” House pushed himself up to a sitting position and started to scoot off the bed. “People who just fuck don’t think of the fuck as a ‘good moment’; they just think of it as a good fuck. People like you, on the other hand, get this insane idea that just because we’re fucking, we’re in a relationship.”
“Where’re you going?”
“To brush my teeth.” House stood up and reached for his cane. “Get rid of the acidic grit your come has left on them.”
He heard Wilson give an exasperated snort. “Is this how you talked to women after giving them oral sex, too?”
“Women don’t appreciate being told they taste like Cheerios,” House remarked as he moved towards the door.
“Cheerios,” Wilson echoed incredulously. “I’ve never thought of a woman’s vaginal fluids tasting like Cheerios.”
House looked back at him when he reached the door. “Or a musty armpit.” He shrugged. “Depends on the woman.”
He slipped out into the hallway before Wilson could reply to that, though he heard an exclaimed, “What?! You told a woman she tasted like a musty armpit?!” as he headed for the bathroom.
House threw the door to Wilson’s office open, and it would’ve been a random, intrusive visit like any other if it wasn’t for the plastic bag House was holding in his hand. He watched Wilson give him that annoyed ‘Don’t you ever think of knocking?’ look as he lifted the bag and dumped it in front of Wilson on the desk.
Wilson glanced down at it questioningly and then looked back up at House. “What’s this?”
House waved his hand impatiently at the bag. “Open it.”
“You’re not the gift-giving type.”
“Just open it.”
Wilson eyed him warily. He pulled the bag towards him and peered in before giving House a confused look. “Bananas?”
“Yep.” House pronounced the ‘p’ with a loud popping sound.
“You bought me bananas.”
“Yes?”
Wilson quirked his brows. “Why?”
“I don’t know, maybe to eat?” House suggested in a sarcastic tone.
Wilson gave him an even look and then peered back into the bag. He reached in and pulled the large bunch of bananas out. “Why?”
“Like I said. To eat.”
“Yes, but why?” Wilson looked back up to him, holding the bananas in his hand.
House leaned forward over Wilson’s desk. “They sweeten things,” he replied in a low voice, as if sharing a secret. He then rolled his eyes at the clueless look Wilson gave him. “I’d rather sweet grit on my teeth than acidic.”
Wilson suddenly caught on to what House was saying. But then he frowned. “Why are you giving me these now?”
“To eat, you dumbass.”
“What? When?” He then raised his brows. “You mean, today?”
“It takes a few hours for your semen to be marinated with banana. Make a start now, you’ll be ripe and tasty later tonight.”
Wilson shot a quick look at his office door, which was open ajar, and then looked back to House. “And have a potassium overdose in the process?” He placed the bananas back on the desk. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ll lower your risks of hypertension,” House cheerfully remarked.
“House, I don’t even like bananas.”
“And I don’t like guzzling on meat-flavoured Clorox.”
“Guzzling?” Wilson pulled a face; somewhere between revulsion and incredulity. “Your descriptive metaphors of my seminal fluids really aren’t all that ego-boosting.”
House pointed at the bananas. “Eat those, and that’ll change.”
“I don’t like bananas, House.”
House watched Wilson’s face for a moment, before he reached across the desk for the bananas. “Okay,” he replied simply, picking the bananas up. “No blow job.”
“What?”
House was starting to put the bananas into the bag. “No blow job,” he repeated. “No bananas, no love.”
Just as he was about to pick the bag up from the desk to head out of Wilson’s office, Wilson snatched the bag from him with a scowl on his face. “Get out. I’ve got work to do.”
“Not without my bananas.”
Wilson gave House an even look as he dragged the bag from the desk and lowered it beside him to the floor. “Go away.” House opened his mouth to retort, but Wilson beat him to it. “Out,” he ordered.
House smirked at Wilson before he headed for the door.
“This had so better be worth me eating an entire bunch of bananas,” Wilson remarked as he settled back against the pillows.
House grunted as he shifted onto his belly, so he was lying comfortably between Wilson’s spread thighs, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. “You ate the whole bunch?”
“Yes,” Wilson replied grimly.
House smirked. He leaned in and lightly bit the inside of Wilson’s thigh before propping himself up onto his elbows. “Said with such love.”
“Not a relationship, remember?”
House shifted closer, so he was leaning over Wilson’s dick. “Oh right. Forgot about that part.”
Wilson snorted.
Leaning down to press a kiss to the crease of Wilson’s groin, House smoothed his hand onto Wilson’s balls and rubbed them lightly. He heard an appreciative sound coming from Wilson, followed by Wilson’s fingers threading through his hair in encouragement as House licked his tongue slowly up the length of Wilson’s penis.
“You know, technically,” House continued, looking up at Wilson, “this could be a relationship.”
“Shut up,” Wilson murmured. House could see his eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed in concentration as though he was trying to shut out anything House was saying.
House ignored him. “I mean, we’re doing the regularly fucking each other thing,” House said, propping himself up onto his elbows again. “There’s got to be something in that, right?”
Wilson opened one eye and shot House a scathing look. “Shut up and blow me.”
“Ooh, demanding.”
House felt Wilson’s fingers twist in his hair, and he gave a hiss at the way his hair was sharply tugged. “I didn’t eat all those bananas to lie here and discuss whether we’re in a relationship or not.”
“We’re not.”
“Except for the part where we are,” Wilson replied impatiently. “You just hate the word ‘relationship’ because it means if you are in one, then you actually care about the other person more than you’re comfortable with letting on.”
“Don’t start waxing philosophical.”
“I’ll start waxing your pubic hair if you don’t get on with it.”
“Point taken.” House grasped the base of Wilson’s penis and angled it up, craning his neck so he could take the head into his mouth. He shifted in closer and started to slide his mouth up and down, using his tongue to massage and stimulate all the places he’d learned that Wilson liked. He heard Wilson give quiet moans of pleasure now and again, felt Wilson’s hands sliding down to his shoulders, back up to his head, felt his fingernails scratching lightly through his hair.
House interrupted the momentum a few times to try and get himself into a comfortable position every time his neck started to ache, and took to licking and nipping down the length of Wilson’s penis when his jaw got tired from being open for too long. Sucking Wilson off always took a while -- partly because House always eventually found the position uncomfortable, and partly because Wilson tended to take a while to get to the point of orgasm.
“Mmm,” House heard Wilson sound when he started to move his hips in time with House’s mouth. House cupped his ass in one hand and urged him to thrust a little more, and soon Wilson was coming into his mouth.
House groped for the tissues, which Wilson lazily handed to him before slumping back against the bed with a satisfied sigh. “What’s the point in making me eat all those bananas if you’re not going to swallow?” Wilson asked in a relaxed voice.
House hefted himself up onto his elbows and spat the semen into the tissue. He folded the tissue and spat again before he licked his lips and glanced up at Wilson. “I hate the consistency. Wet, soggy bread? No thanks.” He spat again into the tissue.
Wilson lifted his head from the pillow to look down at him, casually stroking his hand through House’s hair. “Wet, soggy bread?”
“Sounds better than saying thick, gluggy snot.” He aimed the tissue at the wastepaper basket.
“Ew.”
“Yeah, ‘tis.” He got the tissue into the bin, and after he slapped the box of tissues on Wilson’s stomach, which Wilson then placed back onto the bedside table, House started to shift himself up over Wilson until he was lying on top of him. “At least your semen tasted sweet this time.”
He felt Wilson’s hands run down his back and then cup his ass. “Does it really make any difference if you’re just going to spit it out?”
“That’s like saying does it really matter if food tastes good, seeing you’re just going to shit it out later.”
“True,” Wilson replied thoughtfully.
House peered down at Wilson, studying his face for a moment and then leaned in to kiss him softly. “This isn’t a relationship, you know,” he said when he pulled back.
“Even though, technically, it is.”
House shook his head defiantly. “No, it’s not.”
He then gave Wilson a brief smile before he leaned back down and kissed him softly once again.
end.
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