Categories > TV > House > I, Who Have Nothing
House woke to the feeling of someone running their silky hands up and down on his slowly hardening shaft. Pleasure shot throughout his hazy body. When he was coherent enough to look down, he noticed Wilson, his Wilson working his cock with a curious determination. Suppressing a groan, and his male instinct, he took his own hands, to still the pleasurable movements.
“Not yet,” House muttered, voice still thick with sleep.
Wilson looked up sadly and removed his hands. With a renewal of false cheeriness, Wilson asked House what he wanted for breakfast.
“Vicodin with a whiskey chaser,” he thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Come back to bed. I don’t think-”
“I’ll run down to the store and pick up some breakfast sandwiches. I’m sure you don’t even have any decent coffee around here,” he said, ignoring House’s comment.
Wilson slipped on his wrinkled Dockers, and found one of Houses’ t-shirts. Wandering to the bathroom, he dreaded seeing his disheveled appearance. He attempted to run his fingers through the clumps of matted hair. The way he looked made him groan in desperation. His skin was blotchy and red. He looked and felt ugly.
“If you come back to bed, no one will see ‘morning-face’ Wilson,” House teased from the bed.
“We have jobs, House. Shouldn’t we be getting ready?” he responded, at a loss of what to do with his hair.
“It’s Saturday. We don’t work on Saturday.”
“But I’m hungry,” Wilson complained.
“God, he’s a whiny little runt. What’s more important? Pretty boy Wilson image or food?”
Wilson flicked off the bathroom light, and stripped back down to his boxers and undershirt. Climbing back into bed, he sighed grumpily. Wilson turned on his side, and waited for House to continue.
“We’re going to shift down to serious mode now,” he said, making the sound his motorcycle does when it winded down. “I made a list. I seriously need a whiteboard here in the apartment.”
“A list?” Wilson asked curiously, “A list of what?”
“Of all the woman I’ve ever slept with,” he replied with obvious annoyance. “Curiosity sated yet?”
Wilson rolled his eyes and put his hand under his head.
“You need to be punished. It’s quite obvious that you have a behavior problem. You have an insatiable desire for sex. While that’s good for a monogamous relationship, you’re a high risk for ‘stepping out’. I’m going to take a page out of Pavlov’s theory and train you to reverse the behavior.”
Wilson looked at House, his mouth agape. “I’m not a dog!” he said indignantly.
“I never said you were a-”
“You’re comparing me to Pavlov’s theory!” Wilson exclaimed. “He used dogs.”
“And what was the study about?”
“Changing conditioned response?”
“Bingo.”
Wilson cringed at the terrible joke and gave House a disapproving look.
“You’re going cold turkey. No sex for three months.”
“House!” Wilson cried out.
“It’s for your own good.”
Wilson huffed, but listened anyway.
“Okay. No sex for three months. Ah! No ‘choking the chicken’ for a week. 7 days. Starting now. No kissing for a week, no sleeping together for two weeks. Oh, but you’ll be here. On the comfy couch.” House muttered to himself as he flipped through his notes. “What else do I have here? No hugging for a week. And one of my personal favorites. You’ll provide lunch, everyday. And you’ll hand deliver it.”
The look on Wilson’s face shouted, “Are you serious?”
“If you’re never deprived, how you know what you’re missing out on?” House responded sensibly.
“Where can I get a list of these demands?”
“Oh, you,” House mock flirted. “Were you too busy looking into my eyes to ignore the big words coming out of my mouth? You’ll get a copy soon enough. But you remember the highlights, right?”
Wilson reached for House’s hand and squeezed firmly. House raised his eyebrows to the touch.
“You never said we couldn’t hold hands,” Wilson offered as a weak defense.
House rolled his eyes and offered a firm rebuttal. “Not at work, and only if you’ve followed the rules all day long.”
“’Kay,” Wilson mumbled as he ran his thumb idly across House’s thumb.
“You can back out. If you don’t want to-”
“It’s the only way. And knowing you, it’s my only option of keeping you,” Wilson replied adamantly.
“You’re lucky I’m not a heartless bastard,” House replied, trying to lighten the mood. “I was going to make you last three months before you could tame the one-eyed monster.”
“Something tells me you’re not going to make this easy,” Wilson sighed wearily.
House laughed evilly, and propped himself up in bed. “Now, pretty boy. Throw on a hat and get me some breakfast!”
“Not yet,” House muttered, voice still thick with sleep.
Wilson looked up sadly and removed his hands. With a renewal of false cheeriness, Wilson asked House what he wanted for breakfast.
“Vicodin with a whiskey chaser,” he thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Come back to bed. I don’t think-”
“I’ll run down to the store and pick up some breakfast sandwiches. I’m sure you don’t even have any decent coffee around here,” he said, ignoring House’s comment.
Wilson slipped on his wrinkled Dockers, and found one of Houses’ t-shirts. Wandering to the bathroom, he dreaded seeing his disheveled appearance. He attempted to run his fingers through the clumps of matted hair. The way he looked made him groan in desperation. His skin was blotchy and red. He looked and felt ugly.
“If you come back to bed, no one will see ‘morning-face’ Wilson,” House teased from the bed.
“We have jobs, House. Shouldn’t we be getting ready?” he responded, at a loss of what to do with his hair.
“It’s Saturday. We don’t work on Saturday.”
“But I’m hungry,” Wilson complained.
“God, he’s a whiny little runt. What’s more important? Pretty boy Wilson image or food?”
Wilson flicked off the bathroom light, and stripped back down to his boxers and undershirt. Climbing back into bed, he sighed grumpily. Wilson turned on his side, and waited for House to continue.
“We’re going to shift down to serious mode now,” he said, making the sound his motorcycle does when it winded down. “I made a list. I seriously need a whiteboard here in the apartment.”
“A list?” Wilson asked curiously, “A list of what?”
“Of all the woman I’ve ever slept with,” he replied with obvious annoyance. “Curiosity sated yet?”
Wilson rolled his eyes and put his hand under his head.
“You need to be punished. It’s quite obvious that you have a behavior problem. You have an insatiable desire for sex. While that’s good for a monogamous relationship, you’re a high risk for ‘stepping out’. I’m going to take a page out of Pavlov’s theory and train you to reverse the behavior.”
Wilson looked at House, his mouth agape. “I’m not a dog!” he said indignantly.
“I never said you were a-”
“You’re comparing me to Pavlov’s theory!” Wilson exclaimed. “He used dogs.”
“And what was the study about?”
“Changing conditioned response?”
“Bingo.”
Wilson cringed at the terrible joke and gave House a disapproving look.
“You’re going cold turkey. No sex for three months.”
“House!” Wilson cried out.
“It’s for your own good.”
Wilson huffed, but listened anyway.
“Okay. No sex for three months. Ah! No ‘choking the chicken’ for a week. 7 days. Starting now. No kissing for a week, no sleeping together for two weeks. Oh, but you’ll be here. On the comfy couch.” House muttered to himself as he flipped through his notes. “What else do I have here? No hugging for a week. And one of my personal favorites. You’ll provide lunch, everyday. And you’ll hand deliver it.”
The look on Wilson’s face shouted, “Are you serious?”
“If you’re never deprived, how you know what you’re missing out on?” House responded sensibly.
“Where can I get a list of these demands?”
“Oh, you,” House mock flirted. “Were you too busy looking into my eyes to ignore the big words coming out of my mouth? You’ll get a copy soon enough. But you remember the highlights, right?”
Wilson reached for House’s hand and squeezed firmly. House raised his eyebrows to the touch.
“You never said we couldn’t hold hands,” Wilson offered as a weak defense.
House rolled his eyes and offered a firm rebuttal. “Not at work, and only if you’ve followed the rules all day long.”
“’Kay,” Wilson mumbled as he ran his thumb idly across House’s thumb.
“You can back out. If you don’t want to-”
“It’s the only way. And knowing you, it’s my only option of keeping you,” Wilson replied adamantly.
“You’re lucky I’m not a heartless bastard,” House replied, trying to lighten the mood. “I was going to make you last three months before you could tame the one-eyed monster.”
“Something tells me you’re not going to make this easy,” Wilson sighed wearily.
House laughed evilly, and propped himself up in bed. “Now, pretty boy. Throw on a hat and get me some breakfast!”
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