Quit Jerking Off
May. 31st, 2011 07:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
damigellaSummary: See title.
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 500 approx
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mmom Day 31. Unbeta'd. Post-ep for 7x23. Could be a one-shot or the beginning of a story. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
barefootpuddles for improving my English. Title changed following essential language advice by flywoman.
It was an absurdly hot night; the sweat inside the cast made him itch precisely where he couldn't scratch himself. He sat naked on his bed. Showering (the cast carefully wrapped) had made him feel better, but the itching was unbearable. He finally gave up, and gave himself a shot of lidocaine.
As the unpleasant feeling abated, a non-physical pain shot up like fire inside him. His brain kept reviewing the events of the day, trying to imagine what he could have done differently. Where House could possibly be. House, whose license and freedom were now both fucked up. Wherever he was: the police had tracked him until the airport, but he hadn't boarded the flight to Hawaii he had bought a ticket for.
He fought back tears, then gave up and cried. Whatever. Not like anyone would see him. Especially not House. Probably never again.
As his tears finally dried out he tried to think of his friend's good sides. Of their happiness together. Of his smile, his eyes, the long fingers dipping into his plate. His laughter. His sweaty body when running together before the infarction. An old desire stirred within him. And this time, Wilson decided not to fight. No reason to be ashamed.
He lay down on his back and closed his fist around his half-mast erection; focusing his eyes on the tiny image of House on his phone, he soon brought himself to full hardness. "House," he whispered, and blanched. He couldn't talk to House, like he had to Amber after her death. He wasn't…dead. Hopefully. And yet, why not talk to him? Hell, he needn't even whisper. He could say anything he wanted at all, everything he had bottled up during the years, hidden from his friend and, as much as possible, from himself.
He closed his eyes and imagined that the fingers curling around his shaft weren't his own. "House, yes. Please. I… I've wanted this for years. Yes. It feels so good." He felt his heart rate go up, his breathing become faster. "Yes, House, yes. Oh God, I love you so much."
The well-known voice seemed to come from the night air. "Then why have you never told me?"
Wilson froze, eyes popping open. Was he hallucinating?
Harsh electric light filled the room: House was leaning on the doorframe, looking pale and sick and old. Mostly sick. "Wilson, quit jerking off. I… I need an oncologist. Now."
House closed his eyes, swayed, then slowly started sinking to his knees. To his own utter amazement, Wilson managed to roll over, sit up and catch House before he fell and hit the ground.
"House? Can you hear me?" He was relieved to find his pulse weak but regular.
House's eyelids fluttered briefly open. "I probably have a tumor in my head, and…" the sentence broke as he fainted again.
[Visual aid for the final scene: la Pietà di Michelangelo, with fainted!house in the place of Jesus and naked!wilson in that of St Mary. Here's a second picture just in case any of you may not have learned yet that Michelangelo was gay. I'm sure he would have found both HL and RSL hot, especially as young men.]
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 500 approx
Notes:
mmom Day 31. Unbeta'd. Post-ep for 7x23. Could be a one-shot or the beginning of a story. Many thanks to barefootpuddles for improving my English. Title changed following essential language advice by flywoman.It was an absurdly hot night; the sweat inside the cast made him itch precisely where he couldn't scratch himself. He sat naked on his bed. Showering (the cast carefully wrapped) had made him feel better, but the itching was unbearable. He finally gave up, and gave himself a shot of lidocaine.
As the unpleasant feeling abated, a non-physical pain shot up like fire inside him. His brain kept reviewing the events of the day, trying to imagine what he could have done differently. Where House could possibly be. House, whose license and freedom were now both fucked up. Wherever he was: the police had tracked him until the airport, but he hadn't boarded the flight to Hawaii he had bought a ticket for.
He fought back tears, then gave up and cried. Whatever. Not like anyone would see him. Especially not House. Probably never again.
As his tears finally dried out he tried to think of his friend's good sides. Of their happiness together. Of his smile, his eyes, the long fingers dipping into his plate. His laughter. His sweaty body when running together before the infarction. An old desire stirred within him. And this time, Wilson decided not to fight. No reason to be ashamed.
He lay down on his back and closed his fist around his half-mast erection; focusing his eyes on the tiny image of House on his phone, he soon brought himself to full hardness. "House," he whispered, and blanched. He couldn't talk to House, like he had to Amber after her death. He wasn't…dead. Hopefully. And yet, why not talk to him? Hell, he needn't even whisper. He could say anything he wanted at all, everything he had bottled up during the years, hidden from his friend and, as much as possible, from himself.
He closed his eyes and imagined that the fingers curling around his shaft weren't his own. "House, yes. Please. I… I've wanted this for years. Yes. It feels so good." He felt his heart rate go up, his breathing become faster. "Yes, House, yes. Oh God, I love you so much."
The well-known voice seemed to come from the night air. "Then why have you never told me?"
Wilson froze, eyes popping open. Was he hallucinating?
Harsh electric light filled the room: House was leaning on the doorframe, looking pale and sick and old. Mostly sick. "Wilson, quit jerking off. I… I need an oncologist. Now."
House closed his eyes, swayed, then slowly started sinking to his knees. To his own utter amazement, Wilson managed to roll over, sit up and catch House before he fell and hit the ground.
"House? Can you hear me?" He was relieved to find his pulse weak but regular.
House's eyelids fluttered briefly open. "I probably have a tumor in my head, and…" the sentence broke as he fainted again.
[Visual aid for the final scene: la Pietà di Michelangelo, with fainted!house in the place of Jesus and naked!wilson in that of St Mary. Here's a second picture just in case any of you may not have learned yet that Michelangelo was gay. I'm sure he would have found both HL and RSL hot, especially as young men.]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 09:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 08:43 am (UTC)I got to the end and said aloud - is there more? does it end there? and then I went and read your authors note :)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 09:13 am (UTC)[Last line ganked from Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 46.]
why indeed?
tptb be damned!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 05:50 pm (UTC)If you want to start one, go for it! All of our stories so far start with House waking up. No reason not to start a set from Wilson's POV.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 04:28 pm (UTC)I currently have two really really nice colleagues in remission (one in Italy, one in Norway). Not all brain cancers are deadly. Or at least so I hope.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 04:43 pm (UTC)Definitely true. I know a child who survived it and is doing very well. But as you said, it could be tumor without being cancerous, right (though to grow that fast I think it might have to be)?
I liked your piece. Especially the beginning with the itch. I don't know if you meant it or not, but because of the episode "The Itch" i always think of an itch as a metaphor for emotional distress with this show.
You always ask for English critiques, so I will offer here that this line doesn't sound right to my American English ear:
His sweated body when running together before the infarction
"sweated" is a verb in the past tense, not an adjective as you want here. You could simply replace it with "sweaty" and it would fit perfectly, or for more power go with something like "sweat soaked" to put it firmly in the past tense.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 04:55 pm (UTC)That's precisely what I meant - plus, there might be a memory of "I've got an itch to scratch" from RHPS.
I'll go with sweaty, it fits better what I had in mind (which is of course sudato, meaning both sweated and sweaty). Thank you so much!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 04:33 pm (UTC)I love that you included the visual aids - I can just picture Wilson and House in that position - and I want someone to make a life-sized sculpture of HL and RSL! YES!
I think I have to do some internet-research on Michelangelo's gayness now, I'm intrigued! Thanks for the inspiration! :)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 04:53 pm (UTC)And his Jesus, whether in marmor as in the statue, or painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, is always hot.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 05:59 pm (UTC)"Stop wanking" sounds very un-American. (The phrasing, not the sentiment.)
LMAO.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 06:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 06:17 pm (UTC)I should put you on my link list as "my most useful commenter" (a hard-won title since I get tons of useful comments and never an unkind one).
no subject
Date: 2011-05-31 07:34 pm (UTC)Actually, can we still complain - it gave us all an awesome creativity boost.
Your little story is wonderful, emotional and convincing - Wilson helpless and in misery over House's disappearance. And House so down to earth, like slapping a kid on the hand for picking his nose. And not phased at all finding Wilson fantasizing sex with him - but obviously the last is not spoken about it.
And again, there is hope in HouseandWilsonLand!
Thank you very much for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-01 04:45 am (UTC)We all need that. [I also need some more sleep.]
Thank you for the lovely comment!