triedunture (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
triedunture) wrote2007-11-13 11:54 am
triedunture) wrote2007-11-13 11:54 am
Exquisite Anguish H/W Slash
Title: Exquisite Anguish
Pairing: H/W
Rating: R
Warnings: masturbation, pornography, dirty talk
Summary: House discovers Wilson's porn stash.
<><><>
James Wilson slid his key card into the slot on his hotel door. It beeped twice, flashing a little green light to tell him it was open. He adjusted the strap of his briefcase on his shoulder and pushed the door open with a sigh.
Home sweet home, he thought with only a little bitterness.
He paused in the doorway; the lights were on in the room, even though he always turned them off when he left for work. And his mini-bar was open and ransacked. And his neatly organized paperwork on the desk had been scattered around the carpet.
And of course, the cause of all the mess was sitting in the middle of his bed, chowing down on one of the mini-bar’s five-dollar Snickers and fiddling with Wilson’s laptop.
“House!” Wilson shouted, attempting horror, but only getting to the usual tired exasperation. “What are you doing here?”
“Ordering room service,” House muttered, not looking up from the screen. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here!”
“That’s no excuse.” House double-clicked on the laptop’s keypad. “This place is a dump. I’ve been waiting an hour for my rueben.”
Wilson dropped his briefcase to his feet and looked skywards, taking deep breaths with his eyes squeezed tight.
“What’s the mantra you’re using?” House asked, chewing loudly on nougat and peanuts. “’Murder is illegal?’”
“No.” Wilson took one more deep breath through his nose. “I’m trying to escape to my happy place. It happens to be the roof of a fifty-story building with no elevator access.”
“Ah, but is there a helipad?” House shot back.
Wilson finally looked back at the friend sprawled across his hotel bed. “Seriously. I haven’t stolen anything from you lately, so you didn’t break in to recover your property. Why are you here?”
“It’s Thursday,” House said.
“So?” Wilson furrowed his brow in honest confusion. “What does that have to do with anything?”
House gave a one-shouldered shrug and glanced up from the Viao in his lap. “Nothing, I guess.”
Wilson searched House’s face for clues: raised eyebrows meant disbelief, pursed-lip scowl meant disgust, and the shifty eyes meant slight embarrassment. He racked his brain for anything that could add up to that combination.
“Oh,” he said suddenly. “We were supposed to watch that thing…that Pay-Per-View thing.”
House shrugged again and returned to his surfing.
“House, I had an emergency surgery,” Wilson sighed. “You can’t possibly hold that against me.” Then it clicked. “Wait. You’re hurt that I didn’t call, aren’t you?” He wagged a finger in House’s direction, a slow grin spreading across his face. “It hurt your feelings, didn’t it?”
“I wasn’t hurt, I was hungry. You were supposed to bring takeout,” House said evenly. “Hence the dinner on your hotel bill.”
Wilson perched his hands on his hips underneath his suit coat, a pleased expression lingering on his lips. “Say what you want, but this is yet another piece of evidence that I am the architect of this relationship, not—”
But he was cut off as House thumbed the volume button up as loud as it would go, and Wilson could hear the familiar sounds of tinny moaning. He felt the blood drain from his face.
“Hey!” he screeched. “Are you looking at what I think you’re looking at!?”
“Well, I thought I was looking at your porn,” House said, turning the screen around to show him, “but this is the lamest hardcore that’s ever ‘cored.”
Wilson leapt at the laptop and slammed the cover shut with a loud bang. “This is crossing the line, House!” he bellowed. “You can’t just walk into another man’s home and go through his, his, his private collection,” he stuttered.
House looked around the hotel room with faux confusion. “I don’t think this qualifies as ‘home’ and that,” he stabbed a finger at the laptop now clutched to Wilson’s chest, “is not real porn. What the hell was that stuff, anyway?”
“Nothing.” Wilson carried the Viao to his desk and opened it again. “And now I have to get rid of all of it.”
“What? Why?”
“I can’t watch them now that I know you’ve seen them.” Wilson gestured violently to House and began clicking through video files and dragging them into his recycle bin. “I’ll have to download all-new ones,” he growled to himself.
“You mean there’s more where this came from?” House gave a bark of laughter. “You’re not serious!”
Wilson sniffed delicately. “It’s from a very artistic site called Exquisite Anguish. People record themselves, you know, climaxing.” He stressed the word with clinical precision. “And I happen to think it’s very erotic.”
House stared. “You can only see them from the neck up!” he finally exploded. “It doesn’t even show a nipple or a belly button, for god’s sake! You just watch their faces while they masturbate? What could you possibly get out of that?”
“I don’t need to defend my taste to you, the man who stockpiles ‘70s pornos on VHS.” But then, because he actually did need to defend his taste, Wilson added, “It’s not just some bored porn stars pretending to enjoy degrading positions. They have a lot of different women on here, you know: white, black, big, small. I’m just sick of seeing the same thing in all the other X-rated movies, okay?”
House leaned over and swiped the laptop out of Wilson’s hands.
“Hey!”
“You downloaded videos of men too!” House cackled madly. “Oh my god, look at this guy. He has more piercings than a pincushion!”
“It’s supposed to be artistic!” Wilson argued, grabbing the computer back.
“Do you get off on watching men’s faces when they come?” House asked, a wide grin still spread over his face. “Or did you just go crazy with the downloading?”
“It’s a package deal; it all comes with the membership,” Wilson grumbled. “There’s no harm in it; I can’t even see anything too racy.”
“Wow.” House lounged back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head. “I knew the day would come sooner or later, but I didn’t think your coming out would be this hilarious.”
“It doesn’t make me gay.” Wilson sighed, dumped the entire video folder into the recycling bin, and hit the power down button. “But please, feel free to insult me all you want. All it tells me is how uptight you’re getting in your old age.”
House snorted and looked down at the comforter, scratching at some melted chocolate that he’d smeared there. “You’re the one turning into Softcore Sally. If anyone’s uptight here, it’s you.”
Then a bellhop knocked on the door, bearing House’s sandwich, and Wilson stowed his laptop away in its case and ruminated on all the different ways he wanted to kill House.
<><><><>
One week later.
Wilson came home to his hotel room in much the same fashion, except the lights were off and House wasn’t there. Like it should be, he thought to himself with a nod.
He dropped his briefcase in its usual spot by the door, hung up his coat, and tugged his tie loose.
“Oy vey,” he sighed to himself. “What a day.”
He unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and considered rolling up his sleeves and working on a few pages of paperwork before getting ready for bed. But then his eye caught the laptop peeking out from its case beside the desk, and Wilson shucked his shirt instead.
Some quality alone time, he thought, is just what the doctor ordered after a hard day at the office. He smiled to himself, thinking of how he’d been looking forward to having a few hours to rebuild his little library of Exquisite videos.
Something House would never understand.
He opened the Viao and turned it on with a flick of a switch, listening to its calming hum as it powered up.
Wilson tapped his hands against the keyboard and waited. There was nothing wrong with watching these videos, he told himself. He was a grown man, completely at liberty to watch whatever he wanted. And if he happened to have a taste for something out of the ordinary, well, at least it wasn’t anything violent or scary.
One misplaced click at another X-rated site a few months ago was what had sent Wilson looking for alternative viewing material in the first place. He shivered at the memory. It was a free country, he knew, and everyone had their kinks. But he couldn’t understand why it was suddenly mainstream to just orgasm over a woman’s face and then slap her.
House would probably laugh at him for being so squeamish. But Wilson couldn’t help it; he wasn’t wired that way; it brought him no pleasure to see that sort of thing.
He shook his head. Tonight was supposed to be relaxing, he reminded himself. He carried the laptop to his unmade bed and climbed in. (He’d put the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob this morning so the maids wouldn’t see the empty mini-bar; he planned on filling it up again with snacks from the corner store so he could avoid the overpriced hotel fees.)
As Wilson logged onto Exquisite Anguish, he began slowly shedding his layers of clothes. He kicked his shoes and socks over the side of the mattress and wriggled out of his pants. His undershirt was peeled off as well; then, after a moment of consideration, Wilson removed his boxers too and flung them to the foot of the bed. The homepage opened with a cheery ping and the newest video clips began loading.
Wilson scanned through them, tapping his fingertip against his lips. A skinny brunette with glasses? He might come back to that. A blonde with pixie cut and a nose ring? Nah. A tattooed twenty-something with a wicked smile? A definite download there.
But just as Wilson was about to indulge in the young man’s clip, another in the male’s section caught his eye.
He froze. Squinted at the screen. Blinked several times.
“Is that…?” He swallowed. “No. It can’t be.”
House’s bright blue eyes stared back from the preview thumbnail, his hand raised in a cheeky wave.
“No way.” Wilson grabbed his cell phone from his discarded pants’ pocket, thinking to dial House’s number and demand what the hell he was doing. But as he stared at his phone’s menu, he realized exactly what House was doing. It was just another stupid prank to shake Wilson up.
“Fine!” Wilson slammed his phone down on the bedside table. “You think I’m a prude? Let’s see what you got, House.” And he clicked on the video.
The film was of high quality; Wilson had a fleeting memory of seeing House yanking one of the camcorders and tripods from a class’s surgery room three days ago. Wouldn’t Cuddy just love to know how her hospital dollars were being spent, he mused.
The angle was simple: a straight-on view from above, from the shoulders up. It looked like House was still wearing his faded navy blue tee shirt, his head pillowed on his bed’s dark sheets. He waved at the camera, completing the action from the thumbnail.
“I know the rules say not to talk, but they also say to act natural,” House said. “Since those are two contradictory statements for me, I’ve decided to go with the latter. Now, you watching closely, Wilson?”
Wilson rolled his eyes and turned the volume up a few notches. The sound of a zipper being lowered creaked through the speakers. House grinned.
“I’m curious; when your wireless goes down, do you ask the hotel staff to fasten a mirror above your bed?” House chuckled. “You’d get about the same effect.”
“Ha ha,” Wilson laughed sarcastically to his computer screen.
House shifted a little on his wrinkled sheets, and Wilson imagined his hand, outside the frame, creeping down to his fly.
“Hey, I just thought of a great Christmas present for you,” House continued. “A stack of glossy head shots of actresses and a box of tissues. After all, you only need to see from the shoulders up these days, right?”
Wilson laughed in earnest then, watching House’s own eyes light up on the video.
“Or maybe…” House’s breath hitched and his eyes fluttered shut for just a moment. Wilson’s mouth dropped open. Oh god. House was really doing it. “Or maybe,” House continued in a rougher voice, “it should be actors instead. What do you think? You a Gylenhall kind of man? Or is that just a stereotype?”
Wilson smiled to himself. “It’s a stereotype for a reason, House,” he said.
“Then again, stereotypes are based on truth,” House said, echoing Wilson’s thought. Wilson laughed harder then, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.
“I hope you’re laughing,” House murmured. His head tilted to one side, showing a flash of his flushed neck for a moment before his gaze returned to the camera. “Because you have to admit, this whole thing is very funny.”
“Yeah,” Wilson whispered. “It is.”
“Really.” A gasp. “Fucking.” Another flutter of eyelids. “Ridiculous.”
Wilson frowned and hit rewind for a few seconds of film.
“Really. Fucking. Ridiculous.” House’s mouth opened in another quiet gasp, his eyes shut as if in pain, then eyebrows arched as if in heaven.
Wilson blinked. “Oh my god,” he said. “He’s good at this.”
House’s tongue darted out and licked his lips. “I should also add,” House continued, panting, “a sincere hello to all those freaky strangers out there who are also enjoying this. I shudder to think why a middle-aged dude with a camcorder floats your boat but,” his spine stiffened infinitesimally and he gave a short gasp of laughter, “whatever.” His lazy smile reached his eyes, and they glittered wonderfully. Wilson reached under the covers and squeezed at his hardened cock. He had a thing for eyes; that was one of these reasons this Web site had intrigued him. Windows to the soul and all that. A connection, however fleeting.
“This is wrong,” Wilson said aloud to the empty room.
On the screen, House groaned: a low rumble of a growl from deep in his throat. Wilson’s cock twitched in his hand, and a thick drop of fluid leaked from the tip and slid down the shaft to hit the back of his thumb.
“Very wrong.”
“This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” House said, and raised his fingers to his mouth. He licked them slowly, his eyes never leaving the camera. When each digit was wet and glistening, the hand disappeared again. “Guess I’m discovering my own little kink here, Jimmy.”
Wilson licked his suddenly dry lips.
House’s eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds, and the tendons in his neck stood out with the strain. His right shoulder dipped up and down in a steady, unhurried rhythm. Wilson followed suit, dragging his hand up and down his own length.
A million expressions were flitting across House’s face. To his credit, though, he kept his electric blue eyes fastened on the camera as much as he could. “You going to come watching this?” he panted. “Going to play it over and over again? God.”
House twisted his neck, pressing the side of his face into the bedding, breathing hard. His tee shirt stretched at the movement, revealing the graceful slope of his clavicle. Unable to help himself, Wilson hit the pause button and studied every line of tension in his friend’s stubbled face, every curve of pleasure on his lips.
“Shit,” Wilson hissed, his hand speeding up of its own accord. “Beautiful.”
He hit the play button with shaking fingers, groping twice before he hit it correctly. On the glowing screen, House continued on. Wilson turned the volume up full blast, not caring if there was a person in the next room or not; he didn’t want to miss one hitched breath from House.
“I’m close,” House bit out, only intelligible because of the amplified sound. “You close? You coming with me?” His eyes drifted open again, slits of blue appearing between dark lashes.
“Yeah,” Wilson panted. “Oh god, yeah.” He curled in on himself, his muscles bunching and twitching while he fought to keep his eyes open, to watch it happening to House as it happened to him.
House bit down on his lower lip and threw his head back, his spine arched as much as it would go, before falling back onto the mattress. He gazed up at the camera, his eyes wild and unseeing. His mouth opened, and broken, gasping noises fell out.
“Wait for me,” Wilson whispered, fisting himself as hard as he could stand.
Then House went totally still, completely silent, his eyes open and shocked and pleading. A ripple went through his shoulders, and a small fleck of white fluid landed on the collar of his navy shirt.
That was all she wrote for Wilson. He was coming hard in waves, gasping in time with the small, jerky movements of House’s shoulders. The fingers of his left hand were warm and sticky, still wrapped tight around himself.
On the screen, House let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. His face was flushed, his breathing, labored. He looked like he was about to drift off to sleep. His head fell to the side, his nose brushing the sheets.
Wilson could relate. He gulped in big lungfuls of air, trying to catch his breath, collapsed against the headboard. He slowly raised his clean right hand and carefully touched the screen, his fingertips brushing the line of House’s cheek on the LCD.
House’s eyes blinked open. He worked his jaw, glanced down to where Wilson couldn’t see, then looked back up at the lens. He spoke in a gravelly voice, “Goodnight, Wilson.” And he reached up to the camera and the screen went black.
“Goodnight, House,” he echoed.
fin.
Download the podfic here.
saved comments for pre-hack days
I think- I think- I need a shower. Good fic, yo.
lilapaddy
*brain explodes*
I'm not too proud to admit that I googled "Exquisite Anguish". Couldn't find anything but I thought I'd heard of that concept before. Is there a real website like that?
I'd only use it for research purposes, of course. <:) Nice fic. I want to see Part Two where they get together for reals. phinnia ... oh, /wow/. Yum. Delicious and also totally in character. Nice. :-) arwydd Uh, I... that is... HOLY SHIT THAT WAS HOT. Wow, seriously. I loved how House was actually joking - and Wilson was playing along and laughing with him, because... well, it just seems like somethig so very them. *imagines Wilson saying "Oy vey"* *melts* Excuse me while I go take a nice, long shower! XD suiciderunner Sequel? boogie_horror GUHH... This was amazing! I'm a sucker for the whole "lemme watch you masterbate" thing.. Heeh, will there be a part 2? recrudescence Mmm, I love checking my flist one more time before bed and getting a treat for it. I liked Wilson getting all sputtery and affronted at House tainting his porn stash. =) Only, dude, I have a collab WIP where House pokes around Wilson's hotel room and goes through laptop for porn, then finds out a few things Wilson is and isn't into. So if that ever wraps up, please know that I'm not lifting any ideas from you! directmydesire Umm...wow! That's soo incredibly Hott I'm about to die! I'm really softcore...so this whole concept is just totally up my alley!! Great read, and I'd totally be up for a sequel when they actually get together! missy7280 Only House and Wilson could make softcore feel like hardcore. He slowly raised his clean right hand and carefully touched the screen, his fingertips brushing the line of House�s cheek on the LCD. Guh! This whole fic was so soft and beautiful and sad! In other words, I second the vote for a sequel.
more previous comments
This makes my brain go HURRRR.
Which is a good thing.
theunknownsoul
You wins.
And I really liked listening to you read it while I read along. Dunno, it just made it better for me XD and it stops my bad habit of my eyes skipping things while I read, which often results in confusion.
Great job. With teh others, sequel would be awesomeness.
benjimmy
Oh, wow. That was... Brilliant, fantastic, and... artistic. Weird. But in a very, very good way.
xidiomaticlogic
House is such a cunning, beautiful bastard. <3 I loved this indescribably, and second the various votes for a follow-up. :D
xidiomaticlogic
Man, I liked this so much I read it twice, AND went and cruised around that site.
It kind of frightens me that I think it's the most awesome thing in the history of awesome things. -_-; I never considered myself a "sensitive dude", but Wilson and I seem to have the same taste in artsy porn. XD
Looking at the forums, I can totally see House becoming a cult favorite, and people having discussions speculating as to who he's talking to.
jouse
OH GOD
What a great idea, and perfect execution. I'm meming that and it's totally hot.
lugosi_is_dead
lmao! emo porn! this fic was brilliant
lostwiginity
That was great, but there's a part missing in this story that I really want to know about. It seems that when House started filming the vid, he felt like playing a prank, but as he continued, he became more sincere about the whole thing. Maybe he surprised himself, even.
So before he put that vid online, there must've been some thoughts going through his mind as to what the whole act says about himself, and if he wants Wilson to see that.
serotonin_storm
Just submitting my request for a sequel, like eight or nine other people already have.
alemyrddin
wow! I'd never have thought about something like that, so... chaste in some way, and so appropriate for Wilson. Of course, for him it's the eyes, and their expressions that matter.
And putting himself on that site, that would be exactly what House would do.
I loved how House spoke to him in the video, because he just knew what Wilson would have thought.
from the funny beginning, it evolved into something that I found very, very hot!
I hope for a sequel too.
:)
daisylily
*fans self*
That's one hell of a hot story - with lovely House/Wilson banter, which makes it even better.
*mems*
cadeira
That was a great idea, heavenly written and if this was�nt hot, I wouldn�t know what is...I love it when writers can make things hot without making everything so excruciatingly vivid..well this was vivid to but gooooood
*SEQUEL* *grin*
luxis_lil
That 'twas lovely, lovely smut. Sequel, sequel I say!!
bironic
Heeee. A delightful new take on House/Wilson/porn. Why is it somehow hotter to see/hear each of them during sex when they're not actually with each other?
deelaundry
Gorgeous. Could definitely be Wilson's taste in porn -- and very, very definitely House's taste in pranks. Of course, this one's not actually a prank, but I think he doesn't understand that until later.
*mems*
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Is there an actual website like that? Where did you come up with the idea?
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Poor Wilson, I wonder what will happen next. ^_^
Also, this was the first podfic that I ever listened to before. I don't think I have ever blushed so much in my life but you have such a lovely voice.
*blushes* XD