Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You step through the automatic doors, instantly met with a strong smell of headache-inducing sanitization. You let out a nervous breath as you straightened the nametag on your lab coat, which had a rather unflattering picture of you on it.

You spot out the nearest person wearing a lab coat and walk up to them.

“Excuse me.“ You say, trying to sound confident. The woman turns around, nodding hastily.

“Yeah, um—do you know where I can find the oncology unit?”

“Oh! Of course! It’s up those stairs..” The woman pointed to a busy staircase to your left. “..And then to the right of diagnostics.”

“Perfect! Thank you.” You smile politely before walking towards the stairs, your mood a bit uplifted now. The hallway is overwhelmingly organized. The white tiles are spotless, the walls are smooth, and the overhead fluorescent lights are nauseatingly bright. You see a door at the end of the hallway with white letters on it. You walk closer to see what it says, squinting.

Dr. James Wilson.

Head of oncology.

Perfect! You think. Your fear of walking around aimlessly was mostly quenched. You knock on the door, standing awkwardly beside it, waiting for a reply.

“Come in.”

You hear a voice say, muffled by the door. You flatten your hair and straighten your nametag again before pushing the handle and walking in. Inside is a soft looking man with well groomed brown hair. He looks up at you, gesturing for you to sit. You quickly oblige, pulling the chair out to sit across from him at his desk. You talk for about 10 minutes about your role, cases, rules, etc..

You noted to yourself that he was quite pretty, but you shut the thought down quickly. He was your boss, after all. 

“Well, that's it for now. You can..” He pauses.

“Sorry—you can page me or come to my office if you need anything. Really.” He emphasizes. It makes your stomach flutter, and you nod.
“Oh, thank you!” You laugh awkwardly. “I was a bit nervous, but you seem to know your way around.” She admits shyly. 

“I aim to please.” He smiles politely.

“Don’t be nervous, I can help you around if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wilson.” You say before opening the door to walk out of his office.

—

Why did I say it like that? Wilson thought, embarrassed and pinching his nose bridge despite no one watching.

—

You walk eagerly through the hall with newfound confidence. It didn’t last long when you ran into a man with a cane. He didn’t have a lab coat, so she assumed he was a patient. As you ran into him, you knocked a box out of his hands. It fell to the floor.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” You say frantically, bending over to pick it up.

“Wow.” The man looks down at you as you pick up the box. “You have a great ass.”

Your head snaps up at that. “Excuse me?” You step back, meeting his icy blue eyes. The man only smirked.

“If you didn’t have a lab coat, I would assume Wilson hired a prostitute.” The man continued. “Though—maybe you still are a prostitute, I didn't know Wilson was into that stuff.”

Your jaw gapes. “Um..” you stammer, not meeting his eyes.

“House, leave her alone.” You hear a familiar voice say. You perk up, looking at Dr. Wilson. 

“No—uhh. It’s fine, don’t worry.” You assure, pulling your blouse down over your jeans.

“Don’t tell me you hired a live-in prostitute. I guess it cuts down on commute time, huh? Clever.” The man—House, apparently. Tilts his head, feigning thought.

“Does she get the dental benefits, or is that part of the oral agreement?”

Your ears and cheeks flush red with embarrassment. “Oh my god.” You mutter, silently praying for the ground to swallow you whole.

“House—“

“Be warned..he tries to cuddle after sex.” House feigned whispering to you

“She’s talented, she’s—“

House interrupted Dr. Wilson again. “Talented? Wow. How much did you get her for?”

“No. She's on my team.” Dr. Wilson said firmly.

Flustered, embarrassed, and disgusted, you quickly walk away from the situation. You can hear House calling something to you, but you can’t (And you're not sure you want to.) Make it out. You had just turned the corner when you heard Dr. Wilson calling to you. He catches up to you, slipping in beside you.

“I’m so sorry about Dr. House.” Dr. Wilson starts.

Doctor?!

“No, really. It’s okay.” You stop walking to look at him.

“He can be a pain sometimes. Okay. All the time.”

That earns a polite chuckle out of you. 

“I could maybe…buy you some lunch. If you want to—of course!” He quickly adds, “Just to make up for having to interact with House on your first day.” He clarifies, glancing around briefly.

“I don’t mind!” You nod hastily. “I’d like that.” You smile.

He nods quickly and adds: “I’ll meet you at the cafeteria when you’re on break.” Before walking away into the crowded hallway.

You shouldn’t, but you can’t help but feel a soft, pleasant flutter in your stomach. Your ears blush pink at the tips, and you suppress a soft smile to yourself.

I will

—

“You seemed..awfully defensive over her. Maybe she’s not a prostitute, but you sure wish she was..” House analyzes. 

“Yes, I want to sleep with my new employee.” Wilson countered sarcastically. 

“You’re buying her lunch! That's practically 3rd base in your world.”

Wilson sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m buying her lunch because I don’t want you scaring her off.”

“I’d say you’re buying her lunch because you want her to ride you.”

“Or maybe it’s because it’s the polite thing to do, and I would consider myself a decent man.”

“Sure, tell that to your 3 ex-wives.” House quipped in reply.

Wilson’s ears went pink. “It’s not a date, it’s not anything.” Wilson muttered before storming dramatically out of House's office. The door shut quietly behind him, a stark contrast to the bustling hallway. Your break was in 45 minutes. He would be there.

“I’d like that.”

He replays the words in his head for a moment pathetically. He couldn’t stifle a soft smile at his own thoughts. Maybe he just wanted to see you again, was that such a crime?

Chapter Text

It was 25 minutes until your break. It’s not a date. It’s not a date. You told yourself, over and over. You were eating lunch in a public cafeteria together. He was just being polite. You’re pathetic. You sigh, walking into the bathroom.

You stepped in front of the mirror behind the sink. You picked apart every piece of your figure. Any sign of age, neglect, imperfection.

Your mascara was faded, your eyes looked tired, you were bloated, there were small wrinkles near your eyebrows. Not noticeable to anyone but yourself.

“Get it together.” You muttered to yourself.

But you couldn’t ignore the fact that when you stepped on the scale this morning, it was 7 lbs heavier than 2 days ago.

You turned sideways in the mirror, sucking in your stomach to give a not bloated and fit illusion.

You hated how much you cared how someone perceived you, despite it being your first day meeting them. You untucked your hair from behind your ears, running your fingers through it, then walking out of the bathroom into the hall.

It was 15 minutes until your break, now. You had spent 10 minutes staring at yourself in the mirror. You resisted the urge to pace the hall back and forth until your break, and decided to sit down and do some new-job esk paperwork.

It was boring, yes. But it took your mind off things that you didn’t really want to think about. Your utility bill was due, you needed to call your brother, your neighbor asked you to feed their dog while they were away, how you looked. Small, but daunting tasks you really didn’t want to worry about.

5 minutes. You told yourself, reluctantly pulling yourself away from a form you were almost done filling out. You snatched your lab coat from the chair it was resting on, pulling it on over your shoulders so it hung low on your thighs.

By the time you were down on the first floor, you could hear the noise from the cafeteria, and you instantly knew your way to it from sound alone. When you turned the corner, you spotted it. Two double doors, propped open, and a large sign above them labeled
‘CAFÉ’

When you walked in, you stood with a sudden wave of anxiety. Everyone was sucked into either their lunch, or their own conversations, but it felt as if everyone’s eyes were on you. You were scared of walking aimlessly around the bustling room looking for Dr. Wilson.

Thankfully, you caught his warm brown eyes from a few feet away. He walked up to you with a polite smile.

“There you are. I was waiting for you,”

“Oh! You didn’t have to. I could’ve found my way around.” You laughed nervously.

“It’s no problem, really.”

You felt warmth spreading across your face, and you hoped to god you weren’t visibly blushing. If you were, Dr. Wilson didn’t say anything about it, because he led you to the end of the lunch line.

“So, uhh.. how’d you get to PPTH?” Dr. Wilson asked kindly.

Fuck, questions.

“Umm—“ You paused awkwardly. “—I moved here from New York, I managed to land a job here.” You make an odd ‘area’ gesture with your hands, instantly regretting it but already being halfway through the motion.

“Why’d you move? New York is beautiful, I’m sure you fit right in.” Dr. Wilson added smoothly.

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now.

“I just needed a change of scenery, I didn't have many things tying me there anyway, it was a bit impulsive. Maybe not the smartest decision, but it ended up working out.” You shrug, moving forward in the line and putting food on your tray as you did.

“Don’t worry, I get that feeling sometimes, but I guess I have more things here than you did.” Wilson nodded understandingly, but quickly took back his words. “I didn’t mean that you like, didn't have—“ He clarified frantically.

That earned a genuine laugh out of you. Warm. Real.

“No! No, don’t worry.” You grinned. “I know what you meant.” You added, softer this time.

Dr. Wilson rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, letting out a sheepish laugh along with you.

When both of you reached the end of the line, Dr. Wilson said: “I’ll pay.”

“You don’t have to, really.”

“I want to. Plus, I said I would when I invited you.” Dr. Wilson countered. You smiled, letting him pay for the both of you. It wasn’t necessarily expensive, but it was still a gesture.

You both sat down at an empty table. You slid into the chair, setting your food tray in front of you. Just a basic sandwich cut in halves and some chips with a questionable sodium level.

You both sat there for a few seconds in an uncomfortable silence.

“I really am sorry House said those things to you—it’s..unfortunately tame for him.”

You had already forgotten that was the reason he had even invited you to lunch, and you were disappointed that he probably only did it out of pity. You tracked his expressive brown eyes, the way his smooth hair fell forward a bit over his forehead, his kind grin, the tendons in his  hands. You look away before you start lusting over your own boss.

“Hello?”

That snapped you out of your trance. In your head, you had answered him, but in real life, you just stared at him blankly. Your cheeks flushed, this time with embarrassment.

“Sorry! And I promise you it’s alright. It just..” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Caught me off guard.”

“I get that, House is..a character, to say the least.” He shrugged. You laughed. “It seems so.”

By the time you started eating, it had been 10 minutes since you got your food. You were drawn to him in a way you couldn’t really grasp in words. Dr. Wilson was grinning too.

He’s just being polite.

You harshly reminded yourself. Polite. Right.

Just then, Dr. Wilson’s pager beeped loudly, interrupting the conversation. He looked down to check it. He grabbed his tray a few moments before actually saying something.

“I’m so sorry, I need to take this. It’s important.” He said hastily, looking up at you from his pager. He grabbed his  tray in one hand. You watched as he walked towards the trash cans to throw his food away, but not before ripping off a piece of paper from his plastic tray and scribbling something on it in pen.

He walked back to you after throwing away his food. He then folded the unevenly ripped piece of paper and placed it on the space right in front of her. He was already walking away before you could raise a confused brow at him

You grabbed it, and as you unfolded it, your heart skipped a beat. It was a phone number.

But you frowned at the words below it.

My work number

Written in messy letters. His work number. For colleagues. You stare at the paper for a moment, then run a hand through your hair.

But you still fold it and tuck it into your jeans pocket.

Chapter Text

You were settling nicely into the routine of your new job. 

You and Dr. Wilson hadn’t interacted much in the past week aside from polite smiles when you saw each other in the hallway, not since you talked in the cafeteria. But that was just lunch. Just. Lunch.

By the time you got home, you were bone-deep exhausted. You always were. Your house smelled faintly of weed from the night before, but the scent was only noticeable if told.

You slipped off your shoes, then your socks. You walked barefoot to the fridge, the hardwood cold against the soles of your feet. You were met with a soft chill as you opened the fridge. Leftovers, milk, eggs, fruits, the basics. There was plenty for you to eat, but nothing looked appetizing. 

You plop down on the couch, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on and flick through shows. Nothing looks good. Nothing ever looks good. 

When you turned the TV off, you just laid there, staring at the ceiling. There was everything to do but nothing you wanted to do. 

When you got up to go to the bathroom, you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror. You were in a sports bra and sweatpants. You were just slightly bloated. Again. Despite having only eaten breakfast today. You lean back against the wall, hissing when you hit the back of your head on the towel rack.

You wanted to cry and have a meltdown like a 3-year-old. Why? You weren’t sure. You had a nice life. You were a doctor, you had money. Those were the only 2 things you thought of in your mental list. Pathetic.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a few more seconds, you hastily left the bathroom, giving in to the urge you had been resisting for the 24 hours since you’d done it last.

You rolled a joint carefully and skillfully. You felt a strange sense of euphoria despite not having smoked anything yet. You stared at the lighter for a moment. 

I hate myself right now, but not enough to stop.

You grab the lighter quickly, as if not letting yourself have time to hesitate. You lit the joint. You grinned, holding it between your fingers before bringing the tip to your lips. 

You took a long, slow drag. You held it, as if letting it course throughout your body before exhaling towards the ceiling, watching the smoke flutter gracefully before dissipating. You leaned your head back against the couch, closing your eyes. 

You weren’t sure when you opened your eyes again, but when you did, the high was buzzing pleasantly throughout your body. You let out a sigh that turns into a chuckle. You weren’t hungry anymore, you weren’t tired anymore, you weren’t self-conscious anymore. You didn’t feel anything.

Maybe that was the problem.

You shut the thought down, letting yourself live peacefully for a moment.

Just a moment.

You’re exhausted, but this time, it’s sleepy, not life exhausted. That's what you liked about it. A tired you could fix with a good nights sleep. 

And that you got.

Until you got a call from Dr. Wilson.

You picked up sleepily. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I wanted to call about a patient. I hope it’s not too late at night.”

“It’s not.”

There was a beat of silence.

Another one.

“God, I want to fuck you so badly.” 

“Me too—fuck.”

Your hand slips into your sweatpants, then under your panties.

“Keep talking.” You whisper.

And he does. God, he does

He doesn’t stop until you let out a muffled groan as you cum.

Dr. Wilson was about to say something and then—

Then your alarm went off. It was 8am. You were so baffled, that you let out a laugh.

“There’s no way I just—dreamt about that.” You say aloud to the empty room, feeling a lingering ache of arousal in your stomach, but you push it down. He’s your boss. Your boss.

Shit, get it together.

You tried to push the thoughts away, your first choice being coffee. You walked towards the kitchen, methodically preparing the beverage. As you waited, you changed into your work clothes. 

Beep!

Your coffee was done. Thankfully, you had just finished buttoning your blouse. You walked quickly to the coffee maker, grabbing your mug, which was now steaming deliciously. You blew on it to no avail, and just decided to take a sip.

Fuck! Fuck!

It was so hot. You spit it out back into the cup, your tongue stinging. You blink rapidly, as if that could make the uncomfortable sensation go away.

You pinch your nose bridge. A great start to your day. You decided to leave your coffee on the kitchen counter so it could cool, and get yourself ready in the meantime.

You brushed the stubborn knots out of your hair from sleep, wincing softly as you tugged a bit too hard. When your hair laid nicely across your shoulders, you tied it back so you could reapply your makeup. You pursed your lips instinctively as you did, leaning close to the mirror to make it perfect.

There. Perfect. Done.

You walked away before you could notice any imperfections, and it was probably for the better. When you walked barefoot to the kitchen, you were much more glad to see a less-hot cup of coffee on the edge of the kitchen counter.

You took a long sip of the caffeine, letting out a pleased sigh as the warm liquid trailed down your throat.

By the time you finished your coffee, it was 5 minutes past when you were supposed to leave. 

Shit.

You hiss to yourself, setting the mug in the sink before rushing to get socks on. When you do, you quickly put them on. Then you rush for your shoes, using your index finger to hook them over your heels. You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time before grabbing your keys and phone, then rushing out the door.

The drive to work was anxiety inducing. As if you’re 5 minutes late every single one of your patients will die.

When you finally pulled into the parking lot, you practically ran in. You were 6 minutes late. Not a big deal. Not a big deal. You told yourself. 

Of course, when you walked into work, of course, the first person you made eye contact with was Dr. Wilson.

You felt a rush of embarrassment, despite him having no idea the contents of your dream. He had no idea you..dreamt about having phone sex with him and masturbating.

Anxiety and guilt tugged at you. 

What if he does know?

You knew it was impossible, but the thought lingered stubbornly, refusing to leave despite the irrationality of it.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Dr. Wilson asks, flashing a polite smile.

“Good!” You said too enthusiastically, and so painfully fakely. 

Fuuckk. Why did I do that?

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now.

I want him to swallow me whole.

You push the thought down. 

Dr. Wilson raised a brow, but didn’t comment. “Good, well..uhh. I’ll see you around.” He nods to you before walking away. You practically groan aloud. 

I want to see you alright.

—

Priorities!

You scold yourself,

Sleeping with your boss was not a priority.

Probably.

Chapter Text

He was avoiding you.

He’s not avoiding you, he’s your boss. He’s not obligated to talk to you.

You’re pathetic, he has work to do.

You walked quickly, your heels clicking against the white tile. You had a 14 year old patient with metastasized liver cancer. You were used to death, working in oncology, but it never didn’t hurt. It never didn’t make you want to curl up and cry. 

You had only known the young girl since you started working here a week ago, but you already felt the professionalism slipping whenever you comforted the girl when her parents weren’t around.

You wouldn’t know what you would do if she died—

She’s not going to die. But you knew it was practically false hope. Blaire had only a 8-10% 5-year survival rate, with most patients succumbing by 4-5 months, maybe even earlier. Blaire had been here for 2 months before she was hired, she wasn’t getting better— 

Stop being such a pessimist.

You could see the glass door with the young girl. Blaire. She had soft straight brunette hair, a kind face and soft hazel eyes. 

You took in a sharp breath before you slid open the sliding glass door. Even the sound of the door sliding was sterile. You weren’t really sure what that sounded like, but you just knew.

You plastered a warm smile on your face, straightening your lab coat.

“Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Better! My mom said she was going down to get some food from the cafeteria.”

Your heart ached at the joyfulness in her voice.

Why?

Why were you so nervous at the idea of her being happy?

“That’s great! I’m not your doctor today, but I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.” You sit in the chair beside Blaire’s bed. The chair was still slightly warm from her mom sitting there.

“Do you know who my nurse will be?” Blaire asked, looking at you expectantly. She took a sip of her soda, something you assumed either her mom or one of the other nurses had gotten her for the nausea.

“Umm..” You pause for a second, running your head through the shifts. “I think...it’ll be Dr. Brooks today. But don’t take my word for it.” You laugh warmly. Blaire does too.

That makes you genuinely smile. Not that you weren’t smiling before, but it was less professional and more wholesome.

“Well. I’l..uhhh. I’ll get out of your hair!” You say as you clap your hands together, standing up. Blaire smiled softly at you. “I don’t mind you here.” Blaire assured. Then she leaned forward, feigning whispering. “Don’t tell the other doctors, but you’re my favorite.” Blaire giggled, pulling away.

Your smile widens even more, and you let out a soft laugh along with her. Outside the glass door, you could see Blaires mom walking towards the room holding a tray of food in her hands. 

You put your hand on Blaire’s shoulder, “I have to go, but I know I’m your doctor in 2 days. I’ll see you then.” You stand up, waving at Blaire’s mom. “Aandd I might stop in like this for a few minutes.” You nod to the young girl, opening the door for Blaire’s mom.

“Thank you, darling.” Her mom smiled politely to you, walking in and greeting Blaire, but you tune it out. You focused on the melodic click of your heels on the tile. You clutched your clipboard to your chest, careful not to hit anyone with it as you walked through the hall.

“Hey! Prostitute!” You heard a familiar gruff voice calling to you.

You were sure he could hear your eyes roll.

You wanted to just yell ‘fuck off!’ But you could see at least 3 small children in your vicinity. Instead, you didn’t reply, just walked a bit faster, swerving between people. You turned the corner into an unfortunately less crowded hall.

“Slow down there, wouldn’t want you to trip.”

You could practically hear his shit-eating grin.

“Or are those heels just for show? So is that blouse, apparently.”

You finally stopped to turn around, facing him. “Go away.” You hiss, you had been trying to avoid him, but it was hard. He was practically an entity. He was around every corner you turned, across the cafeteria when you were eating lunch, making eye contact with you from through glass walls.

“Easy there, tiger. I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen your precious boy-toy.”

You scoff.

“Oh, please. You know where he is, you practically have a collar on him. You just want to fuck with me.” You snap in reply, clicking your pen in your hand anxiously. You bite the inside of your cheek, not quite meeting his eyes.

“A collar? Wow. I’ll make sure to tell him about your continuous BDSM fantasies about him.” He steps a bit closer, leaning sideways on his cane. You pinch your nose bridge for a few seconds, completely baffled but not necessarily surprised.

“I don’t have—BDSM fantasies about him.” You say a bit too defensively. It was true that you hadn’t, but it still was a little too close to the actual truth. Knowing House, he probably would tell Dr. Wilson, despite him knowing it wasn’t true. Just to fluster Dr. Wilson and get a rise out of you.

“Go away.” You rub your forehead. You tuned out whatever snarky thing he said in reply. Your shoulders were tense as you walked, and you weren’t really sure why. Yes, House annoyed you. But he didn’t necessarily make you genuinely uncomfortable. Maybe you were still thinking about Blaire. Maybe you were nervous about her.

Maybe you cared a bit too much. Maybe your professionalism was slipping. Maybe you..

Deep breath.

You weren’t sure why it was affecting you so much. You have been an oncologist for years now. You had dealt with cancer patients. You’ve dealt with death.

It was all you could think about now. You tuned out the people talking to you, the patients and doctors you conversed with, it all seemed like background noise to your racing thoughts.

Until.

“Hey! Watch it!” You spun around, eyes wide. You had bumped your elbow into a man, holding a cup of coffee, spilling half of it on the tile. 

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” You frantically apologize, grabbing the lid from the coffee cup from the floor. “I’m so sorry, gosh. I was just—not thinking.” You let out a shaky but loud breath, running your fingers through your hair, which noticeably hadn’t been washed in a few days. The man had already started walking away, mumbling annoyed curses.

That was the set off. You could already feel tears pricking in your eyes as you hastily rushed for a secluded area. A stairwell. There was no one in it for now.

You leaned back against the wall, letting out a quiet sigh before a soft 

hic

You buried your face in your hands. Only one tear had fallen before you heard the door echo loudly as it opened a few flights down. You rubbed your face, careful not to smudge your makeup. “Fuck, fuck. Okay.” You whispered quietly to yourself, pushing open the door to exit before you could see whoever was coming up the stairs.

You weren’t necessarily sad, just stressed. Mostly. 

No, No. Think about something else.

Dr. Wilson!

Your brain practically sang. You swore your pupils turned to hearts. 

Sure, he was a good distraction. Clearly.

You were desperate.

Yes. Yes. Dr. Wilson.

No—Blaire. The kid. Fuck.

Your heels were for show.

She could be dying.

You want him to think you’re sexy.

You—

I’m not fantasizing about him!

Shit!

Chapter Text

The heels that you denied to both House and yourself that you had worn for Dr. Wilson clicked against the tile.

Your hair was tied up in a precise bun, and you twiddled a pen in your fingers.

What you saw as you turned the corner made your heart sink deeper than it should’ve for a man you’d met almost 2 weeks ago. Dr. Wilson walked beside another woman. A doctor. His hand was too low on her back, and their shoulders were hardly a few inches apart. 

You couldn’t see the woman's face, but her long black hair was silky as it cascaded down her back. You turn your head, walking in the other direction. The pen you were spinning pushed red marks into the pads of your fingers with how tightly you were gripping it. 

It’s fine. He can do whatever he wants.

He’s a…grown man. That you’re not even in a relationship.

That you don’t even like!

Not one bit.

He was just kind to you. That's all, that's all it will be.

You turn on your heels, spotting them lingering near the nurses station. Dr. Wilson had a big grin on his face as he laughed. You rolled your eyes yet continued to walk towards them.

“Dr. Wilson!” You gestured to him with a polite but not entirely sincere smile.

He looks away from the woman and meets your eyes. “Oh, hey. What’s up?” He returns your smile.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me with that kid. He did not make it easy on me.”

“Oh—of course. Happy—Happy to help.” He shrugged, hardly holding your gaze. That made you unreasonably upset. 

You forced a tight but realistic smile. “Yeah—well..” You nod uncomfortably. “Thanks.” You finish before briskly walking away down the hall. Dr. Wilson looked confused, with those stupid puppy dog eyes.

Stupid.

…Stupid.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, you had been in and out of hospital rooms. Talking to patients, doctors, families. But soon enough, Dr. Wilson caught your eye and gestured to you from across the hall. You excuse yourself and grab your clipboard.

“Dr. Wilson?” You say quietly. He leads you to a less crowded part of the hall, but you could still hear the bustle of the hallway around the corner.

“I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Brooks will be out tomorrow, so you’ll be taking your place taking care of Blaire.”

You nod quickly. “Oh! Yeah, of course!” You smile genuinely for a second, excited that you didn’t have to wait another day to see the girl. You were already thinking about what you would talk about with her.

“Wow! Could you be any further away from him and still actually be conversing?”

Wilson’s eyes meet something behind you.

You spin on your heel, obviously being met with none other than House.

“House.. I’m trying to talk to my—“ He gestured to you. “Employee.”

“Someone looks jealous.” House then feigns sad eyes. “Dr. Wilson, did you talk to another woman?” House pouted mockingly. Wilson looked confused, but maybe he always did. 

“I’m not—why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, of course. That means you already told him about all the vivid sexual fantasies you had about him.”

You could practically feel your cheeks go bright pink with embarrassment. You turn to look at Wilson, who was still holding the same expression.

“I didn’t—I don’t have—he’s just trying to—“ You stutter, not being able to find the right words, and you’re not sure there even is any.

“Did you tell him about the collar one? That was my favorite to hear.” House relented. You were sure you were bright red right now, and you wanted to collapse, or cry. Probably both.

“Uh…” Was all Dr. Wilson could sputter.

“Relax, you’re—“ You don’t let House finish his sentence.

“Just—fuck off!”

You had already stormed down the hall before you realized you had cursed someone out in front of your boss.

You didn’t think of anything else for the entire day. Nothing but the spine-curling embarrassment you felt—and frankly, we’re still definitely feeling pretty hard. There’s nothing more that you wanted to do than go home and curl up into a ball and send a resignation email out of pure humiliation.

And finally, it was time to. You practically ran from the hospital to your car through the parking lot. As soon as you shut the door of the driver seat, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes, letting out a while of self-pity and cupping your face in your hands.

“Ohhh goddd..” You groaned. And that was all you could muster based on the…unique situation. You had to show your face at work tomorrow, you had to look people in the eyes and pretend absolutely nothing had happened.

Great. House wanted to embarrass me. He got what he wanted. He’ll leave me alone.

You thought, knowing damn well he would only go more out of his way to humiliate you. You wanted to say you were ready for it, but you were definitely not.

Fuuck

You only realize you hadn’t even turned on the car when you felt your teeth start to chatter due to the lack of heat. You finally turned your keys in the ignition, feeling the car vibrate slightly as it came to life. You checked your rearview before you reversed out of your parking spot.

You drove methodically back to your small house, watching all the trees and bushes blur together. You were bored, but your thoughts were still racing as you pulled into the driveway. As you did when you got in, you just sat there for a few minutes wasting gas. Your seatbelt was still on and the warm air was still blowing through the vents.

Finally, you unbuckled your seatbelt with a click, grabbed your bag from the passenger seat, and pushed open the door, stepping onto the pavement.

The sun was just down, and the sky was beginning to dull. You could see the faint silhouette of the trees beside your house. You fumble with your keychain before you finally find your house key. You push it in upside down a few times before the doorknob finally twists and the door opens with a satisfying and crisp crack.

You practically kick your shoes off as soon as you enter, you could practically feel the blisters forming at your heels.

God, I’m never wearing heels again.

Not unless he wants me to.

Shut up.

You didn’t even bother changing into more comfortable clothes, you grabbed a small  designated bowl and plopped down on the couch. You expertly rolled a joint, but you realized you forgot a lighter. You push yourself off the couch with a sigh, opening your junk drawer and pulling out a mini BIC lighter. You toss it onto the couch from the kitchen. It lands with a barely audible thud.

You fill a cup of water with ice, taking a small sip before walking back to the living room. You set it on the table in front of the couch. You light the end of the joint, then toss the lighter haphazardly on the table. You set the joint between your lips, taking a long, slow drag of it, then exhaling, watching the smoke float to the ceiling like you always did.

There was a pause of peaceful silence as the smoke curled, then disappeared.

You took a few more slow but heavy drags, sitting doing nothing.

knock, knock, knock.

The door rattles. You freeze, then get up to see who it is.

Dr. Wilson.

Fuck! Your entire house smells like weed and your boss is here.

You practically lunge towards the cabinet with the air freshener in it. You take off the lid and spray it throughout the living room, nauseatingly so, but at least it mostly covers the stench, you shrug your blouse off, left in a white t-shirt. You would rather more professional attire, but you would also rather your boss not smelling marijuana on you.

“One second!” You call out, rushing to the bathroom and grabbing your perfume, spraying some all across your body, a cut on your cheek stung from it. You rush to the door, pulling it open, trying to look as calm as possible, but to no avail. You were out of breath from running around and buzzing.

“Sorry—I was—uhh.. anyway. Uh.. yes?” You pant.

Dr. Wilson raised a brow, but didn’t say anything. You prayed he didn’t smell it.

“Yeah, well..” He pauses, trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry House..said all of those things. To you—about you.” He makes an odd gesture with his hands that you had to restrain yourself from laughing at.

“Really, it’s fine. I promise.”

“I don’t want any of my employees feeling uh...uncomfortable at work because of him. And you—“ He trails off, the professional boss facade wearing off by the second.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten used to him. I was just um…embarrassed. To say the least.” 

“Uhuh. I…I understand.”

There's a beat of heavy silence.

“Well, you can—enjoy your evening. Sorry for dropping by without any warning, it just felt important.” He nods to you, stepping back from the door a bit.

“Thank you. I…uh, appreciate it. Yeah.”

They exchange a painfully awkward pair of nods, and Dr. Wilson turns away and walks towards his own car, which was parked in the driveway.

You wave, but he doesn’t see it. Then you shut the door, walking back towards the couch. The air smelt of artificial lavender, and it was making your head hurt. 

You really hoped everything from this day would be forgotten by tomorrow, but you knew it wouldn’t be.

Chapter Text

You weren’t sure how you were even supposed to show your face at work. House was not shy, and you were sure that he would tell everyone.

It was the same night Wilson came over, and you were already worrying about sleeping, because if you slept time went by faster. If time goes by faster, waking up comes sooner. When you wake up, what do you do? Go to work. You didn’t want to. You never do, but the spine curling embarrassment practically seeped into every bone you had.

You heard a scratch at your bedroom door, which was closed.

Meow!

You shot up. You hadn’t even thought about her. You quickly threw the blanket back, standing up. Your warm feet touching the cold hardwood floor. You opened the door, being met with your cat meowing wildly at your feet,

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry baby!” You cooed, picking your cat up and cradling her in your arms. She let out a pitiful little mew as if you had starved her. You felt just as bad as if you did, even if it was just a few hours past her normal feeding time.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You whisper, cradling the feline to your chest as you carry her to her food bowl. You opened a can of her wet food, dumping it into your cat's food bowl. “Here you go, kitty.” You whispered in a high pitched voice, stroking the soft fur one more time as she lapped eagerly at the food.

“Dramatic.” You mutter, though your gaze was full of affection as you paused to stare at your cat for a moment. Then you remembered you had work tomorrow, which wiped the smile very quickly off of your face.

Your cheeks practically flushed with embarrassment as if you were in the moment again. You hastily walked to your bedroom, plopping down onto your stomach, burying your face into the pillow. You let out a low groan of exhaustion, frustration and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

The strength of his forearms.

The way his brows furrowed when in thought.

The way his lips pursed subconsciously.

The tendons in his hands.

Fuck, shut up.

You were a teenage girl again, giggling and kicking her feet just because her crush said hi to her.

You let out another groan into the pillow, frustration. Denied arousal.

No.

You lifted your head, this time cupping your face in your own hands, closing your eyes. How could you even look at him, your boss. In the eyes again after House said that you had BDSM fantasies about him.

Which you didn’t!

You felt the mattress dip beside you. Your cat. You reach out blindly and haphazardly pet the feline.

“Hey, Kitty.” You coo, your voice muffled by the pillow. You hear a soft ‘mew’ in reply.  You let out a pleased mumble, smiling to yourself. Your embarrassment is temporarily forgotten.

Temporarily.

Then it rushes back to you in a swarm, and you can do nothing other than bury your face deeper into the pillow and let your cat playfully bat at your hair, tugging painfully.

What could you possibly do in this situation? The embarrassment isn’t actually relevant to your life, it’s not important, but it feels that way. You turned your head to the side so you could breathe normally, then reached out so you could turn your nightstand lamp off, missing a few times before actually flicking the switch.

The room settled into a darkness, which somehow made the room colder. Tenser.

The silence was no longer filled with the soft, warm hue of the light. 

Maybe the soft buzz of the light no longer clouded your thoughts. Maybe it was the high lingering. You weren’t sure, but you know the fog over your thoughts completely vanished as soon as the lights turned off.

And your boss knocked on your door while you were absolutely stoned.

That almost made you audibly groan. You were sure he noticed. There was no way you could’ve completely masked the strong scene that seemed to cling to every inch of you. He definitely noticed how your hair was messy, your makeup smudged slightly from your panic. Maybe he noticed the sclera of your eye was tinted pink.

He did.

He definitely noticed.

He’s going to fire you.

He’ll tell House.

He tells House everything.

Everything.

House will tell everyone.

Your reputation will be ruined.

You won’t be able to find a job.

Or worse, you won’t lose your job.

But he’ll look at you differently.

He’ll lose respect for you.

You’ll lose control of your habit.

You’ll spiral.

You hardly realized your chest was heaving as you gasped for breath. The way tears pricked in your eyes and your face went red. You grabbed the nearest thing you could. You were lying down, it wasn’t for stability, just..

You couldn’t think right now, your vision flickered wildly and your hands trembled, your mind was racing, but you weren’t sure with what. You cupped your face in your hands, letting out a choked sound. You wiped the snot from your nose with the back of your hand.

By the time your thoughts started to come back to yourself, the tears had dried on your cheeks and neck. Your hands still trembled, and you were still out of breath, but at least you could think about how much of an idiot you were.

You’re being dramatic.

None of that will happen.

You scolded yourself, but you still didn’t believe it. 

You tried to push down that deep and real fear of losing control. Not in a power freak way. In a scared way. You were scared of spiraling, or one day when you just lose it.

You clutched the blanket up to your chin, the fabric curling around your shoulders. It formed a warm cocoon around your trembling body, which in a way was comforting. 

But you were still afraid.

Afraid to lose control of your habit.

Addiction.

Chapter Text

By the time you realized your alarm hadn’t gone off, it was 2PM the next day. You had gone to sleep at almost 5AM, so it made sense that you had slept so long.

What didn’t make sense is how you hadn’t woken up to your alarm, since you always did.

When you woke up, the sunlight was too bright. You turned over groggily to look at your clock.

2:19 PM

Shit! 

You shot up out of bed, your sleepiness temporarily stifled. What would you even do in this situation? It would be a public humiliation ritual coming in this late, but you would get in trouble if you didn’t show up at all.

Somehow, in your head, both were equally as bad, especially the given situation yesterday. Then, you realized something.

Blaire.

You were her nurse today, and you hadn’t even shown up.

With that thought, you were out the door in less than 15 minutes, and the air was cold and brisk as it cut through your jacket.

“Fuck,” You breathed out, rubbing your face with the heel of your palm and then hastily starting your car. It was cold, you didn’t turn on the heat. Maybe you forgot, maybe you didn't feel like you deserved it.

The car ride to the hospital was quiet, but frantic all the same. You drove a bit faster than usual, but you didn’t have the radio on. It was 30 (-1 C)  degrees or so, but it seemed to vary greatly whether the clouds were over the sun or not. It was windy, so it was even chillier.

When you pulled into the parking garage, you hastily got out of your car, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. Outside, it was almost the same temperature as it was inside the car.

Your flats clicked against the concrete as you walked towards the elevator while clutching your bag to your side.

You press the ‘up’ button at least three times before it finally registers and the doors open. When you stepped in, you quickly pressed the ‘close doors’ button, since you really didn’t want to talk to anyone. Thankfully, no one attempted to come in with you, and you continued your quiet ride to the second floor of the hospital. 

Ding!

The doors opened, and you stepped out. You were sure you were trembling by now, and you had a frantic sense in your chest that you were sure had nothing to do with being late for work. You quickly walked across the hall. No one was staring at you, but it felt like they were.

Maybe your makeup was smudged, your hair was messed up, your clothes wrinkled, your shirt too tight. You didn’t really feel like going in the bathroom to check, so you just let the feeling eat at you. 

You had a very quick decision to make. Confront your boss or avoid him all together. You didn’t really want to consult him, but you knew you really had no choice over it. You thought he would be in his office, but before you had time to prepare what you were going to say to him, someone called out your name from behind you.

Fuck!

You were practically on the verge of tears as you spun around and were met with yours truly, Dr. Wilson. You quickly walked up to him, your chest heaving slightly.

“I’m so sorry! I—I didn’t wake up to my alarm for some reason I just wasn’t thinking at all and I swear it wasn’t to skip or anything and I didn’t want to miss my shirt with Blaire! And I just…just…”

“Hey, calm down! Are you good?” Dr. Wilson backed up a bit, and you realized you had a hand on his shoulder. You quickly pulled your hand off his shoulder like you’d been burnt.

“Sorry! I…uhh...” You didn’t have anything to say, not now.

“Also, your shift with Blaire is tomorrow.” Your heart sank as soon as you heard the words come out of his mouth. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re sweating.” He noted, finally getting a subtle chance to actually look at you. Your hair was frizzy, there were bags under your eyes, your hands shook, and there was a bead of sweat on your neck.

“Yes! Yeah! I’m fine. I just…got confused with the…dates and stuff.”

“Right.” Wilson didn’t argue, just looked at you skeptically, then took a step closer. “Just don’t be late next time. I’m letting you off the hook.” He muttered to you before hastily walking away towards a room. 

That, very unfortunately sent an almost painful wave of arousal straight to your gut. You stood frozen for a moment, watching him as he disappeared through the crowd of people down the hall.

You wanted to cry, to curl up into a tight ball right in the middle of the hall, where no one would bat an eye most likely. You were just another doctor. Dr. Wilson was a kind person, of course he would be kind to you. He didn’t care. Not really.

You could feel your eyes sting from the tears forming. You weren’t really sure why. He hadn’t scolded or yelled at you, he hadn’t made it public. You weren’t even in trouble for gods sake! So why were you so upset?

You couldn’t blink the tears away. If you did blink, you were sure you would break down into a sob. So you kept your head down as you walked to the bathroom. You couldn’t cry, it would mess up the makeup you hadn’t really spent that much time on.

You liked him. 

He was disappointed in you, and somehow that was worse than any punishment.

You hated that feeling, that ache of sadness that was twinging with the warm swell of arousal from the interaction.

You did, you liked him. You really liked him.

But it was better to avoid him. You shouldn’t have any relationship with your boss aside from professionals. She knew that because of all of the HR meetings she was forced into.

You just had to buck up and do your job.

Do it quickly, efficiently, and quietly.

Chapter Text

Your pager vibrated at your waist. You clocked in only 25 minutes ago, what could someone possibly want this early.

You spin around, crossing the hallway to lean against the wall so you weren’t in the way while checking it. It was Dr. Wilson. Again. Paging you to his office.

Fuck,

You almost roll your eyes, not because you didn’t want to talk to him. Because you did want to. You sigh, then run your fingers through your hair nervously. You stood frozen there for a moment, staring ahead of you while your mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

You absentmindedly walked towards his office. When you reach the brown door, you double check the name on it before knocking.

“Come in.”

You push the door open. It’s not raining, but the sky is dim with thick clouds. One lamp is on in his office. The air was almost colder here, not temperature wise but…tone wise.

He gestures wordlessly for you to sit down and you pull out the chair to do so. He takes in a breath, his hands folded neatly on the table before speaking.

“I think…as you know, Blaire’s condition was…” he pauses. “Worsening in the past 3 weeks.”

That made your pulse spike, you had been trying not to think about it. Your throat goes dry and you nod subtly.

“She passed away late last night.” The professionalism in his tone slips for genuine softness at the last syllable.

Those words personally carve out a pit in your stomach, and your expression somehow drops more than before. “I…” You cut yourself off, your mouth dry. 

You don’t know what to say, you have to stop yourself from laughing or smiling impulsively. You give a more stiff nod.

“O—“ You swallow. “—kay.”

“I know it’s hard to lose a patient, and I can offer a days leave or—“

You just want him to stop talking, you want to hit something, to cry. You don’t.

He clears his throat. He was done talking 20 seconds prior, you had zoned out.

You don’t apologize like you normally would. You forgot. “Okay.” You nod hastily, but you’re already excusing yourself.

Dr. Wilson doesn’t say anything, he just watches you leave with an almost curious look in his eyes. You didn’t turn around to look.

Your whole body is numb when you stand up. You would expect to be trembling, but you’re completely still. You don’t hear him move even as you begin to shut the door. Maybe he’s still watching you as you leave,

The rest of the day was completely silent. You didn’t cry, but you didn’t smile either. You didn’t even want to step foot in the hallway with Blaire’s room in it, so you found ways to strategically avoid it.

You were counting down the seconds where you could shut the front door of your house behind you and just cry, then smoke. You were hearing, but you weren’t really listening to what anyone was saying. You hoped it wasn’t important, because you had already forgotten.

All you could think about was Blaires soft, but genuine smile even through all the poking and prodding. Even through her last…

You couldn’t finish the idea.

You suddenly had a thought that sent a crushing wave of guilt straight to your stomach.

I said she would be okay.

 I lied to her.

I gave her hope that wasn’t true, she couldn’t brace herself because you had lied

Liar.

Liar.

When the thought left your mind, you were in a false sense of peace. Only for it to return, louder, bigger. More important.

You were on autopilot until you reached your car at the end of the day, and you could only hope you didn’t cause any problems or make a mistake. You wouldn’t think that your grief would make you inept, but you really weren’t sure at this point.

It was dark by the time you arrived home. Not because you left late, but because you sat in silence in your car for almost an hour crying until you couldn’t anymore. It was the little things. You dropped your keys while trying to unlock your front door. You accidentally left your car door open for 20 minutes, thankfully no one noticed. No one cared, really.

When you plopped down onto the couch, flicking through channels on the TV. You were still upset, but it wasn’t consuming anymore. But you didn’t even have the energy to get your weed, and you were glad you didn’t, because there was a firm knock at the door.

 You debated ignoring it, but pushed yourself up anyway, convincing yourself it could be important.

“Hello?” You said as you opened the door, not even looking through the peephole first.

“Oh! Uh… Hi Dr. Wilson.” You take a step back and your posture straightened.

“Relax.” He smiled briefly, holding up a plastic bag. “I just wanted to…check up on you. I brought you some food from the hospital, because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“Oh my goodness, you didn’t…have to.” You breathe, locking eyes with him briefly before looking back down at the box in his hands. 

He clears his throat. “Can I come in?” He looked expectantly at you before hastily adding: “It’s fine if you don’t want me to or anything, I just thought that—“

“No! No, come in.” You step back to let him in, your breath catching in your throat. “Thanks.” He replied, glancing over at you before setting the bag on the table.

“Are you hungry?” He smiled, pulling out a takeout box from the bag. “Sorry it’s not gourmet, but I hope it’s alright.”

“It’s perfect.” You said in reply. 

Fuck, you hadn’t meant to say it like that. He chuckled softly, a warm sound that punctured the still and somber air. A sound you couldn’t help but smile at.

When you opened the box you assumed to be yours, it was just simple, cheap hospital food. But that wasn’t the point. It was the same thing you ordered when he bought you lunch over 3 weeks ago. He had remembered.

When you looked over to thank him, he was staring at you. “Uhh…I—“ You started, but the words died as he took a step closer, still watching you. There was a beat of silence.

“I know it’s hard with Blaire and all, but…” He trailed off. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in. You brought your hand up to rest on his shoulder. When your lips met, your hand trailed from his shoulder to cup the nape of his neck. You let out a low, almost unnoticeable sound. 

The kiss was soft, slow, but open-mouthed. You pressed your body against his, and as you did, his hands went to your cheek and neck. He was a gentleman, and didn’t touch anywhere but your neck and face, but you wanted nothing more but to feel his hands roaming your body. 

When you broke apart, you were almost scared to open your eyes, like it might not have been real. But it was. 

“Dr. Wilson, I…uhh…” You breathed.

“Call me Wilson.”

You didn’t reply, just kissed him again. Rougher this time. Thats when his hands shot to your waist, one trailing dangerously low on your back.

Chapter Text

“Mmph.” You made a noise into his mouth. You weren’t sure where to put your hands, and you just gripped at his upper back and shoulders. Your fingers sometimes trailed up to the nape of his neck where you curled your fingers in the short hair there.

“Yeah?” Wilson muttered when he pulled away for a gasp of air. You don’t reply verbally, just nod hastily and kiss him again.

“First door to the…” You take a breath, “left.” You finish.

“Mhm,” was Wilson’s only reply before he was walking you backwards down the hall, pushing the door to your bedroom open. That was when you pulled your lips away, tilting your head back to expose the sensitive column of your throat. 

He leans in, kissing the tender skin there. You could feel his breath on your neck as he gently nipped at it with a soft graze of his teeth. You let out a breath, almost a moan, but not quite.

You scratch your fingers gently in his hair at the back of his neck, your short nails almost massaging his head.

 His breath was hot against your neck, and then he backed you towards your bed. He still didn’t break the kiss until the back of your knees hit the mattress.

Then he sprawled his hand across your upper back, lowering you down until you were laying on your back.

That was when he looked up at you with those stupid puppy-dog eyes.

“You sure this is okay?” He whispered, despite himself already panting. You looked down at him, nodding while your chest heaved.

That was all the permission he needed before he slid his hands under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

Holy shit, holy shit. You thought, not really sure what to do with your hands quite yet since he was out of reach. Then, he kissed up your stomach, but stopped a few inches above your navel before coming back up to your face.

You couldn’t ignore the warm flood of arousal pooling between your thighs, one of which Wilson gently groped with his hand. There was a soft grin on your face when his other hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you.

When he pulled away to look at your face, he smiled back. 

“Yeah…keep going.”

“Okay, okay!” Wilson barked a laugh as he brought his hands up to deftly unbutton the top button of your blouse. At that, he quickly unbuttoned the rest and pulled the soft pink cotton open.

Your chest heaved and your hands tangled in his short but silky brown hair when he kissed down from your neck to your chest. One of his hands reached up to cup one of your breasts through the padded fabric of your bra. 

You sat up to shrug your button-up off of your shoulder, sitting clad in your black dress pants and floral-print bra.

“You’re gorgeous.” He murmured, letting your hands trail up his broad shoulders to find the buttons on his own shirt. He let out a muffled groan when you kissed him again, his lips parting against hers. A pink blush crept up your neck onto your cheeks at the words.

You fumbled with the buttons on his own shirt and you watched him shrug the thin garment off his shoulders. He wasn’t incredibly lean, but the soft ripple of muscles around his shoulders and arms, proof of him being on his feet a lot.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, nails gently curling into the flesh there. You kissed the line of his jaw, and his hands shot to your waist, toying with the belt loops on your dress pants.

“Mmhm…” You breathed over the curve of his jaw. Thats when his fingers found the button on your jeans, skimming over your thighs before dragging the zipper down with a hiss. 

He began to descend kisses down your almost bare body. Your chest, breasts, ribs, stomach, abdomen. Then he gently shimmied down your dress pants, then you kicked them off your ankles.

You let out a soft noise when he kissed just above the waistband of your panties.

“Yeah?” He murmured, his voice low and sultry.

“Don’t get cocky.” You breathe out, but lean back on the heels of your palm.

There he was, Dr. James Wilson. The polite, charming oncology head. Kneeling on the floor in front of your bed. Shoulders between your knees, index finger hooked teasingly in the elastic waistband of your panties.

And god, it might’ve been one of the sexiest things you’d ever seen.

As if on cue, he gently tugged your panties down your thighs, calves, then slid them off your ankles. You kicked them off haphazardly where they piled onto the floor with the other discarded clothes.

You could already feel the heat pooling between your thighs. Then, Wilson planted a kiss right at your apex. You tilted your head back, your hair falling back like a waterfall. Your knees instinctively fell open, and he took that as an invitation.

“Uhuh…yeah…” You moan softly, quietly. His tongue parted his lips, and he licked a slow, flat stroke across your vulva.

 Maybe it was all of his experience, but god it was good. He was good. Perfect, fuck.

“Mmnph, fuck—Wilson.”

He brought his hand up, tracing the slickness of your folds before teasing the pad of your finger at your entrance, then gently pushed it in.

You exhaled in a cool, quick breath. Then he added a second digit, warm and heavy. He let you adjust to the intrusion before gently curling them upwards.

“Fuck! Oh—god.” You had completely laid down on your back. Wilson’s other hand crept up, sprawling against your bare stomach before coming up to cup one of your breasts through your bra.

“Yeah, keep going…” 

Wilson only grunted in reply, still curling his fingers perfectly inside you.

The tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, and your back arched off the mattress. He hooked one arm under your thigh, resting a forearm on your abdomen so you couldn’t squirm.

Your toes curled instinctively, one hand gripping the sheet beside you, the other tangling into his hair.

 He pulled away for a breath, his chin glistening from your arousal and a stupid boyish grin on his face. 

“Is that good?” He asked, and you couldn’t help but bark a laugh.

“Yes?! What the hell are you doing…” You breathe.

“Okay, okay!”

And your temporarily comedic demeanor melted down into the almost painful arousal in your abdomen. It came in waves, pulsing.

“Fuck—fuck…” You moan, closing your eyes and putting a forearm over them.

“God, please. I’m so close.”

“Really?” He muttered in reply.

“Oh my—god! Shut up.” You laugh, but it dissolves into a low groan that rumbled in your throat. Your hips instinctively bucked up, chasing the intoxicating sensation.

There were a few more minutes of you squirming, whimpering.

“Mmnh…please, please, please.” Your voice jumped up an octave at that into a whimper.

“Yes?”

“Don’t stop.”

Your orgasm finally hit you in a pulsing wave. “Fuck!” Your back arches, your whole body going rigid for a few seconds, then relaxing completely.

Wilson pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You both sit in silence for a second, the only noise being the sound of both of you panting.

After your temporary bliss wore off, your expression went blank.

“I think you should go.”

Wilson looked up at you at that, frowning. “What?” He breathed out, still panting slightly.

“You. I think you should…go. Now.” You sat up, instinctively closing your thighs, suddenly aware of your situation. “I…” But he didn’t argue. “Are you okay?”

You were suddenly aware of how you looked, how exposed you were, how vulnerable you were, how you had let someone in.

“Yes! Just—ugh!” 

“Okay! Okay! I just…” He sighed, not finishing his sentence. He was still in his dress pants, his arousal you’d denied painfully imminent. But you didn’t care. Not right now.

He pulled his shirt over his shoulders, buttoning it, but he was already walking out of your room. There was obviously a lust in his eyes, but it was mainly concern now. He didn’t argue, just left the room with his hands raised in mock surrender. 

You laid there, waiting, listening to the sound of his footsteps dissipating.

 Then you heard the front door shut with a loud bang.