Let me tell you a secret. - Fic: Piano Lesson

17.27 pm - Fic: Piano Lesson

Title: Piano Lesson
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2684
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Does anybody really own anything?
Summary: Wilson fails at playing piano. House tries to help. Piano!sex.
A/N: The tone ended up a little different than I'd expected at the end. It's a bit fluffy, rather porny, and slightly musicy. I hate (and suck at) coming up with titles. Chocolate chip cyber cookies to anyone who guesses what song they're trying to play. Beta by nemesishamartia



‘Bruce Hornsby is a little advanced for the beginner.’

I had spent a good three and a half minutes trying to figure out what Wilson was attempting to play. It was halting, there was almost no consistency to the rhythm, and half of the notes were wrong.

‘What makes you think I’m a beginner?’

‘The fact that you’re turning a perfectly decent little song into a complete catastrophe.’

‘Help me figure out this verse?’

‘First it’ll be “help me figure out this verse.” Then you’ll want help with the chorus. Then I’ll have to teach you the bridge and the solo. Why don’t I just play you the song?’

Wilson rolled his eyes. ‘Please?’

‘What do I get out of it?’

‘You won’t have to listen to me butcher it anymore,’ Wilson suggested.

I shrugged. He had a good point so I went over to the piano and attempted to figure out where he was going wrong. ‘Okay, show me what you’re playing.’

With a shocking amount of fierce concentration on his face, Wilson’s eyes darted back and forth between the music and his fingers. After ten seconds or so, he finally pressed down on the keys, then pulled his hands back as if he’d been shocked.

‘Ew.’ I leaned over, poking my head over Wilson’s shoulder to examine the music for a moment. ‘Did you completely neglect looking at the key signature? There’s two flats.’

‘Oh. Right.’

He readjusted his hands and played the chord again, correctly this time.

‘Okay, now the melody moves around the chord, see? It’s all about the fingering. Once you’ve got that down, it’s easy.’ I almost choked on the word ‘fingering’ but I don’t think he noticed.

I moved my head around Wilson’s other shoulder and placed my hands over the keyboard, taking a deep breath. ‘Put your hands on top of mine.’

‘Huh?’

‘Muscle memory,’ I explained. Something my mom had done when I was a kid. ‘You put your fingers on mine. I’ll play the verse correctly, and your fingers follow along. Learn the pattern.’

Wilson sighed and reluctantly, stiffly rested his hands on mine.

‘I don’t have cooties. Loosen up.’

He let his hands rest on mine a little heavier, and, figuring that was as good as it was going to get, I began to play the verse slowly. Wilson’s fingers followed along, relaxing a bit as I finished up and played the verse over again.

I could tell Wilson was trying to pay attention, but he didn’t really seem to be absorbing much of anything. His hands were trembling a little, and his palms were definitely sweating. Mine were, too. My face was so close to his that when I breathed deeply or shifted my weight, our hair touched. And if either of us turned our heads, we’d definitely end up accidentally kissing.

I hoped Wilson would turn his head.

‘This... this isn’t working, House,’ he mumbled at some point. I’ve no idea where; I was playing purely on instinct.

I took my hands off the keyboard to think for a moment, then, getting an idea, grasped Wilson’s left wrist and moved it so his thumb and pinky finger were resting on B flats. His pulse was... well, not insanely high, but certainly higher than one would expect during a fairly restful activity.

‘You’ve got the left hand down, pretty much, right?’ I asked. He nodded and his cheek brushed against mine. ‘Okay.’

I reached over him again and took hold of his right hand, placing his fingers on the correct keys. ‘Thumb is one, pinky is five. The first part of the pattern is five-four-three-four-three-one-three-one and then you’ll move your index finger over your thumb to hit the F. Try that.’

I watched closely as he completely fucked it up. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Either way, I didn’t really mind.

‘Okay, okay, one at a time. Five.’ He managed to hit a C all by himself. ‘Good. Except you were supposed to play a D.’ He chuckled nervously and played a D. ‘Okay, now the C. No, no, fourth finger.’

It went on like that for awhile, and finally, after only half an hour or so, he’d managed to play the entire measure without my prompting. Nobody could possibly be this bad at playing the piano. I knew Wilson wasn’t tone-deaf; I’d heard him sing before, and obviously his hands worked just fine, so there was no explanation for this level of badness.

Unless he was as turned on as me. That could have explained it. A quick glance down at his crotch didn’t reveal much; those ridiculous pants he wore puffed out when he was sitting down, and his tie was draped over his groin, blocking my view further. But with all this touching and almost-touching and breathing each others’ air and wondering whether he was hard, I had a respectable semi going on, myself.

I would have stayed there all night, teaching him to play, but my back was killing me from leaning over, my right leg was starting to throb, and my left leg was beginning to twitch from holding my weight. I stood up and tossed back a vicodin, then leaned backwards, stretching and arching my back. I flinched, slightly horrified as my crotch brushed against Wilson’s spine, then flinched once more as I felt him press back against me almost imperceptibly. My breath caught and I was frozen still, not knowing what to do.

After a few tense moments, Wilson finally whispered my name.
‘Yeah,’ I muttered, not trusting myself to say any more.

He tilted his head backwards to look at me upside-down for a moment, then reached back and grabbed me round the waist, pulling me flush against him. He rubbed his back against my crotch once more, and fumbled around blindly, finding my hands. He rested them on his shoulders, then grabbed me by the wrists and pulled me down until I was in the same position I’d been in before, when I was teaching him the song. And then he kissed me. It was slow and cautious, but the angle was perfect, and I let my hands drop down to his crotch. When he didn’t object, I undid his pants and reached inside, pulling out his penis. It was soft, but didn’t stay that way for long as I gently coaxed it up, switching back and forth between squeezing and running my fingers up its length as it hardened from base to tip.

‘Wilson,’ I murmured, licking his ear. ‘This is... this is great and all, but I’m not as young as I used to be.’

He chuckled and patted the bench next to him, moving over to make room for me. I sat to his right and leaned in again, kissing him slowly, thoroughly. I let my hands wander; the left ended up tangled in the hair on the back of his head, and the right traveled up the inside of his thigh to take hold of his dick. I didn’t stroke him, per se– just let my fingers trace random patterns over the smooth skin. Occasionally, his cock would twitch so hard it escaped from my grasp.

My own dick was aching to be touched, and my jeans were perilously close to cutting off circulation completely: denim was digging in to me at various places, and it was far from comfortable. But I didn’t want to let go of Wilson.

‘Care to, uh, return the favour?’ I asked, hand diving back into his underwear to trace a line down his balls.

‘Oh!’ he said, as if it had just occurred to him that I had genitals, too. He reached for my jeans and undid them quickly. ‘Up a little.’

I rolled my eyes, releasing Wilson completely to brace my hands against the piano bench so I could lift up my hips. He tugged down my jeans and boxerbriefs, shoving them down around my ankles. It felt really weird to be sitting bare-assed on my piano bench, but I ignored it in favour of wrapping my arms back around Wilson. He fumbled with my dick, apparently a bit lost as to what to do with a foreskin. I, personally, thought it should have been perfectly obvious. But Wilson was apparently stupider than usual tonight, and I was feeling charitable as well as just horny, so decided to help him out. I wrapped my hand around his, stroking up and down, showing him how to pinch the foreskin around the head of my cock, how to stretch it just the right way. Luckily, he picked that up a lot faster than the piano, and soon the tables had turned and I was fumbling with his dick because I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

Sucking, I could handle, it being a reflexive action, so I applied lips to neck (mine to his, that is) and had at it. He mewled appreciatively, hand spasming on my cock.

‘You should fuck me,’ I muttered against the side of Wilson’s neck, and couldn’t help grinning as he gasped and stiffened. He immediately stood up and bolted for the bedroom, returning a moment later completely naked and holding a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms.

‘Can the piano support your weight?’ Wilson asked, way too casually.

I nodded dumbly. ‘Think so.’

‘Get up there.’

I raised an eyebrow and, after taking off the rest of my clothes, dragged the piano bench over to the side of the piano for a boost up. I sat down cautiously, and the lid hardly creaked. ‘Looks like it can.’

‘Lay back,’ Wilson instructed.

I obeyed, the cold wood sending goosebumps rippling over my back. He slipped his shoulders under my legs so they weren’t dangling uncomfortably over the edge of the piano, then unrolled a condom onto his fingers, applied a generous squirt of lube, and prodded at my anus. It felt nice, as if he was scratching a longstanding itch, and I brought my arms up and rested my head on my wrists. When he slipped a finger in, I let out a long, unvoiced ‘ahhhh,’ and my pelvis arched involuntarily toward him. He smiled down at me, eyes sparkling mischievously, and when he ducked down and let the very tip of his tongue trace wetly up the underside of my cock I damn near gave him whiplash using my legs to pull him in closer.

He just rolled his eyes and chuckled, delivering little suctiony kisses up and down my cock as he pressed another finger into my ass. When he sucked my foreskin in between his lips and rubbed it with his tongue, I couldn’t hold back a groan. My cock twitched, and eeked a little precome onto his top lip. He pulled back just far enough to lick his lips, the bottom of his tongue sliding over my cockhead while he gently stretched me open. And then he managed to stimulate me everywhere important all at the same time. He pressed his thumb into my perineum as he rubbed at my prostate, and his other hand settled itself around my balls, rolling them around. And when his lips hit my pubic bone, the only thing that prevented me from coming was the unexpectedness of so many fingers and hands and lips and tongue in so many places.

My head thunked against the piano as I dropped my hands down to the back of his neck, digging my fingers into his skin, clenching them in his hair. He hummed and swallowed around me, and I shouted wordlessly and crossed my ankles over his back.

Just when I started to get used to the feelings, they were gone, and Wilson was peeling one condom off his fingers and rolling another one onto his dick. He quickly adjusted my piano bench to its highest level and knelt on it, and then he was worming his arms out from under my legs so I could hook them around his waist. He kissed his way up my body, pausing intermittently to lick or suck on patches of my quivering skin. He ran his tongue up my neck and over my chin, then deposited it into my mouth, simultaneously pressing his cock into me. I clamped my lips down on his tongue and sucked, and he whined, cock flexing against my prostate.

He pulled halfway out and set a steady rhythm, circling his hips tightly as he thrusted. My back, slippery with sweat, slid back and forth over the top of the piano in time with his movements. Eventually, he took his tongue back in order to suck on my collarbones, one at a time. When he straightened up to thrust harder, I reached up with both hands to run my hands over his face. He was gorgeous, all flushed and sweaty, panting hard, and I wanted to feel him under my fingers. His eyelids fluttered closed as I ghosted my fingertips over his face, thumbing over his eyebrows and lips, running the backs of my knuckles over his cheekbones. I kept one hand on his face while I gripped his wrist with the other, dragging his hand toward my jaw. He mimicked my movements and I closed my eyes as well, concentrating on touching and being touched.


Inside the piano, hammers banged against strings, creating a muffled, discordant sound. It vibrated under my body and through my head; I’d never felt anything quite like it before. I twisted my head to the side and Wilson’s fingers grazed my lips, so I sucked them into my mouth one by one, sucking, licking, and nipping, rolling my tongue in waves against each one until I no longer tasted salt on his skin. He let out a low rumbling noise as I nosed at his hand and closed my teeth lightly over the skin between his thumb and index finger and suckled.

‘House,’ he whispered, a half-formed word, and began shuddering and jerking. I opened my eyes and watched him come, fine tremors running up his body and looking for all the world like he was buried in a snow drift. His teeth chattered and his chest vibrated as air was forced in tiny puffs, like he was shivering. His prick twitched inside me a final time and he pulled out slowly with a groan. He extracted his hand from my mouth and heaved me into a sitting position, kissing me encouragingly as he stroked my cock, hard and fast.

‘Come on,’ he whispered against my lips. ‘Come for me, House.’

I whined, jutting my hips into his grasp. ‘So close,’ I gasped.

‘What can I do?’ he asked.

I placed my hand on his chest and pushed him away just far enough that I could look at him, directly into his eyes. Only then did it really hit me, that this was Wilson. I’d made him come, and he was about to do the same for me, any second now. He stared back at me, puzzled, and then seemed to understand.

‘Wilson,’ I said, slowly, cautiously. As if I was curious as to why he was here, now.

‘I’m here.’

I stiffened, still in a state of near-shock from the realisation, and orgasmed explosively, breath coming in sharp bursts, and Wilson somehow managed to keep hold of me, keep stroking as my body convulsed erratically. I vaguely noticed his right arm wrapping around my back, his soft voice encouraging me with mutters of ‘come on, I’ve got you.’



Somehow, Wilson got me off the piano and into my room. He actually licked me clean and pulled a blanket over me before venturing back out into the hallway. I grabbed up my extra pillow and curled up to it, falling asleep almost immediately. Wilson woke me up only a few minutes later by pulling the pillow away from my chest and tucking himself under my arm.

‘Oh, good. You’re here,’ I mumbled, nuzzling my nose against the back of his neck.

He reached down and linked his fingers with mine. ‘I’m here.’