Work Text:
house presses wilson’s stomach further, his soft underbelly visible under the dingy colored bath water, the movement making hazy ripples across it. pain sears through the younger man’s bladder, threatening to burst. he attempts to squirm away, only for his back to meet with the cold tile behind him. he undoes the action, returning to the welcoming warmth of the bath.
“house,” he whimpers. “please don’t. it’s,, disgusting, it’s… unbecoming.” he swallows, looking up at him. his pleading face pouts upward, eyebrows drawn. he nearly shakes from the building pressure, his feet constantly fidgeting, restless.
“won’t be much longer, then,” house mumbles, his eyes switching briefly to the bath’s faucet to turn it on. their cold blue hue quickly returns to meet wilson’s warm brown. the patter of the water is steady as it mixes, churning with water already in the tub with him. wilson groans, knocking his head against the wall. he whines to no avail. “house,” he manages. it would sound more serious if his tone had been anything more than a small squeak below the stream of fresh water, somehow crescendoing in his ears, although the handles remain untouched, despite the initial disturbance. his cheeks flush, the sound completely overwhelming him. it only urges his body to make water even more than before.
his mind turns to earlier in the night, when house had been nursing him. what he thought were only good deeds a husband would do for their ill spouse were slowly realized to be part of an ongoing plan. house had coaxed fluids into his body, carefully tipping various cups and mugs of warm teas to his lips as he lay in bed, encouraging him to have more, expressing how good they would be for him to get over his chest cold.
after, house had convinced him to take a bath, offering to draw one for him. he’d slipped right in, thankful for the relief it gave his aching muscles. he had been becoming a bit sore from his temporary bed rest.
however, now that his bladder had expanded, house was now denying him any leave of the bath. his goal was to fill him, and now that he was satisfactorily to the brim, he wanted to see him release.
“suit yourself, sit in here as long as you like,” house says presently. “it’ll only feel better the longer you wait. think of it.”
wilson pushes away the comforting notion of finally relieving himself. although a small part of him wanted to get it done and over with, a larger part of his brain couldn’t allow himself to piss all over himself, soaking in the bath. he squeezes his eyes shut in disdain. perhaps house wanted him to sit in his own refuse for a while. it was bad enough to have to do it, but the thought of having to stay in the same place with it was enough to make wilson plant his feet further in his path of noncompliance. he focused all of his attention on attempting to hear everything but the sound of house’s husky voice perched beside him on the tub’s ledge, the monotonous tone of the new water pelting the old, and convincing his muscles to comply, pressuring every liquid he’d been force fed inside.
he felt as if the well inside of him was visible, ever growing. wilson moved his arms from their slack position at his sides to cover his bare stomach, shielding himself of the bump he seemed to see, as well as adding some form of extra protection from the impending implosion. his forearms brushed against that of house’s. house’s hand was unrelenting and wilson felt that if he was pressed for much longer, he may grow permanently concave.
house ran his dry hand through wilson’s hair, the fingers combing through it gently. wilson’s toes curled. he was grateful for the gentle touch of affection, but it was starting to become overstimulating in combination with all of the other factors, culminating in his own dire desperation to wet himself. he swallowed dryly.
“can i shower after?” it was a big question to him. he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the thought of any remnants of the soiled bath on his skin. being allowed a comforting shower afterward may ease him into being a little more willing to comply to house’s terms.
“after?” house’s tone remained the same, but wilson caught a glint in his eye as the older man brightened. he nodded, watching him carefully. “after,” he repeated, removing the questioning lilt to the word, giving it a firmer approach.
wilson exhaled slowly. turning his mind to the sound of running water, he attempted to remove himself from the equation, merely allowing his body to align with nature’s needs.
slowly, he releases.
the warmth emitting from his refuse enshrouds his lower half and wilson pulls his arms away, relocating them to his upper chest, where he feels he can keep them safe. his heart beats nervously and he breathes steadily to combat it. house’s hand remains stationary, although its incessant pressing is at last subdued. he cringes from the thought of the filth now surrounding him. he was completely enveloped at that point, and although he hated nothing more, the relief it brought was resplendent. the satisfaction from finally letting go was insurmountable to any other emotion he presently had and he allowed himself a small smile before he quickly turned his face bashfully from house, who he was sure must’ve caught the expression anyhow.
house withdrew his hand from wilson’s bladder, thankfully ceasing the water pouring from the faucet. previously, the water had been threatening to creep over the edges for some time. he pulls the plug, allowing the contents to begin draining, creating a whirlpool at wilson’s feet. the suction tickles his toes, pulling gently at the pruny skin it had supplied him after a lengthy bath. wilson looks up at house and quickly turns his eyes away, instead gazing at the side of the tub, the level of warmth dissipating rapidly. as it uncovers his skin, he shivers, the cool air icy in comparison.
“hate to say i told you so,” quips house, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “chin up, it’s ‘after’ now, wonder boy.” he locates his cane and uses its leverage to pick himself up, hobbling out of sight, presumably limping into the bedroom, turning in for the evening.
now alone, wilson stands, grimacing at the mere inches of water at his feet. he reaches for the handle immediately, switching the direction of the water from the faucet to the shower head and begins dousing himself in warm water. he breathes, rejoicing happily under it, freeing him from his own waste. wilson, far too happy to shy away from showing it, smiles to himself triumphantly. he reaches for the soap, lathering himself carefully, beginning the first of many, many rounds of washing for the night.