Title: Just Once More
Authors: Creedcascade & SassyInkPen
Author's Note: This part of a series of stories that all fall into one epic universe we created for them, short of the real - screwed up - canon. While they are all stand-alones, they will all be based along the same relationship between the two men.
Summary: Wilson has some news for House...and House has some news for Wilson
Just Once More
by Creed Cascade & SassyInkPen (2006)
The sounds started to invade Wilson’s groggy sleep, dragging him slowly into consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy and his limbs almost numb. It was nothing like any hangover he had ever experienced before. He managed to get his hand to his face and scrubbed clumsily.
Suddenly the room was flooded with bright light. Even though his eyes where closed, he pulled the pillow over his face. “God…” he groaned loudly into the cotton.
“Good morning, Sunshine!” House’s familiar voice rung out in the room and Wilson just knew the bastard was standing by the light switch.
He kept his face protected with the pillow. “Fuck off, Greg,” Wilson mumbled. “I feel like shit… and… I don’t remember drinking last night.”
“That’s because you didn’t,” House answered. He reached over and plucked the pillow away from Wilson’s face. “That would be redundant after fifty hours on duty. Who needs Johnny Walker when you can have delusions?”
Wilson kept his eyes shaded, but started to open them slowly. “I remember being on the ward,” he admitted. “I had to cover Pierson’s shifts.”
House shoved Wilson’s legs over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Key word being thought you had to cover his shifts. You let that asshole take advantage of you.”
“He’s my supervisor and I’m a resident. It’s part of the game.”
“Not fifty hours,” House growled. His hand was now resting on Wilson’s thigh. “Not after you had a double shift before that.”
“I got some sleep…” Wilson sighed. “I have a headache. Can’t you just go… do something?”
“No,” House shook his head. “And three hours of sleep isn’t sufficient. That’s why I had to take matters into my own hands.”
Wilson’s eyes opened completely and he knocked House’s hand off his thigh. “What did you do?” he demanded.
A slow smile spread across House’s face and he put his hand right back on Wilson’s thigh, except higher up this time. “I drugged your coffee and took you home.”
"You did what?!" blurted Wilson, sitting bolt upright. His head immediately exploded with pain and he flopped back down on the bed, curling up on his side with his head in his hands. "You ass...."
House clucked his tongue. "I'm hurt. Here I try to take good care of a friend and all I get is accusations and insults." He stiffened up and turned his back on Wilson, crossing his legs with an exaggerated sniff.
"What did you drug me with?" asked Wilson ominously.
House made a disgusted noise.
"House," Wilson pressed in a threatening tone. "What. Did. You. Put in my coffee?"
House slumped and rolled his eyes. "I had a little Rohypnol left over from..." he sighed deeply, "You Know."
Wilson gaped at him, mouth hanging open and eyebrows knitted angrily. "That stuff's at least three years old! What the hell are you trying to do to me?!"
“Molest you?” House supplied helpfully and moved his hand to Wilson's groin.
Wilson smacked House’s hand away. “Is that all you ever think about? This is serious, House. You could have killed me!”
“Oh, please,” House rolled his eyes. “What the manufactures say the shelf life on Flunitrazepam is and what it really is, is another matter. I didn’t want to kill you. Maybe I just wanted to take advantage of you without having to listen to your whining.”
Wilson looked scandalized. “Did you…”
“Please,” House huffed. “There’s no challenge in an unconscious Jimmy.” When Wilson gave him a doubtful look, he added, “Okay, maybe I copped a little feel.” House held up two fingers a few inches apart. “But just a little one.”
“This is it!” Wilson shouted and then cringed from the loud sound of his own voice. He clutched his head and closed his eyes. “You better have enjoyed your grope because that’s the last time you’ll get to touch me.”
House couldn't help himself. He dropped backwards on the bed and laughed until he was breathless. Wilson lifted his head and peered at him with irritation, then kicked at him through the covers.
"I'm not kidding," Wilson told him. "This is it. I'm off limits now."
"You're what?" asked House incredulously, sitting up and raising an eyebrow. "Since when? What's this all about? You don't get pissy over pranks like this."
Wilson shot him a dirty look, then said, "Since Friday night. I asked Karen to marry me and she accepted. I'm engaged."
"Engaged." House stared at him quizzically. He knew damn well Wilson wasn't lying. Wilson didn't lie about things like this. Hell, he didn't lie about much at all. "Are you insane?"
“No,” Wilson shook his head. “I think for the first time in three years, I’m starting to think rationally.”
“If you’re not careful, I might start to think this is about me.”
“You always think everything is about you,” Wilson accused harshly and then sighed when he realized how it sounded. “House… Greg… this isn’t about you. This is about me.”
House sat up and shifted on the bed until he was sitting next to Wilson, leaning against the headboard. Maybe if he told Wilson what he wanted to hear, he’d stop this nonsense. “Okay, I’m sorry I drugged you. I was doing it for your own good.”
Wilson leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath. “I know you think I’m just mad at you for this latest stunt, but this is real.”
“No shit,” House grumbled. “You’re having a nervous break down.”
“I knew you wouldn’t take this well.” Wilson turned his head to look at House. “We can still be friends… I want us to be friends…”
"We're friends now," House pointed out.
"Well, yes," Wilson agreed carefully. "But if I'm married, you're not going to be able to carry on with all of the...'advantages' of this particular friendship."
"You're cutting me off," said House, getting to the heart of it.
Wilson gave him an irritated look, "I don't think Karen would be very pleased with me if I was sleeping around behind her back with my best friend."
"Well, you don't tell her." House rolled his eyes.
"Would you grow up," snapped Wilson, sitting up straight and turning to face House. "I was hoping this friendship was about more than the sex to you..."
"It is..." House moved forward, leaning toward Wilson with a serious expression.
"Then why is your hand in my crotch?"
House looked down at his hand and plastered a shocked look on his face. “Oh, now how did that happen?” He rubbed Wilson’s crotch, just the way he knew Wilson loved. “Seems to have a mind of it’s own, doesn’t it? Kind of like Thing from the Adams Family.”
“I’m not going to give into you,” Wilson groaned, but he didn’t knock House’s hand away.
“But, you always do,” House reminded him. He was happy to feel his efforts being rewarded.
Wilson shook his head. “Not when it really counts…”
“Oh, this doesn’t count,” House told him. “This is just a hallucination… from the drugs.”
Wilson shifted his hips, which just so happened to press his groin against House’s hand. “You have to stop, House. I said no more… it’s time for me to grow up. I like what we have… but, it’s time for me to get married and settle down. I’m a real doctor now.”
“I’m a real doctor,” House said and unbuttoned Wilson’s pants. “And I’m perfectly satisfied to have my hand down your pants.”
"Oh yeah, that's it," groaned House, "I love it when you beg..."
"I mean please stop," Wilson said weakly. He was breathing hard and braced on hands that clutched the blanket with a death grip. House's skilled fingers were robbing him of all rational thought.
"You want me to stop," House told him, "then you'll have to stop me yourself, because I want you and I'm gonna have you if I get my way..." He pressed his mouth to Wilson's neck and kissed him roughly, pushing him down onto his back without ever breaking his stroke.
Wilson tried to tell himself it was the remnants of the drug in his system that made him give in to House again. But his mind was too aware of the man’s touch… how different it was to Karen’s… how right it felt. With Karen, he had to be gentle and always took the lead. House’s hands were possessive, touching his body like he owned him,.
“Maybe…” Wilson groaned and arched his back.
“Maybe what?” House asked and nipped Wilson’s skin. He intended to leave a mark that would keep Wilson away from Karen until it faded.
“Maybe just once more…”
"Okay," smirked House. "Just once more...."
"I mean it," Wilson warned. House nodded, but he intended nothing of the kind. There was no way in hell he was giving up that easily. Wilson might feel he needed to play out the little pretences for the rest of the world, but deep down he belonged to House.
And House planned on reminding him of that every chance he got.
He swung one leg over and straddled Wilson's hips, grinding down on them until he saw that familiar flush creep over his friend's cheeks. "Let's not quibble numbers, Jimmy... No one's keeping score."
“You know I hate it when you call me Jimmy,” he groused, but it was quickly followed by a little moan.
“That’s why I do it,” House laughed at him. He reached over and started to unbutton Wilson’s crinkled shirt. “I do a lot of things that you claim you don’t like.”
“I haven't complained about this in years,” Wilson defended himself immediately.
“Nooo, of course not,” House said and pulled Wilson’s shirt out of his pants. “Only about where we do it… how we do it… how often…”
"Someone's got to be the voice of reason here," groaned Wilson catching his shirttails and trying to pull them back down. "If it were up to you, we'd have been arrested by now."
House chuckled and tugged the shirt free of Wilson's grasp, pushing it down over his shoulders. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he said, twisting the shirt in his hands to pin Wilson's arms in place, "Haven't you ever heard of prison sex?"
"Yeah, and I hate to break this to you," Wilson muttered as he tried in vain to struggle free, "but you'd be someone's bitch just as much as I would."
“Oh no,” House shook his head. “You’re much prettier than I am. Plus, I have that whole maniacal genius thing going for me. For instance, I now have you under my control.”
“House… let me go,” Wilson warned. He decided perhaps the best way was to appeal to House’s perverted nature. “If you do, I’ll make it worth your while…”
“Not falling for it,” House said and leaned in to kiss Wilson again. “I know you like it when I take control.”
“I do not!” Wilson denied immediately.
“Do too!” House sing-songed back, his hand massaging Wilson’s groin through his pants again. “One of the reasons I like you. And look, he likes me!”
"There's no accounting for taste," Wilson said, trying to hold back a grin. He really didn't want to be amused right now, he was pissed as hell. "And, unlike some people I know, that's not where I keep my brains."
"Well no shit," snorted House. "If you could think with your dick we wouldn't need to have these conversations."
This time Wilson couldn't help but laugh, relaxing into the bed and giving up the struggle. But when House leaned down to kiss him, he turned his face away, pleading, "Greg... I'm serious. This has to stop. I need to quit playing games and get on with my
"Do you have any idea what you're asking me to do?" whined House, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. "Come on, James...just once more. At least give me that..."
“I’m asking you to prove that you’re really my best friend,” Wilson sighed and bit his lip. “You’re not going to… end what we have just because I don’t want to have sex anymore, are you? I’ll give you this once more, but that’s it…”
House leaned in and pressed his face against Wilson's neck, kissing him softly. “You’re mine, James,” he whispered. “You can marry Karen, but you’ll always be mine.”
“I’ll always be your friend,” Wilson tried to reassure House. This was the desperate, almost frantic part of House’s obsessive nature that only he saw.
House finished undoing Wilson’s pants and started to push them down his hips. He slapped Wilson’s flank to signal him to lift up. Pulling them down, the smiled when saw Wilson's usual crisp pair of white boxers. He also released Wilson from his impromptu shirt prison. “You should go commando,” House teased. “I bet your silly little Karen would love that.”
"I'm not going 'commando'," groused Wilson, "And don't call her that, she's not silly."
"Doesn't her mother have an inflatable goose on the front porch that she dresses in holiday costumes?" asked House, getting rid of the boxers as well.
Wilson's face screwed up with confusion. "Yes, but...what's that got to do with-"
"She will be silly sooner or later, it's in the blood." He hovered over Wilson and gave him a very solemn look, "Mark my words."
Wilson chuckled and reached for House's belt buckle. "Yeah... okay."
“I can’t see you being happy with white picket fence and questionable tchotchkes,” House told him. And he didn’t say anything until they were both completely undressed and Wilson was pinned under him. “Anyone can get that in suburbia.”
“But...?” Wilson challenged. “There’s always a but with you.”
“But, you can get something from me that you can’t get from Karen,” House answered and thrust his cock against Wilson’s. "Something that you need.”
Wilson thrust back in counter point. “I need more from you than this,” he ground out.
"Oh yeah, of course," House assured him, "This is just foreplay."
Wilson reached up and smacked the back of his head. "You know that's not what I mean." He stilled his movements and looked at House with a searching gaze.
"Yeah, I know," said House seriously. His voice was low and a little breathless. "I'll always be your friend, but this isn't gonna go away just because you decided to get married." He threaded his fingers though Wilson's hair and took hold of him possessively. "I can't help wanting you... I never could."
What they shared had been intense from the very first moment they met, but it had never been normal. House went from one moment of being obsessively needy to not wanting Wilson around him for weeks. Wilson didn’t want to give up House, he just wanted change their relationship for the better. He really did believe that if he pushed this change in their relationship, House would also be forced to grow up.
Their gazes met and Wilson licked his lips. “It’s not a matter of what we want,” he whispered. “It’s what I need to do.”
House’s blue eyes narrowed and it took only a moment for his entire demeanour to change. “What I need for you to do is shut up,” he snapped. He reached over the bedside table where Wilson kept the lube.
Wilson sighed. "You're making a big deal over nothing," he said, trying to smooth things over. "I thought you'd be happy for me."
"Greg," he tried again, but ended up with a mouthful of tongue and two very slippery and insistent fingers robbing him of the ability to think straight. House was completely intent on the physical relationship between them and shutting out everything else. When he got like this, nothing swayed him and Wilson knew better than to keep trying. Instead, he threw himself into the sex profoundly, giving his friend what he needed as a kind of apology and savoring the attention from House that he was afraid would be hard to come by after this.
Afterwards, they were lying side by side on the bed, but not touching. House was the first to break the silence. “So, are you gonna want me to be your best man?”
Wilson rubbed his face and tried to adjust to this newest twist in House’s mental game. The truth was that Karen didn’t like House and already “suggested” it would be a good idea if he asked his screwed up brother. “I suppose it would be the only way I could see you in a tux.”
House’s head moved on the pillow to look at Wilson. “Mmm, maybe I can have my evil way with one of the bridesmaids? Karen has a sister, doesn’t she?”
"Thank god, NO."
Wilson cringed when he came out of the tux shop and saw an all too familiar motorcycle parked by the curb. He glanced around for its owner and found House pressed up against the glass window, peering into the shop and making faces.
"House," he snapped, "Get away from there."
The lanky man stood up and sauntered over to Wilson, grinning. "You never let me have any fun..."
Wilson let out a long-suffering sigh. "What are you doing here, anyway? We talked bout this, I thought you were okay with it. Karen-"
"Doesn't like me, I know," nodded House. "I completely understand. She already knows there's no way in hell she's ever going to be able to do what I can for you in the bedroom."
"For god's sake, keep your voice down," hissed Wilson.
House rolled his eyes and smirked. He took Wilson by the shoulders and said, "Well... she's going to hate me even worse after the bachelor's party I'm throwing you."
“Karen doesn’t… Karen doesn’t…” House repeated back in a mocking tone. “I don’t care what she told you. You’re my best friend and I’m going to throw you a bachelor party.” He stopped and squeezed Wilson’s shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, he challenged him, “Are you going to deny me this opportunity to say goodbye?”
“House…” Wilson sighed and tried to read House’s expression. Even after all of this time, he was still hard to understand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Things will change,” House insisted. His grip lessened and now he started to rub Wilson’s skin. “More than they’ve already changed. You’re going to spend all of your time with your wife.”
Wilson’s cheeks reddened a little bit. “I… I already talked to Karen about that.”
House raised an eyebrow and smirked. “She’s gonna let me sleep with you?”
“No,” Wilson hissed. “I mean, I talked with her about spending time with you. She understands…”
"She doesn't understand anything, Jimmy," House snapped, "and I'm beginning to wonder if you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." House chewed his lip a moment and then said, "How did you get here, anyway?"
"Karen dropped me off, I'm supposed to call her when I'm done. What did that mean?" Wilson pressed.
House ignored the question and jerked his head in the direction of his motorcycle. "Come on, I'll give you a ride," he said with a smirk.
Wilson stood his ground as House climbed on the bike and sat staring at him. House jammed a helmet on his head and then held out the second one that he'd picked up a couple years ago for passengers. Which mostly meant Wilson. "Don't be an ass," said House, giving the helmet a shake, "Come on."
"Don't? I..." stammered Wilson indignantly. He stalked over and snatched it from House's hand. "You have a lot of nerve calling me an ass."
He climbed on behind House and put the helmet on, fastening the strap under his chin, then gripping the sides of House's jacket at the waist.
"You need to hang on," House told him.
Wilson sighed. "I am hanging on."
"Tighter than that... Karen would just kill me if I dumped you off my bike and got you all messy."
Wilson slipped his arms loosely around House's waist.
"Now you're just taking advantage of the situation," Wilson pointed out.
"Yes I am, and I expect you to do the same. You used to like this."
“I’ve never liked your motorcycles,” Wilson denied, but none the less he slid closer against House and tightened his grip. “They’re dangerous. Do you know how many motorcycle injuries…”
House drowned out Wilson’s warnings by revving the engine. “What was that? I can’t hear you!” he yelled over the din.
Wilson groaned to himself and laid his face against House’s shoulder. He was so tired from having to deal with Karen, her mother, and all of the stress of the wedding. House’s antics might have been annoying to someone else, but to him they were familiar and welcome.
When House dulled the engine to a calmer purr, he reached back and patted Wilson’s thigh. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just take me back to your place,” Wilson whispered into House’s ear.
House nodded and revved the engine. Obviously, Wilson was exhausted. The monster-in-law-to-be had moved into the home Wilson had bought for Karen. Wilson was sleeping on the couch for proprieties sake. Well, fuck propriety. And fuck the lady in the tux shop who was gawking at them. He had every intention of getting Wilson back to his place, getting him to sleep a few hours and then celebrating the bachelor’s party the way he intended.
Wilson rolled over on the bed, draping an arm over his eyes to block out the evening sun streaming through the window. He studied the familiar cracks in the ceiling and wondered how many times he'd woken up in this bed. He was trying to figure it out when House wandered into the room holding two brown bottles.
"Well, now I know for sure that you're not a princess..." he said, taking a swig of beer.
"Wha-?" groaned Wilson groggily. He propped himself up on his elbows to stare quizzically at House.
"See," shrugged House, "I peed all over under that bed, and you still slept like a rock."
Wilson flopped back down and covered his eyes again, but the chuckle escaped him anyways. He gave up and turned on his side, leaning on one hand and grinning.
"Here, have a beer," offered House, waving the other bottle under Wilson's nose.
Wilson watched it blearily. "I drank a beer when you put me to bed."
"They're like bookends. You need to have one on either side."
Too sleepy to argue, Wilson took the beer and sipped it. "So, who all's coming to this wicked bachelor party you're throwing?"
"Just us," House told him. "That's the beauty of it."
Wilson took another long sip of his beer, hoping it would quiet the flutter in his stomach that he still got when House looked at him, even after all of these years. “I think a stripper is sounding more and more appealing…”
House shook his head. “Too expensive. Even the discount ones.”
Wilson chuckled and succeeded in not spurting beer out his nose. “Discount strippers?”
“Oh yeah,” House nodded. “You get a ten percent discount on ugly ones. Twenty five percent if they’re crippled. And you deserve much better than a cripple.”
“House!” Wilson smacked him on the shoulder, but started to laugh at the outrageous comments. “I should’ve known a man too cheap to buy his own lunch wouldn’t buy me a stripper.”
House’s hand settled on Wilson’s thigh with arrogant familiarity. “I brought you beer. What more would you want?”
“More sleep.” Wilson sighed and finished the rest of his beer. He might have slept some, but he certainly hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s burnt tuna casserole.
“Boooring! Bachelor parties are all about corrupting the poor shlub whose life as he knows it is about to end. I demand corruption!”
“And I demand your hand remove itself from my dick.”
House squeezed Wilson’s groin again through the thin cotton boxers. “Well, we don’t always get exactly what we want, now do we?”
"You always seem to..." said Wilson, eyeing House. He could feel himself getting hard under the firm touch and sighed, resigning himself to whatever plans for debauchery House might have in mind. A little voice somewhere in his head told him that he enjoyed this far too much, but he squashed it, telling himself, as he so often did, that letting House have his way was just a concession to keep their friendship in tact.
"Oh... no..." said House rather darkly. "That's not really true now, is it?"
Wilson cringed at the look on House's face and then set his jaw. "Let's not start that argument again. This is a party right?"
“Right, a party,” House growled. Any good humour he had was gone. The reality he had been trying to deny was that everything was about to change. The comfortable turmoil he had with Wilson was about to be taken away from him. That woman was going to demand Wilson’s time, thinking she was the top priority in his life. Little did she know that she was third. Medicine and House would always come before anything else in Wilson’s life. Wilson was still trying to deny that. He was trying to grasp at normalcy. Leaning down he whispered into Wilson’s ear. “You’re playing with me again, Jimmy. You know I hate that.”
“I’m not,” Wilson denied and reached out rest his hands on House’s cheek. He could tell by House’s eyes and expression that something was bubbling. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”
“I think you don’t want to be here. I think you want to be back with little wifey.”
“House…” Wilson sighed. House’s emotions could switch like this in a moment. From seduction to anger, self-pity to lashing out, or somewhere in between. “I want to be here with you.”
"I'm sorry..." said House cocking his head and squinching up his face. "Did you just say you want to be with me?" He licked his lips.
"I said I want to be here," sighed Wilson rolling his eyes. "And I gotta tell you, man, if this is your idea of a wild bachelor party, I need to find someone else to hang out with, because so far this blows."
House looked at him, genuinely shocked, and Wilson couldn't quite hide his smug grin.
There were times when it was only Wilson who could make him smile. Even when he wanted to hit the frustrating bastard, Wilson would do something… say something to disarm him. House smirked, “You said blows.”
Wilson groaned and rolled his eyes. “You are so juvenile.”
“I do try.” His hand reached out and stroked Wilson’s cock through the flimsy scrubs he was still wearing. He could get what he wanted now, but instead he planned to tease Wilson. Prolong this experience all night. Pulling away, he got up and rubbed his hands together. “Nothing is more juvenile than getting drunk at your bachelor party.”
“You already drugged me… fed me a beer before and after I woke up, and now you’re plying me with alcohol again,” Wilson chuckled and moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. House’s mood had switched again and it looked like he wanted to torment Wilson… or at least his cock. “And if I know you at all you’re going to suggest porn next?”
"Dammit, that was supposed to be a surprise."
"What would be surprising was if you hadn't suggested porn."
House sighed. "Well considering that this is a bachelor party...."
"The porn has them already naked," House pointed out. He grinned and pulled Wilson into a messy kiss, which Wilson returned ardently. "I like it when you're sassy."
"I like it when you're perverted. But if you ask me about that tomorrow, I'll deny it." Wilson pressed his hips against House and thrust, moaning softly. One hand strayed down to cup House's ass.
"Wow...just for that, I'm going to take you to see strippers after all...." House smirked and pushed Wilson back, jumping up and rummaging through the dresser drawers.
“What are you getting?” Wilson asked suspiciously. He tried to grab a peak, but House blocked his view with his body.
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out later,” House chided. He slipped something into his pocket and backed away from the bed. Knowing how his best friend worked, he watched Wilson’s gaze travel to his pocket. “Haven’t you heard that curiosity killed the cat? You go peaking and you’ll regret it.”
Wilson ran his right hand through his bangs. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
“Uh huh. And I’m not a sex crazed maniac.”
“Not just any old maniac, but an egomaniac with delusions of grandeur…”
House crossed his arms and waited for Wilson to sit up on the bed. “...Who can play a mean concerto and is taking the soon-to-be-groom to see some hot strippers. Get your lazy, pert ass out of bed.”
"Pert, now?" grinned Wilson, getting up and sorting through the clothes on the floor. He pulled on his pants. "It never ceases to amaze me, the number of adjectives you come up with for my ass."
"You have a very versatile ass." House pointed out. He pulled Wilson's shirt from his hands before he could put it on and handed him one of his own t-shirts instead. "This looks better. Where we're going you want to look hot, not like Mr. Rogers."
"I don't dress like Mr. Rogers..."
"Hmmm...Am I thinking of Magoo, maybe?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," Wilson said, examining the shirt. “It’s wrinkled. I should at least iron it.”
House rolled his eyes. “It’s a t-shirt. You don’t iron t-shirts.”
“I iron t-shirts,” Wilson shot back. He lifted the shirt to his nose and sniffed carefully. “I guess I should be happy you washed it at least.”
“Are you questioning my hygiene?” House lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit, making an over exaggerated face.
“No, I’m not being that nice. I’m just calling you a pig!” Wilson laughed and pulled on the t-shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror and ran his right hand over his chest. “It’s too tight. You’re skinnier than I am.”
House moved behind Wilson and put his chin on Wilson’s shoulder. Looking in the mirror, he wrapped his arms around Wilson’s waist. “It’s perfect.”
Wilson closed his eyes against the image in the mirror, even as he leaned back into House's touch.
An hour and forty-five minutes later, Wilson was perched at the rail of a dance stage, clutching a drink he couldn't identify, facing a stripper dressed like a cowboy who was waving his dick in his face. Wilson leaned over and hollered to be heard over the pulsing music. "This isn't what I thought you meant, House..."
"I said strippers," House yelled back at him, grinning from ear to ear. He waved a dollar in the air and the cowboy shifted over on his knees, thrusting his hips forward and rolling them around obscenely while House tried to stuff the bill down the front of the rawhide G-string. Then he held out a dollar for Wilson. "Here...Tex wants to be your friend, help him out."
Wilson looked horrified. "I'm not stuffing money into some guy's pants."
House waved the dollar teasingly. "Then sit up on the rail here and let me stuff it in your pants..." The stripper grinned broadly at both of them.
“Greg!” Wilson hissed. When he was really pissed at House, he would call him by his first name. He grabbed the dollar bill out of House’s hand and backed away from the stage.
“That time of the month,” House sighed over dramatically to the stripper and followed after Wilson. Wilson had his back firmly turned away from him, so House walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Wilson’s chest. He felt the other man tense immediately. Leaning in close, he whispered into Wilson’s ear, “Relax! What part of gay club don’t you understand? I could molest you all I want and no one would think twice… watch sure, but…”
Wilson grabbed House’s wrist as his best friend’s hand started to sneak towards his crotch. “I’m straight. I’m getting married…”
“Blah blah blah,” House grumbled and kissed the back of Wilson’s neck. “You need to relax, Jimmy. No one knows you here. Think of this as a final goodbye to me.”
Wilson let go of House’s wrist and turned around to face him. He had to lean in close just to be heard with the thumping loud music. “This isn’t goodbye, House. We’ve talked about this. I’m-”
“Just about to shut up,” House cut him off with a quick kiss. “This is supposed to be fun. I’m saying goodbye to your dick. Sending the poor devil off into the land of vanilla sex and the missionary position. I need a drink just thinking about it.”
"There's more to relationships than just sex, you know," Wilson groused as he followed House through the crowd. They reached the bar and wedged their way up to get the bartender's attention.
House ordered two beers and a Blow Job, then turned to Wilson. "It's really sad to hear you defending your marriage with that sentiment before you're actually married."
Wilson made a face and said, "I was talking about us, you....jerk"
"Oooo....feisty. That's the way I like you, pumpkin." House growled and pulled Wilson up against his body.
Wilson struggled, but the throng of people around them prevented him from going anywhere. He scowled and met House's leering gaze. He opened his mouth to say something rude, but House cut him off.
House leaned close so that his mouth brushed against Wilson's cheek as he spoke, and held him tightly. "Stop it. I know what you meant, and I sure as hell expect you to know by now that I do think there's more to our friendship besides sex. But I've always made my attraction to you crystal clear...and since you've certainly taken full advantage of that fact, I think you owe me, here."
Wilson reached out and fisted his hand in House’s cotton worn shirt. “I haven’t taken advantage of you! You’re a selfish asshole who-”
“An asshole who has settled for blow jobs, hand jobs and rubbing off for three fucking years, Jimmy. I’ve been playing along with your little rules so you can keep your fragile, supposedly hetero ego intact.” His free hand went down and cupped Wilson’s ass. “When it comes to you, I’ve got bigger blue balls than the Pope.”
Wilson didn’t know what to be more indignant about first. He should have been upset that House was yet again insisting that he was gay. But now he was more pissed off that the bastard didn’t appreciate every thing they had shared all this time. “You didn’t seem to be complaining when I… when we were having fun together.”
House took a long swig from his beer and shook his head in amusement. He squeezed Wilson ass again, pulling him in tighter. “You were going to say when I had my dick in your mouth, weren’t you? But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. And for the record, I love it. But I can think of other things I’d love even more.”
He could argue, but even now being this close to House was casting its usual spell on him. House made him feel like another person. He made him feel funny. Someone who didn’t have to follow the regular social expectations and that’s what made House so dangerous. Wilson leaned forehead on House’s shoulder. “I’m getting married,” he whispered in a tight voice. “If I give into you… I won’t be able to do that. I’ve told you this before… I know there’s no happily ever after for us. You’re my best friend, House. That’s all you can handle. What do you really think would happen if I let you fuck me?”
"I think I'll get my rocks off like never before."
Wilson's head snapped up and he glared at House. "That just proves my point, you...you...asshole."
House shrugged and said, "And what? Is there really anything that I could say that's going to stop you from getting married and admit that you're gay?"
"I'm not gay!"
Several people around them turned and stared at him and House smirked and polished off his beer. "Careful there Sparky, you're in enemy territory..." He grabbed Wilson by the hand and pulled him out of the throng at the bar.
"Where are we going, now?" groused Wilson.
"I just saw a couch open up, we're going to sit down and order another drink like civilized heterosexuals."
That plan founded safe enough… at least as safe as he could be with House in a gay club. So despite his misgivings, he followed House towards the couch. Feeling eyes on him, he pressed up against House until he felt House wrap around his arm around his waist.
“Careful… you’re starting to act gay again, Jimmy,” House warned.
“Oh shut up,” Wilson hissed under his breath and pulled away from House once they got to the couch. He sat down and crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to think about whether or not the vinyl couch had recently been disinfected. “There were men looking at me.”
House slapped his hand against his cheek and made a mock surprised face. “Men looking at you? How… gay! What is this world coming to when gay men look at other…in a gay club.”
Wilson felt like everyone in the room was looking at them. Like they knew things he didn’t want anyone to know. “I don’t like it here.”
“I like it,” House told him. He reached out his arm and slung it over the back of Wilson’s shoulder. When Wilson stiffened, he leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “If you keep acting like that, those men who were looking at you are going to think you’re a free agent.”
“I’m not a free agent… I’m going to be a married man…”
House cut him off with a deep chuckle. “That doesn’t mean anything. You know how many men in this club are married? That won’t stop them from looking at you. But maybe if they think you’re here with a hunky, possessive, talented doctor…” When Wilson gave him a warning look he chucked again. “Point being, if they think you’re with me, they might look, but they definitely won’t touch.”
Wilson’s head lolled back onto the couch and he groaned. He couldn’t deal with this. “Where’s that drink you were talking about? And I don’t want a beer. I want scotch… a double scotch.”
House leered at him. "Planning to get good and drunk so I can take advantage of you?"
"Yeah," Wilson deadpanned. "That's my plan. It's so hard to get you touch me otherwise..."
A waiter drifted by and House flagged him over so he could place their drink order. Then he turned back to Wilson. "Now...about this devious plan of yours...." He slid up close to trace his tongue around Wilson's ear. Then he trailed his hand down Wilson's stomach and into his lap.
"House!" Wilson's head snapped up and he glared at him. "What are you doing?"
"Same thing they're doing." House nodded to a pair of guys on the couch next to them who were energetically jerking each other off.
"OH, no you're not...." Wilson's eyes grew huge, but he couldn't seem to look away.
House could hear him breathing hard. "You like what you see, I can tell. When are you ever going to get the chance to cut loose like this? Just pretend you're someone else for an hour." He yanked open the button of Wilson's jeans and started working on the zipper.
Wilson’s breath hitched. “An hour can be a lifetime…” He could feel House’s hand work into his jeans, cupping him over his boxers.
House started to massage Wilson’s crotch through the warm, well-worn cotton. “We can control this thing between us, Jimmy, or we can let it control us.”
Wilson closed his eyes and lifted his hips up slightly. “I’m always in control of myself…”
House worked his hand inside the slit of the boxers and began to work Wilson’s cock slowly. With his free hand he caressed Wilson’s cheek. “I know you are.” There was no hint of sarcasm in his tone. He leaned in closer and nuzzled Wilson’s neck. “You’re in control here. You want me to do this, don’t you?”
Wilson bit his bottom lip. His big mistake was meeting House’s gaze dead on. Those blue depths could always tear him apart and they didn’t always put him back together quite right. “Y-Yes, I want this.”
House nipped the salty skin just behind Wilson’s right ear. “You want me. I want you to say it.”
Wilson knew other men where watching them together. He should have run far and fast, but instead his cock pulsed in House’s grip. “I want you,” Wilson hissed. “You’re such a bastard, especially when you have your hand down my pants.”
House chuckled. "Now, now, now...You always seem to be pretty pleased with me after I've had my hand down your pants."
"Yeah, yeah," Wilson panted, rocking his hips slowly, and digging the back of his head into the soft leather cushions. If he tried really hard, perhaps he could drown out their surroundings, ignore all the people watching. "So, it's one of your more perfectly honed talents."
"Just think," murmured House, "how great I could be if you let me get something else down your pants..."
Wilson furrowed his brow. "Dammit, House, would you give that a rest, already. We've gone over that far more than I ever wanted to....And you're ruining a good hand job."
House laughed, and then licked Wilson's ear. "You said hand job out loud."
"I'm not as uptight as you think I am," Wilson said, moaning as House picked up the pace. "I say hand job. I say blow job, too."
"Mmm," House groaned. "You say blow job, and I'll get down right here and now and do it...."
“I can’t,” Wilson hissed under his breath. “They’re watching us.”
“That’s why you need to do it,” House insisted. He wanted this from Wilson now. Pushing his best friend was nothing new, but this was a challenge he wouldn’t turn away from. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip of Wilson’s cock. “No one that matters besides me will ever know. Just say it, Jimmy.”
Wilson bit his bottom lip, working it between his teeth. He wanted to be stronger, but deep down he knew when it came to House he was weak. “Blow job…” he whispered.
“I can’t hear you.”
Wilson repeated it again, not really saying it any louder as the burn on his cheeks deepened. “Blow job…”
“That’s it,” House praised. He moved off of the couch with subtle grace, dropped to his knees between Wilson’s open legs. His hands started at Wilson’s knees and caressed up his thighs. Leaning forward, he kissed Wilson’s jean clad knee. “Gonna make you forget everyone else.”
Wilson stared with abject terror as House unfastened his fly and exposed his cock to the view of everyone in the room. At least it felt like everyone in the room. Wilson didn't actually know because he was afraid to look up. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on House's hands. His breath was hard and fast. "I can't believe you talked me into this," he groaned.
House smirked. "I can't believe that still surprises you." He ran his fingers lightly over the length of Wilson's cock, admiring, teasing, taking his time. He savored the quiet desperation in Wilson's every move, and the way he held his body. "You're gonna have to relax if you're going to enjoy this at all."
"I'm trying, House," Wilson hissed, "But this isn't exactly a relaxing situation. We're gonna get caught and kicked out of here or something. Your party sucks."
"No, I suck," grinned House, "but I haven't started yet." He straightened up and glanced around them. He flagged down a six-foot tall drag queen shimmering head to foot in electric pink sequins. "Hey! Come here!"
The queen sidled up, smiling broadly with her ice pink lips. "What can I do for you, Sugar? You need a little help with that?"
Wilson clamped his hands over his lap and shrunk down as far as possible in the seat. "What the hell are you doing?" he seethed as quietly as he could.
House patted his leg reassuringly and looked up at the queen. "This is my friend, Steve. It's his first time out and he's a little nervous. I was hoping you'd convince him that this kind of thing goes on all the time here, and he should loosen up and up let me blow him until he screams."
The drag queen smirked at Wilson and pursed her lips. “Sweetie, did the nasty man corrupting you fail to mention that a little show was the price of admission?”
“At least you got the nasty part right,” Wilson grumbled and glared at House. “I’ll be leaving soon. You can have him.”
“I think I’m too much… woman for him to handle.” The queen made a tsking noise. She snorted in a voice that was no falsetto when she saw House giving Wilson a pout. Waving her hand at House, complete with dagger-like fuchsia press-on nails, she said, “Leaving? Can’t have that. Look at your poor, wicked man here… all worked up and ready to show you a good time. I can certainly assure you that this kind of thing happens here all the time, sweet cheeks. Normal is boring.”
“Okay, fine. Thanks,” Wilson answered with a tense sigh. He gave his deceitful cock a squeeze as punishment for not softening under the circumstances. Hell, it just pulsed under his grasp, reminding him that this particular body part would always betray him when it came to House. “I’d wave goodbye, but…”
“I’ll forgive you for being rude under the circumstances,” the queen said. She ran her fingers through her hair and Wilson noticed the elaborate beehive tilt back to a normal angle. “And I’ll make myself scarce. But seriously, sugar. Relax. Have fun. No one here judges.” With that she blew them both a kiss and sauntered off to find more mischief.
Wilson looked down when he felt House’s hand settle on his thigh. “Did hearing from an expert calm your irrational fears? Can we get back to the illicit, gratuitous blow job now?”
"My fears aren't irrational, you know," Wilson told him.
House sighed. "Maybe not, but at the moment they're a little misplaced, don't you think? You're in the middle of a gay bar...worrying that people will think you're gay."
"Yeah, fine," Wilson acknowledged, "Tonight I'm gay and there's nothing to worry out. Are you gonna blow me now?"
A slow smiled crossed House's face as his hands slid up to brush Wilson's away and take control of the action in Wilson's lap. "Are you going to return the favour?"
"What?" Wilson gasped wide eyed. "Here?"
"Where's your sense of fair play? I know you have one."
House smirked. "You can either return the favor here... or let me take you home for that..."
The glint in House's eye convinced Wilson that he'd be far safer making a show of himself in public than getting behind closed doors with House in his current mood.
“Okay, so I’m a gay man, in a gay bar… with exceptionally bad taste in men,” Wilson ground out. Certain body parts were making it abundantly clear that they could care less about his pride or the smirk on House’s face. “This is it, Greg. Tonight is the last time.”
House made a face when Wilson used his first name. “Sure, whatever.” He peeled Wilson’s hand away from his crotch. Just to revel in torturing Wilson for another moment, he slowly pumped his cock.
“Would you just fucking indulge your sudden fetish for public sex and suck me already?” Wilson hissed at him.
That’s exactly what House had been waiting for. If he pushed enough, Wilson would always snap, pushing away his carefully constructed walls. “Your wish is my command,” House chuckled. He shifted off of the couch again and settled back onto his knees in front of Wilson.
“I wish you’d shut up,” Wilson groaned. “And I wish you had shaved for once.”
“Okay, not every one of your wishes is my command.” House leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against Wilson’s cock. To House’s satisfaction, Wilson groaned, but instead of trying to move away, his hips lifted up. “Just the wishes that go along with stunningly selfish and devious plans.”
"Speaking of devious...." panted Wilson. "Would you get on with it?"
House sighed. "It's always all about sex with you, isn't it? There's no room in your perverted reality for affection or... or cuddling..."
"You don't even know what cuddling means," Wilson told him. He was becoming conscious of people watching them, men edging closer with intent looks on their faces.
House noticed Wilson's nervousness when he looked up at him, and took a quick glance around them. It was time to make sure the vultures knew Wilson was taken, and get Wilson back in the game before he chickened out. He flicked his tongue over Wilson's cock a few times to wet it and then slid his mouth down the length of it, letting it bump against the back of his throat. Wilson groaned loudly and arched his hips, tangling his fingers in House's short hair.
House made a point of rubbing his cheek against Wilson’s inner thigh. Not shaving had extra perks besides him simply being lazy. A little bit of stubble burn would be a nice extra to Wilson’s sweet moans. He knew his Jimmy would try to block out the others watching them by squeezing his eyes shut, but that wouldn’t last long. Wilson never did what was expected of him when it came to his best friend. House grabbed Wilson’s thigh just above Wilson’s right knee and squeezed.
Right on cue, Wilson’s eyes opened and he looked down at House sucking him. As a reward, House deep throated him, but kept their eyes locked. He might be the one down on his knees, but they both knew exactly who had all the power right now.
House pulled away for a few seconds, only to suck on a finger. Not even long enough for Wilson to string together a full sentence or decent thought.
“House, wha-” House noted the desperate and angry tone with pride.
House flicked his tongue over the tip again and bent forward to start sucking again. This was pushing it considering where they were and who he was with, but what did he have to loose? With his spit damp finger he started to massage just behind Wilson’s balls.
"W-wait...." Wilson groaned, twisting in the seat a little. He gave House a pleading look and glanced up around the room.
House slipped his hand further back and Wilson gave a little gasp of surprise. Pulling away for a moment, House said, "You know you want this. Just think how hard it's going to be to wait for weeks to have this again."
"Weeks?" Wilson gasped.
House shrugged. "Your pretty little wife won't know how to do this like I can....and there's no way you could last without it."
"No," Wilson shook his head, even as he rocked his hips against the finger forcing its way into his body. "I told you....this is it. Last time...."
"Riiiight," House assured him, sliding his mouth back down the length of Wilson's cock.
“I’m stronger than you think,” Wilson snapped.
House’s let the cock slip from mouth. “Uh huh,” House answered with a smirk. “If you’re so strong, let’s see if you’re strong enough to resist this…”
With that House leaned forward and took Wilson’s cock back into his mouth again. There was going to be no more fooling around with this. There had been enough talking. Over the years, he had catalogued exactly how Wilson reacted to everything. He could make Wilson come or draw it out to tease him. Now he used that skill, drawing his tongue over Wilson’s cock and was rewarded with a moan. He pinned Wilson’s hips down and took his cock deep into his mouth, happy with the steady series of moans the act produced.
He was able to pinpoint by Wilson’s increase in breathing when he got close. House started a mental count down in his head and was only three seconds off with his prediction. Next time he intended to be right on the mark.
"Dammit," said House, sitting back on his heels and wiping a hand across his mouth. "You came too late."
Wilson slumped limply on the sofa, eyes drooping heavily. "I'm sorry...were we in a hurry?"
"I'm still off by a few seconds," House explained. He shook his head. "I think I misread that last moan."
Tugging his pants up and buttoning them, Wilson made a face. "You lack romantic sentiment of any kind, you know that?"
House rounded on him with wide eyes. "You just got sucked off in the middle of a gay bar. Romance is really not one of the elements involved here. Are you out of your mind?"
"Obviously," Wilson scoffed, glancing around. Now that the show was over, most of the other men had gone back to talking or dancing, and very few were paying the couple any attention. He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans, smoothed his shirt. "Come on, let's go, House... party's over..."
“What about a little reciprocation here?” House huffed. “We had an agreement.”
“I lied,” Wilson shot back. “I learned from the best. And I said the party’s over. I’m going home. You can either come with me or…”
House stood up and adjusted himself in his pants. “You’re forgetting we took my bike here, Jimmy, and I don’t feel like leaving yet.”
“Then I’ll call a cab.” Wilson crossed his arms over his chest and added an extra threat when he saw House smirking. “Right to Karen’s place.”
But the threat didn’t have the intended impact Wilson wanted. House just looked even more smug. “You’re gonna show up on the soon-to-be little Mrs.' doorstep smelling of some awfully kinky sex? You’ve got bigger balls than I thought. Maybe I should feel them again to see if they’ve grown in the last few minutes.”
“Shut up, House!” Wilson snapped and groaned inwardly when men at nearby table looked at them. Wilson stepped closer to House and lowered his voice. “I told you, after tonight this part of our relationship was over. You keep making all the damn jokes you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting married. You might not want to grow up, but I have to. I don’t want to lose our friendship… just take me home, House.”
There was something odd in Wilson's tone that kept House from making any further remarks. Instead, he just turned and headed for the door, Wilson trailing on his heels. The tension between them was nearly physical and House was certain he could feel it clawing at his back.
Neither of them said a word as they walked down to where the bike was parked, pulled on their helmets, and climbed onto the seat. House fired it up, but before he took off, he grabbed Wilson's hands from his hips and pulled them tight around his waist. Wilson didn't say anything, but responded by sliding closer up behind him and leaning in.
They'd stopped off at House's apartment for a quick shower, and Wilson's own clothes, then House agreed to take him home. When House pulled up outside of Wilson’s apartment complex, he felt Wilson’s grasp tighten fractionally, just for a moment. It felt too much like a goodbye for House and he would have none of that. The silence continued as Wilson got off the bike and handed House his helmet.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing to keep that anymore.”
“Why not?” House asked. He’d gotten it especially for Wilson. A black helmet with an obnoxious green stripe with sparkly paint. House thought it was hideous, but he knew Wilson secretly liked it. “Got it to match your favourite tie.”
Wilson sighed and scuffed the ground with his shoe. “I don’t think I’ll be riding on your motorcycle anymore.”
“You’ve always liked…”
“It’s not about what I like,” Wilson cut him off and took a step onto to the curb. “It’s not about what I want, either.”
House’s answer was to grin at his friend and rev the engine. When the engine calmed again, he told him, “C’mon. How about another ride for old time’s sake?” Wilson looked down and then back up at House. Usually that meant Wilson’s conviction was lessening. “Just once more…”
Wilson looked House right in the eye, but hesitated when he spoke. “House, I…”
“Yeah?” House prompted him.
Wilson looked down again and shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”
House reached out and laid his hand on Wilson’s arm. “Jimmy…”
Wilson pulled away and took a few steps back. Shaking his head again, his expression looked bitter and he turned to walk away. Without looking back, he said, “Good bye, House.”