my piece for dooooooom
TITLE: Words, Actions, and Everything In Between
AUTHOR: 38gnihsurc
FANDOM: House, MD
PAIRING: House/Wilson/Cuddy
RATING: TV-MA
PROMPTS: Rhythmic, graceful, harmony, blend.
TABOO: D/s, threesome, boss/subordinate relationship
WORD COUNT: 4319
DISCLAIMER: I'm playing in the big smutty sandbox with toys that don't belong to me. I'll put them back when I'm finished, unscathed. I promise.
NOTES: I used all four prompts---or I tried to, anyway. This story assumes that the three of them are in an established relationship of sorts. Some of it's explained, some of it you'll have to take on faith. And one of my taboos [the vampire one] didn't get used, because I did not understand how I'd fit that in. And the lame title... gotta apologise for that. I was running out of ideas. (Lastly: Didn't have a beta... the mistakes are all mine.)
1.
James Wilson knew he was in trouble months ago---when his two best friends approached him and asked him to join them for a weekend. Standing in the lobby of the hospital, watching the politicians, doctors, and businesspeople milling around in their suits and dresses, he knew that the trouble was only increasing.
She was dancing with someone, to the beat the orchestra was playing. This someone had his hands all over her; she didn't tell him to move them, but she did try to use the power of suggestion.
"I can't take it anymore," Greg House admitted as he lumbered up beside James.
After swallowing a burning sip of his scotch, he turned to look at his friend. "Take what?" he asked, trying to sound unaware.
"That," House said, pointing his cane in Lisa Cuddy's direction. "Partypants is enjoying the party, and I don't like it."
"Cuddy's the boss," James said, trying to reason with them. "She has to---"
"Dance with that... that grease ball?"
The oncologist sighed but didn't say anything. He turned his focus from Lisa to House. His blue eyes were clearer than they had been in a long time; his pupils were large, though Wilson didn't think that had to do with drugs. House was focused on the brunette---his brunette---who was dancing with someone he did not approve of.
His fingers tightened on his cane. Wilson swallowed in anticipation; he loved watching House's fingers playing with that cane. Ever since their first weekend as a trio, James could not look at that long, gleaming piece of wood without his pulse quickening.
After five minutes, James was in hell. The swaying of Lisa's hips to the music was punctuated by the tapping of House's fingers against the cane. The rhythm [unknowingly?] created by the two was killing him---or tightening his pants and speeding his heart rate, but James knew he could be over-dramatic.
Her hips reminded him of softness, warmth, and everything else on that end of the pleasure spectrum; the cane, on the other hand, reminded him of his place in their relationship.
"I have to put a stop to this."
James looked from the cane to House's face. "What?"
"You know what."
He put his cane down, ending one of the beats that was driving James to distraction. A moment later, he was pushing off and through the sea of people, determined to stop the second beat, the display that was bothering both men.
2.
Watching her escape the party was like watching a deer or gazelle, Greg House thought as he followed her at his slow gait. She artfully dodged colleagues and contributors with a dazzling smile and plausible excuses.
No one suspected that she was being hunted.
He could hear Wilson's more timid footsteps behind him, but he didn't let them slow him down---he had enough working against him.
Lisa's high heels clicked down the hall quickly. Greg smiled and listened and watched as she rounded the corner and headed towards her office. She was playing into his hand. Not only was she away from the politicians and doctors who each wanted their own piece of her, but she was making herself available for him. For them.
He had approached her, being as brazen as ever, and distracted her companion. The congressman fled quickly---Greg was always good at giving people openings for quick exits. Lisa looked up at him with angry eyes; her glare melted into something else though when he told her what was about to happen.
"My office," he said. "Now."
She snorted. "No way. There are no locks," she told him. "This can wait until we go home, House---"
"No, I don't think it can, Lisa."
He took pleasure in the way her cheeks flushed. After they began to develop their extracurricular relationship---a completely different, more satisfying power play---Greg made it very clear that when they were at work, he called her by her last name, and when they were at play, he called her by her first. They had to set boundaries to make it work; when he said her name, she always reacted, associating it with memories of their private time together.
"I... now?" she whispered.
"In my office."
"Please," she said softly, after clearing her throat. "Don't... can't this wait until we leave?"
He only shook his head and told her that watching her with those other guys was too much. They both knew that she wasn't dating anyone, that she wasn't trying to find a one night stand; but he wanted an excuse to be with her, and she had given him one.
As he followed her towards her office, he wondered if she had given him an excuse on purpose.
Greg stopped and turned his head. Wilson was standing almost twenty feet away, looking uncertain. He always looked uncertain. When Lisa approached him and asked if he'd like to serve both of them in their dominant/submissive relationship, Greg thought they had made themselves clear: Wilson had a place with them.
And yet, he always looked uncertain. He always looked as though he wasn't sure when the other shoe would drop, and they would say they never wanted him around.
"We're both going in there," Greg told him. "Aren't we?"
Wilson's eyes darted from Greg to the door Lisa had passed through.
"Are you coming or not, James?"
The oncologist blushed. He actually blushed.
Greg smirked and motioned with his head, just as he heard the door to Lisa's office click shut. Wilson nodded and walked until he was only a foot behind Greg, and then they both walked to Lisa's office.
"She's probably locked it," he told Wilson.
"Predictably."
"Exactly," Greg replied. "Lucky for us, I had a key made."
"You know, if anyone could see you now, they'd think you were trying to attack her."
"Lucky again," he said, smiling at Wilson. "No one sees us. Because that would be an awkward situation."
They walked to the door and Greg rattled the knob for a few minutes, delighting in the way Lisa gasped and turned around. When she smiled, he grinned and withdrew his key from his pocket.
"You have a key to my office?" Lisa asked through the glass of the doors.
"You bet, baby," Greg replied, still grinning.
Lisa glared at Wilson, but he only put his hands up, as if to absolve him of his colleague's crimes.
Greg opened the door and let himself inside. Wilson followed, closing and locking the door before going any further.
"Now that we're alone..."
Lisa looked at Greg. "You can't be serious. Here? What if someone comes in and sees us?"
"Just a pre-game warm up," he replied. "Something to make walking out of here a little difficult."
"I... I have to stay!"
He cupped Lisa's cheek in his free hand. "You really don't," he reminded her. "The university's running this, not just this faculty. You can duck out a little early."
Lisa blushed. When she sucked in a sharp breath, Greg was pleased to hear that telltale shake in her exhalation. He smiled, and she leaned into his touch.
"It's been a hard few days," he added quietly. "And you try to hide it... but..."
She sighed and nodded. "I know," she whispered.
He brushed his thumbs over her lower lip. "A lot of that's been my fault," he admitted.
She smiled a little. "Really?" she asked in a dry tone.
"I didn't do it just to get you alone," he added, smiling a little.
"I know," she murmured. "You did it because you're a madman when it comes to solving your cases."
"I thought it was because I'm God."
Behind them, Wilson snorted. Greg turned to look at him. "James, why don't you sit down in Lisa's chair."
Wilson swallowed and then nodded. Seconds later, he was sitting in an armless chair in front of the coffee table. Then, Greg turned his attention back to Lisa, whose eyes were closed as she leaned into his hand. He smiled; when she relaxed into her submissive personality, she did it easily and seamlessly.
"Are you ready, Lisa?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
"I didn't hear you..."
"Yes, sir," she said more clearly.
"Good girl," he said in a gruffer tone of voice. Lisa smiled at him. He smiled back. "Why don't you take your pretty little thong off and get in position over James' lap?"
Lisa turned her head and kissed his palm. "Sure," she whispered, before stepping away and walking over to the other man in the room.
Greg had wondered if she'd mind that, since Wilson acted as her submissive, but she hadn't blinked at his suggestion.
Her body moved calmly, fluidly. When she didn't reach under her dress to remove her underwear, Greg blinked and opened his mouth to remind her that she forgot something.
But, then, she lifted her skirt up and he realised that she really did forget something.
Greg heard Wilson suck in a sharp breath as she exposed herself for them. He smirked and motioned with his hand for her to continue.
She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, smiling, before she lowered herself down. There was nothing awkward about her movements---they were smooth and confident.
He took a moment to admire the long, graceful line of her back, which curved and continued in her legs. Then, he stepped forward and touched her thigh.
She tensed. Anticipation replaced the calm front she had been displaying.
He looked at Wilson. "You okay?"
"Yes... sir. I'm okay."
"Good. Let's begin."
3.
They were an orchestra, of sorts, Greg mused as he swung his cane carefully. An orchestra in perfect harmony.
Lisa's voice alternated between alto and soprano, depending on what Greg did to her. Her moans were low in her throat; he knew that Wilson could feel them, through her, through his legs. Greg could almost feel them through the thick air in her office.
Wilson's voice was a tenor voice---although there were a few moments where Lisa squirmed so much that Greg wondered if Wilson would jump into the soprano range. He answered Greg's questions as best as he could, but between the words there were long, low moans and sighs whenever Lisa's wriggling became too much.
Greg's voice was the bass line, controlling the other instruments in front of him.
And his cane was the percussion---its slow, careful swing through the air and its connection with Lisa's thighs and ass kept timing for the instruments.
He admired the results of his symphony: six red lines were raised against Lisa's thighs; a wriggling woman; an absolutely lost man.
Greg set his cane down, leaning against it to relieve the pain in his leg. He put his hand out and brushed his fingers over the marks he had made. Lisa trembled and whimpered.
"Please," she whispered raggedly.
"Not yet," he replied. "In fact, not until we go home."
Her gasp was loud and full of protest.
Greg smiled. He liked being in control---he was allowed to set the tempo. He guessed that he also liked it because it was a way for him to make amends for the stunts he pulled, to give his friends what he needed. But, setting the stage and directing the events was one of his favourite parts.
He knew that if he gave Lisa what she wanted, she wouldn't be as eager to continue when they left the hospital. And he and Wilson would both want their evening together to last longer than an hour in her office.
After pressing a kiss to one of the stripes, he said, "Let's go back and say our goodbyes."
Lisa nodded and lifted herself up a bit. Greg eased her skirt down, hiding that delicious skin from sight. She smiled at him, and then she leaned towards Wilson and kissed him.
"Thank you," she murmured against his lips, with an unspoken promise that she would tend to him later.
Wilson reached up and brushed her curls off of her face in reply. He helped her straighten up and sighed contentedly when he watched Greg pull her close and kiss her.
Lisa whimpered against his mouth and pressed against his body. Greg struggled to think about diseases and pharmaceuticals---desperate to keep his body's reactions in check.
"Let's go," Lisa whispered as she pulled back. She looked at Wilson. "James, would you bring the car around?"
"Of course," he replied as he rose to his feet and readjusted his pants.
"Of course..."
"Of course, Mistress."
Once he was gone, Lisa turned in Greg's arms. He was always amazed at how much of a woman she was---he knew there were times when he forgot. But, as she pressed herself against him, the only things he could think about were her curves and sweet scent.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
"Don't thank me yet," Greg said quietly, smiling down at her. "We're not quite..." he trailed off and cupped her from behind. His fingers squeezed her red flesh and he savoured the hiss and moan that escaped her swollen lips. "...finished."
"Good," she murmured huskily. "See you outside?"
He nodded and kissed the top of her head.
4.
They all had their own homes, but Wilson's apartment belonged to the three of them on some level that they had yet to describe in words.
Lisa Cuddy stepped across the threshold and she found that she couldn't ignore the blend they made in that living space: an armchair Greg had purchased, complete with matching footstool; their photographs; coats, shoes, and other personal items strewn about; their toiletries in the bathroom; their clothes in the bedroom's closet.
Wilson hadn't minded. Lisa suspected that he enjoyed it---that it was a reminder that he belonged to them when they were outside of their hospital roles.
She had asked Greg if they could invite Wilson to join them, mainly because he had barely survived his divorce and was looking and acting a little lost. She didn't feel guilty about the fact that she had a place in Greg's life; but, she did want to offer her other best friend some sort of security or sense of belonging.
They had both guessed that he would enjoy being a submissive, since he loved being needed and loved pleasing people; neither had ever guessed how devoted he would be to that role.
Lisa needed to be submissive in every way; she needed to give up complete control and let other people make decisions for a while; she needed to be punished for mistakes she made so she could let them go. Wilson was a different type of submissive: he needed to be needed; he needed to read his lover[s] and anticipate his [and/]or her needs; he needed to feel pain and pleasure in equal amounts and know that he was much more alive than the patients he faced every day.
Without direction, Wilson went to the bar and poured them each a glass of scotch. He brought them to his lovers first, and then he went back for his own.
Lisa sipped her drink and ambled to the sofa, letting her hips sway a little more than usual. She might have been Greg's submissive, and not completely in control of every moment that passed between them, but she loved to make him sweat it out a bit first.
When she sat down, Wilson joined her. He put his arm around her shoulders and cradled her, offered her his own shoulder for her head. She accepted the offer and curled her legs up so she could give her feet a break.
Greg joined them, taking Lisa's other side. She smiled and closed her eyes.
Warm hands picked up one of her ankles and removed her sandal, and then removed the other.
When those hands began to massage her feet, she moaned and pressed her face into Wilson's neck. She felt his lips on her temple, and then his hands on her shoulders after making an adjustment to their position.
"I... god..." she all-but-purred.
"Good, James," Greg said to the other man. "Soon, she'll be putty in our hands..."
"Safe assumption," Lisa whispered.
Wilson's lips brushed over her neck and Lisa's breathed hitched in her throat. Greg pressed his thumbs into the arch of her foot and Lisa moaned.
"Guys..." she croaked. "Please stop torturing me."
"How's your tush?" Greg asked.
She smiled and opened her eyes. His eyes were still blue, but they were very dark in the dimly lit room, in the middle of their private moment, and they had no trouble meeting hers.
"Fine, sir," she replied.
"Great..." he trailed off and rubbed her calves.
She sighed and leaned back against Wilson. If she could, she'd want to be pressed between them forever. Their warmth and their skin and their scent---that was all she wanted wrapped around her.
"Sir," she said softly. "Are you just going to tease me all night?"
"The thought crossed my mind."
"Oh, god," she complained.
"That's my name, don't wear it out," Greg chanted, as he brought his mouth down to the hollow of her ankle.
She felt the stubble of his chin and cheek brush over her leg and she whimpered.
"Bastard."
"Ah, ah... that's no way to talk to me, Lisa," he scolded gently.
"Calling him by his nickname never ends well for you," Wilson teased in her ear.
Lisa shuddered and put her hands upon Wilson's arms. As Greg kissed her legs, she tightened her grip on him and tried to keep her hips in check---but it was a futile attempt. Her hips rolled, out of her control. The sensations washing over her were too strong to ignore.
"Easy," Greg rumbled. "This is just supposed to relax you."
"Too much," Lisa protested weakly.
"Never too much," he countered.
Lisa sighed and held onto Wilson---that was all she seemed able to do.
Greg teased her mercilessly for a few very long minutes, but he did eventually [and thankfully] stop. Lisa panted for breath and stared down at him.
"You're not even naked yet."
She shook her head in reply to his comment.
"Easy target."
"Takes one to know one," she replied, smirking.
He smirked back and then kissed her knee. "Is there anything you need to be punished for, Lisa?"
At his question, her stomach twisted and then melted. She smiled and shook her head. "You already punished me for flirting with those men."
"I did," Greg said calmly. "Is there anything you need to be punished for, though?"
She shook her head again. "N-no, sir," she murmured.
He nodded and looked over her shoulder, to Wilson for a minute. He never asked Wilson if he needed to be punished for anything; Wilson never needed to make amends. He only wanted to feel alive and desired.
"Lisa," he said, letting his blue eyes return to hers. "Go undress and sit on the bed. Get your pillows ready."
She felt a shiver of excitement shoot up her spine. She knew exactly what was on Greg's mind---and she loved when he attended to Wilson in that way.
"Yes, sir," she said, smiling at him, before turning and kissing Wilson's cheek. The oncologist looked dazed---as if he, too, were excited by the instructions given to Lisa.
After pushing herself up from the sofa, she wandered on her bare feet towards Wilson's bedroom. After unzipping her dress, she inched the straps over her shoulders, letting the fabric pool upon the floor around her feet. Then, she took her bra off and let that fall to the floor as well.
She wondered what Wilson and Greg were doing out in the living room, but she didn't spy on them. She crawled up onto the bed and put a few pillows against the headboard to make a rest for her back; then, she sat and leaned against them while taking another pillow and putting it over her torso.
By that time, the two men walked into the room. Wilson first, Greg second. Lisa smiled at them.
Greg positioned Wilson at the foot of the bed, in front of Lisa, and then he started undressing his friend. Wilson closed his eyes; Greg scolded him for hiding; Wilson opened his eyes and focused them upon Lisa.
She smiled more and enjoyed the show Greg was giving her. After a few minutes, Wilson was naked, flushed, and aroused.
And then Greg told him to get into position.
Wilson got onto the bed, and crawled until he was over Lisa and the pillow. She spread her legs and Wilson inched forward. When he dropped his head and shoulders down, his face could easily be tucked into her breasts and the pillow was the only thing keeping their bodies apart.
Lisa moved her legs and loosely hooked them over Wilson's legs; her hands smoothed over his and her arms draped themselves over his back.
Greg moved around the room, taking his suit jacket off, taking his shoes off, making a show for the room's other occupants. He unbuttoned a few more buttons on his shirt; Lisa licked her lips and smiled at him, eliciting a smile from Greg.
"Later," he promised.
She nodded and then pressed her lips to the top of Wilson's head. He shuddered and sighed---and repeated those actions twice more, after Greg went to a chest of drawers and pulled a few toys out.
By the time Greg made it back to the end of the bed, Wilson's body was humming in anticipation. Lisa, too, was feeling eager to start. Being underneath Wilson while Greg worked him from above allowed her to be a participant in the exquisite torture and to feel every blow through the other man.
The first few strokes of the flogger made Wilson whimper. Lisa reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair, offered tenderness to balance Greg's unwavering delivery of blows.
"Lisa... I require some assistance."
She smiled, kissed the top of Wilson's head, and then used her feet and legs to urge Wilson's legs apart. He gasped and tucked his face into Lisa's chest. She shivered and waited.
The first strike caused Wilson to flex his hips sharply against the pillow, against Lisa. She whimpered a little at the friction and looked at Greg with soft eyes, begging for more, to finish quickly so they could go further.
Wilson was alternating between mewling loudly and moaning and begging for more by the time Greg was winding down. He was shuddering and blowing hot breath across Lisa's chest.
When Greg finished, Wilson [very] slowly craned his neck and looked at the other man.
"Thank you, sir," he rasped.
"You're welcome, James," Greg replied, brushing his hand over some of the red welts.
Lisa kissed Wilson's temple a few times as she released her legs from his. He smiled at her and then leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.
They decided, between kisses, to help themselves to Greg's clothes. Soon, the other man was reclining where Lisa had been, and they were stripping the remnants of his suit away.
The three of them tasted and touched each other until they could barely stand it any longer. Lisa let Greg take the lead when they were ready. He helped her straddle him, helped her accept his intrusion into her body.
She moaned and gripped Wilson's hands as she let her legs bring her down.
Good girls didn't do this, she thought to herself as she settled back against Greg and welcomed Wilson forward, towards them.
She was too far gone to care. Too many sensations were pushing her to the edge: the feeling of the two rubbing against each other, through her skin; the feeling of Greg's teeth, lips, and stubble against her back, shoulder, and neck; Wilson's lips upon hers and the soft moans that he offered, that she eagerly swallowed.
The apartment was a blend of their personalities, but this was a blend of them. They didn't do that often---but whenever they did, Lisa couldn't keep herself from marveling at the way they all fit together, the way their harsh lines and soft curves all merged together.
She couldn't speak when it was over. She grunted quietly and tried to thank Wilson, who had gone for washcloths and who had carefully cleaned them all up.
Greg chuckled softly and kissed her temple. She hummed and tugged Wilson up to her other side. They wrapped themselves around her, cradling her while they enjoyed the aftermath of their night together.
Lisa kissed Wilson's swollen lips and whispered affirmations of how happy he made her. He replied in kind, thanking her again. (He thanked her unnecessarily and often.) She smiled at him and brushed his hair off of his forehead before turning to Greg.
Something in his eyes was different. She looked up at him and thought about asking him---but then, she wondered if she'd get an honest answer.
She looked up into his blue eyes and smoothed her hand over his rough cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into the touch---as she had done hours earlier.
"Yeah," House breathed, answering a question that hadn't been asked.
Lisa smiled and caught his lips with hers for a gentle kiss. She felt Greg's hand seek Wilson's, and they pressed them both against her stomach.
She let the kiss last until oxygen deprivation became an issue. Greg fell back against his pillow and watched them both. His eyes darted from Wilson's to Lisa's, watching them carefully.
"Yeah?" Wilson asked.
Greg nodded.
Lisa wanted to ask what they were agreeing to, but when Greg smiled at her, she didn't think words were necessary.
THE END!
AUTHOR: 38gnihsurc
FANDOM: House, MD
PAIRING: House/Wilson/Cuddy
RATING: TV-MA
PROMPTS: Rhythmic, graceful, harmony, blend.
TABOO: D/s, threesome, boss/subordinate relationship
WORD COUNT: 4319
DISCLAIMER: I'm playing in the big smutty sandbox with toys that don't belong to me. I'll put them back when I'm finished, unscathed. I promise.
NOTES: I used all four prompts---or I tried to, anyway. This story assumes that the three of them are in an established relationship of sorts. Some of it's explained, some of it you'll have to take on faith. And one of my taboos [the vampire one] didn't get used, because I did not understand how I'd fit that in. And the lame title... gotta apologise for that. I was running out of ideas. (Lastly: Didn't have a beta... the mistakes are all mine.)
1.
James Wilson knew he was in trouble months ago---when his two best friends approached him and asked him to join them for a weekend. Standing in the lobby of the hospital, watching the politicians, doctors, and businesspeople milling around in their suits and dresses, he knew that the trouble was only increasing.
She was dancing with someone, to the beat the orchestra was playing. This someone had his hands all over her; she didn't tell him to move them, but she did try to use the power of suggestion.
"I can't take it anymore," Greg House admitted as he lumbered up beside James.
After swallowing a burning sip of his scotch, he turned to look at his friend. "Take what?" he asked, trying to sound unaware.
"That," House said, pointing his cane in Lisa Cuddy's direction. "Partypants is enjoying the party, and I don't like it."
"Cuddy's the boss," James said, trying to reason with them. "She has to---"
"Dance with that... that grease ball?"
The oncologist sighed but didn't say anything. He turned his focus from Lisa to House. His blue eyes were clearer than they had been in a long time; his pupils were large, though Wilson didn't think that had to do with drugs. House was focused on the brunette---his brunette---who was dancing with someone he did not approve of.
His fingers tightened on his cane. Wilson swallowed in anticipation; he loved watching House's fingers playing with that cane. Ever since their first weekend as a trio, James could not look at that long, gleaming piece of wood without his pulse quickening.
After five minutes, James was in hell. The swaying of Lisa's hips to the music was punctuated by the tapping of House's fingers against the cane. The rhythm [unknowingly?] created by the two was killing him---or tightening his pants and speeding his heart rate, but James knew he could be over-dramatic.
Her hips reminded him of softness, warmth, and everything else on that end of the pleasure spectrum; the cane, on the other hand, reminded him of his place in their relationship.
"I have to put a stop to this."
James looked from the cane to House's face. "What?"
"You know what."
He put his cane down, ending one of the beats that was driving James to distraction. A moment later, he was pushing off and through the sea of people, determined to stop the second beat, the display that was bothering both men.
2.
Watching her escape the party was like watching a deer or gazelle, Greg House thought as he followed her at his slow gait. She artfully dodged colleagues and contributors with a dazzling smile and plausible excuses.
No one suspected that she was being hunted.
He could hear Wilson's more timid footsteps behind him, but he didn't let them slow him down---he had enough working against him.
Lisa's high heels clicked down the hall quickly. Greg smiled and listened and watched as she rounded the corner and headed towards her office. She was playing into his hand. Not only was she away from the politicians and doctors who each wanted their own piece of her, but she was making herself available for him. For them.
He had approached her, being as brazen as ever, and distracted her companion. The congressman fled quickly---Greg was always good at giving people openings for quick exits. Lisa looked up at him with angry eyes; her glare melted into something else though when he told her what was about to happen.
"My office," he said. "Now."
She snorted. "No way. There are no locks," she told him. "This can wait until we go home, House---"
"No, I don't think it can, Lisa."
He took pleasure in the way her cheeks flushed. After they began to develop their extracurricular relationship---a completely different, more satisfying power play---Greg made it very clear that when they were at work, he called her by her last name, and when they were at play, he called her by her first. They had to set boundaries to make it work; when he said her name, she always reacted, associating it with memories of their private time together.
"I... now?" she whispered.
"In my office."
"Please," she said softly, after clearing her throat. "Don't... can't this wait until we leave?"
He only shook his head and told her that watching her with those other guys was too much. They both knew that she wasn't dating anyone, that she wasn't trying to find a one night stand; but he wanted an excuse to be with her, and she had given him one.
As he followed her towards her office, he wondered if she had given him an excuse on purpose.
Greg stopped and turned his head. Wilson was standing almost twenty feet away, looking uncertain. He always looked uncertain. When Lisa approached him and asked if he'd like to serve both of them in their dominant/submissive relationship, Greg thought they had made themselves clear: Wilson had a place with them.
And yet, he always looked uncertain. He always looked as though he wasn't sure when the other shoe would drop, and they would say they never wanted him around.
"We're both going in there," Greg told him. "Aren't we?"
Wilson's eyes darted from Greg to the door Lisa had passed through.
"Are you coming or not, James?"
The oncologist blushed. He actually blushed.
Greg smirked and motioned with his head, just as he heard the door to Lisa's office click shut. Wilson nodded and walked until he was only a foot behind Greg, and then they both walked to Lisa's office.
"She's probably locked it," he told Wilson.
"Predictably."
"Exactly," Greg replied. "Lucky for us, I had a key made."
"You know, if anyone could see you now, they'd think you were trying to attack her."
"Lucky again," he said, smiling at Wilson. "No one sees us. Because that would be an awkward situation."
They walked to the door and Greg rattled the knob for a few minutes, delighting in the way Lisa gasped and turned around. When she smiled, he grinned and withdrew his key from his pocket.
"You have a key to my office?" Lisa asked through the glass of the doors.
"You bet, baby," Greg replied, still grinning.
Lisa glared at Wilson, but he only put his hands up, as if to absolve him of his colleague's crimes.
Greg opened the door and let himself inside. Wilson followed, closing and locking the door before going any further.
"Now that we're alone..."
Lisa looked at Greg. "You can't be serious. Here? What if someone comes in and sees us?"
"Just a pre-game warm up," he replied. "Something to make walking out of here a little difficult."
"I... I have to stay!"
He cupped Lisa's cheek in his free hand. "You really don't," he reminded her. "The university's running this, not just this faculty. You can duck out a little early."
Lisa blushed. When she sucked in a sharp breath, Greg was pleased to hear that telltale shake in her exhalation. He smiled, and she leaned into his touch.
"It's been a hard few days," he added quietly. "And you try to hide it... but..."
She sighed and nodded. "I know," she whispered.
He brushed his thumbs over her lower lip. "A lot of that's been my fault," he admitted.
She smiled a little. "Really?" she asked in a dry tone.
"I didn't do it just to get you alone," he added, smiling a little.
"I know," she murmured. "You did it because you're a madman when it comes to solving your cases."
"I thought it was because I'm God."
Behind them, Wilson snorted. Greg turned to look at him. "James, why don't you sit down in Lisa's chair."
Wilson swallowed and then nodded. Seconds later, he was sitting in an armless chair in front of the coffee table. Then, Greg turned his attention back to Lisa, whose eyes were closed as she leaned into his hand. He smiled; when she relaxed into her submissive personality, she did it easily and seamlessly.
"Are you ready, Lisa?"
She nodded. "Yes, sir," she whispered.
"I didn't hear you..."
"Yes, sir," she said more clearly.
"Good girl," he said in a gruffer tone of voice. Lisa smiled at him. He smiled back. "Why don't you take your pretty little thong off and get in position over James' lap?"
Lisa turned her head and kissed his palm. "Sure," she whispered, before stepping away and walking over to the other man in the room.
Greg had wondered if she'd mind that, since Wilson acted as her submissive, but she hadn't blinked at his suggestion.
Her body moved calmly, fluidly. When she didn't reach under her dress to remove her underwear, Greg blinked and opened his mouth to remind her that she forgot something.
But, then, she lifted her skirt up and he realised that she really did forget something.
Greg heard Wilson suck in a sharp breath as she exposed herself for them. He smirked and motioned with his hand for her to continue.
She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, smiling, before she lowered herself down. There was nothing awkward about her movements---they were smooth and confident.
He took a moment to admire the long, graceful line of her back, which curved and continued in her legs. Then, he stepped forward and touched her thigh.
She tensed. Anticipation replaced the calm front she had been displaying.
He looked at Wilson. "You okay?"
"Yes... sir. I'm okay."
"Good. Let's begin."
3.
They were an orchestra, of sorts, Greg mused as he swung his cane carefully. An orchestra in perfect harmony.
Lisa's voice alternated between alto and soprano, depending on what Greg did to her. Her moans were low in her throat; he knew that Wilson could feel them, through her, through his legs. Greg could almost feel them through the thick air in her office.
Wilson's voice was a tenor voice---although there were a few moments where Lisa squirmed so much that Greg wondered if Wilson would jump into the soprano range. He answered Greg's questions as best as he could, but between the words there were long, low moans and sighs whenever Lisa's wriggling became too much.
Greg's voice was the bass line, controlling the other instruments in front of him.
And his cane was the percussion---its slow, careful swing through the air and its connection with Lisa's thighs and ass kept timing for the instruments.
He admired the results of his symphony: six red lines were raised against Lisa's thighs; a wriggling woman; an absolutely lost man.
Greg set his cane down, leaning against it to relieve the pain in his leg. He put his hand out and brushed his fingers over the marks he had made. Lisa trembled and whimpered.
"Please," she whispered raggedly.
"Not yet," he replied. "In fact, not until we go home."
Her gasp was loud and full of protest.
Greg smiled. He liked being in control---he was allowed to set the tempo. He guessed that he also liked it because it was a way for him to make amends for the stunts he pulled, to give his friends what he needed. But, setting the stage and directing the events was one of his favourite parts.
He knew that if he gave Lisa what she wanted, she wouldn't be as eager to continue when they left the hospital. And he and Wilson would both want their evening together to last longer than an hour in her office.
After pressing a kiss to one of the stripes, he said, "Let's go back and say our goodbyes."
Lisa nodded and lifted herself up a bit. Greg eased her skirt down, hiding that delicious skin from sight. She smiled at him, and then she leaned towards Wilson and kissed him.
"Thank you," she murmured against his lips, with an unspoken promise that she would tend to him later.
Wilson reached up and brushed her curls off of her face in reply. He helped her straighten up and sighed contentedly when he watched Greg pull her close and kiss her.
Lisa whimpered against his mouth and pressed against his body. Greg struggled to think about diseases and pharmaceuticals---desperate to keep his body's reactions in check.
"Let's go," Lisa whispered as she pulled back. She looked at Wilson. "James, would you bring the car around?"
"Of course," he replied as he rose to his feet and readjusted his pants.
"Of course..."
"Of course, Mistress."
Once he was gone, Lisa turned in Greg's arms. He was always amazed at how much of a woman she was---he knew there were times when he forgot. But, as she pressed herself against him, the only things he could think about were her curves and sweet scent.
"Thank you, sir," she whispered.
"Don't thank me yet," Greg said quietly, smiling down at her. "We're not quite..." he trailed off and cupped her from behind. His fingers squeezed her red flesh and he savoured the hiss and moan that escaped her swollen lips. "...finished."
"Good," she murmured huskily. "See you outside?"
He nodded and kissed the top of her head.
4.
They all had their own homes, but Wilson's apartment belonged to the three of them on some level that they had yet to describe in words.
Lisa Cuddy stepped across the threshold and she found that she couldn't ignore the blend they made in that living space: an armchair Greg had purchased, complete with matching footstool; their photographs; coats, shoes, and other personal items strewn about; their toiletries in the bathroom; their clothes in the bedroom's closet.
Wilson hadn't minded. Lisa suspected that he enjoyed it---that it was a reminder that he belonged to them when they were outside of their hospital roles.
She had asked Greg if they could invite Wilson to join them, mainly because he had barely survived his divorce and was looking and acting a little lost. She didn't feel guilty about the fact that she had a place in Greg's life; but, she did want to offer her other best friend some sort of security or sense of belonging.
They had both guessed that he would enjoy being a submissive, since he loved being needed and loved pleasing people; neither had ever guessed how devoted he would be to that role.
Lisa needed to be submissive in every way; she needed to give up complete control and let other people make decisions for a while; she needed to be punished for mistakes she made so she could let them go. Wilson was a different type of submissive: he needed to be needed; he needed to read his lover[s] and anticipate his [and/]or her needs; he needed to feel pain and pleasure in equal amounts and know that he was much more alive than the patients he faced every day.
Without direction, Wilson went to the bar and poured them each a glass of scotch. He brought them to his lovers first, and then he went back for his own.
Lisa sipped her drink and ambled to the sofa, letting her hips sway a little more than usual. She might have been Greg's submissive, and not completely in control of every moment that passed between them, but she loved to make him sweat it out a bit first.
When she sat down, Wilson joined her. He put his arm around her shoulders and cradled her, offered her his own shoulder for her head. She accepted the offer and curled her legs up so she could give her feet a break.
Greg joined them, taking Lisa's other side. She smiled and closed her eyes.
Warm hands picked up one of her ankles and removed her sandal, and then removed the other.
When those hands began to massage her feet, she moaned and pressed her face into Wilson's neck. She felt his lips on her temple, and then his hands on her shoulders after making an adjustment to their position.
"I... god..." she all-but-purred.
"Good, James," Greg said to the other man. "Soon, she'll be putty in our hands..."
"Safe assumption," Lisa whispered.
Wilson's lips brushed over her neck and Lisa's breathed hitched in her throat. Greg pressed his thumbs into the arch of her foot and Lisa moaned.
"Guys..." she croaked. "Please stop torturing me."
"How's your tush?" Greg asked.
She smiled and opened her eyes. His eyes were still blue, but they were very dark in the dimly lit room, in the middle of their private moment, and they had no trouble meeting hers.
"Fine, sir," she replied.
"Great..." he trailed off and rubbed her calves.
She sighed and leaned back against Wilson. If she could, she'd want to be pressed between them forever. Their warmth and their skin and their scent---that was all she wanted wrapped around her.
"Sir," she said softly. "Are you just going to tease me all night?"
"The thought crossed my mind."
"Oh, god," she complained.
"That's my name, don't wear it out," Greg chanted, as he brought his mouth down to the hollow of her ankle.
She felt the stubble of his chin and cheek brush over her leg and she whimpered.
"Bastard."
"Ah, ah... that's no way to talk to me, Lisa," he scolded gently.
"Calling him by his nickname never ends well for you," Wilson teased in her ear.
Lisa shuddered and put her hands upon Wilson's arms. As Greg kissed her legs, she tightened her grip on him and tried to keep her hips in check---but it was a futile attempt. Her hips rolled, out of her control. The sensations washing over her were too strong to ignore.
"Easy," Greg rumbled. "This is just supposed to relax you."
"Too much," Lisa protested weakly.
"Never too much," he countered.
Lisa sighed and held onto Wilson---that was all she seemed able to do.
Greg teased her mercilessly for a few very long minutes, but he did eventually [and thankfully] stop. Lisa panted for breath and stared down at him.
"You're not even naked yet."
She shook her head in reply to his comment.
"Easy target."
"Takes one to know one," she replied, smirking.
He smirked back and then kissed her knee. "Is there anything you need to be punished for, Lisa?"
At his question, her stomach twisted and then melted. She smiled and shook her head. "You already punished me for flirting with those men."
"I did," Greg said calmly. "Is there anything you need to be punished for, though?"
She shook her head again. "N-no, sir," she murmured.
He nodded and looked over her shoulder, to Wilson for a minute. He never asked Wilson if he needed to be punished for anything; Wilson never needed to make amends. He only wanted to feel alive and desired.
"Lisa," he said, letting his blue eyes return to hers. "Go undress and sit on the bed. Get your pillows ready."
She felt a shiver of excitement shoot up her spine. She knew exactly what was on Greg's mind---and she loved when he attended to Wilson in that way.
"Yes, sir," she said, smiling at him, before turning and kissing Wilson's cheek. The oncologist looked dazed---as if he, too, were excited by the instructions given to Lisa.
After pushing herself up from the sofa, she wandered on her bare feet towards Wilson's bedroom. After unzipping her dress, she inched the straps over her shoulders, letting the fabric pool upon the floor around her feet. Then, she took her bra off and let that fall to the floor as well.
She wondered what Wilson and Greg were doing out in the living room, but she didn't spy on them. She crawled up onto the bed and put a few pillows against the headboard to make a rest for her back; then, she sat and leaned against them while taking another pillow and putting it over her torso.
By that time, the two men walked into the room. Wilson first, Greg second. Lisa smiled at them.
Greg positioned Wilson at the foot of the bed, in front of Lisa, and then he started undressing his friend. Wilson closed his eyes; Greg scolded him for hiding; Wilson opened his eyes and focused them upon Lisa.
She smiled more and enjoyed the show Greg was giving her. After a few minutes, Wilson was naked, flushed, and aroused.
And then Greg told him to get into position.
Wilson got onto the bed, and crawled until he was over Lisa and the pillow. She spread her legs and Wilson inched forward. When he dropped his head and shoulders down, his face could easily be tucked into her breasts and the pillow was the only thing keeping their bodies apart.
Lisa moved her legs and loosely hooked them over Wilson's legs; her hands smoothed over his and her arms draped themselves over his back.
Greg moved around the room, taking his suit jacket off, taking his shoes off, making a show for the room's other occupants. He unbuttoned a few more buttons on his shirt; Lisa licked her lips and smiled at him, eliciting a smile from Greg.
"Later," he promised.
She nodded and then pressed her lips to the top of Wilson's head. He shuddered and sighed---and repeated those actions twice more, after Greg went to a chest of drawers and pulled a few toys out.
By the time Greg made it back to the end of the bed, Wilson's body was humming in anticipation. Lisa, too, was feeling eager to start. Being underneath Wilson while Greg worked him from above allowed her to be a participant in the exquisite torture and to feel every blow through the other man.
The first few strokes of the flogger made Wilson whimper. Lisa reached up and stroked her fingers through his hair, offered tenderness to balance Greg's unwavering delivery of blows.
"Lisa... I require some assistance."
She smiled, kissed the top of Wilson's head, and then used her feet and legs to urge Wilson's legs apart. He gasped and tucked his face into Lisa's chest. She shivered and waited.
The first strike caused Wilson to flex his hips sharply against the pillow, against Lisa. She whimpered a little at the friction and looked at Greg with soft eyes, begging for more, to finish quickly so they could go further.
Wilson was alternating between mewling loudly and moaning and begging for more by the time Greg was winding down. He was shuddering and blowing hot breath across Lisa's chest.
When Greg finished, Wilson [very] slowly craned his neck and looked at the other man.
"Thank you, sir," he rasped.
"You're welcome, James," Greg replied, brushing his hand over some of the red welts.
Lisa kissed Wilson's temple a few times as she released her legs from his. He smiled at her and then leaned forward to capture her lips in a gentle kiss.
They decided, between kisses, to help themselves to Greg's clothes. Soon, the other man was reclining where Lisa had been, and they were stripping the remnants of his suit away.
The three of them tasted and touched each other until they could barely stand it any longer. Lisa let Greg take the lead when they were ready. He helped her straddle him, helped her accept his intrusion into her body.
She moaned and gripped Wilson's hands as she let her legs bring her down.
Good girls didn't do this, she thought to herself as she settled back against Greg and welcomed Wilson forward, towards them.
She was too far gone to care. Too many sensations were pushing her to the edge: the feeling of the two rubbing against each other, through her skin; the feeling of Greg's teeth, lips, and stubble against her back, shoulder, and neck; Wilson's lips upon hers and the soft moans that he offered, that she eagerly swallowed.
The apartment was a blend of their personalities, but this was a blend of them. They didn't do that often---but whenever they did, Lisa couldn't keep herself from marveling at the way they all fit together, the way their harsh lines and soft curves all merged together.
She couldn't speak when it was over. She grunted quietly and tried to thank Wilson, who had gone for washcloths and who had carefully cleaned them all up.
Greg chuckled softly and kissed her temple. She hummed and tugged Wilson up to her other side. They wrapped themselves around her, cradling her while they enjoyed the aftermath of their night together.
Lisa kissed Wilson's swollen lips and whispered affirmations of how happy he made her. He replied in kind, thanking her again. (He thanked her unnecessarily and often.) She smiled at him and brushed his hair off of his forehead before turning to Greg.
Something in his eyes was different. She looked up at him and thought about asking him---but then, she wondered if she'd get an honest answer.
She looked up into his blue eyes and smoothed her hand over his rough cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into the touch---as she had done hours earlier.
"Yeah," House breathed, answering a question that hadn't been asked.
Lisa smiled and caught his lips with hers for a gentle kiss. She felt Greg's hand seek Wilson's, and they pressed them both against her stomach.
She let the kiss last until oxygen deprivation became an issue. Greg fell back against his pillow and watched them both. His eyes darted from Wilson's to Lisa's, watching them carefully.
"Yeah?" Wilson asked.
Greg nodded.
Lisa wanted to ask what they were agreeing to, but when Greg smiled at her, she didn't think words were necessary.
THE END!