Fic: Riding in Cars with Boys
This one's a two-fer, gang! Deelaundry said, "Um, I'm feeling sheepish asking, but sex from the Threesome universe. Sexy sex sex." And Hibernia1 requested, "Well, I, for one, would still love to know exactly what happened in the car when H/W/CH went to get something for Blythe in the "incomplete threesome"."
So this is it! What happened in the car was sexy sex sex, and I've told you all about it! Recall that "Incomplete threesome ficlet" is the one where they go visit House's parents, John decides to teach House a lesson about putting things back where you got them, and Chase figures out he's probably got Alzheimers. Before that, though, Blythe asks the boys to run to the store for vanilla ice cream...and they stop on the way for some not-quite-vanilla sex. Also some sexy post-sex tenderness. NC-17, House's POV.
***
Wilson, the prat, has just asked his mother if there’s anything they can do to help. House would punch him in the stomach, but Mom says, “Actually, I’d love to have some vanilla ice-cream to go with the strawberries I got at the farm stand this morning. Would you mind running to the grocery store?”
The errand will at least get them out of the house. Away from his father. Someplace with…privacy. “Sure. Do you need the boys? If not, I’ll take them with me.”
“That’s fine. Dinner will be about an hour.”
He plucks the keys to Mom’s car off the hook by the door. It’s a big old Buick, built like a tank. And it has tinted windows. An hour will be more than enough time.
He could fit Wilson and Chase in the trunk if he wanted to, but instead he loads them in the backseat. “Jimmy, slide all the way across. Seatbelt on, good. Robbie, sit in the middle, right next to Wilson…good. Fasten Robbie’s seatbelt for him.”
He gets into the driver’s seat and takes his time adjusting the seat and mirrors to his liking. The boys know something’s up--the use of their first names is a substantial clue, as are his very specific directions about getting into the car. Chase is already flushed and breathing heavily, and Wilson has that stony look he gets when he’s trying to stay calm. Finally, he pulls out of the driveway. “Robbie, put your right arm around Wilson’s shoulders. Left hand on your leg, and it stays there until I tell you otherwise.” He doesn’t bother looking to see if his instructions are being carried out; he knows they are. “Jimmy, open Robbie’s pants.” The only sound from the back of the car is Chase panting, and the slight metallic sound of his zipper going down. Chase won’t have any underwear on; he usually doesn’t, these days. He thinks carefully about the next order; translating the picture in his head into words is a little tricky. “Okay, Wilson, take him in your left hand. Wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base of his dick, and hold his balls in the rest of your hand. Got it?”
“Um…yeah.” Wilson’s voice is a little strangled.
“Good boys. Okay, just hold him like that for a bit. Robbie, you’re not moving, right?”
“Right.” There’s a noticeable quaver in Chase’s voice.
Now there’s just the problem of finding a place where a parked car will go unnoticed for a few minutes. Smack dab in the middle of the parking lot at the grocery store will probably work just fine, but Wilson is stuffy about things like that.
Luckily, at the opposite end of the strip mall from the grocery store are two vacant storefronts. He pulls around behind the building and parks the car between two dumpsters, orienting it so that the windshield--the only window in the Buick that isn’t tinted--is facing the cinderblock wall.
“House?” Chase bleats.
“You’re doing fine, Robbie,” House reassures him, playing with the radio dial until he finds a station that isn’t too objectionable--they have plenty of time, after all. When he’s milked that long enough, he gets out of the car and back into the backseat, on Chase’s left side. He leans across him to kiss Wilson thoroughly. Once that’s finished, he releases Wilson’s erection from the confines of his trousers, then sits back. He’s just as aroused as the boy are, but he’s still decently confined in his jeans and undershorts, while they’ve got their dicks hanging out for anyone to see. Or touch. They both sit very still, watching him intently to see what’s going to happen next. House savors that for a moment, then says, “Robbie, you like having Wilson’s hand on you? It feels good?”
“Yeah,” Chase admits. His hips buck slightly into Wilson’s hand.
“Easy. Just hold still. I bet you want to show Wilson how grateful you are.”
“Eh? Uhmmmm…yes?”
“Sure you do. Okay, you can suck on him…you can move your hands,” he adds, as Chase tries to lean over Wilson’s lap while still keeping an arm around his shoulders. “Wilson--Jimmy, you can let go of him, too. Here, I’ll take him.” He puts his hand where Wilson’s had been; Chase shudders and bucks again at the change. “Easy,” he warns, tightening his grip. “Deep breath--okay, now take Wilson in your mouth….”
Chase knows his way around a blowjob, and House eases off on the specific instructions and lets him have his head, so to speak. He other hand, the one not holding Chase, snakes around behind the boy’s back to rest on Wilson’s neck. His thumb nestles in the notch at the base of his friend’s skull, and his fingers wrap around to rest lightly on the larynx, where he can feel the vibrations as Wilson moans, “Robbie…House, oh fuck, please, love you,” and other nonsense.
Wilson’s not nearly as good at climaxing on command as Chase is, but House drums his fingers lightly on his throat as he says, “Come, Jimmy,” and this time it works. House rubs the back of his head and neck as he catches his breath, and Chase very properly stays latched onto his softening cock until House says, “Okay, Robbie,” and he sits up, licking his lips.
Wilson is slumped against the window; he won’t be good for much for at least ten minutes. Maybe more. House thinks about what he wants to do next. Chase deserves a treat, and he won’t feel much like giving him one after he’s had his orgasm, so that means Robbie’s next.
He hasn’t done this before, and Robbie seems like the sort who’d want to pet his hair and grab his ears while he’s doing this. “Hands behind your head.” At Robbie’s slight look of puzzlement, he adds, “Like you’re being held hostage. Do I need to tie them behind you? You sure? Okay. Don’t move.”
Chase squeals like a dying rabbit when House’s tongue touches the head of his cock. He pauses briefly to look up at Wilson in mock disgust and say, “Put something in his mouth, would you?” Wilson gives Chase his hand--House probably would have gone with a dirty sock or a pair of underwear, if there had been any handy, but this is quick sex in a car. He’s not going to be picky.
There are three things he hates about giving oral sex--having his head grabbed, getting pubic hairs stuck to his tongue, and having genitals thrust into his face when he’s not prepared for them. The first two are taken care of--Chase isn’t doing anything with his hands, and House had taken the precaution of having him trim his pubic hair--very short--a few days ago. The latter he handles by interrupting his work to growl, “Stay still.” He only has to do it twice.
After a minute or two he realizes there’s one minor complication he forgot to prepare for. Robbie’s trained not to come without an order from him, and his mouth is busy right now. He could stop sucking and then give the order…but even he feels that getting cum-stains on his mother’s car upholstery is a line that should not be crossed. And if he tries to tell Chase to come and then get his mouth back into position really quick…well, that’s a good way to end up scraping jism off your eyelids.
Wilson can give the order, he decides, running his teeth along Chase’s shaft, but he’s going to have to rely on his psychic powers to communicate that information.
He frees one hand and beckons in Wilson’s general direction. Wilson, the great gormless oik, leans forward as if he thinks House is going to whisper something in his ear. House swats him on the leg. House can hear the gears in his head creaking, even over Chase’s panting and the pounding of blood in his ears. Finally, Wilson yelps, “Robbie, come!”
And Robbie does, spilling down House’s throat. House releases him and sits up. “Good boy. Wilson, remind me later that we need to work on your dom voice.”
“Thanks,” Wilson says dryly.
“Robbie, you have a job to do before you fall asleep.” Chase nearly always falls asleep after orgasm, or at least into a sleepy lassitude. “You can nap in the car while we buy the ice cream if you want,” he adds. “But you’re sucking me off first.”
“’Kay,” Chase says, looking up at him with half-closed eyes. “Can I undo this?” he tugs at his seatbelt.
House thinks for a second, then figures out what he has in mind. “Sure.”
Chase unbuckles his seatbelt and slides to the floor, while House adjusts his position so that there’s room between his legs. “Hands behind your back,” he tells him, getting himself out. “Okay, start at the top…that’s it…work your way down.” Again, once Chase hits his stride, House doesn’t distract him with a lot of instructions, just the occasional bit of encouragement. “Good boy, Robbie, that’s it, good, good….”
After he comes, Robbie scrambles up onto the seat beside him and they all slump against each other for a few minutes. “House,” Chase says after a while. “That was…um…you….”
“I know.” After a moment he says, “Wilson, how are we doing on time?”
Wilson disentangles his left arm from the pile and checks his watch. “We should probably get the ice cream…in four minutes or so.”
“’Kay,” House says, resting his head on top of Chase’s.
“Kay,” Wilson echoes.
“Kay.”
So this is it! What happened in the car was sexy sex sex, and I've told you all about it! Recall that "Incomplete threesome ficlet" is the one where they go visit House's parents, John decides to teach House a lesson about putting things back where you got them, and Chase figures out he's probably got Alzheimers. Before that, though, Blythe asks the boys to run to the store for vanilla ice cream...and they stop on the way for some not-quite-vanilla sex. Also some sexy post-sex tenderness. NC-17, House's POV.
***
Wilson, the prat, has just asked his mother if there’s anything they can do to help. House would punch him in the stomach, but Mom says, “Actually, I’d love to have some vanilla ice-cream to go with the strawberries I got at the farm stand this morning. Would you mind running to the grocery store?”
The errand will at least get them out of the house. Away from his father. Someplace with…privacy. “Sure. Do you need the boys? If not, I’ll take them with me.”
“That’s fine. Dinner will be about an hour.”
He plucks the keys to Mom’s car off the hook by the door. It’s a big old Buick, built like a tank. And it has tinted windows. An hour will be more than enough time.
He could fit Wilson and Chase in the trunk if he wanted to, but instead he loads them in the backseat. “Jimmy, slide all the way across. Seatbelt on, good. Robbie, sit in the middle, right next to Wilson…good. Fasten Robbie’s seatbelt for him.”
He gets into the driver’s seat and takes his time adjusting the seat and mirrors to his liking. The boys know something’s up--the use of their first names is a substantial clue, as are his very specific directions about getting into the car. Chase is already flushed and breathing heavily, and Wilson has that stony look he gets when he’s trying to stay calm. Finally, he pulls out of the driveway. “Robbie, put your right arm around Wilson’s shoulders. Left hand on your leg, and it stays there until I tell you otherwise.” He doesn’t bother looking to see if his instructions are being carried out; he knows they are. “Jimmy, open Robbie’s pants.” The only sound from the back of the car is Chase panting, and the slight metallic sound of his zipper going down. Chase won’t have any underwear on; he usually doesn’t, these days. He thinks carefully about the next order; translating the picture in his head into words is a little tricky. “Okay, Wilson, take him in your left hand. Wrap your thumb and forefinger around the base of his dick, and hold his balls in the rest of your hand. Got it?”
“Um…yeah.” Wilson’s voice is a little strangled.
“Good boys. Okay, just hold him like that for a bit. Robbie, you’re not moving, right?”
“Right.” There’s a noticeable quaver in Chase’s voice.
Now there’s just the problem of finding a place where a parked car will go unnoticed for a few minutes. Smack dab in the middle of the parking lot at the grocery store will probably work just fine, but Wilson is stuffy about things like that.
Luckily, at the opposite end of the strip mall from the grocery store are two vacant storefronts. He pulls around behind the building and parks the car between two dumpsters, orienting it so that the windshield--the only window in the Buick that isn’t tinted--is facing the cinderblock wall.
“House?” Chase bleats.
“You’re doing fine, Robbie,” House reassures him, playing with the radio dial until he finds a station that isn’t too objectionable--they have plenty of time, after all. When he’s milked that long enough, he gets out of the car and back into the backseat, on Chase’s left side. He leans across him to kiss Wilson thoroughly. Once that’s finished, he releases Wilson’s erection from the confines of his trousers, then sits back. He’s just as aroused as the boy are, but he’s still decently confined in his jeans and undershorts, while they’ve got their dicks hanging out for anyone to see. Or touch. They both sit very still, watching him intently to see what’s going to happen next. House savors that for a moment, then says, “Robbie, you like having Wilson’s hand on you? It feels good?”
“Yeah,” Chase admits. His hips buck slightly into Wilson’s hand.
“Easy. Just hold still. I bet you want to show Wilson how grateful you are.”
“Eh? Uhmmmm…yes?”
“Sure you do. Okay, you can suck on him…you can move your hands,” he adds, as Chase tries to lean over Wilson’s lap while still keeping an arm around his shoulders. “Wilson--Jimmy, you can let go of him, too. Here, I’ll take him.” He puts his hand where Wilson’s had been; Chase shudders and bucks again at the change. “Easy,” he warns, tightening his grip. “Deep breath--okay, now take Wilson in your mouth….”
Chase knows his way around a blowjob, and House eases off on the specific instructions and lets him have his head, so to speak. He other hand, the one not holding Chase, snakes around behind the boy’s back to rest on Wilson’s neck. His thumb nestles in the notch at the base of his friend’s skull, and his fingers wrap around to rest lightly on the larynx, where he can feel the vibrations as Wilson moans, “Robbie…House, oh fuck, please, love you,” and other nonsense.
Wilson’s not nearly as good at climaxing on command as Chase is, but House drums his fingers lightly on his throat as he says, “Come, Jimmy,” and this time it works. House rubs the back of his head and neck as he catches his breath, and Chase very properly stays latched onto his softening cock until House says, “Okay, Robbie,” and he sits up, licking his lips.
Wilson is slumped against the window; he won’t be good for much for at least ten minutes. Maybe more. House thinks about what he wants to do next. Chase deserves a treat, and he won’t feel much like giving him one after he’s had his orgasm, so that means Robbie’s next.
He hasn’t done this before, and Robbie seems like the sort who’d want to pet his hair and grab his ears while he’s doing this. “Hands behind your head.” At Robbie’s slight look of puzzlement, he adds, “Like you’re being held hostage. Do I need to tie them behind you? You sure? Okay. Don’t move.”
Chase squeals like a dying rabbit when House’s tongue touches the head of his cock. He pauses briefly to look up at Wilson in mock disgust and say, “Put something in his mouth, would you?” Wilson gives Chase his hand--House probably would have gone with a dirty sock or a pair of underwear, if there had been any handy, but this is quick sex in a car. He’s not going to be picky.
There are three things he hates about giving oral sex--having his head grabbed, getting pubic hairs stuck to his tongue, and having genitals thrust into his face when he’s not prepared for them. The first two are taken care of--Chase isn’t doing anything with his hands, and House had taken the precaution of having him trim his pubic hair--very short--a few days ago. The latter he handles by interrupting his work to growl, “Stay still.” He only has to do it twice.
After a minute or two he realizes there’s one minor complication he forgot to prepare for. Robbie’s trained not to come without an order from him, and his mouth is busy right now. He could stop sucking and then give the order…but even he feels that getting cum-stains on his mother’s car upholstery is a line that should not be crossed. And if he tries to tell Chase to come and then get his mouth back into position really quick…well, that’s a good way to end up scraping jism off your eyelids.
Wilson can give the order, he decides, running his teeth along Chase’s shaft, but he’s going to have to rely on his psychic powers to communicate that information.
He frees one hand and beckons in Wilson’s general direction. Wilson, the great gormless oik, leans forward as if he thinks House is going to whisper something in his ear. House swats him on the leg. House can hear the gears in his head creaking, even over Chase’s panting and the pounding of blood in his ears. Finally, Wilson yelps, “Robbie, come!”
And Robbie does, spilling down House’s throat. House releases him and sits up. “Good boy. Wilson, remind me later that we need to work on your dom voice.”
“Thanks,” Wilson says dryly.
“Robbie, you have a job to do before you fall asleep.” Chase nearly always falls asleep after orgasm, or at least into a sleepy lassitude. “You can nap in the car while we buy the ice cream if you want,” he adds. “But you’re sucking me off first.”
“’Kay,” Chase says, looking up at him with half-closed eyes. “Can I undo this?” he tugs at his seatbelt.
House thinks for a second, then figures out what he has in mind. “Sure.”
Chase unbuckles his seatbelt and slides to the floor, while House adjusts his position so that there’s room between his legs. “Hands behind your back,” he tells him, getting himself out. “Okay, start at the top…that’s it…work your way down.” Again, once Chase hits his stride, House doesn’t distract him with a lot of instructions, just the occasional bit of encouragement. “Good boy, Robbie, that’s it, good, good….”
After he comes, Robbie scrambles up onto the seat beside him and they all slump against each other for a few minutes. “House,” Chase says after a while. “That was…um…you….”
“I know.” After a moment he says, “Wilson, how are we doing on time?”
Wilson disentangles his left arm from the pile and checks his watch. “We should probably get the ice cream…in four minutes or so.”
“’Kay,” House says, resting his head on top of Chase’s.
“Kay,” Wilson echoes.
“Kay.”