Threesome: Six Months and Counting, Part 1 of 2: Pick a Card

[alex51324]

Another smutty threesome story!  Poeia reminded me that Chase was supposed to get to penetrate something after his six-month aniversary with them.  This story was supposed to be about that....but the boys had other plans.  So that will be in part two.  In the meantime, enjoy...this.  House, Wilson, and especially Chase try out a new kink.

********

“So,” House says. It’s Sunday morning and they’re lingering over breakfast. “Do you know what Tuesday is?”

Chase tries to think of any possible significance Tuesday might have. It’s not a holiday, or anyone’s birthday, as far as he knows. “The twenty-second?” he hazards.

“On Tuesday,” House explains, “You’ll have been with us six months.” Chase is just thinking that it’s not like House to remember anniversaries when he adds, “So we’ll have to do your repeat HIV and STD tests.”

Oh. Right. Chase nods. “Okay.”

“Wilson’s in the clinic that morning, so we’ll just go in early and do them,” House continues. “We should have the results by Friday.”

“Great,” Chase says glumly. He tries not to think about what his life was like before he came to live with House and Wilson--he felt ashamed remembering all the drug use, anonymous sex, and other risky behavior. Soon they’d know if House and Wilson had managed to save him from himself in time to avoid any permanent consequences.

House smiles at him and caresses the back of his neck. “So--assuming it’s negative--we’ll be able to celebrate this weekend.”

Chase perks up. “Celebrate?”

“Yep. I think I can plan something special that you’ll enjoy. I have a few ideas already,” he confides.

“Like what?” Chase asks.

“Not telling.”

And he wouldn’t tell. That puts Chase in a difficult position, because while he likes surprises, he had also acquired some of House’s insatiable curiosity. Throughout the day, he can’t keep himself from trying to find out. He wheedles through the rest of breakfast, until House sends him to do the dishes. Later on, he and Wilson go for haircuts, followed by grocery shopping. Wilson is less stubborn than House, so Chase thinks he can get him to let something slip.

“But did he tell you what he’s planning?” Chase asks in the car. “Just tell me if he told you.”

“I’m not saying a word.”

“It won’t hurt anything for me to know if he told you.”

Wilson shakes his head. “My lips are sealed.” He mimes locking them and throwing away the key.

At the grocery store, he scrutinizes the cart for any unusual purchases. “Butterscotch syrup? We never buy that,” he says, trying to be subtle. “What’s that for?”

Wilson gives him an I know what you’re up to look. “Most people put it on ice cream,” he says witheringly.

At home, he can’t seem to stop asking, even though he can tell House is getting annoyed. “I’m sure there’s going to be sex,” he says. “But is there going to be something else? I’m just wondering. Is there anything I need to do to get ready?”

House looks up from the piano keys. “Chase,” he says sternly.

“Yes?” Chase asks nervously.

“Pick a card.”

The cards House is referring to each describe a forfeit House devised. He’d originally described them as “punishments,” but they’d changed the name because Chase didn’t like it. Real punishments were genuinely unpleasant and specifically tailored to the offense, and Chase did his best to avoid them. Forfeits, on the other hand, were things House thought might be fun to try, and--while there was always some pretense of an infraction--were generally used because House was bored.

Chase finds the cards on the bookshelf, picks one, and delivers it to House. He isn’t allowed to read the cards himself--waiting to find out what’s going to happen is always a bit anxiety-producing.

House looks at the card. “Hm. Wilson!’ he calls.

Wilson comes over, and House shows him the card. “Huh.”

“You mind going to get the stuff?” House asks.

“No problem,” Wilson says. “Should I take him along?”

“No,” House decides. “Let’s keep him in suspense.”

“I’ll need to get some measurements,” Wilson says.

“Okay,” House says. He gestures for Wilson to lean in, and whispers something in his ear. “Chase, do what Wilson tells you,” he directs.

“Get undressed,” Wilson tells him. While Chase is undressing, he goes into the bedroom and comes back with a fabric tape measure. “Stand up straight. Hold your arms out.”

Chase does, and Wilson measures around his waist, chest, and hips, across his shoulders, and up his legs. House keeps playing the piano, in a desultory sort of way, while he watches the show. Wilson them measures the circumference of his thighs and biceps, and the length and circumference of his penis. He also does the length and width of each of Chase’s feet. He records all of the numbers in a small notebook. “House,” he says after a while. “Could I get a hand here for just a minute?”

“Sure,” House says, getting up.

“Just hold the tape here,” Wilson says, placing one end of the tape measure at the base of his neck. House holds it there, and Wilson squats down to note the distance to his knees and to his feet. “Thanks,” he says, standing back up. House goes back to the piano, and Wilson takes a few more measurements--the distance between Chase’s nipples, and from his nipples to his navel.

Chase is getting distinctly nervous. The only thing he can think of that would require such detailed measurements is some kind of complicated body harness--but if House thinks something like that can be bought off the shelf, he’s in for a disappointment. It would be custom work, and it would take weeks or months.

On the other hand, maybe Wilson is just going to place an order, and come back with less complicated bondage equipment. They’ve done very little bondage, and none of them are really into it--but some of the ideas on the forfeit cards have been weird, and not all of them have been unqualified successes. Maybe House has come up with some new twist that he thinks might make bondage work for them.

“Okay,” Wilson says. “I think that’s all I need. House, do you want him dressed?”

House glances up. “Nah. Not now.”

“This might take some time,” Wilson warns.

House nods. “Take my credit card. Call if you need any help making a decision.”

Wilson leaves. Chase stays standing where Wilson left him, until House says, “You might as well make yourself comfortable. Do you want to come sit by me?”

Chase does, but he’s careful not to mistake the question for an invitation. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He pats his leg.

Chase sits on the floor by House’s feet, his head resting on House’s thigh. Occasionally, between songs, House’s hand falls to stroke his hair.

While he waits, Chase tries to figure out what House might have planned. This much suspense is unusual, and Chase would be anything it isn’t something House planned when he wrote the card, and he’s adding an extra bit of punishment for Chase’s continued attempts to find out what his surprise was going to be.

One of the cards had required Chase to spend 24 hours completely naked. They’d ended up being nonconsecutive, because of work, and since Wilson had refused to relax his “no bare asses in the kitchen” rule, it had been--as House declared at the end of the punishment--more trouble than it was worth. On another occasion he’d carried a small, remote control vibrator in his anus while they all went out to dinner at a dressy restaurant. House had carried the control in his pocket, and turned it on at random moments--such as when Chase was trying to give their orders to the waiter. That had been a success, as long as you didn’t count the time House had buzzed the vibrator just when he was taking a drink, and he’d almost choked. House had decided they’d try a movie or an exhibit next time--something that didn’t require food. Another card had gotten him an over-the-knee, bare-bottom spanking. House had spanked him until his bottom was red and tears came to his eyes. He hadn’t really enjoyed that, but afterwards they’d cuddled him and rubbed soothing gel on his sore bottom, and that was a lot better. On balance, it had been worth it. For another, he’d had to stand in front of House and Wilson and masturbate to their specifications, describing how it felt as he went. It had been intensely embarrassing, but hot at the same time.

Thinking about previous forfeits wasn’t giving him any clue what this one might be, but it was revving up his anxious arousal. His thoughts and his heart raced as his dick grew harder.

After what seemed like a very long time, the phone rings. “Get that,” House tells him.

He does. It’s Wilson. “Hi, Wilson,” Chase says. “Do you want to talk to House?”

“Um, yes.”

Chase hands him the phone. “Hi,” House says. “Okay. That sounds good. Um-hm. Yeah, it sounds great. Okay, we’ll see you soon. No, he’s still naked. Yeah. Okay. Bye.” House turns off the phone. “He’s on his way home,” House says.

“Great,” Chase says.

“Yup.”

It’s only another year and a half or so until Wilson gets home, his arms full of shopping bags.

What’s weird is that all of the bags are from ordinary department stores, not sex shops. Can’t be bondage equipment, then, unless Macy’s has a new department he doesn’t know about.

House moves over to the sofa as Wilson piles the bags on the coffee table. He invites Wilson to sit next to him, and Chase to sit between their feet. “Let’s see what you bought, then.”

“Okay,” Wilson agrees. “Let’s see, which of these has….” He rummages through the bags before settling on one. He unwraps several layers of tissue paper and pulls out…a dress.

A slinky number in dark blue, with narrow straps and a full, mid-length skirt.

They can’t possibly want him to wear that. He won’t do it. “What?” he says weakly. His erection disappears.

“What did you get for under it?” House asks.

Wilson finds another bag--this one from Victoria’s Secret--and pulls out a pair of lacy royal blue panties and a bra. “Smallest one they had,” he says of the latter. “If we want to do this again, I’ll get him a bigger one and we can make something to stuff it with--I found instructions on the internet. You take some raw quinoa, or couscous, and put it in the foot of a flesh-colored stocking. If you tie the knot right, it looks like a nipple! But for his first time, I thought we’d just work with what we have.”

House nods approval. “Fine.”

“Um,” Chase says feebly.

House puts a hand on his shoulder. “Problem, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” he says belligerently. “I’m not going to--” he begins, then thinks better of it. He takes a deep breath and rethinks what he was about to say. “I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to want to,” House says. He rubs his thumb in slow circles on the back of Chase’s neck. Slowly, he hardens again. “But we want you to do it.”

Wilson puts the lingerie back in the bag. “Why don’t you want to?” he asks.

“Because I’ll look like a complete prat! I don’t want to prance around in a dress for you to laugh at.” He crosses his arms on his chest. “I don’t like it.”

“Well,” Wilson says. “Maybe…I mean, I could take the stuff back. House, I don’t think we should make him, if he really doesn’t want to.”

“Not yet,” House tells him. “Chase, look at us.”

Chase turns around to face them.

“We don’t want to do it because we think it’ll be funny,” House tells him. “We want you to do it because we think it’ll be hot. You know we both like women.”

Chase nods. They do. When Wilson had pulled out that dress, the first thing he thought of was boys acting the female roles in boarding-school plays, to general hysteria.

“You’ll be very pretty,” Wilson adds. “I got tasteful things. Do you want to see the rest of it?”

Chase nods. He’s still not sure.

Wilson’s tone is less gleeful as he shows the rest of his purchases. “I got some thigh-high stockings. House likes those, and we won’t have to shave your legs that way. We, uh, figured we wouldn’t make you tuck your package--the skirt is full enough the bulge won’t be visible anyway. And here’s the shoes--a nice low heel, shouldn’t give you too much trouble.” The shoes and stockings are black. “And a little bit of makeup--just some blush and mascara, a little eye shadow.”

“I don’t know how to put on makeup,” Chase points out. Maybe getting out of it will be that easy.

“I do,” Wilson tells him. “I did some theater in high school and college,” he adds to House, a little defensively. “For your hair, I thought we’d just put in some of this glitter mousse, to add body, and these sparkly barrettes.”

“Good choices,” House tells Wilson. “It would look good on him.” He rubs his chin. “Well. Tell you what, Robbie. If you really don’t want to do it--after all the trouble Wilson went to to make you look pretty--I’ll pick two other cards, and we’ll do those instead.”

Chase doesn’t know what to do. He’s not too worried about the two other cards--even if House cherry-picks the ones he wants to do, rather than drawing two at random, he’s confident it won’t be anything too bad. Maybe another spanking, at worst. But Wilson had gone to a lot of trouble.

“We’re not mad at you,” Wilson says. “I’m willing to consider it House’s fault that we didn’t have this conversation before I went shopping.”

House thumps Wilson on the shoulder, but agrees, “We’re not mad.”

“I don’t know,” Chase says.

“Okay,” House says. “Take some time to think. Wilson, we could use a snack, don’t you think? Maybe some wine?”

“Okay,” Wilson agrees, and gets up. “Do you want him to help me, or--”

“No, I’ll keep him here with me.” He pats the couch next to him. “Here, sit on my lap.”

Chase is, of course, too big to sit on anyone’s lap. But what they’ve worked out is for him to sideways with his butt just to one side of House’s thigh, and his lets thrown across his lap. That way, House can put his arm around him, and Chase can nestle up against his chest.

House strokes Chase’s chest with his other hand, teasing his nipples with the tips of his fingers. “This’ll be fun,” he says. “For us, anyway, and you won’t hate it.” He teases the head of Chase’s cock. “Tell you what. We’ll play something. We’ll play…you’re a hooker--a very high-class escort, I mean, $500 an hour, plus. And me and Wilson are your clients tonight. You knock on the door, and we let you in…“ He falls into a soft, storytelling tone. “There was a little bit of a mixup down at the escort agency, and they didn’t tell you there were going to be two clients here, so you’re a little bit scared--you know what, maybe you’re a very new hooker, and we’re your first clients ever. So you’re scared about that, too. But Wilson is very charming, charming enough to make up for his rude friend, so it’s not so bad. After some charming banter from Wilson we get down to business--we’re going to fuck you at the same time, one from each end. You’re going to suck my cock while Wilson fucks your tight, wet pussy from behind.”

Chase realizes that his mouth is hanging open slightly. “Uh…gah….” He tries to remember how to form words.

“But if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to,” House says breezily.

“Um…I…I’ll do it,” he says.

“Excellent,” House says. “Wilson!”

#

Wilson and Chase retire to the bedroom, taking two glasses of wine, a plate of cheese and grapes, and all the shopping bags with them. Wilson’s glad to see that Chase now seems reasonably happy about getting into his new outfit. His cock looks happy, too--rock hard and bobbing against his belly. “Okay, let’s start with the underwear and stockings,” he says. Wilson hands Chase the panties, and he puts them on. Wilson picked a very brief thong pair; they just barely manage to contain Chase’s genitals. His penis is snugged up against his belly by the fabric. Wilson adjusts the back strap and pats his cheeks. “Okay, good. Let’s try this, now.” He gets out the bra. “It fastens in the back, so just slip your arms in and I’ll do up the hooks.” Bonnie had always had him do up her bras, if they were getting dressed at the same time--otherwise she did up the hooks with it on backwards, and then turned it the right way ‘round. Having him help was faster. “I still don’t get how women do that trick where the shoot their bra out their sleeve,” he says. “How do they get their arm out on the other side?”

Chase shakes his head. “Cameron tried to explain it to me once, but I don’t get it either.”

“Maybe you can experiment sometime. If you don’t hate this too much. Stockings.”

Chase sits down on the bed to put them on. As Wilson hoped, the dark fabric conceals his leg hair, which is light and fine anyway. “You have nice legs,” Wilson says, running his hand up one of them. He’d forgotten how nice it is to run his hand up a smooth leg. Chase smiles.

#

When Wilson has finished dressing him, Chase does feel--as he expected--pretty stupid. But Wilson’s frequent compliments put the emphasis on the “pretty” part. The panties are uncomfortable--he can’t imagine why thongs have become so popular--and the bra cuts into his skin when he takes a deep breath. But the stockings aren’t bad, and the way the skirt swirls around his legs is…sort of nice. Maybe next time--if they do this again--he’ll ask House to let him go commando.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, I’ll make you up,” Wilson says. He sits. Wilson has him close his eyes, while he brushes the makeup onto his face. The brushes tickle; Wilson has to put his hand on the back of Chase’s head to keep him still. “What do you want your name to be?” he asks.

The call girl’s name, he means. “Um…I don’t know.”

“Well, give it some thought. Now I’m going to do the eyeshadow. It’s very important that you keep your head still, so I don’t put your eye out.” Wilson braces his head more firmly and applies the eyeshadow.

He opens his eyes for the mascara, and for Wilson to do his hair. Styling his hair doesn’t feel much different from when Wilson does it normally, although it takes a little longer.

“Okay,” Wilson says, when he’s happy with the result. “Want to see how you look?”

Chase nods. “Yeah, okay.”

“Oh, shoes,” Wilson says, and puts them next to Chase’s feet, for him to slip into them. Once the shoes are on, Chase totters over to the closet, where there’s a full-length mirror on the back of the door. The heels are a little hard to walk in. For the first few steps, he wobbles like a newborn colt.

He’s surprised by how good he looks. He’d never be mistaken for a real woman, but he doesn’t look like a caricature, either.

“What do you think?” Wilson asks.

Chase nods. “I look…pretty good, don’t I?”

“Yep.” Wilson smiles at him. “I do good work. Did you decide on a name?”

“No,” Chase admits.

“Well, let’s see. Brandi is a classic.”

Chase doesn’t think he looks like a Brandi, and says so.

“Maybe not,” Wilson agrees. “How about…Fiona?”

“Like in Shrek?” Chase asks skeptically. “Oh…I’m a British hooker, aren’t I?”

“I think so,” Wilson says. “Okay, if you don’t like Fiona, how about….Amanda. No, never mind, that has ‘man’ in the middle of it, and House will think it’s funny. “What about…Madlyn.”

“Not bad,” Chase says. “I like it.”

“Madlyn it is, then. Okay, you wait in here for…let’s say five minutes, and then knock on the door. Er, you don’t want to go out in the foyer and knock on the real door, do you?”

“No,” Chase says quickly.

“I didn’t think so. Okay, so we’ll pretend this is outside. Five minutes, and then knock.” Wilson kisses his cheek, and then leaves.

Chase goes back to sit on the edge of the bed while he waits. He can just hear House and Wilson talking in the other room, and suddenly he feels lonely. It wasn’t that long ago that House and Wilson really did just call him over for sex. It’s only six months, that he’s been living here. Only six months that he’s belonged to House and Wilson. He wouldn’t want to go back to the other way.

But this is just pretend. He does belong to them, and they won’t be sending him away when they’re finished with him.

Remembering the scenario House described, he tries to get into his role. He’s a prostitute, going out to his…her…first client. Surely she’s had sex before, but not for pay, and maybe not with a stranger. And she’ll have to obey her client, within reason--the escort service probably told her what to do if the client gets violent or something, but if she doesn’t satisfy, she won’t paid, and the escort service might fire her. She wouldn’t have gone into this line of work if she didn’t need the money. Maybe she’s been putting off going on her first job, but the rent’s due tomorrow, so this has to go well.

From the living room, he hears House say loudly, “If that hooker doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to call and complain!”

Chase looks at the clock and notices it’s been seven minutes. Oops. Quickly, he knocks at the door.

House limps over to the door and opens it roughly. “Madlyn?”

Chase nods. “Hi, nice to--”

“Bout time,” House says. He heads back for the living room, leaving “Madlyn” standing in the doorway.

Chase follows, shutting the door behind him. Remembering the role he’s playing, he tries to look startled when he gets to the living room and sees there’s two men there.

“She’s late,” House announces. “Do you know if that place has a guarantee, like Dominos?”

“House, be nice,” Wilson says. “There was probably traffic, or something. Hi, Madlyn. I’m James.” He extends his hand, and Chase shakes it. “Um…hello. Which of you is…” He’s not sure how to finish the sentence. “The client?”

Wilson and House fake a surprised look at each other. “We both are,” Wilson says. “Didn’t the agency explain…?”

“No.” Chase shakes his head. “There must have been some kind of mistake…I’m so sorry….”

Wilson says, “Do you want to…I mean, we could call the agency and ask them to send someone else?”

Chase pretends to think it over. His character has to pay the rent tomorrow, and if she goes back to the agency tonight, they might not have another client to send her out to. She’ll have to tough it out. “That’s okay,” he says. “I was just surprised. I’ve never--I mean, I don’t usually see two clients at the same time.”

“It’ll be okay,” Wilson says, with one of his most charming smiles. “Please, have a seat.” Chase sits on the sofa--a rare experience--between House and Wilson, and crosses his legs. “Would you like a drink?”

“She’s not a date, Jimmy,” House points out.

“I’ll open a bottle of wine,” Wilson says, getting up and going into the kitchen for the wine and glasses.

Chase eyes House nervously. House returns with a blatantly appraising stare. “You picked a pretty one, anyway,” he says when Wilson returns.

“Thank you,” Chase says.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” House answers. As Wilson opens the bottle, House adds, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you. Sure, he’s opening it in front of you, but he could have put a syringe through the cork. There could be anything in that wine. GHB, arsenic…I wouldn’t risk it. I know Jimmy looks normal, but for all you know he could be a complete psychopath.”

Chase laughs nervously.

“Don’t let him bother you,” Wilson advises. “It’s just his way. But if you’d rather not, I won’t be offended.”

“I’ll risk it,” Chase says, accepting the glass.

House downs his in a gulp. “Tastes like roofies to me.”

Wilson rolls his eyes, and catches Chase’s eye. The routine seems to say, “Yes, my best friend is a nut, but at least we’re both sane.” It’s very charming; Chase can see why his wives all fell for it.

“Madlyn” is supposed to be nervous, but Chase isn’t sure how to show that. He manages to shiver and blush a little when House runs his hand up his leg. “So, um, what do you fellas--” he decides that “fellas” is a British hooker’s idea of what an American would say “--want to do?”

“The agency didn’t tell you that, either?” Wilson asks.

“No, sorry,” he apologizes again. “Did you want to take turns--or maybe one of you is going to watch?” Madlyn, he decides, has only a hazy idea of what group sex might be like.

“And maybe after that we can hold hands and take you to the Sunday school picnic,” House sneers. “No, we’re going to fuck you at the same time, one at each end.”

Chase says softly, “Oh,” after “Madlyn” has had a chance to absorb what that means.

“If that’s a problem,” Wilson says, “I suppose we could….” He trails off.

“No,” Chase says quickly. “It’s fine.”

“Let’s get down to it, then,” House says. “We’re not paying you six hundred dollars an hour to sit here and chat.” He gets to his feet. “Bedroom’s this way.” He gets up and starts down the hallway.

Wilson takes Chase’s glass and smiles at him. “I’m sorry about House,” he says. “He’s…well, it’s just his way. He harmless.”

Chase isn’t sure that’s entirely accurate, but he supposes “Madlyn” will be reassured. He smiles back.

In the bedroom, they don’t undress, nor do they ask Chase to. House lays on the bed with his legs apart, and opens his fly to free his cock, a bored expression on his face. “Make yourself useful,” he tells Chase, throwing him a condom.

They haven’t used condoms for a long time--for six months, in fact. The risk of transmission from the receptive partner to the penetrating one is so small, they don’t bother. Chase isn’t allowed to penetrate anything--although that might change when his six month tests come back clean.

“I know you working girls are sticklers for safe sex,” House adds, apparently seeing that Chase is a little nonplused.

“Oh! Right. Agency policy.” Chase sits on the bed and rolls the condom over House’s cock.

“You’ll need to get on all fours. Wilson’s going to fuck you from behind. Take off your underwear…the stockings can stay.”

Chase wriggles out of the panties--he’s glad to be out of them. He erection springs up, making a tent in the skirt. When he gets on all fours, Wilson comes up behind him and pulls his skirt up. Wilson lubes him up quickly, sneaking a quick caress on his cock while he’s at it.

Chase isn’t sure if Madlyn would wait for a signal before going down on a client, but he finds he has to have one. Wilson, too, seems to be waiting. “Come on, get on with it,” House says, and Chase starts sucking, and Wilson starts fucking.

Unusual clothing aside, the situation is completely familiar. He sucks eagerly, and Wilson thrusts against him, hitting his prostate on every stroke. He matches his rhythm to Wilson’s, taking House to the hilt when Wilson fills him, and pulling back when Wilson withdraws. Wilson--obviously slightly less committed to his role than House--wraps his hand loosely around Chase’s cock, allowing his thrusts to drive Chase into his hand.

But soon House too starts having difficulty staying in character. “Good bo--uh, girl…oh, fuck, Chase, good,” he says, wrapping his hands in Chase’s hair.

Wilson’s rhythm speeds up. Soon--House probably signals him, but Chase isn’t sure--they both come, almost at the same time. Chase, of course, hasn’t, but he slumps against them anyway, as they all catch their breath.

After a few minutes, House pushes him away. “Money’s on the dresser,” he says.

“Huh?” Chase says stupidly.

“Our other boyfriend,” he says pointedly, “Is going to be home any minute.”

Wilson gets up when Chase does, and--adding a touch of verismilitude--presses a few crumpled dollar bills into his hand. “You were great,” he says. “Thanks for coming.”

“Uh, any time,” Chase says.

Wilson sees him out of the bedroom. “Go get changed in the bathroom,” he says. “Well, undressed. Wash your face. Come back in when you’re ready.”

He hurries into the bathroom and does as Wilson said. He’s happy to be out of the bra, and his shoes disappeared somewhere in the bedroom. Apart from the underwear, he decides, it wasn’t too bad. Having his lower body covered with the skirt, but his cock unconstrained by underwear or trousers, feels kind of…good. It’s different from being completely naked.

He hangs the dress over the shower rail and washes the makeup off of his face, and removes the barrettes. They’ll wash the gel out of his hair when they shower tomorrow, he supposes. In the mirror, he now looks like himself again.

When he gets back to the bedroom, House and Wilson have gotten out of most of their clothes. House pats the bed next to him, and Chase crawls in. “You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Chase says.

“Good.” House reaches down to stroke Chase’s cock. “Wilson, what do you think?”

“Bout what?” Wilson asks sleepily.

“Should we let the boy come tonight?”

“We--” Wilson yawns. “Well. He was a good sport about dressing up for us.”

“That’s true,” House agrees. “Okay, we’ll let him. But you’ll have to do it yourself,” he tells Chase. “I’m tired.”

“I could,” Wilson suggests halfheartedly.

“Shut up, Jimmy,” House says good-naturedly. “Robbie, just lay here next to me and jerk off.”

Chase takes his cock in his hand and starts stroking.

After a moment House--with a long-suffering sigh--wraps his hand around Chase’s, establishing the speed and rhythm of Chase’s strokes. Chase knows he won’t last long, and, fortunately, House knows it too. He gives the order--“Come”--after only a minute or two.

He spurts onto his belly, and House hands him a tissue to clean off the mess. Chase dabs at himself. “I love you,” he says shyly.

“I know,” House tells him, kissing his forehead.

Wilson speaks up. “We love you too, honey.”

“I know,” Chase says.

To be continued!