FIC: "Pretty Pet", House/Wilson, Chase for sex
Title: Pretty Pet
Author/Artist: hawkeyecat
Community: 30_lemons
Pairing/Fandom: Dr. Greg House and Dr. James Wilson, House, M.D.
Theme: 30. The Playroom, or, "Wow, Santa Never Brought Me *That* Kind of Toy!"
Word Count: 3,259
Rating: Adult
Warnings: PWP, dommishness, sub!Chase, black boxer briefs
Disclaimer: Not mine, more’s the pity.
Author's Notes: Written for amazonqueenkate and spawned from a conversation with cerieblue819, who gets credit for the first line and one near the end. Many thanks to amazonqueenkate for the beta-I know it was such a hardship. Sexual pairing is actually a trio-House/Wilson/Chase.
“Melissa Etheridge could make out with you and still score an invite to the GLAAD awards.” House figures it’s obvious he’s talking to Chase, even though Wilson is standing right beside him; Wilson has those girlish hips, but Chase has the flat-out feminine thing going for him.
Chase seems to know it, too; he reddens and does his best imitation of a very pretty goldfish. Wilson, on the other hand, just smirks and leaves House’s side, saying something in an undertone to Chase as he passes. Though House can’t hear it, he has a good idea of what it is, and the mildly hit-with-a-brick look Chase sports strengthens his suspicions.
“So,” he says to Chase, “got anything interesting, or is the guy still dying?” That brings Chase back to the here-and-now, at least enough to confirm that, no, nothing is going on with the patient other than the dying shtick, which is getting old. He gives Chase his orders as far as nerve conductivity tests, a transfusion for that anemia, and an MRI to see if the joint pain is caused by cartilage issues, and kicks him out, then contemplates threatening-to-die patient’s case. Time to solve it and move on to something new, after all.
The patient does not in fact die, though he gets too close for comfort before Cameron, of all people, tosses out the idea of celiac disease, which should be less surprising considering the whole immunologist thing, but again, it’s Cameron. As a reward, she gets to babysit overnight, monitoring his improvement on the drip and seeing if he can tolerate the gluten-free diet while House leaves with Wilson.
Who has been annoyingly close-mouthed about what he said to Chase, though that usurped smug expression pretty much confirms what House has been thinking.
What really clinches it, though, is Chase on House’s front step, fidgeting nervously, worrying the end of a pen between his teeth, and isn’t that obsession going to be fun to exploit?
He and James are on each other as soon as the door closes behind them, leaving Chase to continue shifting from foot to foot while they nip at each others’ lips and run hands through hair and over the hard lines of their bodies, just this side of too rough, and Greg figures this clues Chase in to what’s going on tonight, if whatever James said hasn’t already done that.
When they part and their eyes meet, James still has that damn smug expression, but the mussed look kinda ruins it. Besides, Greg figures he now looks pretty similar. “Chase,” he says in the low voice that always gets James going, “if you want out, leave now. Otherwise, find the bedroom.” He’s still looking at James, but at the edge of his sight, he can see Chase hesitate for the briefest second before shaking his head and going through the living room. Once Greg is sure he’s out of earshot, he smirks at James. “Think the good little Catholic boy has ever done this before?”
“Put his mouth to good use?” and it’s always surprising to other people that James can reply just like that. “Not like he does it at work. He needs an outlet somewhere.”
Greg bites James’ neck above his collar, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to get a surprised yelp out of him. “No W-word,” he informs James. “Not when we’re going to fuck him soon.”
“Yes,” James says dryly, “I see how we’re going to do that standing in the front hall. Your logic never fails.”
That earns James a completely intentional whack to his shin with the cane as Greg turns away. At his curse, Greg rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. Besides, you get off on that.” He can imagine the colors James is turning.
“Again, not in the front hall, and not when there’s someone else involved,” James hisses at his back.
“You’re no fun.”
“No, I just got Chase to join us,” James mutters, passing Greg in the living room. “What’re we going to do with him, anyway?”
“It’d be nice of us to get him off at some point,” Greg muses as he follows. “Though we’re both going to use our new toy.”
“That’d be why I got him.” James glances back over his shoulder. “I could suck him while you watch.”
“Who knew telling you about that kink would be so useful?” He catches James’ hip, and he obligingly turns toward him. This kiss is mutually possessive and cements Chase’s place in this particular triangle as a plaything-one that will be satisfied, but a plaything nonetheless. When they’re either momentarily satisfied or out of breath-Greg can’t decide which-they continue into the bedroom, James at Greg’s shoulder and a quarter-pace behind.
Chase is still dressed when they get in the room, and Greg makes a mental note to be a little clearer next time, assuming they have him back over. After all, the fabric isn’t exactly conducive to the half-formed plan he and James have. “In case you haven’t figured it out,” he begins, “clothes don’t go too well with sex-at least, not if you’re going to get fucked.”
“Why is it assumed I’m getting fucked?” Chase half-asks as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt.
“Uh, because we live here and we said so,” James replies as he unknots his tie. “And Chase?” James’ voice has turned poisonously nice. Greg knows that tone from ‘overhearing’ him having ‘discussions’ with members of his department. He sits on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and waits for Chase’s reply.
It’s not long in coming. He glances up at James, that hair falling across his face and making him look even more feminine and somehow vulnerable. “Yeah?”
“If you spread this around at the hospital-”
“-or anywhere else-” Greg adds.
“-or anywhere else, you’ll wish we’d never touched you.”
Greg is watching Chase for his reaction and catches the expression of fear that flits across his face, but also notices how his slacks tighten just a little more. He files that reaction away for future reference and considers how much more he wants to undress.
“I’m not stupid,” Chase tells James as some sort of halfhearted guarantee of silence, and drops his shirt and tie to the floor. His face might look feminine, but that upper body is very definitely male, well-muscled and taut. He seems oblivious to the half-resentful, half-admiring look he gets from Greg, who decides his shirt can stay on a good while longer, but his jeans can go.
The boxers, of course, aren’t going anywhere, not as long as Chase is in the townhouse.
Denim puddles around his feet just after Chase’s probably expensive slacks land around his ankles, revealing black boxer briefs, and are they ever the right choice for those thighs and that ass. There’s a catch of breath from somewhere to Greg’s left, and he glances over at James, who’s down to his own boxers and nothing else. James is focused on the curve of Chase’s ass, and Greg figures that clears up who gets what part of their toy. He looks back over at Chase and gives him a deliberately lewd look, his eyes slowly traveling Chase’s body. “Sexy as you might think you are in those,” he says slowly, “I thought I told you to undress.”
Chase, gratifyingly, fumbles to get out of the shorts as he replies. “Actually, you said clothes don’t go well with sex.”
Greg hardens his expression disapprovingly, but James beats him to the reply, using a deceptively soft tone. “Did you just correct Greg, Chase?”
Clever James, setting up roles like that. He really does make a good dom when he feels like it. Chase flushes at the subtle disapproval in James’ tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Get on the bed,” Greg tells him before he can finish, and Chase hastens to do just that, sitting tentatively on the edge. “Lay down in the middle,” he clarifies, and Chase turns down the comforter before doing just that, stretching out but not really relaxing. Greg turns on the bed so he’ll be able to watch better, and James, who has lost his boxers at some point, goes around to the other side, leaning over Chase to suck hard at Greg’s collarbone. One of Chase’s hands sneaks uninvited onto Greg’s thigh, and only half-thinking, he smacks the outside of Chase’s leg, hard. The sound makes James pull away, startled, and Chase half-turns toward him, almost as though seeking comfort.
“Don’t touch unless you’re told to.” Greg glares down at Chase, who nods meekly.
James apparently figures that minor tension needs to be broken, and does it in a rather spectacular manner, from Greg’s voyeuristic viewpoint: he nips his way down Chase’s torso, leaving a trail of light red marks, until he reaches Chase’s cock. It’s almost unfair of James to skip the foreplay and just take Chase in his mouth, but the sooner Chase gets off, the sooner the other two do. Chase lets out a harsh moan, and shakes his head once as James slides down along his cock, but as far as Greg can tell, he doesn’t want James to stop. He’d be crazy to want James to stop; Greg knows, very well, how talented that mouth is.
No, Chase seems to be objecting more to the idea. The idea he’s doing this with men? That a man is sucking him? Interesting.
Greg finds himself watching Chase’s reactions instead of James’ movements, which might annoy him if Chase’s reactions weren’t so interesting. He’ll have an expression of absolute pleasure, mouth slightly open, eyes half-closed, but then one of…could it be terror? will replace it, or maybe fear. Or it’ll stay, and he’ll shake his head even as he’s moaning out, “Dr. Wilson,” in that accent, voice heavy with arousal and longing.
James is doing something to encourage that, too. He’s enjoying being called by his title, and Greg would call him a sick bastard if Chase’s words didn’t keep sending jolts of arousal straight to his dick. He finally shuts Chase up-and gets a halfhearted shove to his side from James for doing it-by leaning down to kiss him, and if he’s that eager to please in a kiss, all that sucking at Greg’s lower lip and gently at his tongue, Greg can’t imagine what the blowjob’s going to feel like. Probably better than one of James’, not that he’ll tell James that-mostly because then James will refuse to suck him off unless it’s during one of their dominance games.
The hand knocks into his side again, and now that’s a little irritating, except that James apparently wants something. He’s holding out his hand and gestures down at Chase with the other, refusing to break his rhythm, and right, Chase is going to get fucked at some point, isn’t he. Greg leans over to the nightstand and finds the lube, handing it to James, who slicks his fingers. Greg can’t see too well from the new angle of leaning over Chase, but he can tell when a finger pushes inside, because Chase gives an inarticulate little whimper that’s far sexier than it should be.
They’re having all the fun at the moment, and Greg decides that’s not quite fair, but he doesn’t want to kiss Chase again-it’s more intimate than he wants this to be. Instead, he chooses a spot on Chase’s neck that his collar might hide, but scrubs definitely won’t. He’d better hope there’s no reason to change, because Greg intends to leave a mark on that sweat-salty skin, and now Chase’s litany has changed, huskier now, “Housedoctorwilson,” syllables slurring together. He keens sharply, suddenly, and it cuts off as he tenses, and Greg smirks against his neck. He can hear the soft pop of James letting up, and the bed shift as James sits, reaching over to skim his hand across Greg’s back. He stops sucking at that soft skin, glancing down at Chase. He seems to think he’s become one with the mattress.
They’ll have to remind him that, hah, he is not here sheerly for his own pleasure, and the other two would like to get off at some point, but for now, Greg is content to strip off his shirt as he turns and kissed James, tasting Chase on his tongue. James seems to be trying to remind him that Chase will be leaving and James will stay, and therefore James is the better kissing choice, but he already knows that; after all, he only kissed Chase once. Besides, he prefers James’ style, not eager to please but instead clashing up against him, just as unyielding. Very sexy.
The mattress moves again, and apparently Chase has decided that he wants to get involved. Greg can feel the heat of his hand hovering over his crotch, but Chase doesn’t actually close the gap. Good boy. He’s learned.
Greg breaks the kiss and reaches for the nightstand again. It’d been stupid to not have Chase use a condom without even asking if he’s clean, and if he and James catch anything, Chase will have hell to pay for not mentioning the possibility. He isn’t about to risk it again, though, and tosses a foil packet to James, who stares at it for a split second as though he’s never seen a condom in his life. “It’s a condom, Jimmy,” he jibes. “Prevents nasty things like STDs.”
James rolls his eyes. “Thank you for that enlightenment, Greg. Whatever would I do without you?” He tears open the foil and rolls the rubber on, and now Greg has a conundrum he hasn’t entirely thought through. The best solution, he decides, is just to maneuver his dick and balls out of the flap of his boxers. The look he catches from James is mixed exasperation and sympathy, which is fortunate; if it had been one or the other, he might’ve gotten pissed.
Instead, he nudges Chase once he’s ready. “Up, Chase.”
“Did that already,” Chase grumbles as he pushes himself onto his elbows.
Greg and James exchange amused looks; Chase is far younger than either of them, and they all know Chase will probably get off again while he’s getting fucked. “So do it again.”
“See what I can do, boss.” Chase looks back and forth between them. “How d’you want me?”
“Out of my way.” Greg shoves at Chase’s shoulder, and he scrambles back toward the edge of the bed. Propping up pillows against the headboard, Greg makes himself comfortable, then gestures between his legs. “Hands and knees.”
Chase is pretty good at this ‘taking orders in bed’ deal, because he’s suddenly down between Greg’s thighs, breath hot against his cock. James slicks up and kneels behind Chase, and he makes eye contact with Greg. Greg nods, and tells Chase, “Blow me while James fucks you.” James takes that as his cue, and Chase moans as his lips close around Greg. Greg tangles his fingers in Chase’s hair, which is as soft as it looks, but he doesn’t look down at him; instead, he keeps eye contact with James.
James isn’t being slow or gentle about this; now that Chase is accommodating, he’s taking Chase fast and hard. Every time he slams into Chase’s ass, Chase sucks in a stream of air through his mouth, and that coolness against Greg’s wet skin makes him shudder. Chase has to have done this before-he knows exactly which spots to pay most attention to, how to use his teeth for that tiniest edge of pain, and that makes the pleasure all the more intense for Greg.
There are no words now, just the smell of sex and men in the air, and their heavy grunts and groans. James reaches around to take Chase in hand at some point, and that’s when Chase starts fondling Greg’s balls, rolling them between his fingers. It’s not exactly what Greg told him to do, but Chase is damn good, and he’s not about to stop him.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Chase is first to come, even though it’s his second time; James has probably been angling to hit his prostate on every one of those thrusts, and that, combined with the handjob James has been giving him, is apparently enough. That odd cry he gives brings on Greg’s orgasm, and his hand clenches in Chase’s hair as Chase swallows, and still he only looks over at James.
He can tell when James is going to come from the way his expression changes, and then James does, hips bucking against Chase fast before he stills and gasps hard. When he’s done, they both ignore the small sound of protest Chase makes as he pulls out and tosses the condom toward the wastebasket, wherever it is.
He manages to end up halfway on Greg’s chest, and they kiss again, urgency gone but just as possessive. It’s nothing so girly as cuddling-both claim to hate that-but this period of post-coital touch has become a ritual. There are no hands running through hair or anything like that, just James draped bonelessly across Greg and Greg’s arm tossed over him.
After a few minutes of not-cuddling, Greg glances at Chase, who’s now sitting up, then at the mess on his sheets. “Bad puppy,” he chides. “You should know better than that.”
“You think we could teach him to fetch his bone?” Greg can hear James’ smirk in that question, and he snickers. Chase, for his part, doesn’t look particularly defensive or upset by either remark. Rather, he looks lost, purposeless now that he’d played his part. Greg’s not about to let Chase between him and James to break up their not-cuddling, but he pats the bed on his right side.
“Jar my leg,” he warns, “and I’m siccing James on you.”
“Rawr,” James adds, the consonants vibrating against Greg’s chest. He tends to get playful-verbally, at least-after sex, and Greg just shakes his head as Chase settles in beside him, edging gradually closer. Greg heaves a sigh and hauls Chase closer instead of letting that scared-dog-edging thing continue, and James turns his head to eye Chase, then reaches out and glides a hand down his side. Add in Greg’s hand playing with Chase’s hair, and this is cuddling.
Not that Greg will ever admit that.
Once he’s judged that enough is enough-maybe ten minutes later-he takes his hand away. “Go home,” and he tries to be somewhat nice about it, but apparently it fails, because Chase looks at James, which is a mistake because James can actually be less nice than Greg.
James withdraws his own hand. “You heard him.”
“Can I…” Chase seems floundering for a way to phrase the question.
“Come again? Maybe. Stay the night? No,” James says, and it’s as though he just kicked Chase’s puppy, judging by that expression. Though in this situation, Chase is the puppy, so…he kicked Chase?
“Go on,” and now Greg’s voice is gentler. “You were good, but it’s us now.”
Apparently, ‘good’ is what Chase wanted to hear, because he’s getting up from the bed, looking slightly more upbeat as he collects his clothes and dresses. He hesitates at the bedroom door and looks back at them, then nods instead of saying whatever he’s thinking and leaves. A moment later, the front door opens and closes, and they’re alone.
Author/Artist: hawkeyecat
Community: 30_lemons
Pairing/Fandom: Dr. Greg House and Dr. James Wilson, House, M.D.
Theme: 30. The Playroom, or, "Wow, Santa Never Brought Me *That* Kind of Toy!"
Word Count: 3,259
Rating: Adult
Warnings: PWP, dommishness, sub!Chase, black boxer briefs
Disclaimer: Not mine, more’s the pity.
Author's Notes: Written for amazonqueenkate and spawned from a conversation with cerieblue819, who gets credit for the first line and one near the end. Many thanks to amazonqueenkate for the beta-I know it was such a hardship. Sexual pairing is actually a trio-House/Wilson/Chase.
“Melissa Etheridge could make out with you and still score an invite to the GLAAD awards.” House figures it’s obvious he’s talking to Chase, even though Wilson is standing right beside him; Wilson has those girlish hips, but Chase has the flat-out feminine thing going for him.
Chase seems to know it, too; he reddens and does his best imitation of a very pretty goldfish. Wilson, on the other hand, just smirks and leaves House’s side, saying something in an undertone to Chase as he passes. Though House can’t hear it, he has a good idea of what it is, and the mildly hit-with-a-brick look Chase sports strengthens his suspicions.
“So,” he says to Chase, “got anything interesting, or is the guy still dying?” That brings Chase back to the here-and-now, at least enough to confirm that, no, nothing is going on with the patient other than the dying shtick, which is getting old. He gives Chase his orders as far as nerve conductivity tests, a transfusion for that anemia, and an MRI to see if the joint pain is caused by cartilage issues, and kicks him out, then contemplates threatening-to-die patient’s case. Time to solve it and move on to something new, after all.
The patient does not in fact die, though he gets too close for comfort before Cameron, of all people, tosses out the idea of celiac disease, which should be less surprising considering the whole immunologist thing, but again, it’s Cameron. As a reward, she gets to babysit overnight, monitoring his improvement on the drip and seeing if he can tolerate the gluten-free diet while House leaves with Wilson.
Who has been annoyingly close-mouthed about what he said to Chase, though that usurped smug expression pretty much confirms what House has been thinking.
What really clinches it, though, is Chase on House’s front step, fidgeting nervously, worrying the end of a pen between his teeth, and isn’t that obsession going to be fun to exploit?
He and James are on each other as soon as the door closes behind them, leaving Chase to continue shifting from foot to foot while they nip at each others’ lips and run hands through hair and over the hard lines of their bodies, just this side of too rough, and Greg figures this clues Chase in to what’s going on tonight, if whatever James said hasn’t already done that.
When they part and their eyes meet, James still has that damn smug expression, but the mussed look kinda ruins it. Besides, Greg figures he now looks pretty similar. “Chase,” he says in the low voice that always gets James going, “if you want out, leave now. Otherwise, find the bedroom.” He’s still looking at James, but at the edge of his sight, he can see Chase hesitate for the briefest second before shaking his head and going through the living room. Once Greg is sure he’s out of earshot, he smirks at James. “Think the good little Catholic boy has ever done this before?”
“Put his mouth to good use?” and it’s always surprising to other people that James can reply just like that. “Not like he does it at work. He needs an outlet somewhere.”
Greg bites James’ neck above his collar, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to get a surprised yelp out of him. “No W-word,” he informs James. “Not when we’re going to fuck him soon.”
“Yes,” James says dryly, “I see how we’re going to do that standing in the front hall. Your logic never fails.”
That earns James a completely intentional whack to his shin with the cane as Greg turns away. At his curse, Greg rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. Besides, you get off on that.” He can imagine the colors James is turning.
“Again, not in the front hall, and not when there’s someone else involved,” James hisses at his back.
“You’re no fun.”
“No, I just got Chase to join us,” James mutters, passing Greg in the living room. “What’re we going to do with him, anyway?”
“It’d be nice of us to get him off at some point,” Greg muses as he follows. “Though we’re both going to use our new toy.”
“That’d be why I got him.” James glances back over his shoulder. “I could suck him while you watch.”
“Who knew telling you about that kink would be so useful?” He catches James’ hip, and he obligingly turns toward him. This kiss is mutually possessive and cements Chase’s place in this particular triangle as a plaything-one that will be satisfied, but a plaything nonetheless. When they’re either momentarily satisfied or out of breath-Greg can’t decide which-they continue into the bedroom, James at Greg’s shoulder and a quarter-pace behind.
Chase is still dressed when they get in the room, and Greg makes a mental note to be a little clearer next time, assuming they have him back over. After all, the fabric isn’t exactly conducive to the half-formed plan he and James have. “In case you haven’t figured it out,” he begins, “clothes don’t go too well with sex-at least, not if you’re going to get fucked.”
“Why is it assumed I’m getting fucked?” Chase half-asks as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his shirt.
“Uh, because we live here and we said so,” James replies as he unknots his tie. “And Chase?” James’ voice has turned poisonously nice. Greg knows that tone from ‘overhearing’ him having ‘discussions’ with members of his department. He sits on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and waits for Chase’s reply.
It’s not long in coming. He glances up at James, that hair falling across his face and making him look even more feminine and somehow vulnerable. “Yeah?”
“If you spread this around at the hospital-”
“-or anywhere else-” Greg adds.
“-or anywhere else, you’ll wish we’d never touched you.”
Greg is watching Chase for his reaction and catches the expression of fear that flits across his face, but also notices how his slacks tighten just a little more. He files that reaction away for future reference and considers how much more he wants to undress.
“I’m not stupid,” Chase tells James as some sort of halfhearted guarantee of silence, and drops his shirt and tie to the floor. His face might look feminine, but that upper body is very definitely male, well-muscled and taut. He seems oblivious to the half-resentful, half-admiring look he gets from Greg, who decides his shirt can stay on a good while longer, but his jeans can go.
The boxers, of course, aren’t going anywhere, not as long as Chase is in the townhouse.
Denim puddles around his feet just after Chase’s probably expensive slacks land around his ankles, revealing black boxer briefs, and are they ever the right choice for those thighs and that ass. There’s a catch of breath from somewhere to Greg’s left, and he glances over at James, who’s down to his own boxers and nothing else. James is focused on the curve of Chase’s ass, and Greg figures that clears up who gets what part of their toy. He looks back over at Chase and gives him a deliberately lewd look, his eyes slowly traveling Chase’s body. “Sexy as you might think you are in those,” he says slowly, “I thought I told you to undress.”
Chase, gratifyingly, fumbles to get out of the shorts as he replies. “Actually, you said clothes don’t go well with sex.”
Greg hardens his expression disapprovingly, but James beats him to the reply, using a deceptively soft tone. “Did you just correct Greg, Chase?”
Clever James, setting up roles like that. He really does make a good dom when he feels like it. Chase flushes at the subtle disapproval in James’ tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Get on the bed,” Greg tells him before he can finish, and Chase hastens to do just that, sitting tentatively on the edge. “Lay down in the middle,” he clarifies, and Chase turns down the comforter before doing just that, stretching out but not really relaxing. Greg turns on the bed so he’ll be able to watch better, and James, who has lost his boxers at some point, goes around to the other side, leaning over Chase to suck hard at Greg’s collarbone. One of Chase’s hands sneaks uninvited onto Greg’s thigh, and only half-thinking, he smacks the outside of Chase’s leg, hard. The sound makes James pull away, startled, and Chase half-turns toward him, almost as though seeking comfort.
“Don’t touch unless you’re told to.” Greg glares down at Chase, who nods meekly.
James apparently figures that minor tension needs to be broken, and does it in a rather spectacular manner, from Greg’s voyeuristic viewpoint: he nips his way down Chase’s torso, leaving a trail of light red marks, until he reaches Chase’s cock. It’s almost unfair of James to skip the foreplay and just take Chase in his mouth, but the sooner Chase gets off, the sooner the other two do. Chase lets out a harsh moan, and shakes his head once as James slides down along his cock, but as far as Greg can tell, he doesn’t want James to stop. He’d be crazy to want James to stop; Greg knows, very well, how talented that mouth is.
No, Chase seems to be objecting more to the idea. The idea he’s doing this with men? That a man is sucking him? Interesting.
Greg finds himself watching Chase’s reactions instead of James’ movements, which might annoy him if Chase’s reactions weren’t so interesting. He’ll have an expression of absolute pleasure, mouth slightly open, eyes half-closed, but then one of…could it be terror? will replace it, or maybe fear. Or it’ll stay, and he’ll shake his head even as he’s moaning out, “Dr. Wilson,” in that accent, voice heavy with arousal and longing.
James is doing something to encourage that, too. He’s enjoying being called by his title, and Greg would call him a sick bastard if Chase’s words didn’t keep sending jolts of arousal straight to his dick. He finally shuts Chase up-and gets a halfhearted shove to his side from James for doing it-by leaning down to kiss him, and if he’s that eager to please in a kiss, all that sucking at Greg’s lower lip and gently at his tongue, Greg can’t imagine what the blowjob’s going to feel like. Probably better than one of James’, not that he’ll tell James that-mostly because then James will refuse to suck him off unless it’s during one of their dominance games.
The hand knocks into his side again, and now that’s a little irritating, except that James apparently wants something. He’s holding out his hand and gestures down at Chase with the other, refusing to break his rhythm, and right, Chase is going to get fucked at some point, isn’t he. Greg leans over to the nightstand and finds the lube, handing it to James, who slicks his fingers. Greg can’t see too well from the new angle of leaning over Chase, but he can tell when a finger pushes inside, because Chase gives an inarticulate little whimper that’s far sexier than it should be.
They’re having all the fun at the moment, and Greg decides that’s not quite fair, but he doesn’t want to kiss Chase again-it’s more intimate than he wants this to be. Instead, he chooses a spot on Chase’s neck that his collar might hide, but scrubs definitely won’t. He’d better hope there’s no reason to change, because Greg intends to leave a mark on that sweat-salty skin, and now Chase’s litany has changed, huskier now, “Housedoctorwilson,” syllables slurring together. He keens sharply, suddenly, and it cuts off as he tenses, and Greg smirks against his neck. He can hear the soft pop of James letting up, and the bed shift as James sits, reaching over to skim his hand across Greg’s back. He stops sucking at that soft skin, glancing down at Chase. He seems to think he’s become one with the mattress.
They’ll have to remind him that, hah, he is not here sheerly for his own pleasure, and the other two would like to get off at some point, but for now, Greg is content to strip off his shirt as he turns and kissed James, tasting Chase on his tongue. James seems to be trying to remind him that Chase will be leaving and James will stay, and therefore James is the better kissing choice, but he already knows that; after all, he only kissed Chase once. Besides, he prefers James’ style, not eager to please but instead clashing up against him, just as unyielding. Very sexy.
The mattress moves again, and apparently Chase has decided that he wants to get involved. Greg can feel the heat of his hand hovering over his crotch, but Chase doesn’t actually close the gap. Good boy. He’s learned.
Greg breaks the kiss and reaches for the nightstand again. It’d been stupid to not have Chase use a condom without even asking if he’s clean, and if he and James catch anything, Chase will have hell to pay for not mentioning the possibility. He isn’t about to risk it again, though, and tosses a foil packet to James, who stares at it for a split second as though he’s never seen a condom in his life. “It’s a condom, Jimmy,” he jibes. “Prevents nasty things like STDs.”
James rolls his eyes. “Thank you for that enlightenment, Greg. Whatever would I do without you?” He tears open the foil and rolls the rubber on, and now Greg has a conundrum he hasn’t entirely thought through. The best solution, he decides, is just to maneuver his dick and balls out of the flap of his boxers. The look he catches from James is mixed exasperation and sympathy, which is fortunate; if it had been one or the other, he might’ve gotten pissed.
Instead, he nudges Chase once he’s ready. “Up, Chase.”
“Did that already,” Chase grumbles as he pushes himself onto his elbows.
Greg and James exchange amused looks; Chase is far younger than either of them, and they all know Chase will probably get off again while he’s getting fucked. “So do it again.”
“See what I can do, boss.” Chase looks back and forth between them. “How d’you want me?”
“Out of my way.” Greg shoves at Chase’s shoulder, and he scrambles back toward the edge of the bed. Propping up pillows against the headboard, Greg makes himself comfortable, then gestures between his legs. “Hands and knees.”
Chase is pretty good at this ‘taking orders in bed’ deal, because he’s suddenly down between Greg’s thighs, breath hot against his cock. James slicks up and kneels behind Chase, and he makes eye contact with Greg. Greg nods, and tells Chase, “Blow me while James fucks you.” James takes that as his cue, and Chase moans as his lips close around Greg. Greg tangles his fingers in Chase’s hair, which is as soft as it looks, but he doesn’t look down at him; instead, he keeps eye contact with James.
James isn’t being slow or gentle about this; now that Chase is accommodating, he’s taking Chase fast and hard. Every time he slams into Chase’s ass, Chase sucks in a stream of air through his mouth, and that coolness against Greg’s wet skin makes him shudder. Chase has to have done this before-he knows exactly which spots to pay most attention to, how to use his teeth for that tiniest edge of pain, and that makes the pleasure all the more intense for Greg.
There are no words now, just the smell of sex and men in the air, and their heavy grunts and groans. James reaches around to take Chase in hand at some point, and that’s when Chase starts fondling Greg’s balls, rolling them between his fingers. It’s not exactly what Greg told him to do, but Chase is damn good, and he’s not about to stop him.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Chase is first to come, even though it’s his second time; James has probably been angling to hit his prostate on every one of those thrusts, and that, combined with the handjob James has been giving him, is apparently enough. That odd cry he gives brings on Greg’s orgasm, and his hand clenches in Chase’s hair as Chase swallows, and still he only looks over at James.
He can tell when James is going to come from the way his expression changes, and then James does, hips bucking against Chase fast before he stills and gasps hard. When he’s done, they both ignore the small sound of protest Chase makes as he pulls out and tosses the condom toward the wastebasket, wherever it is.
He manages to end up halfway on Greg’s chest, and they kiss again, urgency gone but just as possessive. It’s nothing so girly as cuddling-both claim to hate that-but this period of post-coital touch has become a ritual. There are no hands running through hair or anything like that, just James draped bonelessly across Greg and Greg’s arm tossed over him.
After a few minutes of not-cuddling, Greg glances at Chase, who’s now sitting up, then at the mess on his sheets. “Bad puppy,” he chides. “You should know better than that.”
“You think we could teach him to fetch his bone?” Greg can hear James’ smirk in that question, and he snickers. Chase, for his part, doesn’t look particularly defensive or upset by either remark. Rather, he looks lost, purposeless now that he’d played his part. Greg’s not about to let Chase between him and James to break up their not-cuddling, but he pats the bed on his right side.
“Jar my leg,” he warns, “and I’m siccing James on you.”
“Rawr,” James adds, the consonants vibrating against Greg’s chest. He tends to get playful-verbally, at least-after sex, and Greg just shakes his head as Chase settles in beside him, edging gradually closer. Greg heaves a sigh and hauls Chase closer instead of letting that scared-dog-edging thing continue, and James turns his head to eye Chase, then reaches out and glides a hand down his side. Add in Greg’s hand playing with Chase’s hair, and this is cuddling.
Not that Greg will ever admit that.
Once he’s judged that enough is enough-maybe ten minutes later-he takes his hand away. “Go home,” and he tries to be somewhat nice about it, but apparently it fails, because Chase looks at James, which is a mistake because James can actually be less nice than Greg.
James withdraws his own hand. “You heard him.”
“Can I…” Chase seems floundering for a way to phrase the question.
“Come again? Maybe. Stay the night? No,” James says, and it’s as though he just kicked Chase’s puppy, judging by that expression. Though in this situation, Chase is the puppy, so…he kicked Chase?
“Go on,” and now Greg’s voice is gentler. “You were good, but it’s us now.”
Apparently, ‘good’ is what Chase wanted to hear, because he’s getting up from the bed, looking slightly more upbeat as he collects his clothes and dresses. He hesitates at the bedroom door and looks back at them, then nods instead of saying whatever he’s thinking and leaves. A moment later, the front door opens and closes, and they’re alone.