(no subject)
Title: Interruption
Pairings: Wilson/Amber, Wilson/House
Rating: R, maybe NC-17
Setting: Post-ep for "Living the Dream". Takes place right after Amber joins Wilson on the floor of their living room.
Summary: I wanted to play with the shared custody storyline, as it may change (no spoilers here) in the season finale. House tries to adhere as strictly as possible to the contract, and walks in on Amber and Wilson.
Disclaimer: I disclaim!
A/N: Should not have written this during finals. Concrit of the fic is welcome, especially specifics. Love to the whole comm.
040. House/Wilson -- House witness his best friend having sex with his female assistant. Later he gives Wilson several pointers (by demonstrating on Wilson’s body). - claimed by lilapaddy
House would tell himself later that he hadn’t intended to catch them actually in the act. Embarrass them, sure, that might happen, he’d considered it, but it was really of little concern to him. The point was to be on time for his turn with Wilson, to show CB that he could play fair by adhering perfectly to the set schedule. It was 11:59 at night on Friday, and this was his weekend. Amber had already pulled a fast one by deciding that Fridays didn’t count as the weekend, deciding that their outing to the bowling alley on Monday and the mattress store on Thursday were violations of the contract, and had announced she would return Wilson on Saturday. Frankly, that wasn’t going to fly.
He watched his watch tick to midnight and then let himself into their apartment, having taken the liberty of stealing Wilson’s key at lunch. He wondered briefly why Wilson let him get away with things like that at such an alarmingly regular rate. He had to have noticed. In that case, it was fair that he had the key; stealing was fine so long as the person being stolen from at least passively accepted it, which Wilson did.
There were noises coming from the living room, just to the right of the entrance. House could just see, over the top of a chair beyond the kitchen space he stood next to, a writhing figure draped in silk straddling someone lying on the floor. They made a strange sight: the neutral carpet blended oddly with the sheet Amber had draped around them, so that it looked a little like the living room floor was coming alive. House stepped closer, unwilling to exersize propriety or self-control, not wanting to sacrifice satisfying his curiosity. He realized he’d never actually seen Wilson have sex before, though he’d pictured it a few times. It came up regularly in conversation, and House kept a stockpile of mental images to choose from when they discussed it. He had to admit, though, those were nothing compared to the real thing.
“Don’t you two have a waterbed to screw on?” He called crassly over the top of the furniture. Amber twisted slightly to glare at the interruption. He was impressed she managed not to look scared at his intrusion, though he thought he saw a flash of self-consciousness cross her face for a moment. Wilson looked mortified, especially when Amber didn’t stop.
“Amber, uh-“ he began, face flushed red. House could tell he was getting angry, though he didn’t know with whom. Amber bent down to kiss him passionately, and Wilson let her for a few moments.
“It’s Saturday,” House announced, looking away finally with no small measure of annoyance when Wilson didn’t pull away. Amber’s legs were pinning his hips and lower back to the floor, and she’d grabbed both his wrists on either side to press them into the carpet.
Amber thrust two more times against Wilson, which House only saw out of the corner of his eye. “You’re-not-“ she started, gasping for air as her movements became more erratic-“going to-not until I finish,” she managed, and House realized she was talking to him, not Wilson. He watched as she lent closer and kissed him reassuringly. “Just pretend he’s not here,” she encouraged, but Wilson’s eyes strayed from hers and he glanced nervously at House. House met his gaze steadily.
House couldn’t tell, because she faced away from him, but he guessed Amber’s eyes closed when she collapsed on Wilson’s chest and rested her head on his chest. Otherwise, she might have seen the way Wilson was worrying his lip as House refused to glance away.
She took a moment and then kissed her way down his body, and with a jolt of horror-or maybe it was something else-House realized Wilson hadn’t finished.
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’re seriously going to do this in front of me?” he asked Amber, incredulous and trying in vain to sound marginally appalled. Instead he heard his voice weaken and met Wilson’s eyes again, this time by accident. House stifled a shudder.
“You’re seriously going to watch?” Amber responded coolly, still suprisingly calm about the situation.
“I don’t think we should-“ Wilson began, but Amber slid her finger into his mouth to silence him. He fought it for a moment before House nodded almost imperceptibly at him. His face gave no indication that he’d seen the gesture, but he began toying with the finger a moment and made sure House was watching before he began to suck it sensually, licking up her palm and grasping her wrist to draw the finger further into his mouth. House didn’t bother suppressing the second shudder that passed violently through him, and Wilson’s eyes closed in evident surrender as he shook and came quietly after catching House’s eye.
House heard Amber gag slightly and twitched reflexively, feeling the front of his boxers dampen with pre-come. He turned away when she crawled up to kiss Wilson, not allowing himself to touch the erection straining at his own stomach. That had not been part of the plan; he had never imagined he’d become so aroused just from…watching. It had certainly never happened before.
Amber turned finally to face him from the floor, her nakedness startling him after watching her back move clothed in the sheet. Wilson scrambled to cover himself with a discarded gray tee-shirt, pulling on boxers that had been thrown haphazardly atop the couch behind them.
“He doesn’t like the waterbed,” she offered casually, by way of explanation. Wilson groaned quietly and covered his face with a hand.
“Can we just…forget this happened?” he asked weakly, unable to face either of them.
“No,” Amber answered, the merest hint of apology behind it. “I don’t think we can.” She paused. “He’s hard,” she told Wilson, tone neutral. This snapped House out of his own thoughts for a moment, most of which revolved around keeping that exact fact from the two people in front of him. It was suddenly a lost cause.
Wilson shook his head, still shielding his eyes from the reality of it, but didn’t say anything. House grunted in annoyance, finally daring to give Amber a hard stare. She smiled at him in return.
“Well, are we going to do anything about it?” she asked innocently, dragging a hand against Wilson’s exposed stomach, his shirt rucking up to his shoulders.
House saw Wilson take his hand away and give her one of the most bewildering stares he’d ever managed. House remembered the last time he’d seen anything like it had been when Wilson, upon something cruel House had said about a cancer kid, had told him to go to hell. That was years ago. Apparently, Wilson conserved these expressions for only the most deserving of circumstances.
After a pregnant pause, Amber looking at House as though readying herself for a fight, House looking somewhat flabbergasted by her intimation but trying heroically to conceal it, Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know what either of you are going to do about it,” he started, “but it’s your-I…have nothing to do with any of this. Goodnight.” He got up, straightening his shirt and boxers, and padded down the short hallway to where House guessed the waterbed might be.
“Don’t play dumb,” Amber told him pointedly. “You and I both know he wants you. He hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“But I’m the one playing dumb?” House asked.
Amber gazed at him appraisingly for a few moments. “You’re pretending you don’t want him. That’s interesting.”
House sighed in exasperation. “I show up to your apartment at midnight on my day which tells you…I don’t want my best friend back?”
Amber shook her head, a cold smile creeping onto her face. She stood up, pulling the sheet around herself like a toga, and walked slowly close to House in evident threat. “Best friend?” she laughed softly, palming House’s length through his slacks. He met her eyes unwillingly and grabbed the hand to still it. They watched each other silently for a few moments, daring the other to break.
House turned as if to leave the apartment, but Amber grabbed his arm. “Stay,” she demanded. “I’m not afraid of losing him. You can do it. Try it. Try him. He’ll come back to me. He knows what he wants, and it isn’t a lifetime of you.”
The words rang in his ears and House felt all his breath leave him at once, as though he’d been punched in the stomach. He watched Amber stride down the hall, beckoning him to follow, and tried to shake off the intrigue. But self-control wasn’t his strong suit, and he padded down the hall. Amber was whispering to a sleepy Wilson on the bed, and turned to smile lasciviously at House when he stood by the door.
Wilson sat up in the bed, unmoving. Amber made room for House to join them, and when he didn’t, she huffed in frustration. “For god’s sake. The two of you need to be told what to do?” She got up and pulled House unceremoniously onto the bed, where he collapsed painfully on an elbow.
“Watch your leg,” Wilson told him, more out of habit than anything. He turned to Amber questioningly, fear passing through his face for a moment. “Is this a test?” He asked blankly. She chuckled and wrapped a hand around House’s neck, drawing him to her until they were kissing. House balked and pulled away.
“Hey,” he exclaimed. Wilson was just looking between the two of them.
“Your turn,” Amber said coyly, bringing a hand around Wilson’s neck and pushing him lightly towards House.
House’s eyes met Wilson’s and there was a strange undersanding that seemed to pass between them. “I don’t want you to do this because she told you to,” House murmured quietly. Amber laughed again.
“If I didn’t tell him to, he probably wouldn’t even realize he wanted to.”
“Yeah,” House snapped. “That sounds like the kind of thing a secure person would say about her boyfriend.”
“I want him to do it so that he knows what he’s missing. It’ll make it easier for him to come back to me. Stay with me.”
Wilson huffed lightly, and House could feel the breath ghost over his nose and chin. It made him lean expectantly forward, without much thought. “You two…make absolutely no sense this time of night,” Wilson told them. “Can we stop with the mindgames for a minute?”
“You love the mindgames,” House replied, filled with certainty. “You love this, you think if you can-“ he was cut off by Wilson finally pressing their lips together, coaxing his mouth open and sliding a burning tongue inside. House could feel Amber’s fingers at the side of Wilson’s face, stroking lightly against his jaw.
“Of course he does,” Amber answered, unimpressed, watching the kisses grow gradually more impassioned, until Wilson was pushing against him, and House was pushing back, arms on either side pressing into shoulders and chests, making the waterbed slosh loudly beneath the three of them. House decided to stop paying her any attention, and instead rucked up the tee shirt Wilson wore, sliding his hands along his chest until he found a nipple and massaged it into hardness. He could feel Wilson swallow a moan, and didn’t let him catch his breath.
Wilson turned them so that House was lying beside Amber on the bed, crawling on top of him and licking the swirl of his ear. House bit his shoulder in return and thrust once against his abdomen. Wilson broke a kiss to look to Amber for permission, his jaw set against losing all control.
Amber shrugged at him, and House shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to see this as though it were for Amber’s pleasure only, or for her security, or for anything else than a compromise over who got to have Wilson tonight. In those terms, it made sense-not any semblance of real sense, he knew, but sense by the logic of their agreement.
Wilson looked down finally at him and House opened his eyes to meet the gaze. They were flushed and panting, House’s hips jerking up in a painfully slow rhythm. Wilson raised his eyebrows and an unspoken agreement passed between them now. House stared up at him neutrally and grabbed his hips to urge him forward, until they were thrusting together.
It had been true, all of it, House realized. Wilson really was almost painfully good at this. He wasn’t even sure Wilson was hard, but he knew just what House wanted. He spit into his palm and started jerking them off in unison, wrapping his hands around them so that House could feel a length pressed hotly to his own. Amber had faded into the background, except for a minor trace of annoyance that they were being watched.
“I don’t know if I can come again,” Wilson admitted, eyes screwed shut in concentration. House was breathing almost too heavily to speak, but he raised his head slightly and drew Wilson down to kiss him again.
“Just don’t stop doing that,” House muttered, when Wilson broke away and rested his sweaty forehead beside House’s on the pillow. Their movements were growing more erratic. House bit his lip to keep from grunting in pain at the tension coiled in his thigh.
“Doing what?” Wilson asked into the pillow, going faster now. He turned so that his lips dragged against House’s stubble. “Kissing you?”
Amber cleared her throat. “I didn’t know getting rid of sexual frustration required talking,” she said pointedly.
“Have you met House?” Wilson asked, teasing her slightly. House grabbed the back of his head to draw him down into another kiss, and also to keep them from finishing that particular conversation. Wilson was unexpectedly enthusiastic, and House groaned in warning.
Wilson broke away and bent down to watch as House came, strings of sticky fluid mired between four thighs. House swallowed a name as Wilson rubbed himself against the come that had landed on House’s stomach, panting wildly. House and Amber watched raptly until he came a few short moments later, jerking weakly into his hand, then collapsed between the two of them.
“You have two choices,” Amber said quietly, stroking Wilson’s hair. House fought the urge to bat her hand away. “You can go with House, now, or you can sleep here, with me. You’re welcome to stay,” she added over the top of Wilson’s head to House. “At least until the morning.”
House shook his head and got out of the bed, pulling his slacks and boxers up from where they’d been rucked about his ankles. “It’s fine,” he said dangerously, unwilling to face them now. He stalked out of the room and was almost out of the apartment before Wilson caught up with him, rubbing the back of his own neck in earnest self-consciousness.
“I…” Wilson drifted off, realizing he had nothing to say. House just stared at him for a few long moments.
Then they were kissing again, wildly out of control, slamming into a wall so that House’s back was pressed against the doorframe and Wilson’s hands were gripping his arms and the side of his face, urging him deeper. They were frantic: House’s head banged against the wall, and Wilson slowed down to kiss him languidly, almost tenderly, the force of their initial touching tempered by the post-sex exhaustion.
House pulled away first. “When you’re sick of the proxy,” he panted, “let me know.” He untwisted Wilson’s hand from his hair and gingerly extricated his leg from between Wilson’s.
Wilson watched his back fade into the darkness of the hall.
Pairings: Wilson/Amber, Wilson/House
Rating: R, maybe NC-17
Setting: Post-ep for "Living the Dream". Takes place right after Amber joins Wilson on the floor of their living room.
Summary: I wanted to play with the shared custody storyline, as it may change (no spoilers here) in the season finale. House tries to adhere as strictly as possible to the contract, and walks in on Amber and Wilson.
Disclaimer: I disclaim!
A/N: Should not have written this during finals. Concrit of the fic is welcome, especially specifics. Love to the whole comm.
040. House/Wilson -- House witness his best friend having sex with his female assistant. Later he gives Wilson several pointers (by demonstrating on Wilson’s body). - claimed by lilapaddy
House would tell himself later that he hadn’t intended to catch them actually in the act. Embarrass them, sure, that might happen, he’d considered it, but it was really of little concern to him. The point was to be on time for his turn with Wilson, to show CB that he could play fair by adhering perfectly to the set schedule. It was 11:59 at night on Friday, and this was his weekend. Amber had already pulled a fast one by deciding that Fridays didn’t count as the weekend, deciding that their outing to the bowling alley on Monday and the mattress store on Thursday were violations of the contract, and had announced she would return Wilson on Saturday. Frankly, that wasn’t going to fly.
He watched his watch tick to midnight and then let himself into their apartment, having taken the liberty of stealing Wilson’s key at lunch. He wondered briefly why Wilson let him get away with things like that at such an alarmingly regular rate. He had to have noticed. In that case, it was fair that he had the key; stealing was fine so long as the person being stolen from at least passively accepted it, which Wilson did.
There were noises coming from the living room, just to the right of the entrance. House could just see, over the top of a chair beyond the kitchen space he stood next to, a writhing figure draped in silk straddling someone lying on the floor. They made a strange sight: the neutral carpet blended oddly with the sheet Amber had draped around them, so that it looked a little like the living room floor was coming alive. House stepped closer, unwilling to exersize propriety or self-control, not wanting to sacrifice satisfying his curiosity. He realized he’d never actually seen Wilson have sex before, though he’d pictured it a few times. It came up regularly in conversation, and House kept a stockpile of mental images to choose from when they discussed it. He had to admit, though, those were nothing compared to the real thing.
“Don’t you two have a waterbed to screw on?” He called crassly over the top of the furniture. Amber twisted slightly to glare at the interruption. He was impressed she managed not to look scared at his intrusion, though he thought he saw a flash of self-consciousness cross her face for a moment. Wilson looked mortified, especially when Amber didn’t stop.
“Amber, uh-“ he began, face flushed red. House could tell he was getting angry, though he didn’t know with whom. Amber bent down to kiss him passionately, and Wilson let her for a few moments.
“It’s Saturday,” House announced, looking away finally with no small measure of annoyance when Wilson didn’t pull away. Amber’s legs were pinning his hips and lower back to the floor, and she’d grabbed both his wrists on either side to press them into the carpet.
Amber thrust two more times against Wilson, which House only saw out of the corner of his eye. “You’re-not-“ she started, gasping for air as her movements became more erratic-“going to-not until I finish,” she managed, and House realized she was talking to him, not Wilson. He watched as she lent closer and kissed him reassuringly. “Just pretend he’s not here,” she encouraged, but Wilson’s eyes strayed from hers and he glanced nervously at House. House met his gaze steadily.
House couldn’t tell, because she faced away from him, but he guessed Amber’s eyes closed when she collapsed on Wilson’s chest and rested her head on his chest. Otherwise, she might have seen the way Wilson was worrying his lip as House refused to glance away.
She took a moment and then kissed her way down his body, and with a jolt of horror-or maybe it was something else-House realized Wilson hadn’t finished.
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “You’re seriously going to do this in front of me?” he asked Amber, incredulous and trying in vain to sound marginally appalled. Instead he heard his voice weaken and met Wilson’s eyes again, this time by accident. House stifled a shudder.
“You’re seriously going to watch?” Amber responded coolly, still suprisingly calm about the situation.
“I don’t think we should-“ Wilson began, but Amber slid her finger into his mouth to silence him. He fought it for a moment before House nodded almost imperceptibly at him. His face gave no indication that he’d seen the gesture, but he began toying with the finger a moment and made sure House was watching before he began to suck it sensually, licking up her palm and grasping her wrist to draw the finger further into his mouth. House didn’t bother suppressing the second shudder that passed violently through him, and Wilson’s eyes closed in evident surrender as he shook and came quietly after catching House’s eye.
House heard Amber gag slightly and twitched reflexively, feeling the front of his boxers dampen with pre-come. He turned away when she crawled up to kiss Wilson, not allowing himself to touch the erection straining at his own stomach. That had not been part of the plan; he had never imagined he’d become so aroused just from…watching. It had certainly never happened before.
Amber turned finally to face him from the floor, her nakedness startling him after watching her back move clothed in the sheet. Wilson scrambled to cover himself with a discarded gray tee-shirt, pulling on boxers that had been thrown haphazardly atop the couch behind them.
“He doesn’t like the waterbed,” she offered casually, by way of explanation. Wilson groaned quietly and covered his face with a hand.
“Can we just…forget this happened?” he asked weakly, unable to face either of them.
“No,” Amber answered, the merest hint of apology behind it. “I don’t think we can.” She paused. “He’s hard,” she told Wilson, tone neutral. This snapped House out of his own thoughts for a moment, most of which revolved around keeping that exact fact from the two people in front of him. It was suddenly a lost cause.
Wilson shook his head, still shielding his eyes from the reality of it, but didn’t say anything. House grunted in annoyance, finally daring to give Amber a hard stare. She smiled at him in return.
“Well, are we going to do anything about it?” she asked innocently, dragging a hand against Wilson’s exposed stomach, his shirt rucking up to his shoulders.
House saw Wilson take his hand away and give her one of the most bewildering stares he’d ever managed. House remembered the last time he’d seen anything like it had been when Wilson, upon something cruel House had said about a cancer kid, had told him to go to hell. That was years ago. Apparently, Wilson conserved these expressions for only the most deserving of circumstances.
After a pregnant pause, Amber looking at House as though readying herself for a fight, House looking somewhat flabbergasted by her intimation but trying heroically to conceal it, Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know what either of you are going to do about it,” he started, “but it’s your-I…have nothing to do with any of this. Goodnight.” He got up, straightening his shirt and boxers, and padded down the short hallway to where House guessed the waterbed might be.
“Don’t play dumb,” Amber told him pointedly. “You and I both know he wants you. He hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“But I’m the one playing dumb?” House asked.
Amber gazed at him appraisingly for a few moments. “You’re pretending you don’t want him. That’s interesting.”
House sighed in exasperation. “I show up to your apartment at midnight on my day which tells you…I don’t want my best friend back?”
Amber shook her head, a cold smile creeping onto her face. She stood up, pulling the sheet around herself like a toga, and walked slowly close to House in evident threat. “Best friend?” she laughed softly, palming House’s length through his slacks. He met her eyes unwillingly and grabbed the hand to still it. They watched each other silently for a few moments, daring the other to break.
House turned as if to leave the apartment, but Amber grabbed his arm. “Stay,” she demanded. “I’m not afraid of losing him. You can do it. Try it. Try him. He’ll come back to me. He knows what he wants, and it isn’t a lifetime of you.”
The words rang in his ears and House felt all his breath leave him at once, as though he’d been punched in the stomach. He watched Amber stride down the hall, beckoning him to follow, and tried to shake off the intrigue. But self-control wasn’t his strong suit, and he padded down the hall. Amber was whispering to a sleepy Wilson on the bed, and turned to smile lasciviously at House when he stood by the door.
Wilson sat up in the bed, unmoving. Amber made room for House to join them, and when he didn’t, she huffed in frustration. “For god’s sake. The two of you need to be told what to do?” She got up and pulled House unceremoniously onto the bed, where he collapsed painfully on an elbow.
“Watch your leg,” Wilson told him, more out of habit than anything. He turned to Amber questioningly, fear passing through his face for a moment. “Is this a test?” He asked blankly. She chuckled and wrapped a hand around House’s neck, drawing him to her until they were kissing. House balked and pulled away.
“Hey,” he exclaimed. Wilson was just looking between the two of them.
“Your turn,” Amber said coyly, bringing a hand around Wilson’s neck and pushing him lightly towards House.
House’s eyes met Wilson’s and there was a strange undersanding that seemed to pass between them. “I don’t want you to do this because she told you to,” House murmured quietly. Amber laughed again.
“If I didn’t tell him to, he probably wouldn’t even realize he wanted to.”
“Yeah,” House snapped. “That sounds like the kind of thing a secure person would say about her boyfriend.”
“I want him to do it so that he knows what he’s missing. It’ll make it easier for him to come back to me. Stay with me.”
Wilson huffed lightly, and House could feel the breath ghost over his nose and chin. It made him lean expectantly forward, without much thought. “You two…make absolutely no sense this time of night,” Wilson told them. “Can we stop with the mindgames for a minute?”
“You love the mindgames,” House replied, filled with certainty. “You love this, you think if you can-“ he was cut off by Wilson finally pressing their lips together, coaxing his mouth open and sliding a burning tongue inside. House could feel Amber’s fingers at the side of Wilson’s face, stroking lightly against his jaw.
“Of course he does,” Amber answered, unimpressed, watching the kisses grow gradually more impassioned, until Wilson was pushing against him, and House was pushing back, arms on either side pressing into shoulders and chests, making the waterbed slosh loudly beneath the three of them. House decided to stop paying her any attention, and instead rucked up the tee shirt Wilson wore, sliding his hands along his chest until he found a nipple and massaged it into hardness. He could feel Wilson swallow a moan, and didn’t let him catch his breath.
Wilson turned them so that House was lying beside Amber on the bed, crawling on top of him and licking the swirl of his ear. House bit his shoulder in return and thrust once against his abdomen. Wilson broke a kiss to look to Amber for permission, his jaw set against losing all control.
Amber shrugged at him, and House shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to see this as though it were for Amber’s pleasure only, or for her security, or for anything else than a compromise over who got to have Wilson tonight. In those terms, it made sense-not any semblance of real sense, he knew, but sense by the logic of their agreement.
Wilson looked down finally at him and House opened his eyes to meet the gaze. They were flushed and panting, House’s hips jerking up in a painfully slow rhythm. Wilson raised his eyebrows and an unspoken agreement passed between them now. House stared up at him neutrally and grabbed his hips to urge him forward, until they were thrusting together.
It had been true, all of it, House realized. Wilson really was almost painfully good at this. He wasn’t even sure Wilson was hard, but he knew just what House wanted. He spit into his palm and started jerking them off in unison, wrapping his hands around them so that House could feel a length pressed hotly to his own. Amber had faded into the background, except for a minor trace of annoyance that they were being watched.
“I don’t know if I can come again,” Wilson admitted, eyes screwed shut in concentration. House was breathing almost too heavily to speak, but he raised his head slightly and drew Wilson down to kiss him again.
“Just don’t stop doing that,” House muttered, when Wilson broke away and rested his sweaty forehead beside House’s on the pillow. Their movements were growing more erratic. House bit his lip to keep from grunting in pain at the tension coiled in his thigh.
“Doing what?” Wilson asked into the pillow, going faster now. He turned so that his lips dragged against House’s stubble. “Kissing you?”
Amber cleared her throat. “I didn’t know getting rid of sexual frustration required talking,” she said pointedly.
“Have you met House?” Wilson asked, teasing her slightly. House grabbed the back of his head to draw him down into another kiss, and also to keep them from finishing that particular conversation. Wilson was unexpectedly enthusiastic, and House groaned in warning.
Wilson broke away and bent down to watch as House came, strings of sticky fluid mired between four thighs. House swallowed a name as Wilson rubbed himself against the come that had landed on House’s stomach, panting wildly. House and Amber watched raptly until he came a few short moments later, jerking weakly into his hand, then collapsed between the two of them.
“You have two choices,” Amber said quietly, stroking Wilson’s hair. House fought the urge to bat her hand away. “You can go with House, now, or you can sleep here, with me. You’re welcome to stay,” she added over the top of Wilson’s head to House. “At least until the morning.”
House shook his head and got out of the bed, pulling his slacks and boxers up from where they’d been rucked about his ankles. “It’s fine,” he said dangerously, unwilling to face them now. He stalked out of the room and was almost out of the apartment before Wilson caught up with him, rubbing the back of his own neck in earnest self-consciousness.
“I…” Wilson drifted off, realizing he had nothing to say. House just stared at him for a few long moments.
Then they were kissing again, wildly out of control, slamming into a wall so that House’s back was pressed against the doorframe and Wilson’s hands were gripping his arms and the side of his face, urging him deeper. They were frantic: House’s head banged against the wall, and Wilson slowed down to kiss him languidly, almost tenderly, the force of their initial touching tempered by the post-sex exhaustion.
House pulled away first. “When you’re sick of the proxy,” he panted, “let me know.” He untwisted Wilson’s hand from his hair and gingerly extricated his leg from between Wilson’s.
Wilson watched his back fade into the darkness of the hall.