T#60 Timbershiver - NC17 - Your turn
Title: Your Turn
Author:
timbershiver
Rating: NC17 for general smuttiness.
Words: 1654
Prompt: #60 House doesn't think he deserves Wilson - these are the consequences.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them - yet.
Notes: I am so sorry this is not only late, but recycled and not one of my best. I wrote this, then changed my mind and drafted two others then went back to this. THANK YOU SO MUCH
karaokegal for the 11th hour beta (like an hour ago). You may have read the first part before, this is the ending, and even I didn't see it coming!
Complete AU where everyone's a sex-fiend!
p.s. I AM SO JEALOUS of anyone watching the finale tomorrow night!
Your Turn
It was still dark and Chase had woken up slowly. His eyes hurt, his mouth felt dry and he could taste...oh yes. He remembered…
The night before Chase had just left for the night after checking on their latest patient who had been recovering well in ICU. He’d drawn the short straw and Foreman and Cameron had gone home.
House and Wilson were waiting by the elevator when he left for the evening. He had been shocked when House insisted he accompany them for a drink.If he hadn't have been stealing glances, Chase would have missed the brief look of surprise on Wilson's face at the invite, before he recovered and chimed in with encouragement for Chase to come along.
They had ended up in some bar close to the hospital.
And then another.
There might have even been a third.
Chase remembered thinking that House wasn't drinking as much as he and Wilson were but House had been in a good mood and had kept them entertained with his clinic stories.
There was Tequila and then it all became a bit of a blur.
A flesh and sex coloured blur.
He couldn't remember how he got there but he was at House's place, he knew that much. He vaguely recalled Wilson trying to protest and hearing House refer to a "belated birthday present".
There was nothing vague about Chase's memory of pushing Wilson onto the bed and kissing him, ripping his shirt open and attacking whatever skin was exposed. He remembers House prodding him in the ass with his cane and telling him "enough."
Chase remembers disagreeing but stopping anyway.
It went a bit vague again and then there were just snapshot images and memories of sensations behind Chase's eyes like a strobe.
Chase was halfway down the bed in front of Wilson. He remembers taking the smooth cock into his mouth and feeling a burst of intense pleasure at hearing Wilson groan. Then House was behind Wilson, kissing his neck and throat, anywhere he could reach.
Wilson.
The sound, the touch, the taste.
And House.
House's fingers gripped around Wilson's hips. House's name gasped by Wilson' lips.
House and Wilson.
Both of them when he only really wanted one, but that was never going to happen now was it?
The initial wrecked-head bleariness was clearing and Chase could feel movement from the other side of the bed he was in.
House's bed.
House and Wilson's bed.
There were noises, shifting, steady movement and oh God, there was no way he could get out of this with any dignity left whatsoever.
They'd probably forgotten he was there
Or they didn't care.
Chase couldn't help slowly moving his head. His eyes were peeping out from under a blanket that was tucked up to under his nose.
As far as possible on the other side of the bed were House and Wilson.
Chase's eyes were slowly adjusting to the mid-dark as well as his hangover and although he knew this was the last thing he should be watching, he couldn't turn his eyes away.
House's body was completely covering Wilson's. Chase couldn't blame him for doing that. House's hands were clamped either side of Wilson's head, his thumbs rubbing along the contours of those sharp cheekbones. He also couldn't blame House for working his lips over and over Wilson's mouth and nor could he blame him for grabbing hold of a handful of hair and yanking Wilson's head back to expose his throat. If he'd been in House's position (and he really wished he was) he too would have ravaged Wilson's throat, making those obscene sucking sounds that were really turning Chase on but not as much as Wilson was - gasping aloud at each bite and nibble. House chewed briefly on Wilson's earlobe, then kissed along the jaw, releasing the hair from his fingers and going back to work on the mouth.
Chase couldn't blame House for running his hand all the way down Wilson's side but he wished Wilson hadn't arched his back in pleasure, pushing himself up to meet House's body.
He could have done without hearing them whisper each other's name in the dark.
He didn't blame House for upping the tempo, making the bed springs squeak louder and Chase's head start to bounce on the pillow. He just wished Wilson hadn't responded with a quiet, almost inaudible "uh, uh, uh" to each thrust.
Chase didn't even need to move his hand - he only had to hold his cock and, as usual, House did the rest for him.
The rhythm increased again.
Wilson threw his arm out, as if to try and reach for the headboard but House grabbed his wrist and pinned it down so that their hands were now next to Chase's head. That was his only view from now on and he watched as House gripped Wilson's wrist tighter still.
Wilson made an attempt at struggling, straining his forearm, fingers reaching out. Chase's heart was racing.
The bed was now creaking. Three different pitches of breathing permeated the room. Chase gasped quietly as he saw House briefly release Wilson's wrist only to grab it again even tighter and Wilson clench his fingers into a fist.
The thrusts got urgent, harsher, harder.
Inches from Chase's face, Wilson's fingers flayed out like a fan and curled up again in time to the pulses of his orgasm, whispering
"ohyes, ohgod, ohGreg."
He really could have done without hearing Wilson say House's name like that twice in one night.
One final shove and House choked a breathless cry and held, frozen, looking down at Wilson for a few moments, gasping.
At first Chase hadn't realise that he'd also come. He lay there also frozen, trying to contain his breath, convinced his heart was vibrating through the bed.
House and Wilson were panting, kissing and murmuring to each other next to him.Chase felt like a sick voyeur but lay still, listening as they settled themselves. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just get up and look for his clothes, peck them both on the cheek and walk out.
Eventually, after the oh-so-familiar pill-rattle, Wilson lay on his side, furthest away from Chase and House was spooned up against him. They both had their backs to Chase so he tried to quietly roll on his side, pretending it was in mid-sleep.
He couldn't blame House for making love to Wilson liked he owned him.
But he could blame House for getting him into this situation.
Damn you House, He thought and spitefully wiped his hand on the bed sheet.
He waited until he heard steady breathing fill the room and slipped out of the bed onto the floor. He sat still for a few moments, trying to get his bearings. As he groped around for any scrap of clothing that might be his he thought to himself, “There’s my pants, and my socks, great, both of them. I think my shirt is in the lounge…”
It took him longer than he wanted but he was as quiet as a mouse and eventually Chase slipped out of House’s apartment, fully clothed and apparently unheard. It was the early hours and no longer pitch dark outside. The sky was an inky blue and there was a chill wind blowing North. Chase briefly closed his eyes and held his head up, feeling the cleansing breeze hit his face. Looking back just once at House’s front door he smirked bitterly and thought, “Those two deserve each other,”.
Taking a deep breath, Chase started walking. He just wanted to get home, even though he had no idea how.
*****************
As soon as he heard the front door click shut, House reached for Wilson who rolled onto his stomach, head buried in the pillow. Assuming it was a hangover-induced grumpiness, House began tracing circles slowly over Wilson’s back.
“Well, you certainly gave him a night to remember” he whispered in Wilson’s ear. On the far side of the bed, Wilson’s hand clenched into a fist. House leaned down further and started kissing Wilson’s neck, licking, biting and mumbling “I wonder if he’ll ever look at you again without...”
“House, stop!”
Surprised, House did as he was told and stared at Wilson who turned his head to face him. His face was serious.
“Please stop testing me. This has to stop. When it’s just you and me…” he rolled onto his back and gestured with his hands, “we can handle it. But getting other people involved, it’s cruel.”
He leant on his side and grabbed House’s hand. “You don’t have to be cruel,” a sharp look of guilt briefly crossed his face, “We don’t have to be cruel. No matter how many beautiful people you dangle in front of my face, or shove into bed with me, it’ll always end up just me and you.” He slid nearer and pressed his lips to House’s shoulder, “Will you finally understand that?”
House pulled Wilson closer and ran his fingers through his hair, “Shut up and get some sleep.”
*****************
All three were late for work that day. The morning diagnosis session was subdued, but House and Chase both managed to act normally by Chase making random suggestions and House sarcastically shooting them down. Wilson was noticeable by his absence.
Cameron kept her glasses on all day, she felt like she could hide behind them. She watched silently, blending into the background, no one taking any notice of her. Foreman didn’t seem to notice anything different, but she knew the look on Chase’s face - the memories were flashing in front of his eyes, and he was torn between wanting to jerk off or bang his head against a wall - and she looked back to the neurologist, cheerfully reading a journal with his feet up. He looked up at her and she tried to smile but felt it turn into a grimace so she stared at her monitor, “Just wait until it’s your turn,” she thought.
~the end~
I SWEAR this is the last 'Chase as a bitch' fic I ever write!
Author:
timbershiver
Rating: NC17 for general smuttiness.
Words: 1654
Prompt: #60 House doesn't think he deserves Wilson - these are the consequences.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them - yet.
Notes: I am so sorry this is not only late, but recycled and not one of my best. I wrote this, then changed my mind and drafted two others then went back to this. THANK YOU SO MUCH
karaokegal for the 11th hour beta (like an hour ago). You may have read the first part before, this is the ending, and even I didn't see it coming!
Complete AU where everyone's a sex-fiend!
p.s. I AM SO JEALOUS of anyone watching the finale tomorrow night!
Your Turn
It was still dark and Chase had woken up slowly. His eyes hurt, his mouth felt dry and he could taste...oh yes. He remembered…
The night before Chase had just left for the night after checking on their latest patient who had been recovering well in ICU. He’d drawn the short straw and Foreman and Cameron had gone home.
House and Wilson were waiting by the elevator when he left for the evening. He had been shocked when House insisted he accompany them for a drink.If he hadn't have been stealing glances, Chase would have missed the brief look of surprise on Wilson's face at the invite, before he recovered and chimed in with encouragement for Chase to come along.
They had ended up in some bar close to the hospital.
And then another.
There might have even been a third.
Chase remembered thinking that House wasn't drinking as much as he and Wilson were but House had been in a good mood and had kept them entertained with his clinic stories.
There was Tequila and then it all became a bit of a blur.
A flesh and sex coloured blur.
He couldn't remember how he got there but he was at House's place, he knew that much. He vaguely recalled Wilson trying to protest and hearing House refer to a "belated birthday present".
There was nothing vague about Chase's memory of pushing Wilson onto the bed and kissing him, ripping his shirt open and attacking whatever skin was exposed. He remembers House prodding him in the ass with his cane and telling him "enough."
Chase remembers disagreeing but stopping anyway.
It went a bit vague again and then there were just snapshot images and memories of sensations behind Chase's eyes like a strobe.
Chase was halfway down the bed in front of Wilson. He remembers taking the smooth cock into his mouth and feeling a burst of intense pleasure at hearing Wilson groan. Then House was behind Wilson, kissing his neck and throat, anywhere he could reach.
Wilson.
The sound, the touch, the taste.
And House.
House's fingers gripped around Wilson's hips. House's name gasped by Wilson' lips.
House and Wilson.
Both of them when he only really wanted one, but that was never going to happen now was it?
The initial wrecked-head bleariness was clearing and Chase could feel movement from the other side of the bed he was in.
House's bed.
House and Wilson's bed.
There were noises, shifting, steady movement and oh God, there was no way he could get out of this with any dignity left whatsoever.
They'd probably forgotten he was there
Or they didn't care.
Chase couldn't help slowly moving his head. His eyes were peeping out from under a blanket that was tucked up to under his nose.
As far as possible on the other side of the bed were House and Wilson.
Chase's eyes were slowly adjusting to the mid-dark as well as his hangover and although he knew this was the last thing he should be watching, he couldn't turn his eyes away.
House's body was completely covering Wilson's. Chase couldn't blame him for doing that. House's hands were clamped either side of Wilson's head, his thumbs rubbing along the contours of those sharp cheekbones. He also couldn't blame House for working his lips over and over Wilson's mouth and nor could he blame him for grabbing hold of a handful of hair and yanking Wilson's head back to expose his throat. If he'd been in House's position (and he really wished he was) he too would have ravaged Wilson's throat, making those obscene sucking sounds that were really turning Chase on but not as much as Wilson was - gasping aloud at each bite and nibble. House chewed briefly on Wilson's earlobe, then kissed along the jaw, releasing the hair from his fingers and going back to work on the mouth.
Chase couldn't blame House for running his hand all the way down Wilson's side but he wished Wilson hadn't arched his back in pleasure, pushing himself up to meet House's body.
He could have done without hearing them whisper each other's name in the dark.
He didn't blame House for upping the tempo, making the bed springs squeak louder and Chase's head start to bounce on the pillow. He just wished Wilson hadn't responded with a quiet, almost inaudible "uh, uh, uh" to each thrust.
Chase didn't even need to move his hand - he only had to hold his cock and, as usual, House did the rest for him.
The rhythm increased again.
Wilson threw his arm out, as if to try and reach for the headboard but House grabbed his wrist and pinned it down so that their hands were now next to Chase's head. That was his only view from now on and he watched as House gripped Wilson's wrist tighter still.
Wilson made an attempt at struggling, straining his forearm, fingers reaching out. Chase's heart was racing.
The bed was now creaking. Three different pitches of breathing permeated the room. Chase gasped quietly as he saw House briefly release Wilson's wrist only to grab it again even tighter and Wilson clench his fingers into a fist.
The thrusts got urgent, harsher, harder.
Inches from Chase's face, Wilson's fingers flayed out like a fan and curled up again in time to the pulses of his orgasm, whispering
"ohyes, ohgod, ohGreg."
He really could have done without hearing Wilson say House's name like that twice in one night.
One final shove and House choked a breathless cry and held, frozen, looking down at Wilson for a few moments, gasping.
At first Chase hadn't realise that he'd also come. He lay there also frozen, trying to contain his breath, convinced his heart was vibrating through the bed.
House and Wilson were panting, kissing and murmuring to each other next to him.Chase felt like a sick voyeur but lay still, listening as they settled themselves. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just get up and look for his clothes, peck them both on the cheek and walk out.
Eventually, after the oh-so-familiar pill-rattle, Wilson lay on his side, furthest away from Chase and House was spooned up against him. They both had their backs to Chase so he tried to quietly roll on his side, pretending it was in mid-sleep.
He couldn't blame House for making love to Wilson liked he owned him.
But he could blame House for getting him into this situation.
Damn you House, He thought and spitefully wiped his hand on the bed sheet.
He waited until he heard steady breathing fill the room and slipped out of the bed onto the floor. He sat still for a few moments, trying to get his bearings. As he groped around for any scrap of clothing that might be his he thought to himself, “There’s my pants, and my socks, great, both of them. I think my shirt is in the lounge…”
It took him longer than he wanted but he was as quiet as a mouse and eventually Chase slipped out of House’s apartment, fully clothed and apparently unheard. It was the early hours and no longer pitch dark outside. The sky was an inky blue and there was a chill wind blowing North. Chase briefly closed his eyes and held his head up, feeling the cleansing breeze hit his face. Looking back just once at House’s front door he smirked bitterly and thought, “Those two deserve each other,”.
Taking a deep breath, Chase started walking. He just wanted to get home, even though he had no idea how.
*****************
As soon as he heard the front door click shut, House reached for Wilson who rolled onto his stomach, head buried in the pillow. Assuming it was a hangover-induced grumpiness, House began tracing circles slowly over Wilson’s back.
“Well, you certainly gave him a night to remember” he whispered in Wilson’s ear. On the far side of the bed, Wilson’s hand clenched into a fist. House leaned down further and started kissing Wilson’s neck, licking, biting and mumbling “I wonder if he’ll ever look at you again without...”
“House, stop!”
Surprised, House did as he was told and stared at Wilson who turned his head to face him. His face was serious.
“Please stop testing me. This has to stop. When it’s just you and me…” he rolled onto his back and gestured with his hands, “we can handle it. But getting other people involved, it’s cruel.”
He leant on his side and grabbed House’s hand. “You don’t have to be cruel,” a sharp look of guilt briefly crossed his face, “We don’t have to be cruel. No matter how many beautiful people you dangle in front of my face, or shove into bed with me, it’ll always end up just me and you.” He slid nearer and pressed his lips to House’s shoulder, “Will you finally understand that?”
House pulled Wilson closer and ran his fingers through his hair, “Shut up and get some sleep.”
*****************
All three were late for work that day. The morning diagnosis session was subdued, but House and Chase both managed to act normally by Chase making random suggestions and House sarcastically shooting them down. Wilson was noticeable by his absence.
Cameron kept her glasses on all day, she felt like she could hide behind them. She watched silently, blending into the background, no one taking any notice of her. Foreman didn’t seem to notice anything different, but she knew the look on Chase’s face - the memories were flashing in front of his eyes, and he was torn between wanting to jerk off or bang his head against a wall - and she looked back to the neurologist, cheerfully reading a journal with his feet up. He looked up at her and she tried to smile but felt it turn into a grimace so she stared at her monitor, “Just wait until it’s your turn,” she thought.
~the end~
I SWEAR this is the last 'Chase as a bitch' fic I ever write!