Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Wilson/Chase, House/Wilson-mentioned.
Word Count: 2294
Spoilers:Season 1&2 up to "Sex Kills"
A/N-Written for kohlrimmedeye because I heard she was looking for new Wilson/Chase with no Season 3 spoilers. Warnings: Some of my kinky boots snuck in the door.
Summary: What happened before Wilson knocked on House's door in "Sex Kills"?
Cross-posted because I need the curry.
Wilson circled House’s block three times before giving up and going back to the hospital.
There was no absence of parking spaces or any doubt that House would take him in. The price of admission would be a new round of derision, but Wilson was willing to pay in full. House had earned his pound of flesh for listening to his bullshit about loving his wife for however many months it had been that Wilson’s marriage was falling apart at the seams.
He just didn’t want to back into the same old scene. The “sleeping on the couch” charade rarely lasted past the first night. When Charisse threw him out, it hadn’t lasted the first hour.
House fucked him as though he were dispensing antibiotics to a clinic patient. He knew the treatment would work, but wasn’t the least bit engaged in the process. He’d already diagnosed Wilson’s pathology and was only administering a booster shot until the next outbreak.
Wilson wanted to be a puzzle again. He drove back to PPTH, not knowing what or who he expected to find there. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t find it in his office. There was nothing there but tchatchkes and a reminder not to fall in love with Kim Novak, no matter what color her hair was.
Julie had always been more of a Janet Leigh type. Wholesome in the extreme, but Welles had taught him that “Touch Of Evil” applied to everybody.
She’d never looked as beautiful as she had while telling him that she was having an affair. He’d pushed her so far with his guilt-inspired confessions and she’d finally struck back. Her touch of evil became her. Wilson had been tempted to pull her into the bedroom.
“Julie,” he’d murmured, in the voice that use to do it for her, when he’d found her in the Princeton Library, trying to explain the Dewey Decimal system to clueless freshman who thought everything could be found on the internet. Instead of giving in, she lashed out.
“This is what it takes to make you want me again? Get the hell out of here.”
It was a shame. A few rounds of sin and sexual redemption could have kept them in business for another year and prevented him from going out on the balcony of his office and over the wall to make himself comfortable in House’s chair.
The patient was recovering with his VD infected heart, but House’s band of gypsies were a dedicated trio. At least one of them would be here and eventually come through the door of diagnostics to ring some variation on the theme, “Dr. Wilson. What are you doing here?”
Foreman, Chase or Cameron?
He didn’t think Cameron was the sure thing that House’s increasingly cold-blooded assessment would indicate. She had rigid scruples, especially when it came to cheating of any kind. It would be amusing to see if he could summon enough pathos to breach those defenses.
Foreman would be a long-shot. Maybe he could get a kind word and a drink. Possibly a sneer. He could end up with a bloody nose for even trying. Would House going on about “rough trade” be worth it?”
Wilson was almost disappointed when “Dr. Wilson? What are you doing here?” came in an Australian accent.
Too easy. Chase with his seminary demons, daddy issues and a sexual history that included “a girl who liked to be burned” and “this is your Cameron on drugs.” Not to mention kissing Andie. Clearly not one to turn down the opportunity to offer comfort, especially to an authority figure.
He didn’t know if this would accomplish anything. House could probably walk in and find Chase on his knees giving Wilson a blow-job and barely comment beyond a raised eyebrow. It might not even rate as an interesting symptom. It made a hell of a visual though. Now to go about implementing it.
“Dr. Wilson, are you all right?”
Just the right mixture of despair, bravery and need should do the trick.
“Sorry. I had a fight with my wife. I came over here looking for House, but I guess he's gone for the night. I just didn’t want to be alone.”
He fixed his prey with the warmest look in the Wilson arsenal, expecting Chase to fall into his gaze and then into his arms. It was a rude shock to find out this was real life and not one of his fantasies. Chase regarded him with an expression somewhere between pity and disgust.
“Sorry to hear about your wife, if that’s true, but the rest is crap.”
“You’re not here looking for House. He left hours ago and you know that. You two live in each other’s hip pockets. If you wanted to be with House, you’d be at his place right now. Which means you’re looking for something else. And lying about it.”
When had Chase started sounding so much like his boss?
Chase picked up the ball from House’s desk and rolled it between his hands before tossing it at Wilson, who missed. The ball landed in his lap and sat there, as unwelcome as the erection that had been lurking since his fight with Julie and had now decided to announce itself.
He returned the ball to the desk, hoping that his pants were loose enough to cover the evidence. Chase stared directly at the spot where the ball had been. Maybe he had infra-red vision or maybe his gaze was making it hotter. Wilson realized that Chase’s eyes were nearly as hypnotic as the ones he was there avoiding.
Wilson watched Chase start to go. He let him get to the door before calling out sharply, “Chase!”
When Chase turned around, his smile wasn’t that different than Julie's when she told him that she’d been screwing a grad student and let him do the math. Wilson felt Chase looking into him, getting ready to leave him with his hard-on and confusion. He might as well go to House’s. He’d get laid and be spared this particular dry-mouthed humiliation, except he’d have to jerk off first because the longer Chase looked at him, the harder he got.
Eat your heart out, nameless grad-student.
Chase didn’t leave. He locked the door and closed the blinds before coming back into the inner office to stand in front of Wilson with his arms folded. A flick of his eyes in the direction of Wilson’s spread legs felt like a lash against his skin. Wilson didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to resist the urge to give himself some kind of relief.
“What did you have in mind?” Chase asked, his tone amused and slightly demanding.
Wilson had no pre-tested patter for this situation.
“My office. Couch.”
Dr. Smooth had been reduced to hoarse monosyllables.
Chase shrugged off his lab coat, letting if fall to the floor, before shaking his head.
“You should be able to suck me off right where you are.”
There was nothing harsh in Chase’s voice. Just a statement of fact. It must have been the accent or the words themselves that made it so hard to breathe. Wilson reached up to his neck, planning to undo his tie, but it wasn’t there. He’d changed into casual clothes before leaving the house.
Even his loose jeans were too tight.
Wilson squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sight of Chase looking at him and started rubbing the denim over the bulge in his jeans. It was too much, but not nearly enough. He unzipped and reached inside, clutching himself tightly.
His memory kept replaying Chase’s words: “suck me off,” and how incongruous they sounded coming from those youthful features. He’d forgotten that the actual person was still in the room until he felt warm breath at his ear.
“Keep going,” Chase directed. “Take it out.”
Wilson obeyed, caught up in the lilt of Chase’s voice. The relief as he freed his erection caused his body to arch backwards and his pelvis to thrust up. He sensed Chase moving slightly to avoid physical contact.
He started stroking with a sweaty hand. The other one gave his balls a friendly squeeze. You’re still there. Julie didn’t get you.
It would be easy to speed up and end this as quickly as possible. He jerked roughly, only to be admonished.
“You didn’t come here to shake hands with the devil that quickly. Slow. Down.”
The last two words were drawn out into a sensuous croon.
“I said you were going to suck me off. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
His mouth opened involuntarily as he envisioned Chase perched on House’s desk, naked from the waist down. A long, slender cock in front of his face. His mind provided the smooth skin against his tongue as he licked tentatively.
“That’s it. You’ve done this before?”
He nodded. House needed a lot of stimulation to cut through his opiate-induced indifference to everything but his medical mysteries.
“I want you to take it deep and suck.”
As he tried to follow directions, he gagged, not as used to the sensation as he thought he was. Chase was still at his side, touching Wilson only with his voice
“More. Give me your mouth, Wilson.”
He gasped, trying to open his mouth wider, take Chase’s dick down to the base. Fluid was starting to mix with sweat, making his own hand more slippery. He wanted to say something but how could he talk with a Chase’s cock pushing deep into his mouth?
He must be doing a good job judging by Chase’s unabashedly sexual groan and the hot gasp of air that Wilson felt right after it.
“Just like that. I need you to make it hard and wet.”
His stroking pace picked up. Either Chase didn’t notice or he wanted added speed to take Wilson to the next level.
“After you’ve sucked my cock, I’m going to bend you over House’s desk. I want your legs spread.” He paused and seemed to consider what he was looking at. “Wider. I don’t have anything to make this easier, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Wilson’s body clenched in anticipation.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this? I’ve spent nights thinking of your ass sticking out like that, your palms clutching the desk, waiting for my cock.”
There was barely any friction as his hand jerked up and down.
“You’ll never forgive me, but you’ll let me fuck you because you need it so badly. Don’t you? Don’t you, Wilson?”
Chase’s voice was low and rough, exposing Wilson for what he was and making him want more.
“Yes. Can I…. please?”
He was begging Chase for permission to come.
“Keep it going. Squeeze harder. Go faster. I’m not giving you much preparation so you’d better relax. I’m going to shove my cock into you right now.”
A jolt went through Wilson’s body, curling his toes. He barely held back a scream as Chase drove into him. He saw himself, cheek down on House’s desk; felt himself open, hollowed, desperate. He knew Chase was still talking, but his mind no longer absorbed the words. His hand pumped his cock at the same frantic pace as Chase was fucking him.
Wilson heard his own voice, rough and obscene, cursing fluently as he felt the first shivers. He grasped his cock with both hands, squeezing tightly as the hot gush hit his fingers. His body jerked and twitched, shaken by an orgasm too strong to be the product of an illusion.
He slumped forward, wanting to fend off reality as long as possible.
Wilson practically expected to hear “Dr. Wilson. What are you doing here?” as though the whole thing hadn’t happened. He could get back to House’s place and play out the usual scenario. At least he knew what that meant; nothing. He’d wanted something different and he’d gotten it. Complaining because it might have actually affected him was just tacky.
When he opened his eyes, Chase was offering damp paper towels and an unreadable smile. Wilson busied himself with perfunctory clean-up. He wanted to know if the encounter had meant anything to the other man. A glance toward Chase’s crotch offered no answers. Does he really feel that way or was he just talking a good game?
“Chase,” he started, tossing the paper towels into House’s wastepaper basket.
“You’re going to House’s now, right?”
Wilson shrugged, holding back the urge to say something that would make this more than a fantasy.
“Then you should get going. I’ll finish up here.”
He got to his feet, using House’s desk for support. He sensed Chase shadowing his movements with his eyes, but the younger man made no attempt to touch him. His mind produced a lingering flash of himself, face contorted with pain and desire. He shook it off and found Chase putting his lab coat back on. Their eyes met just long enough to tell Wilson…only that Chase had eyes somewhere between the color of sea and sky, and if they ever did this again, Wilson had a few ideas of his own.
Even the most superficial exchange of “good nights” would have been too real. Wilson left in silence, trying not to imagine what Chase would or wouldn’t do in his absence.
The parking spot in front of House’s apartment was still there. He took his bag out of the trunk and went to knock on the door.
“You idiot, you told her.”
Wilson showed enough of his Chase-induced smile to keep House wondering why he wasn’t completely broken up about the failure of yet another marriage.
“…You were right. It’s all about sex...”