This is set in Season 5, after "Birth Marks." Spoilers for the entire series, up until that point. Thanks to all of you who have commented on my previous stories - I really appreciated it! Hope you enjoy!

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Wilson was surprised to find House just sitting on the couch when he keyed open the door. He had not noticed the Repsol outside when he parked his Volvo in front of 221B and had figured that House was running late, that he might even have been at the hospital still. "Hey."

House started. Even with the TV on mute, he had not heard Wilson come in. That was interesting; House was often preoccupied, but not oblivious. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Movie night. We just talked about it." At House's blank look, Wilson raised his eyebrows. "At the hospital, remember? In your office? Half an hour ago?"

"Oh. Right." House settled back against the cushions and resumed his silent communion with the equally silent television, picking at his lower lip.

Wilson made an exasperated face even though he would gain nothing from the effort. "Right," he parroted under his breath. In a normal tone, he asked, "Mind if I turn on the lights, or did I walk in on a new hobby? You hiding something over there? Maybe you set up an obstacle course in your living room to see how long it would take me to trip and break…" He trailed off when his sarcasm failed to provoke a response. "Oooookay. Did I miss something? You take up tantric meditation in the past three minutes?"

House shrugged, his gaze fixed blankly ahead of him. "Did you bring food?" he asked instead.

"Do you see food?" Wilson countered.

"I see you."

Wilson opened his mouth to retort but nothing came to mind. He narrowed his eyes instead and put on an expression that House had once termed 'plotting in confusion' while he studied the back of House's head. His banter on auto pilot, he said, "Is this your inner cannibal speaking, or did you just run out of witty things to say?"

"That depends." House threw a disinterested glance over his shoulder. "Are you yummy?"

"Ask my ex wives," Wilson deadpanned, but his mind was only half on the verbal sparring. House's rebuttals were perfectly in character but they seemed to lack an intangible measure of either snark or fake-flirt. "Don't bite my head off for this, but is everything okay? You seem off." House lowered his brows in disapproval without turning from a muted reenactment of some Civil War skirmish. "Okay, more off than normal," Wilson amended.

That seemed to satisfy House. He waved a hand in dismissal and Wilson noted the bottle of Makers Mark on the coffee table. He was thankful to see that it was still mostly full. "Case. We keep making him worse."

"Mm." Wilson stepped around to perch on the armrest next to him, casually assessing his friend's mood. "Isn't your patient a girl?"

"Could be."

"You had me rule out ovarian cancer."

"We can't make gender assumptions based on outward anatomy, remember? That's referred to as 'judging a book by its cover.' It's discrimination, and discrimination compromises patient care."

Wilson nodded and smiled at the half-hearted reference to the runway model who turned out to be a guy, as well as the subtle mockery of the memo that PPTH's General Counsel had sent around that week to remind everyone (read: House) of lawsuit-worthy behavior. "Now I get it. You're channeling Cuddy. Very convincing. Your cleavage is stunning, by the way." That earned him a smirk but the humor failed to reach House's eyes. Wilson sighed, and in a complete nonsequitor, he abruptly turned to face House's profile on the couch beside him, drawing his right leg up to rest his foot near House's good leg, though he stayed well without House's personal bubble. "I want to try something."

Finally, the TV lost House's attention, and Wilson gave himself props for perfecting his House-playing skills over the years. He knew exactly what inflections to use to get House to fixate on him. It was almost thrilling to know that he could do that at will. "Try what?" House asked. "New Chinese place?"

"Like you'd eat anything that didn't come from your regular Chinese place."

"I've been known to experiment," House replied. And for once, though those words sounded provokative, Wilson did not think that House realized it. He was defensive rather than teasing.

For all the games they played with each other, all the flirting with homoerotic undertones, Wilson truly did not think that House registered half of the things that went on beneath the surface of the words they exchanged. House said things to get a rise out of people, and that banter was simply one means to an end. It seemed impossible that House could have missed the pun he'd made on top of Wilson's hints, being that he could normally read people with such ease. Then again, Wilson had never given any indication that he might like to take their banter seriously – that he was curious.

While House's indignant stare gradually turned perplexed, Wilson made his decision. He shifted his weight onto the foot that rested on the couch cushion and leaned down toward House. When House drew back, probably under the impression that Wilson was about to fall over, Wilson latched his hands around the back of his best friend's neck and pulled him forward again. All House got out was a surprised "Mrmph" as Wilson pressed their lips together.

Neither of them moved at first, Wilson too apprehensive and House too busy figuring out the nature of this new game. Eventually, Wilson felt House's lips part beneath his own, and the tip of a tongue brushed over his mouth in a tentative caress. Both of them kept their eyes open, carefully watching for warnings or cues from the other. Up close, House's eyes flickered in shards of blue reflecting the glow from the muted television. Wilson blinked and answered House's foray with a press of his own tongue. They exhaled simultaneously, and then Wilson's tongue delved forward of its own accord.

House drew in a startled breath but accommodated him without complaint. He remained docile, however; Wilson had expected House to be more demanding, to assert some sort of dominance. It was a bit unnerving to have a silent and subservient House accepting this from him on his terms. It was also erotic as hell.

Wilson fell fully onto the couch and House moved to give him space, never once pulling away or breaking the kiss. They jockeyed for position for a moment, and then Wilson decided to take the initiative that House had apparently granted him in this situation. He pushed and pulled at House's torso until he was sitting sideways on the couch with his bad leg hanging safely out of the way, foot on the floor. Then Wilson lunged, using the armrest for leverage. House grabbed at Wilson's biceps to slow his backward fall, and grunted as he hit the cushions.

The move jostled their lips apart, and Wilson took a moment to gaze down at House. His hands still gripped Wilson's arms too tightly for comfort, but that was the only sign of trepidation that House betrayed. He arched an eyebrow and Wilson grinned. Still not boring sizzled in the air between them.

Wilson bent down and took a moment to nibble along House's jugular while he worked his left knee between House's legs, straddling his friend's good thigh. The hands on his forearms loosened but did not leave. Apparently, House was content to remain a passive participant, at least for now. That was fine with Wilson; it made things easier.

Taking care not to be too aggressive (this was brand new territory, after all), Wilson stretched himself out along House's body and resumed his ministrations to House's mouth. The first time he swallowed a sound out of House, Wilson thought it was a fluke caused by a compressed diaphragm. By the third noise, Wilson was debating whether to call those sounds moans or whimpers. He needed to hear more of them to resolve the issue, so he experimented by running one hand down the length of House's body, avoiding the obvious places and coming to rest against the inside of House's left thigh. The heat radiating between them was evidence enough of House's enjoyment. Wilson shifted his hand to the left and squeezed the tender skin at the juncture of leg and hip. House jerked against him and choked on another one of those delicious little noises, his head lolling back and breaking the kiss. Wilson latched his mouth to House's collarbone instead and made lazy circles with his thumb mere millimeters from House's groin. The denim pulled taut under his fingers and Wilson dared to let his hand drift over the bulge that caused it. Just a ghost of neatly trimmed fingernails, but it drew a clear whimper from his friend. House immediately clamped his mouth shut on the sound and Wilson decided that the sport of this game was to get House to let loose his vocal cords.

House's eyes found Wilson's just as he made this resolution, so he got to watch House's lids flutter when he pressed the heel of his hand down against House's jeans-covered erection. The material under his hand was damp with sweat and precum, and Wilson made a slow sweep upwards along House's confined length.

"Oh, shi-i-i-i-t," House groaned. His voice had gone up a few registers and it sent Wilson's blood pulsing southward. A second press and sweep made House arch upward, seeking friction, and a third finally drew out a rumbling moan of disbelief mingled with bliss.

House's hands tightened again on Wilson's arms and fingernails dug into the muscle near Wilson's elbow as House pressed himself up against Wilson's body, baring his neck in the process. Wilson immediately focused his attentions there and worked his mouth up across House's jaw line until he found a spot just below and behind House's ear that made his breaths come at shorter intervals.

"Hey, Wilson?" House's voice was nine parts air, one part lust.

Wilson suckled at a vein in House's neck, alternating teeth and tongue. Let's see how he explains this to the ducklings, he thought mischievously as he made sure to leave a livid mark. In response to House, he mumbled, "Hmmm?" around the nip of skin he held between his teeth, and noted that the vibration of his voice made House shiver.

"What…nnnnn." House broke off to hiss in pleasure when Wilson's errant fingers located a nipple to pinch through his tshirt. Then he tried to speak again. "What made you wanna try – try – ahhn. Wilson?"

Wilson was surprised when the hands on his chest pushed him back instead of reaching for buttons. In response, Wilson pressed his hand harder against House's clothed cock, but even though it made him swallow convulsively with his eyelids at half-mast, House held Wilson out at arm's length, insistent. Wilson stopped with a long-suffering sigh. "What, you actually want to talk about something?"

"Have you done this before?" The continuance of the talking was House's only way of admitting that yes, he wanted to talk.

Wilson pursed his lips and settled backwards so that his weight wasn't resting mainly on House's arms. "You have impeccable timing with this sort of thing. You know that?"

"Just answer the question."

Impatient-House never boded well for anyone, so Wilson relented. "Not with a guy. You?"

House shook his head. "Why'd you suddenly decide to try this now?"

Dammit. House was in diagnostics mode now; it showed in his eyes, the set of his brow, his voice…nothing would get him out of it until he solved whatever puzzle he thought he'd stumbled upon. "Look. For once, House, there's no deep dark secret ulterior motive. Okay? Being a doctor, I know the logistics of – of – " He gestured at the both of them to convey the idea of 'man-sex' without actually having to say it. (Please, House, don't be an ass for once and make me say it.) "I wonder what it would feel like sometimes. And I guess I've been having a dry spell, and you're curious about…well, everything. I figured, in the grand scheme of things, you'd be a safe…safer…well, relatively sorta almost safe bet." He smiled sheepishly. "And you looked like maybe you needed a distraction too."

"Oh."

Wilson narrowed his eyes. "Oh? That's all?"

House shrugged. "I expected you to lie."

"Lie how? And say what?"

"I dunno. Just figured you'd find something."

Wilson let his exasperated face sneak out again. He had a hundred subtle variations on it that he reserved exclusively for House; this one contained hints of irritation mixed with frustrated arousal – a new variation. "You know, I don't actually lie to you all that often."

"Not on purpose."

Wilson glanced to the side and noted his tie on the floor. Hm. So House's hands had been less idle that he'd thought. His rebuttal to House's comment was to dive back down and capture House's mouth to shut him up. It seemed to work. House met Wilson's assault with the heat that had been absent earlier. Of course, Wilson thought; now that House understood what was going on – what was expected of him and what to expect in turn from Wilson – he was free to enjoy it. Wilson gasped into the kiss and then House's tongue caught him by surprise as it surged into his mouth. A rough calloused hand wrapped around the back of Wilson's neck to hold him in place while House mapped out the path to Wilson's tonsils. They created a wet suction between themselves, lips oscillating over each other at a constant pace.

House's other hand busied itself at Wilson's shirt buttons so Wilson took the opportunity to fiddle at House's belt. A firm tug slid the leather from the belt loops and Wilson dropped it off the side of the couch. His hand came back to House's waist but his fingers stilled on the button of his jeans. Cold feet. If he went a single step farther, they could officially refer to this exercise as "sex." The thought worked as an anti-venom against the effects of the previous fifteen minutes and Wilson's movements slowed of their own accord. What the hell was he doing? This was his best friend crushed into the couch beneath him, opportunistic bastard though that man may be. This was House.

"Wha's wrong?" House gasped. He had finished unbuttoning Wilson's shirt but his hands remained clenched in the fabric. "Why'd you stop?"

"I…" Wilson trailed off, too overcome by a plethora of new and unusual sensations to put his thoughts into words. His legs were pressed on either side of House's left leg and his groin rubbed pleasantly against his best friend's thigh through khaki and denim. House's own groin had somehow ended up nestled in the fold of Wilson's left hip, and House canted his pelvis upward every few seconds to press the unmistakable shape of his hard cock against Wilson's abdomen. A slow burn was already building in Wilson's stomach. All courtesy of House. It wasn't even the sex-with-another-man thing that got to him, just the identity of the particular man. This could not turn out well. What was he thinking when he started this? House was always accusing him of submitting to his wandering dick. This was just more proof, apparently, that House was right about Wilson being a bit of a slut.

"Stop thinking," House ordered. To highlight this, he snaked a hand between their bodies and cupped Wilson through his slacks, squeezing almost too firmly at his flagging erection.

Wilson's paralysis broke and he thrust against House's hand with a strangled sound caught in the back of his throat. His hands finished opening House's fly and he reached in before he could talk himself out of it. Damp boxers met his questing fingers and Wilson worked the flap aside with one hand. His other hand slipped under House's t-shirt and worked its way around to the small of House's back. Wilson used it to angle House's lower torso upwards and House shifted to let him. Then Wilson's brain whited out momentarily when House, who had been using his time to get Wilson's pants down past his ass, wrapped long fingers around Wilson's bare cock and thumbed his tip.

"Shitshitshit – oh…amph-mmm." Wilson's limbs turned to jelly and he flopped forward, crushing the breath out of House's lungs sharply enough that he felt the air rush past his ear. This coincidentally had the bonus effect of making Wilson shudder, and his hands – one of which was still poised inside House's boxers – clenched involuntarily.

"Nngg-ha," House gasped with what little breath Wilson had left him.

The hand grasping Wilson's cock went lax, and Wilson could think again. More or less. He went back on the offensive, his mouth stealing air from House's lungs, his hand pumping House's length while he shamelessly rutted against the hand that remained circled loosely about his own shaft. The scratch of denim on House's leg as Wilson thrust filled the spaces between fingers, creating a lovely counter-texture for Wilson to enjoy. Wilson's arm tightened across House's back and he worked his hand into the seat of House's jeans until he located skin. The muscles of House's buttocks rippled as Wilson stroked him from above, leaving enough space between his ass and the couch cushions for Wilson to find his balls from behind. He massaged them as best as he could from that angle, then rubbed backwards and pressed his thumb against House's perineum.

House bucked and arched back into the headrest, his blue eyes wide and surprised. The hand at Wilson's groin disappeared but Wilson didn't mind; he could still create just enough friction against House's leg to keep himself satisfied for a while longer. Wilson repeated his fingering and then moved yet farther back to circle his knuckle around the tight circle of muscle at House's anus. House practically jumped at this and Wilson heard the clatter of objects upset by House kicking the coffee table.

"Careful," Wilson murmured. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Wilson."

Wilson took this as encouragement and firmly pressed the pad of his thumb against House's opening. House's entire body flexed again, but this time, Wilson recognized it for the flinch that it was. He immediately retreated to the safe zone of House's lower back, but House didn't resume their former play. His hands shoved at Wilson's chest again and Wilson tried to soothe him with feather-light kisses and a slow kneading of the lumbar muscles.

"Relax, House. If you aren't okay with that I won't try it again." House's chest heaved and when he used his right leg as leverage to try and tip Wilson off, Wilson started to worry about him straining his damaged thigh. "Hey. Stop it." Wilson pulled his hands back and captured House's wrists to still his struggles, but House merely fought harder. At that point, Wilson would have happily rolled off of him, but they were so tangled up in each other that he probably would have hurt House if he tried to find his way off the couch now. He maintained his grip on House's wrists with difficulty; there would surely be bruises if he didn't get him subdued quickly. "House. House! I'm not gonna do anything to you. Come on – lie still!"

House wrenched his right hand free and seized Wilson's shirt in an attempt to drag him off. It was all Wilson could do to avoid falling over and elbowing House's bad thigh. They grappled for a few seconds until Wilson finally recaptured House's wrist and bore down against his friend. He forced House's hands over his head and braced his weight against them on the armrest. House's body followed the movement so that as Wilson redistributed his weight and lifted off to pin him, House managed to keep their groins flush with each other.

Wilson paused as he realized this and looked down at his friend. House's face was strained, his breathing ragged, but he wasn't in a panic. Glancing over his shoulder, Wilson found that House had wrapped his good leg over Wilson's right knee, anchoring him in place. He looked back at House's face. "You like this."

House's only response was to twist his wrists in Wilson's hands and buck up against him. He was still hard.

"You-you-" Wilson sputtered. He tightened his grip on House out of frustration, though he now knew that this would probably only serve to further excite him. "You could have just told me you liked it this way."

"That's no fun." House's words were thready, and damn if that wasn't incredibly hot. "Besides – we're experimenting. I wanted to see how you'd react." He used his thigh to nudge at Wilson's crotch. "Guess you like it too."

Wilson's breath fled his lungs as House legged the underside of his cock. He inhaled sharply. "You prick. I thought I was hurting you."

"Yeah," House agreed. "And yet you're getting off on it. That's interesting."

Wilson appraised him for a moment and then snapped, "Fine. Have it your way." He leaned on House's wrists hard enough to be certain of bruising this time – served him right – and attacked House's neck and throat with his mouth. House's moan took him off guard, but it also enflamed him. Damn him. House was right. This was erotic, having House writhing beneath him, forcing him to submit. It was such a turn-on.

Wilson repositioned himself so that he had a knee on either side of House's waist, then ground his pelvis down. This produced a whine in the back of House's throat that put Wilson in imminent danger of losing control. He rutted against his best friend for a few minutes, all the while keeping up a steady rhythm with his tongue – in House's mouth, down his neck to the hollow of his throat, and back. House's half-hearted struggles to free his hands broke up the flow enough to prolong the encounter; Wilson was certain that he would not have lasted otherwise.

Wilson was trying to figure out how to finish them both off while keeping House pinned when he spied his tie on the floor near House's belt. He grinned against House's throat and House made an uncertain noise when he felt Wilson's glee. Wilson worked his mouth back up and made a valiant attempt to get House to swallow his tongue before drawing back far enough to mumble, "Safe word," straight into House's mouth.

House was muzzy with passion and could only manage to slur, "Safewha?" before he sought out Wilson's lips again.

Wilson evaded him and smiled at the impatient groan that this engendered. "I said, safe word. You need one so that I know whether the fighting is part of the fun or not." House moaned in frustration when Wilson lifted off and pretended that he was about to leave. He did not, however, release House's wrists. Not yet. "Hurry up and pick something."

"You're such a girl," House complained as he squirmed in an effort to reestablish contact.

Wilson smirked. "Pick a safe word and you won't think that for much longer."

House froze and stared up at Wilson in shock, all static-puffed hair and blown pupils. For a second, Wilson feared that he had said something wrong, but then House said, "Lupus. Safe word's lupus."

"Sounds good," Wilson replied. And then he climbed off and stood up to stretch, leaving House all alone on the couch and free to move around.

"Hey! You said – " House's protest transformed into a yelp of surprise as Wilson seized his arms and dragged him off onto the floor, not all that gently. "Hey, cripple here!"

"I didn't hear you say lupus."

"Because it's never lupus," House countered forcefully.

Wilson paused to study him. That had been House's pay attention, moron! tone of voice, which meant that he intended for Wilson to read something into that sentence. Could that have been an admission of trust? It's never lupus, so House will never say lupus…because he trusts that Wilson won't give him any reason to? Could that be?

"You haven't done anything yet to convince me you're not a girl," House interrupted before Wilson could go all gooey on him. His gaze traveled lower. "And you look like an idiot dangling out of your pants like that."

"Shut up, House."

Wilson took a moment to push his slacks and boxers all the way off, and toed them out of the way. House watched this display avidly from the floor, barely able to conceal his anticipation. In fact, Wilson was probably the only person who would have noticed the tension in him as he reclined on his elbows, his expression open and honest as only House could make it when he was up to no good.

"Your turn," Wilson chirped. He didn't expect House to just comply and disrobe, and he was not disappointed. House snorted, and Wilson grinned down at him. He shouldn't find the thought of ripping his best friend's clothes off quite this exciting, but he did. What did that say about him?

"You're thinking again," House snapped. "I thought we were past that."

"Just working out logistics," Wilson replied.

That was apparently not one of the many response that House had thought he might make, and Wilson took advantage of his momentary lapse to pretty much fall on him. House brought his hands up to prevent Wilson crashing into him before he realized that Wilson didn't trip. By then, Wilson had already dragged his jeans down far enough to expose him to the knees, and House tried to kick his hands off with his calves and feet trapped in denim. Wilson laughed without meaning to and wrenched them off the rest of the way, then reached for House's boxers.

That was when it started to get fun. House blocked his hands and shoved him against the couch, then scooted backwards to try and put the coffee table between them. Wilson seized his ankles and pretty much climbed over top of him to hold his lower body in place. Forget the boxers, then; Wilson could work around them. He reached back to grab his tie, and House's eyes grew wide, not necessarily in a good way. Wilson waited just long enough for him to call out the safe word if he wanted to, and then moved ahead with his plan.

House fought him like his life depended on it at that point, and Wilson shoved his concern aside. This was part of the game, and House could end it anytime he chose. He got his tie looped around one of House's wrists with little difficulty, but getting the other one bound proved to be a different matter. House twisted beneath him, his left leg drawn up as he tried to throw Wilson off, and Wilson tightened his thighs on either side of House's waist to keep his seat on House's stomach. When House finally got his left foot planted flat on the floor, he heaved his torso up and they both tipped to the side. In the end, this was a good thing for Wilson because House ended up trapping his free hand against the floor all by himself; all Wilson had to do was truss him up.

House breathed heavily once Wilson finished binding his hands, and waited for Wilson to satisfy himself that yes, House was still enjoying this, if errant anatomy was any indication. "Now what?"

Wilson glared at him and House seemed to shrink back. Though he couldn't hide the fact that Wilson's rough handling turned him on, it appeared that he was still apprehensive for some reason. Well, considering that Wilson had gotten off on the struggling even before House had admitted that he liked it… Wilson would have been a little worried too, were he in House's position.

That didn't stop him, though. Wilson scanned their surroundings for something that would suit his needs, and his eyes rested on the leg of the couch. Good enough – the couch was heavy enough that it probably wouldn't move too much, no matter how rowdy they got. Wilson leaned over past House's head and threaded the other end of his tie around the couch leg, pulling it until House's fingers brushed against the leather. He tied it off with a knot that he had learned in the Boy Scouts, snickering at the imagined look of horror on his den leader's face if he knew what use Wilson was putting his lessons to.

By the time House realized what he was doing, it was too late to prevent it, and now he looked more than just worried. "Wilson, I dunno – "

"Safe word," Wilson interrupted.

"Yeah. No." House's breath grew more uneven, and he stared up at his best friend. "It's just – "

"Safe. Word." Wilson frowned pointedly at him, but he couldn't remain stern for more than a few moments. House really did look scared. "You don't have to go along with this."

House peered up at his bound hands, then back at Wilson's body draped over him, holding him down. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "No. Keep going."

Wilson couldn't escape the twinge of uncertainty that touched the pit of his stomach. He felt like he had just managed to guilt House into continuing, though he had no idea how. And since when did House ever feel guilty for anything, anyway? "Are you sure?"

"I didn't say the safe word," House snapped, pulling against his bonds in a deliberate manner. "Get on with it."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Only you could get bossy while playing the submissive."

"I'm impatient. Is that a crime?"

"Nope." Wilson reached to touch his face, a tender gesture, but House flinched. "Seriously, House." A glare was his only response so Wilson ignored the mixed signals and leaned over to resume their game. House was already in a nearly perfect position to conclude this, so Wilson simply slid a bit lower and rolled House so that he was laying half on his stomach, half on his left side. Then he paused again and looked around the living room. "Um."

House craned his neck to look at him. "What now?"

Wilson fidgeted with the hem of House's shirt – they both still had their shirts on, though Wilson's at least was unbuttoned. "As much of a masochist as you apparently are, I'm assuming you're not gonna want it dry."

"Oh." House joined him in visually searching the living room, but nothing caught their eyes. "I guess you'll have to go get something then."

"Or not." Wilson used his foot to snag his slacks and draw them close enough that he could rummage through the pockets. "Here we go," he announced, revealing a travel-sized bottle of lotion.

"You do not walk around with lilac-scented hand lotion in your pocket all day."

"Do you think women like to get breast exams from doctors with scratchy hands?" Wilson replied.

House's face scrunched up. "You wear gloves for that. Whose breasts are you feeling up bare-handed?"

Wilson avoided that entire can of worms by shoving his hand under House's shirt and tweaking a nipple hard enough to make him jerk away. "Yours."

"Fine. We'll discuss it later," House said around a sharp inhale.

Wilson pinched again and House's breath hitched. He grinned at that and leaned down to nip at House's earlobe before crushing their lips back together. House responded immediately, allowing Wilson free reign where his mouth and tongue were concerned. Wilson slid over so that he was laying mostly behind House on the floor, covering House's back with his stomach, and mouthed along his neck and shoulders instead. When House started to shuffle away, Wilson slipped his right arm around House's waist and hauled him back so that their bodies remained lined up. Wilson could feel House's carotid pulse with his lips, beating strong and fast. His fingers crept under the waistband of House's boxers and Wilson chuckled when he felt the pulse speed up.

House's arms automatically moved to participate, pulling the tie tighter around his wrists, and this seemed to fire him back up. He flexed his body as Wilson continued to stroke him, arching his head back to give Wilson easier access to his throat. Wilson complied and licked a line from his collar bone to his mouth. The angle was too awkward for a proper kiss but Wilson sucked House's lower lip between his teeth for a moment. Then he moved back down until he reached the juncture of neck and shoulder. On an impulse, Wilson nosed the skin and then bit down, hard.

"Ow! God…" The 'ow' seemed to be reflexive; House clearly enjoyed the pain. "Mmm." He bit his bottom lip to prevent any further words from escaping. Wilson laved kisses on the ill-treated skin, but he couldn't resist biting again, just to see what would happen. House's body jerked and he shoved his cock harder into Wilson's hand, demanding a faster pace.

Instead of granting him release, Wilson stilled his hand but maintained a firm grip around the base of House's cock, intent on tormenting him since he seemed to enjoy it. A whine worked its way around the back of House's throat and he tried in vain to work up friction against Wilson's immobile hand. All he got for his trouble was a tighter grip – no movement. His hips stilled in defeat.

Wilson laid a chaste kiss against the fevered skin at the nape of House's neck. "Just be patient."

"Easy…for you to say," House panted.

Wilson laughed lightly against him, and then shifted around a bit. He draped his right leg over House's thighs, careful to stay well above the scar, and House made an inquisitive sound as Wilson pulled him close enough to rub his hard cock against House's ass. Wilson pulled House's boxers all the way off, then popped the lid on his lotion and squeezed some out onto his fingers. He slicked himself up first to save time, and then reached to probe between House's cheeks until he found the tight opening he was aiming for. House exhaled forcefully and Wilson froze when he saw House's mouth start to form an L. Nothing beyond that made its way past House's lips, though, so Wilson moved his finger up and down over the outer ring of House's anus. He kept his touch slow and light to give House a chance to get used to the sensation, and to object if he decided he didn't want to go through with this. House's body radiated tension and Wilson couldn't help rubbing his cock up and down the cleft of his best friend's buttocks while he increased the pressure of his finger against the opening. A sound made its way out of House's mouth that Wilson likened to a hiccup.

"You okay?" Wilson asked. He couldn't help worrying; it was in his nature to soothe, after all.

House nodded but didn't speak, though his fingers had twisted to grip the silk of the tie that stretched from his wrists to the couch leg. His knuckles were white. Wilson placed soft kisses all along House's neck and shoulders in the hopes of putting him at ease, and without giving any warning, he slipped his lotioned finger into his best friend.

"Ah!" House's surprised exclamation was accompanied by an instinctive move to pull away from the offending finger, but Wilson tightened his leg over House's body and forced him to stay where he was. In the hopes of keeping him interested, Wilson resumed lightly stroking House's cock, his fist just tight enough to provide a pleasant burn, but nothing that would end the encounter early. He could feel House melt as the unusual feeling of Wilson's intruding finger gave way to pleasure.

A little bit of maneuvering resulted in Wilson prodding against House's prostate, and House let out a breathy moan that shot straight to Wilson's groin. He swore he could feel House's cock swell in his hand as he flicked repeatedly against the little nodule inside his friend. His attentions caused House's breathing to speed up at an alarming rate and he had to fight to keep House from bucking wildly into his hand. Wilson worked his finger in a little deeper so that he could reach House's prostate with more than just the tip of his fingernail, and he nudged it more firmly.

"Oh god. Oh god." House was practically keening as Wilson worked him open, and a second finger easily slid in to join the first. "Wilson – fuck! – I'm gonna – "

"No you're not," Wilson assured him. It was almost cruel to do so, but Wilson released House's throbbing cock and instead circled the base with thumb and forefinger. He made a mental note to have a cock ring handy the next time they did this. And yes, Wilson intended for there to be a next time. With that thought in mind, he squeezed that special place to prevent House from coming.

"Ah-nnnngg! You bastard!" House gasped with as much force as he could manage. Wilson laughed and worked a third finger in as House tried desperately to bite back a series of grunts and breathless moans. If anything, denying him an orgasm seemed to make House even hornier, even more hard and frantic, and his vocalizations increased. "Wilson, I swear, if you don't do something – "

"Oh, please. What can you threaten me with?" Wilson demanded. He twisted his fingers inside House's body and nudged his prostate hard enough to send him into near paroxysms of pleasure. Then he abruptly removed all three fingers and just laid there, waiting patiently even though his rigid cock was leaking against House's backside and he was nearly as desperate for release.

House panted, expectant, but when nothing happened for nearly a minute, he twisted to look at Wilson. "What are you grinning at?" he demanded, pissed.

"You."

He lowered his brows and rubbed his ass back against Wilson hard enough to make him gasp. "Then get going."

"Again with the demands. You clearly haven't absorbed the idea behind this." Wilson threw a pointed look up at House's bound wrists.

House's eyes followed his and he wrenched his hands as hard as he could, pulling the silk taut and shifting the couch a centimeter closer. "I get it just fine. Now"—he shoved back against Wilson almost violently—"fuck me!"

Wilson hissed and grunted as House's ass squished his penis between them, and then gave up on the dom bit. He couldn't wait any longer, and he released House's cock long enough to reposition them both. Wilson slipped his right leg between House's and angled himself so that his foot rested on the floor in front of House's groin, his leg drawn up with House's damaged leg resting over it, out of the way. At the same time, it spread House open for easier access. Wilson shimmied closer and held the tip of his penis against House's opening, but he stopped there. They didn't have to finish this way; they could just as easily keep it clean, so to speak.

"Are you gonna do it, or – "

Wilson shoved forward before House could complete that sentence, and then seized House's hip to hold him still when he jerked at the unexpected intrusion. Only his tip had breached the barrier, but Wilson panted openmouthed against House's scapula, overwhelmed by the heat, the tightness of the sheath in which he found himself. House shuddered violently and gulped in breath after breath to calm himself, and Wilson helped him along with low murmured assurances while he rubbed his right hand in circles over House's belly. House's abdominal muscles flexed under his hand as he adjusted to Wilson's presence inside him, and when Wilson judged him to be relaxed enough, he slid forward a little more.

House let out a sound that came dangerously close to a sob, and Wilson moved his hand from House's stomach to his penis. House's erection had faded a bit, but it was nowhere near dead, and Wilson squeezed while thumbing at the slit. It didn't return House to his former hardness, but it at least stopped him from softening any more.

"Do you want to stop?"

House's chest heaved a few times before he managed to croak, "I didn't say it."

"I know." Wilson tried to use his compassionate voice without making House feel that he was being coddled. "Do you want to?"

A long moment passed while House caught his breath and Wilson fought not to move his hips. Finally, "No. Keep going."

Wilson nodded to himself but remained still except for his hand, which continued to fondle House's balls and work along the length of his cock. It was awkward, seeing that Wilson had to use his non-dominant hand, but it worked well enough that House relaxed in stages in response to his careful handling. Eventually, Wilson let go of House's cock and gripped his hip again. He was able to press further in, and his balls came to rest against House's skin.

"Ahhhhh…."

"House?"

"m'okay," House replied with his face mashed into the rug. Wilson tried to catch a glimpse of his face to see if he was lying, but it was impossible at this angle.

Every fiber of muscle surrounding Wilson's cock rippled, which nearly sent him over the edge on the spot. With difficulty, he talked himself down – dead cancer kids, dead cancer kids, dead cancer kids – and once he'd regained control of himself, he moved his right hand back to House's groin.

When he found nothing but soft tissue there, he felt the tension of impending orgasm fly far away from him. "House, you're not okay."

"Yes I am," House mumbled into the rug.

"You're not even a little bit hard," Wilson argued, his voice tinged with anger. "Why didn't you say – "

"Because I'm fine!" House yelled. The force of his words moved his entire body and Wilson felt himself shift inside of him. "Shit!"

That word came out too high pitched for Wilson to deny that this was causing him pain. "We're not doing this," he decided, and started to pull out.

"Wait, wait, wait!" House gasped, following Wilson back so that he couldn't withdraw. "Just wait. Okay? Just…just touch me…or…something. Distract me."

"This isn't pleasant for you," Wilson said, pleading with his voice and the arm that he had wrapped around House's chest to just let it be over. It had been fun before, when they'd been rolling around and fighting for control, but now that he was actually hurting House – hurting his best friend – Wilson felt sick.

"It will be," House said, rolling just a fraction so that he was no longer inhaling carpet lint with every breath. "Kiss me. Come on. Quit thinking."

The irony of House reassuring him, in this situation no less, was not lost on Wilson. He snorted against House's shoulder and shook his head. "I knew it. You're a softie." They both looked down at House's limp penis and laughed at the inadvertent pun, but had to stop when the movement made House start to gulp and shudder again. Wilson nuzzled House's neck and let his tongue lick away the sweat he found there. "I won't tell."

"You do, and I'll announce to the entire clinic waiting room that we had hot, kinky man sex on my apartment floor."

"You gonna admit that you bottomed?"

"Who'd believe it?"

Wilson chuckled and caressed House's chest while he continued lapping the salt from his neck and shoulders. "Cuddy might. Chase definitely would."

"Hmm. Wanna bet?"

Wilson considered this for less than a second. "Ummmm, no. I don't think I want to tempt you to tell anyone about this at all."

"Mmm. Smart man."

House sighed and Wilson felt him settle a bit. He moved his hand a bit lower and teased along House's hip bone, light pinches interspersed with soft strokes of fingers along the tender skin. House shifted a bit and Wilson concentrated his mouth on that spot behind House's ear that had so excited him before. He had indeed left a mark earlier so Wilson figured that a second one made little difference. He nipped the skin and suckled around it, his tongue drawing random patterns along the vein. House shivered but it was the good kind. Encouraged, Wilson shifted his hand back to House's penis and found it less flaccid than before. He wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed, and House rewarded him with a satisfied grunt. Wilson slowly worked him back up to something respectable, finding plenty of lubrication left over from before to start a lazy rhythm up and down his length. He tongued House's throat as his did so, which also allowed him to discretely monitor House's pulse rate as it slowed with the loss of tension, and then sped back up as his arousal grew.

"Mmm," House rumbled, content to let Wilson work him until his limbs felt boneless. "S'good. More."

Wilson obliged him with a firmer grip and a slightly faster rhythm. He added a twist on the upstroke and made certain to spend some time rubbing at House's slit just to tease him. House's breathing sped up and Wilson felt his friend's cock grow harder in his hand. He smiled against House's neck and continued working him until he found beads of precum leaking from House's cockhead again. Finally, a moan made it out as House exhaled, and Wilson tried circling his hips to see how House would react.

The result surprised him. House gasped and choked back a groan, then whimpered, and before Wilson could wonder what that meant, House had shoved himself back against Wilson. Then he thrust forward into Wilson's hand and immediately back again, grinding back against Wilson's cock.

"Oh…God, House." Wilson could hardly breathe at the sensation of his penis rubbing against the inside of House's body, and he jutted his hips forward without meaning to be so rough.

House moaned again, turning his face into the rug as if to hide how much he enjoyed it, his hips still jerking to maintain the friction against Wilson's hand. Wilson wriggled until he could prop himself up a bit on his left elbow, all the while maintaining a constant rhythm between his hand and his cock, working House from both ends while he found a more convenient position from which to thrust. In short time, Wilson found an angle that allowed him to penetrate deeper, and then he was hitting House's prostate with each forward motion.

The heat was incredible. Wilson fought to maintain control of himself, to keep from thrusting too hard or coming before he'd had a chance to really enjoy the tight confines of House's ass. Sweat broke out on his brow and he mouthed unconsciously at the bite mark that he had left on House's shoulder, his eyes shut tight in pleasure.

"Slow…" House gasped out, his voice barely audible. "Slow down. I can't…I can't…"

Wilson understood immediately, but instead of slowing his hips, he stopped the motion of his hand and abandoned House's cock. The whine that House treated him to made him thrust harder, but the angle was still too awkward for him. Wilson rolled forward a bit more, forcing House further over so that he laid almost fully on his stomach. Wilson let his weight rest along House's back and resumed his thrusts.

"Oh – oh – mmm – Wils – nnnnn." House degenerated into complete incoherence, his body fighting to meet Wilson each time he plunged in. Wilson's blood boiled to know that he had rendered House speechless and his balls slapped against House's ass cheeks in a steadily increasing rhythm.

Not too soon, not too soon, Wilson told himself. He tried to slow, to hold back, with limited success. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible, preferably all night. No woman had ever left him so determined to deny himself gratification, but House…House made him wish he still had the stamina of a twenty year old, to go three times in a row and still be ready for more. He knew that he would collapse as soon as this was over, though, so he resolved to make his one shot as long and pleasurable as possible.

Wilson needed to know how close House was, so he reached down again to test his reflexes. The moment Wilson's fingers closed on House's weeping cock, a groan ripped itself from House's throat and he jerked violently against Wilson's palm, all conscious volition gone as he blindly sought release. Wilson swallowed and breathed to dispel the effect that this had on him, and then gripped the base of House's cock to hold him back. House's movements became erratic but he didn't come, and Wilson shuddered at the way House keened in the back of his throat, desperate and mindless and completely at Wilson's mercy.

After a few more minutes, during which House babbled and pled with the carpet, and Wilson pictured all manner of disgusting things to stave off his orgasm, Wilson couldn't take any more. He let loose and pounded House into the floor. House moaned in shameless gratitude when Wilson went back to pumping his cock in time with his thrusts. In no time at all, Wilson felt House go rigid beneath him before he shot hot wetness all over Wilson's hand and the rug, his hips pumping furiously and his mouth spilling a string of wordless bliss into the hot air surrounding their sweating bodies. Wilson groaned into House's shoulder as the muscles of House's rectum contracted around his cock, and then he tipped over the edge with a growl loud enough to be audible from the hallway, were anyone out there to hear.

Wilson kept thrusting until he was spent, and was about to pull out when House arched violently and convulsed against him, his head thrown back and his mouth agape. Aftershock. The sight alone sent another ripple of fire through Wilson's body and his hips jerked into House one last time before he softened too much to continue. House continued to shiver for a few seconds before going limp, and Wilson collapsed on top of him.

They both fought to draw enough breath to cool their seared lungs, and Wilson kissed whatever skin happened to be under his mouth. Once he had recovered some of his faculties, he lifted his head enough to peer at his best friend's face. House's eyes were closed, his cheek resting against the rug, mouth open just enough for Wilson to glimpse teeth and the tip of his tongue as he panted and basked in the afterglow.

"House?"

"I can hear you thinking."

Wilson smiled and leaned over to capture House's mouth in a languorous kiss while he untied his hands. "Thanks," Wilson murmured before he pulled away and flopped back on the rug.

House grunted. "Don't mention it."

* * * * *

Long hours later, Wilson's brain forced him to rise up from sleep. He registered some noise that sounded like tapping or knocking, or thumping, but since House was still securely nestled up against his stomach, breathing contently, he didn't think anything of it. Neighbors were most likely having a noisy morning. Wilson shifted closer to the warmth of his best friend's body until House's head was tucked under his chin. One of House's hands had intertwined with Wilson's during the night and he smiled sleepily at the unconscious show of affection.

Another sound startled Wilson into alertness, and he finally realized that the knocking had been someone pounding on House's apartment door. He shivered at the draft that worked its way across the floor, and then jumped when a shadow fell across them.

"Oh my god."

Wilson blinked and looked up to find Cuddy standing beside the couch, House's spare key in her hand. Then he started and sat up fast enough to make his head spin, fumbling the whole while to cover himself with his discarded pants. "I – y-you – we – " Wilson gestured around nonspecifically and then rubbed the back of his neck as if it could save him from this embarrassment.

Cuddy shook her head in shock, and then offered, "Neither of you showed up this morning, and I tried calling…" She studiously avoided looking at either Wilson or the still-sleeping House. "I thought…something might be wrong…and I tried your place first but you weren't there…and your cars were both here…" Cuddy's mouth worked a bit more and then she just stopped talking.

Wilson flapped his hand in her general direction, too flustered to offer anything at all in the way of comfort or explanation. "W-w-well, you – " And then he broke off again because there was just nothing more.

"Phone got knocked off the hook," Cuddy observed, pointing to the receiver and cradle scattered separately on the floor along with the unbroken bottle of Maker's Mark, some medical journals, and various other accoutrements that House had knocked off the coffee table when he kicked it the night before.

Just the thought of the previous night made the neat rise in Wilson's face and he knew that he had turned scarlet. Before he could stop his mouth, he added, "And our phones are set to vibrate and still in our pockets."

Cuddy nodded, her wide eyes fixed to the television, which still played documentaries on mute. "And since you weren't wearing them, you didn't know I called."

Wilson nodded and gestured some more, then looked around for a clock. "Oh my god. It's ten-thirty? I have appointments – "

House chose that moment to snuffle and rejoin the conscious world, and when he rolled over to find out what all the commotion was about, he blinked. "Cuddy?" Then he looked at Wilson trying to conceal himself, and then he noticed that his own privates were hanging out in plain view. "Hm. Imagine that." He made no attempt to try and cover up.

"Okay, look," Cuddy said, turning back to face them. When she saw that House was still exposed, she rolled her eyes, unsurprised. "Both of you take the day off, and when you come in tomorrow, we'll pretend this never happened." She hastened to drop the key on the coffee table and rush to the door, but paused on the threshold. "And don't let this happen again." She started to leave, then paused and mumbled, "I mean, the don't just forget to show up again, that. Not that, that. I can't stop you from doing that… Oh, god, I need a drink."

Cuddy stepped out into the hall and reached back to shut the door, but not before House called, "Hey, Cuddy. Do you believe I bottomed?"

Wilson just dropped his head into his hands and sighed.