Trine

Disclaimer: Don't own, never will own.

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Trine

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Wilson is on his hands and knees, naked, his cock hard, palms pressed into the soft, sweaty rumple of bed sheets as he leans down between House’s spread thighs and sucks him. Draws him deep into his mouth, pulls back and swirls his hot tongue around the tip of his cock and then engulfs him again as House grips desperately at Wilson’s hair. Engulfs him again and again and again until House is so hard he’s almost there.

“Please, Dr. Wilson. Please.”

That’s not House begging. That’s Chase. Begging to be sucked, just like House is. Waiting for his turn. To think that House is almost there; he’ll just to wait his turn.

Just like he does every other time they all come together to do this. Initially to have a drink after work that leads to an exchange of intense, lustful gazes to each other, hands stealthily groping thighs and crotches under the table where no one else in the bar can see. Subtle words of flirtation that eventually lead to lewd suggestions huskily murmured and whispered as they trace the shape of erections with their fingertips through trousers and drink until, through the potency of liquor, the haze of lust becomes too much to handle.

Until they stagger out of the bar and clamber into a cab that takes them back to Chase’s place. They always stumble through the door, hands grasping shirts and pants as the door is slammed and lips meet greedily, House's cane landing to the floor with a clatter when they reach the bed. They never talk much when they do this -- they’re too aroused to waste time talking. Except for Chase. He always begs and moans and pleads. They just shuffle through Chase’s place, leaving a trail of clothes that lead to Chase’s bedroom. It’s always at Chase’s place because there’s no way they can go to Wilson’s and House has never felt comfortable having Chase in his home. Chase is just a fucktoy to them, nothing more.

Which suits Wilson fine. House is his, anyway.

“Please, Dr. Wilson.” Fucktoy though he is, Wilson loves it when Chase calls him that. “Please.”

Wilson hears House let out a frustrated groan as he pulls back from him, House’s sound of protest punctuated with a sharp gasp as cool air closes over the hot slickness of his cock.

There’s the sound of sheets rustling and bed springs creaking as Wilson shifts around to face Chase, who’s sprawled out on the other end of the bed, naked, cock in his hand as he desperately strokes himself. His face is flushed and bathed in a small sheen of sweat, strands of blond hair stuck messily to his temples, and Wilson can see Chase’s thighs are trembling. He sees his chest rise and fall faster as Wilson prowls towards him.

“Dr. Wilson, please. Oh god, please. Ple--”

His begging is abruptly choked off as Wilson engulfs his cock into his mouth. Sucks, slides his lips up and down his length, hears Chase keen with an arch of his back and feels Chase’s blunt fingernails claw through his hair.

Chase is so much louder than House. He moans and whimpers, begs and gasps, whereas House has always been a silent taker, soaking up pleasure with little more than the occasional quiet moan or rare exclamation of fuck -- or, very occasionally, Dr. Wilson. It makes him the better lover of the two, because while Chase is a glutton for satisfaction -- a whore, as House calls him -- House makes up for his soundlessness with passion, sexual intensity that Chase simply lacks.

Wilson still loves it when Chase calls him Dr. Wilson, however.

He glides his mouth up and down Chase’s cock, hot and wet, Chase thrusting up against him frantically and it’s only when Chase yanks hard at his hair and lets out a strangled cry -- so close to coming -- that Wilson pulls away.

“No, please. Please. Fuck, please.”

He ignores Chase as he crawls back to House and devours his cock into his mouth again as he reaches down between his own legs and touches himself. Sucks House deep and hard, from root to tip, the bed creaking as House curls his fingers into Wilson’s hair again and rolls his hips in time with Wilson’s mouth, Wilson closing his hand around his prick and stroking himself. Pleasuring House until he’s is almost there once more, and then answers Chase’s begging of Dr. Wilson and please again by crawling back to him, lips wrapping around his length.

He brings Chase almost to climax and then moves away, slithering back between House’s thighs with his eyes feasting on the way House’s slender fingers grace up and down his cock as Chase mewls impatiently. He can smell the subtle scent of sweat on House’s skin as he swallows his mouth around his prick, tasting precome at the back of his throat and a gentle touch to his balls with his palm cupping over them tells him that House is close: they are tight and drawn up high, but Wilson doesn’t let him come.

Instead, he pulls away and arches up on all fours to meet House’s lips, kissing him deeply and lewdly, hot tongues sliding over each other greedily. He can taste alcohol, strong and potent, scotch and beer mingling with the remnants of liquor upon his own breath, and just as Wilson is about to lean back down to take House’s cock into his mouth, he feels the unexpected, hot slide of Chase’s tongue over his entrance, lips against his ass, Chase’s face pressed to his buttocks.

He startles with a strangled sound against House’s lips -- he hadn’t even heard the sound of the bed springs shifting or the bed sheets rustling as Chase approached -- cock throbbing hard at the sensation. He feels the hot, moist swirl of Chase’s tongue teasing over his entrance and Wilson reacts by kissing House fiercely with a desperate groan, riding his ass back against Chase.

“Fuck,” Wilson gasps against House’s mouth. “Fuck.”

“Why, Dr. Wilson,” House drawls -- the first thing he’s said since tumbling into Chase’s home in a fury of grasping hands -- and Wilson feels his cock throb at hearing House calling him that, moaning deeply as the slick, warm glide of Chase’s tongue swipes up the crevice of his ass.

“Fuck,” Wilson gasps again.

“Mmm.”

Wilson tugs aggressively on House’s bottom lip with his teeth, thrusts his tongue deep into his mouth, occasionally breaking the kiss with an arch of his neck and a desperate gasp of pleasure before he seals his mouth over House’s again, kissing him harder and hungrier.

It’s when he shakily leans back down to take House into his mouth that Chase pries his cheeks apart with his hands and thrusts his hot, sultry tongue into Wilson’s entrance. He groans loudly around House’s cock -- Chase is so good at this -- and he can’t help but wrap a hand around his length and stroke himself quickly, matching the rhythm of Chase’s tongue thrusting into him with both his hand and his mouth upon House’s prick.

It’s a frenzy of in and out and up and down, Wilson panting hard with sweat bathed across his face and down his chest as House claws at his hair, all three of them moving and writhing in sync with each other. A few times Chase breaks away from his ass and gasps desperately, “Please, fuck, please,” before he closes his lips over Wilson’s entrance and thrusts his tongue into him again, and Chase obviously can’t wait any longer because he’s the first one to come, stroking himself as he fucks Wilson’s ass with his mouth.

The deep groan against his entrance, Chase’s tongue inside him, is what sends Wilson over the edge and, with his eyes squeezed shut he comes with jerky strokes of his hand over his cock, his release spilling against the bed sheets. House follows moments later, releasing onto Wilson’s tongue with several hard, forceful rolls of his hips. Wilson, breathing heavily, swallows and sucks until House can’t take anymore and pushes his head away with a groaned, “Oh, god,” Chase pulling away from Wilson’s ass and sliding up next to House with a heavy slump.

Unsteadily lowering himself to his haunches and then carefully letting himself lie down onto his side, Wilson keeps his eyes closed as he attempts to catch his breath, jaw aching, and lips puffy and sore. They still don’t talk; just the sound of heavy breathing fills the air, the occasional rustle of sheets as one of them shifts tiredly on the bed and when Wilson hears the first sound of a quiet snore -- Chase is always the first to fall asleep, face pressed drunkenly into the pillow with his limbs sprawled out -- Wilson wearily moves himself up next to House.

“Mm, James,” House mumbles sleepily. He places a clumsy kiss onto Wilson’s mouth as he heavily drapes an arm over Wilson’s middle.

“What?” Wilson blearily replies, his breathing finally beginning to slow back down to a normal pace, and when House replies with an open-mouthed snore, Wilson presses a kiss to House’s sweaty brow and is asleep no less than a minute later.

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