A/N: Ok, this is severely AU – Amber is still alive, and Wilson has not had his breakdown. I had it written a while ago… but then Amber died, so I kept this little bit of filthiness to myself. But now I figure enough time has passed. It's no longer insensitive to post a super-threesome-lemon. It is NC-17. Here we go:
"Hey. L-Word marathon's on. Want to come over?"
"Um." Wilson tapped the phone against his temple, feeling horrible for no reason he could explain. "I'm with Amber…"
"Oh." Long pause. "So what's the problem – Cutthroat Bitch doesn't like lesbians?"
Wilson thought he must be misunderstanding. "House, you… want Amber to come?"
"I want you to come. If it means she tags along, I can deal."
House was inviting Amber into his lair? Amazing. "Let- let me ask her," he stuttered. "I'll call you right-"
All of a sudden the phone was snatched from his hand. "Greg? We'll be right over."
Wilson tried to keep his tone light once she'd hung up. "You two haven't really had it out yet…"
"It's a good thing you're a doctor, then. If things go south, you can apply the tourniquets til help gets there."
He wanted her to know he was at least partway serious about his fears, though, so he let her see him loading up his pockets: "Vicodin for him, Prozac for me, Valium for you. Are you going to wear that, or do you want to change?" He wasn't sure House would like seeing her in the old McGill sweatshirt.
"I'm not trying to impress House, am I? Let's go."
He drove them over there with deep misgivings, but Amber seemed relaxed. She didn't seem to mind that House didn't meet them at the door, entered when he barked "Come in!" and didn't flinch when he greeted her as Cutthroat Bitch.
"Hello, Greg," she said easily. "I brought chips."
He answered her peace offering with one of his own: "You might not want to sit on the couch – Wilson peed on it a while back."
Wilson rolled his eyes and went to get beers and plates. He made sure to sit in the middle. House pressed up against him comfortably on one side, and Amber cuddled up against the other. It was nice, for a while.
But then, House and Amber's sparring for footspace on the coffee table got a little heated. Amber finally pushed hard enough to knock his foot off completely. He wasn't expecting it, and Wilson could tell by the way he stiffened that it had hurt.
So House reached for his cane, leaned forward and whacked Amber across the shins with it. When she gasped and yanked her legs away to rub them, he hauled himself carefully back up and muttered, "People have no respect for cripples these days."
"And you sure know how to treat a lady, Greg."
"Lady? Where?" he looked around excitedly, then made a face at her.
Her legs settled tentatively over his. She was watching to make sure it was comfortable, but didn't ask.
"I suppose you're trying to imply some kind of friendship," House said after a moment, "But nobody calls me Greg."
"Well, I don't know what you're trying to imply, but nobody calls me Cutthroat Bitch, either." She paused, shrugged. "Actually that's not true. But you get the point."
He shot her a smile, a real one, and Wilson found himself annoyed. "I was worried that this would turn into World War III, but instead you guys are getting along... creepily well..."
"Well, you know we're practically the same person," House said. "In fact, you better make sure you don't accidentally go home with the wrong one of us tonight."
"Believe me: I'll take extra, special care."
He clutched his chest. "Jimmy, you wound me! After all we've shared!"
"I needed more, House."
"Yeah," Amber put in. "He needed more. It's not the size of the cane, it's how you use it."
Wilson opened his mouth, then gave up – all he would do was get caught in the crossfire, and he knew it.
House was leering at Amber. "If that was an invitation…"
"It wasn't. Wilson's already filled me in on the details, and it was a rather… short conversation."
"I could… elaborate."
Wilson had to step in now. "House!"
"She started it!"
"I did not!"
"The two of you had better stop, or I'll make you go stand in a corner."
House muttered something about spanking under his breath, but otherwise behaved for the next few minutes.
It was relatively peaceful, until the tangle of limbs was starting to hurt and he had to move. Amber picked her legs up off him, and draped them instead over Wilson's lap.
Of course, that meant she spilled over onto House's lap, too, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked her over and said to Wilson: "Chick legs are a great addition to pizza-and-beer night, don't you think?"
Not to be outdone, Amber answered, "Sarcastic running commentary is a great addition to date night, don't you think?"
They sat for a while again, watching and drinking in silence. Amber cracked her toes and afterwards, without even taking his eyes from the TV, House reached for her foot absently and began to massage it.
It was a strange dynamic but a peaceful one, much better than what Wilson had expected with House and Amber in the same room. He was happy to just let it happen, until Amber shifted a little and said "Mmn, yeah."
"Hey." Wilson was only half-kidding. "Isn't there some prohibition against giving another man's wife a foot massage?"
"She's not your wife." "I'm not your wife," they said at the same time.
Amber gave a seductive smile, rubbed House's thigh with her foot and said, "Please, continue."
Of all the things Wilson expected to happen next, House cutting to the chase was not one of them. "Wilson, do you think we should have a threesome?" he asked. He turned his attention to Amber. "Do you?"
While Wilson stared in shock, she tucked her hair behind her ear and thought it over. "You've already pointed out that we're practically the same person," she mused, biting her lip. "Which would make it almost like masturbating."
"I have no problem with masturbating," House said, with a tiny smile. A challenge.
Amber's eyes narrowed and her voice dropped. "Neither do I."
"Whoa. Whoa." Deeming it well beyond time to intervene, Wilson struggled up out of the couch and stood to face them. "The two of you need to stop it." Long practice let him toss a joke onto the end of it no matter how uncomfortable he was feeling. "You're turning me on."
"Good," said House.
"House, stop it – it's not funny."
"It shouldn't be – I'm not joking."
Amber stood up too. "Please?" she pouted, and then, before Wilson could answer, she dragged him into a long deep kiss.
House watched with interest. When she snapped her fingers and gestured to Wilson's fly, he moved to unzip it.
Considering both his girlfriend's hands were accounted for, even through the kiss Wilson knew exactly what was going on. He pulled away, swatted blindly towards his crotch. "House," he hissed, with a step back. "You've got to be kidding!"
"What?" House asked innocently.
Amber slid smoothly down to her knees. "Please, James?" she said again. With her eyes on his she finished what House had started, opening his jeans and starting to tug them down. "Just this once?"
"Yeah, please, James?" House echoed, joining her on the floor. He did his best to duplicate her wide-eyed pleading look, which won a laugh. "Seriously. I'm totally not kidding."
Wilson just stared dumbly as they pushed his pants and underwear to the floor. This couldn't be happening… and he sure as hell couldn't be so aroused by it…
"You heard him, James." Amber wrapped her hand around him slowly and edged up to speak right against his cock. "Yes means yes."
House leaned in too, and said over Wilson's strangled gasp: "Couldn't have put it better myself. Show me how it's done, Bitch."
She laughed and licked and teased with her hand. Then she went down on him all the way, drawing him deep into her mouth for just a second. She sat back, looking satisfied. "Your turn," she told House.
He looked up and noticed that Wilson seemed dazed but no longer saying no. "Kay, how's this?" He started with a slow flat lick from the base to the tip, then began a shallow, rhythmic sucking that made Wilson gasp and shiver.
Hands settled gently on his shoulders. "House, oh God…"
House knew it must be just the idea of it all that Wilson liked so much… after all, it certainly couldn't be his technique; he had no idea what he was doing and soon glanced over to Amber for guidance.
"That's good." She licked her lips. "Now take him all the way. Deeper." He braced his hands on Wilson's hips and gradually sucked longer strokes, feeling it glide over his tongue and poke at the back of his mouth. "That's right, House," she purred. "Deeper, come on. All the way."
He made one serious effort, but it tripped his gag reflex and his whole body spasmed. Oddly, Wilson's breathing got even rougher.
"You're doing great," Amber breathed into his ear. She touched him as he worked, rubbing his back and stroking his neck. "Deep as you can, one more time. That's it…"
He went slow, determined to do it right, and was hardly an inch away from total success when his body rebelled again. Amber kissed him on the temple and said, "Let me."
He scooted aside to let her take over. As he wiped his mouth he glanced up and saw Wilson watching him, looking shell-shocked. One quick smirk and then House turned his attention to Amber. He liked the way she closed her eyes almost rapturously and the way Wilson's hand moved softly over her hair.
She took it easily all the way down her throat, over and over, and both men suddenly found it difficult to breathe. House brushed his fingers over her neck, feeling the movement there. "That's so hot," he whispered.
Wilson seemed to agree. "Amber – please…"
She pulled back and looked up, wide-eyed and innocent. "Please what, James?" she asked, pumping slowly with her hand. "Please… go hard, and fast, until we make you come?" She turned to House. "Do you think that's what he wants?"
House ignored the pitiful needy sounds from above. "I think it's what I want," he said. "Lemme see."
So she showed him for a moment, working almost desperately with her mouth and hand at the same time. As soon as Wilson gasped something involving the word close, though, she backed off. "Your turn, House."
He nodded and took her place. Some tiny detached part of his mind noticed all the slobber he was putting into his mouth, but sharing a blow job with a hottie was enough fun to override that particular concern for the moment.
"Don't be such a girl," Amber ordered after a bit. "Suck." House hadn't thought his hair was long enough to grab but somehow she managed it, yanking his head up and down, forcing him to go deeper than was comfortable.
"Mmph," he said in protest, and mentally called her a bitch, but he didn't try to stop her. In fact, he found he kind of liked it.
She took over at the end, licking a little and pumping with her hand. When it seemed to be about time she said: "House, open your mouth."
He stared at her. God she was hot mid-blowjob, with her lips even poutier than usual and her cheeks flushed. He glanced up to find Wilson sweating and gasping and showing his teeth… also unusual, and also hot. In fact House was just about ready to cream his jeans right now, and if this was what was required for the scene then so be it.
He'd watched more than enough porn to know how it was done. He tipped his head back, opened wide and lolled out his tongue. Amber sped up, Wilson closed his hand over hers and jerked the last few strokes off himself. House held eye contact with him the whole time. It was weird – on the one hand, he knew he was on his knees waiting for some guy to blow a load all over his face… but on the other, he felt proud and almost powerful for having driven Wilson so far out of his mind. "Now God ah-!"
House didn't flinch. Some got on his face, and in his mouth, but Amber swooped in and swallowed down the rest herself. She sucked gently through the end of Wilson's climax and then turned to her partner in crime.
"Not bad for a first time," she said, smiling. She gave him a kiss – and a cleaning swipe of the tongue – on the forehead and the cheek, then kissed his mouth deeply as though to clean out that too. It wasn't exactly necessary, as it turned out the taste of come didn't bother House much at all, but she was a good kisser and he wasn't about to tell her no.
Afterwards they settled back on the couch on either side of Wilson, who seemed to have melted into a puddle of contentment that would never manage speech again. "Tell me that wasn't the wildest thing ever, James," Amber challenged. "I told you you'd like it."
"I thought it was pretty cool," House agreed.
Amber smirked at his tented jeans. "I can see that."
"It looks like poor James is too exhausted to return the favor," she said.
Her implication was unmistakable. "Well… d'you think he's the jealous type?" House asked carefully.
In answer Wilson just put his arm around her and then continued to play dead.
"I'll take that as a yes," Amber said, looking a little disappointed. "Guess you'll just have to jack off, House. I'm sure you've got, as you'd say, mad skills."
He thought that was uncalled for. "Then why don't you two clear out of here, and I will."
But it seemed Amber hadn't meant to offend him at all. "Why don't we not clear out of here," she suggested, reaching over to pat him on the thigh, "And you do it anyway?"
EDIT: 78 of the first 79 people to read this story apparently are lazy bums. Review for me!!
I dunno, I might write the second half of this. But I'm so mad at Wilson right now that I'm not sure.
((Pain Management update: Yes, I'm bad. I've been cheating on you, writing lots of other fandoms. But I swear I'm coming back. Hopefully soon.))