They weren't even drunk. Wilson wished they were, but no; he had insisted that House shouldn't be drinking since he'd been doing far too much of that lately, so they were sitting on House's sofa with cans of Coke, half asleep and watching soft core porn. It wasn't even very interesting porn. In fact, Wilson would have preferred to just go to sleep, sans happy ending; it was that bad.

Wilson rolled his head along the back of the couch to find House nodding off, his coke in imminent danger of spilling out of his loosely clasped hand. "House… Let's just call it a night."

"Oh, please. It's not that bad." House shifted further upright and made a point of keeping his eyes open for a few seconds.

"Give it up. I could get you off faster at this rate."

The moment Wilson said it, he should have known he was in trouble. House perked up and gave him a sidelong look. "Is that an offer? We talking blowjob, or something more creative?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm not giving you a blow job."

"Sounded like some sort of challenge," House pressed. He sat up all the way and hit the power button on the remote, plunging the room into relative silence. "How do you know you could get me off at all?"

"Anyone could get you off," Wilson muttered as he climbed to his feet and stretched. "Not like you could afford to be picky anyway."

House smirked and reclined lazily in the corner of the couch. "Oh, I'm plenty picky. I won't let just any hooker in here."

"No, you've got to be selective about the sex you pay for." Wilson shuffled around the couch, collecting pop cans and pizza-related trash on the way. "It's the free stuff you can't get."

"I wouldn't call you free," House replied. "In fact, if you weren't so well-circulated already, I bet you could make good money – "

"I'm not even slightly flattered by that," Wilson interrupted.

House shrugged. "Not my fault you've slept with half of Princeton. Mileage like that brings the value down, you know."

Wilson rolled his eyes in irritation, but he took House's kidding in stride, as always.

"I don't think you have it in you," House called as Wilson dumped an armload into the garbage can in the kitchen. "You're too much of a pretty boy. Bet you couldn't suck cock if you tried."

"Wow, you make it sound so tempting." Wilson padded back in and stood near the doorway with his hands on his hips. "And not that it matters, but I'm not squeamish. How hard could it be to give somebody a blow job?"

"Fine," House replied, then settled back in a decidedly lurid pose. "Prove it."

Wilson snorted and made for the bathroom. "I'm not giving you a blow job."

"I'll give you one," House called after him.

"No." Wilson stood in front of the bathroom mirror and kicked himself for starting the conversation.

"What kind of man turns down a blowjob?"

Great. House had followed him all the way to the bathroom. "The kind who's sober, and sleeping on his stoned best friend's couch."

"Look." House pulled his pills out and set the bottle on the sink next to Wilson's hand. "I haven't had one since eight. Not stoned."

Wilson glared at the bottle for a second and then turned to regard House's lean frame poised in the doorway. "I don't believe it. You want me to blow you."

House shrugged. "The movie sucked. Your offer was way more interesting."

"That wasn't an offer." Wilson grabbed the pills and thrust them into House's hand. "It was an observation. Take a handful of these and go away."

"Wuss." House pushed off the doorjamb and disappeared into the living room.

Wilson used the toilet and washed his hands, then stomped down the hall to find House sprawled out on the couch. "Go to bed. I'm sleeping here."

"No way. We're not finished yet." House sat up on his elbows. "I bet you couldn't do it. I bet you'd chicken out."

"We're not betting." Wilson searched the floor for his shoes, resigned to going home if he expected to get any rest tonight. Why couldn't House just say 'Please go home, Jimmy. I don't feel like company in the morning.'

"Okay then. I dare you." House just laid there when Wilson looked at him, a smug smile written all over his face.

Wilson made a face that fell somewhere between amused and irritated. "Like you'd let me anywhere near you with your pants down – you won't even use the urinal right next to me. You're bluffing."

"Try me." House shifted again on the couch.

Wilson scoffed and resumed looking for his shoes.

"Aw. Wittle Jimmy has stage fright? Uncle Greg could make it better."

"I don't have stage fright, and you're just creepy." Wilson stopped near the door. "What did you do with my shoes?"

House shrugged, not the least bit innocent. "Triple dog dare – only a pussy would back out now. And I stole them to add to my secret collection."

"You're something else, you know that?" Wilson tromped back across the room and stood over House with his hands on his hips. "Give me back my shoes."

"Hey, I dared you," House replied. "A guy has to keep his reputation, you know. It would be irresponsible of me to let you leave now; I would be forced to tell everyone what a shameless pussy you are."

"I hardly think people would blame me for turning down the opportunity to play with your unmentionables. Shoes. Now."

House leaned back again and laced his fingers across his belly. "Pussy," he sang, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

"I am not – "

"Here, pussy pussy."

"Oh, grow up."

"I'm not the one blushing," House pointed out.

And for some reason, Wilson snapped. "You know what? Fine." If House wanted to play this sort of game again, Wilson was going to win for once. "I call your bluff. Sit up."

House blinked at him a few times but didn't move. "Seriously?"

"You made the dare. Sit up." He waited expectantly with his hands on his hips. "Or you can stay there." Wilson climbed onto the couch and kneed his way between House's legs, shoving the bad one off to rest on the floor.

"You're trying to freak me out," House guessed, though he didn't move to stop Wilson. "Get me to call it off so you can save face."

"Are you folding?"

"No." House wiggled back a bit but remained defiant. "I still don't think you have it in you."

"Then the dare stands." Wilson reached forward and grabbed House's belt.

House jumped at that and covered Wilson's hand with his own. "You're serious." He sounded surprised.

A tiny bit of apprehension gripped Wilson's abdomen but he proceeded to yank House's belt open anyway. "Aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"So the dare stands." Wilson batted House's hand out of the way, pleased with the slightly shell-shocked expression on the man's face. Then he looked down and focused on the task at hand, wondering how, exactly, he intended to pull this off. Or if. House could still back out – Wilson expected him to, as a matter of fact. One thing Wilson knew for sure was that he refused to stand down for once. He was tired of being labeled the weak and unexciting half of this friendship. Wilson could be spontaneous too.

"Are you planning to will me all the way through the process, or were you going to touch it?" House sounded smug again, the bastard.

Wilson glared at him and unbuttoned his jeans, then tugged on the zipper. If House intended to stop him, now was the time. Now. Any second now. A soft breath came from House's quarter and Wilson glanced up. House was just staring at him, guarded and surprised. Okay…he wasn't ending it. Shit. Wilson looked down again and discovered his hands resting over folds of denim. Okay, fine. He hooked his fingers over the waist band of House's jeans and dragged them down a bit, then reached for the boxers. House lifted just enough to make it easy for Wilson, and Wilson studiously refrained from looking as he pulled the cotton down far enough to leave House hanging out in the open, but not far enough to expose the scar.

Then Wilson looked at it. Then he met House's wide eyes, and then he looked at it again. House wasn't circumcised. He knew that already, but seeing it like this… "Um."

"Seriously, I didn't think you'd even get this far. So, you're not a complete pussy…just a bit of a 'fraidy cat." That was House, trying to be helpful.

"Not backing out," Wilson snapped. He wondered if it meant anything that House was completely flaccid, but decided that the oddness of the situation accounted for it. Any man who's had his pants ripped off would be less than limp. He reached a tentative hand out to touch it, as if he'd never seen a penis before – as if he didn't have one of his own, for that matter. This shouldn't be hard…no pun intended. Wilson knew how to handle one of these things. He couldn't help the weirdness, though, and he just sort of poked it. It jiggled.


Wilson looked up and met a slightly panicky version of House. That was a new one.

"I can fold now. It's cool."

Wilson's brows drew down. "Why would you fold now?"

House licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably, which had the inadvertent side effect of drawing Wilson's eyes back down to his completely exposed genitals. "Because you're not doing anything."

Wilson pondered that, plus the way House wouldn't make eye contact, and then narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "You're going to fold because you're afraid you've ruined the friendship?"

"I didn't ruin anything. I just can't help noticing that you're – hey, knock it off!"

Wilson paused in amusement with his head hovering over House's crotch. "Thought you wanted a blow job?" His breath bathed House's genitals in warm, moist air, and Wilson noted the fine shiver that this produced.

"Yeah, you've made your point." House might have been on the verge of hyperventilating, but Wilson was too busy not laughing to be sure. House's discomfiture just made this ten times easier for him. "You're not squeamish, you're not a pussy – you can stop now." House scooted back on the cushions, but Wilson had already seen the reaction engendered by his proximity and his breath. Now it was a challenge.

"No way." Wilson grabbed at House's hips and pressed him into the cushions. "If I back out now, you'll still tease me. In fact, I wouldn't put it past you to tell half the hospital about it just to watch me explode. Stop squirming, you big baby."

House made a nonspecific, wordless denial, but stopped trying to worm his way out from under Wilson's hands. "Seriously. Not a word. You don't have to do that."

"Why are you freaking out? You started this." Wilson bent down, satisfied to see that House had already started to respond to the situation, and risked touching his lips to the skin at the base of House's penis.

"I dunno," House gasped. He tensed but remained in place as Wilson nibbled along his slowly thickening length. "Oh…kay."

Wilson smiled. If he had known how quickly this could discombobulate the great Gregory House, he would have tried it before now. "Relax," he mumbled into House's pubic hair. He tasted a hint of sweat and musk, but not much else. Then he withdrew a bit to rub his cheek – and his shadow of stubble – along House's inner thigh, as much as he could reach with House's jeans in the way. House parted his legs a little bit more, constrained by denim, and Wilson heard his breath hitch.

Wilson's vantage point allowed him to watch House's cock fill out, and he shifted forward to nose at it before he dipped his head and mouthed House's balls. Gently, he drew one into his mouth and worked his tongue around it, trying to duplicate some of the things that his various wives and girlfriends had done to him. House's explosive exhale signaled success, and he let the ball drop from his mouth so that he could suckle it instead. He wondered if he could leave a hickey in a place like that, and what House would say if he did.

Wilson treated the other testicle to the same teasing, then sat up so that he could slide into a better position, his knees squeaking on the leather cushion. He glanced up for good measure to find House's blackened eyes fixed on him, just staring, and then he lowered his head and latched his lips over the tip of House's cock.


A soft thump drew Wilson's eyes up again; House had let his head fall back against the arm rest. Something about that pose finally touched Wilson. The way House was spread out before him, the way his breathing caused his entire body to expand and contract, the way his neck arched so that Wilson could count the ridges on his trachea… All of that and more stirred Wilson just enough that he noticed, that he felt the blood flow in his body shift. Wilson took the head of House's cock in his mouth again, ignoring the strange taste and the unfamiliarity of the act. He traced along the underside of House's length with his thumb, running along the throbbing vein, and watched House's adam's apple spasm as he swallowed.

Wilson directed his gaze downward again and took a moment to palm himself through his khakis while he sucked hard on House. Surely House couldn't blame him for getting something out of this too? What did he expect, after all? Touching himself simply increased the blood flow and Wilson felt himself grow light headed as the bulge under his hand firmed up and took shape. He puffed out an aroused breath, which ended up blowing under House's foreskin, completely unintentionally.

"Oh god!" House clutched at the couch cushion and twitched as if barely preventing the impulse to thrust up into Wilson's mouth.

Wilson's eyes flickered north again, surprised. Just to experiment, he blew out another light puff of air. House's mouth opened, soundless, and his legs trembled on either side of Wilson. Cool. Wilson sealed his lips around House's tip, his bottom lip pressing the sweet spot just under the head, and happily blew out again. This time, though, he followed the air with his tongue, and teased his way to the slit.

House's respirations fell off pattern and his stomach muscles flexed. "Nngh…fuck, Wilson…ohhhh…" He whimpered when Wilson didn't let up, his fingernails dug into the couch, and then he couldn't stop himself from bucking.

A burst of bitterness hit Wilson's tongue and it took him a second to realize that it was Cowper's fluid. He drew back, taken completely off guard. Before he could think better of it, he exclaimed, "Ah… That's disgusting."

House lifted his head. "Like you don't secrete the same damn thing."

"I've never tasted it," Wilson retorted. He leaned to the side to snatch his coke can from the coffee table and downed a swig, swirling it around in his mouth before his swallowed. Then he repeated the cleansing.

House rolled his eyes and let his head fall back again. "Oh, please. Drama queen. You act like I tried to poison you."

Wilson shot him an irritated look. "Have you ever tried it?" When House merely shrugged in dismissal, Wilson made a face at him and dipped his fingers in the milky fluid dripping in a thin line down House's erect penis. Before House could react, Wilson had smeared it all over House's lips. "There. Now tell me that's appetizing."

"You - !" House licked his lips on instinct and then pulled a face. "s'not that horrible."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up.

"Anyway, I don't what you're complaining about. I bet you taste just as bad."

The way House gestured at Wilson's tented pants made Wilson flush with arousal. He got defensive despite his better judgment. "Ten bucks says I taste better. I eat better."

"You're on." House sat up as well as he could with his legs akimbo and Wilson planted between them. "Gimme." His hands were opening Wilson's pants before Wilson had a chance to process House's actions.

"Hey!" The protest was purely for Wilson's own peace of mind. He didn't mind being manhandled, so to speak. And he definitely didn't mind when House pulled his boxers down over his cock, hooked the waistband under his balls, and grabbed his penis. Wilson grunted as House roughly stroked it, milking it. His hand found House's shoulder for support and he tried desperately not to embarrass himself. When House abruptly stopped, he groaned, but he didn't have a chance to protest beyond that. House's fingers gathered up beads of Wilson's precum, and then his fingers were in Wilson's mouth. Wilson balked, but then stopped to actually taste it. There was hardly any flavor at all. He grinned in triumph. "Let's see you make fun of my salads now!"

House glared at him, but didn't move to try it for himself. "Yeah, whatever. You have unfinished business."

Endorphins and hormones made Wilson bold. He certainly shouldn't have relished the thought of blowing House, but he did. In fact, it made his own hard-on throb with renewed vigor. He shoved House back, knocking the wind out of him, and plastered himself over House's body.


"You didn't taste it too," Wilson pointed out, his face an inch from House's, their breath mingling in Coke-flavored swirls. "I don't want you reneging on my ten bucks on a technicality."

House blinked. "Wilson… What are you doing?"

Wilson shrugged, but he could feel his cheeks pale. This was okay, right? After all, they were ripping at each other's clothes and playing with private parts. How could this be worse? Wilson forced some bravado into his voice, though he knew that House would pick up on his trepidation. "What? You'll let me put my mouth all over your cock, but nowhere else?"

If possible, House appeared more anxious right now than Wilson felt. "You…you want to…what, kiss me? Isn't that a little…you know…weird?"

It must have been the intimacy. Of course. Wilson mentally slapped himself. House hired people to play with his unmentionables – there was nothing personal about that. But actual feeling, real emotional reciprocity…he probably hadn't gotten that since Stacy. "No," Wilson said, surprising even himself. "It's not weird. It's just a little bit overdue."

House merely stared, so Wilson closed the distance, ignoring House's body stiffening beneath him and the way he didn't really kiss back at first. They kept their eyes open, House's saucered as he probably tried to find the joke at his expense hidden inside the action. Wilson closed his eyes as if to surrender and snaked one hand around to cup the back of House's head. House made a low sound in the back of his throat, something needy that touched Wilson in places he had thought dead and buried with Amber. A flood of guilt washed over him as he realized that even with Amber, it had never felt like this, but that inadequacy wasn't House's fault – it was Wilson's for never recognizing an absence of something.

Wilson moved his lips slowly, gently coaxing House's mouth open with soft sweeps of his tongue. House let out a shuddering breath and allowed Wilson to delve forward. Their tongues brushed past each other and House tipped his chin to make it easier on Wilson. Wilson inhaled when he could and then crushed their lips together, their noses mashed against each other's cheeks. Stubble burn raked Wilson's lips, but he didn't care.

Wilson started grinding their cocks together without really thinking about it, drawing agonizingly slow circles with his hips. It hadn't occurred to him at first that when he had tackled House, their bare groins had ended up pressed together. It occurred to him now. House's breath caught and he moaned unevenly. The sound sent sparks firing through Wilson's nervous system, straight down to his cock, which he swore grew like the grinch's heart on Christmas. Shit – they weren't just fooling around on the couch on a testosterone-fueled binge anymore. They were having sex.

Upon realizing that, Wilson's first unadulterated thought was, It's about damn time. And that gave him pause. He broke the kiss and drew back, propped on his elbows. House's eyes had drifted shut after all, and he didn't open them yet. Wilson could practically see him savoring the moment, thinking that it would never come again, that they could never be friends after this and he had better enjoy whatever he had left. Just to prove him wrong, Wilson leaned down and nipped at House's lower lip before threading his tongue between House's teeth again. He made a concerted effort to map the space between House's gums and resumed the rhythm with his hips that he had allowed to fall off while he dealt with his epiphany. He had never thought about the reasons why he gravitated so strongly toward House before. He was attracted to House. More than just a little bit. And House was attracted to him.

An uncensored, "Oh god, House," fell from Wilson's lips between kisses, and House replied by doing something with his arms, finally. He tangled one hand in Wilson's hair to hold him in place, and trailed the other down Wilson's spine. He slid Wilson's boxers down off his ass and then kneaded a butt cheek, pressing down to increase the pressure between them. Wilson harrumphed into House's mouth and thrust properly against him. Their cocks slid past each other, delicious friction in the hot space between their bellies.

House arched and threw his head back with a contended sigh, his eyes still closed. Wilson fixed his lips over House's carotid and marked a damp line down to House's shoulder, his hips moving of their own accord now, sharper and faster. House gasped and grabbed Wilson's ass with both hands, holding him down as firmly as possible while he ground himself up, desperate. Their balls bumped together and Wilson had to stop suckling, overwhelmed by other sensations. He buried his face in House's neck, his nose in House's soft curls, and tightened his fingers about the back of House's head. He held on to House's shoulder with his other hand, simply because he wasn't sure what else to do with it, and he couldn't think clearly enough to figure something out.

It didn't seem like House minded; he lifted his left leg and wrapped it over Wilson's right as they kept moving, harder and faster, panting whenever they remembered to breathe. Soft grunts and whimpers escaped both of them as they hurtled forward, couch leather creaking against sweaty skin and clothes. Wilson could feel the pressure building, spread out in searing heat all through his groin and abdomen. He knew he was going to come hard; the buildup alone was torturous, and he clung to House, gritting his teeth as his rhythm turned erratic and his balls retracted. House kept him moving even as he went rigid, long fingers dug into his buttocks as colors exploded behind Wilson's eyes. He growled past clenched teeth, helpless against the wave that burst throughout his loins, and curled over House's body. His muscles seized and he cried out, pistoning his hips as fast as he could, painfully aware of every sensation, of the pulsing, wet heat, of House's hard cock right next to his, of House's body firm and feverish beneath him, of the scent where his nose was buried, and the ecstasy, oh god, how good it felt, how he thought he might die if it went on any longer, how his body ached at the strain of enduring it…

House's arms were around him, though Wilson didn't recall him moving them. He had one hand wrapped over the back of Wilson's neck to hold his head down, the other cinched about his waist, soothing fingers running up and down Wilson's flank. Wilson was hardly aware of the fact that they had stopped moving, though he felt himself quaking in the aftermath. The sharp, pitchy sounds that assaulted Wilson's ears turned out to be himself as he panted loudly in House's ear. Ripples of pleasure continued to work their ways through his body, driving spikes of fire through his groin and his spent cock. Wow. Just wow.

Wilson shuddered and groaned as the last aftershock hit, resigned to the embarrassment of coming so completely undone in the presence of his best friend. He went limp, registering the presence of a hard member still sandwiched between them, then rolled his eyes behind lowered lids. He did not want to move, but he certainly didn't expect House to let him off the hook. There was a dare in play. Still. Despite this sidebar.

Sure enough, House's stubble tickled Wilson's neck a minute later, and lips followed. House tongued a spot behind Wilson's ear, shifting beneath Wilson's weight to purposefully draw attention to his own erection, and groused, "Would you mind?"

Wilson lifted his head, dopey on the tide of endorphins, to study House's face. He had thought that he heard uncertainty in the quiet words, and he was right. House was out of his element, and if Wilson were any good at reading him, frankly terrified. His fingers continued to trip over Wilson's back, though, in a soothing, un-House-like manner. The expression on his face led Wilson to risk asking, "Are you alright?"

House didn't snark back, miracle of miracles. He simply nodded and sucked on his upper lip, meeting Wilson's gaze as openly as Wilson had ever seen it. When the silence got to him, he asked, "You?"

"Great," Wilson replied. Then he leaned in, gratified that House didn't stiffen or pull away this time. Their lips met in a series of chaste kisses, edged in stubble, and then Wilson wriggled his way down House's body, ignoring the stickiness that patterned their skin from Wilson's spectacular release.

House reclined to his original position and Wilson blocked out the flavors of both himself and House as he lowered his mouth over House's leaking cock, fisting the bottom half. He didn't think it would take all that long, even considering House's Vicodin use, but he was too sated and lazy to make it fast and hard. Taste aside, this wasn't so bad, and he really enjoyed the way House shivered every few seconds, his left leg drawn up though he didn't do anything with it aside from plant his heel on the couch cushion and then fight not to thrust into Wilson's mouth. There was still something off about it, though – something impersonal; Wilson couldn't put his finger on what, exactly, until he happened to flick a glance upwards and catch sight of House's death grip on a handful of his own t-shirt.

Wilson paused, then drew his lips up House's shaft in one particularly brutal suck that House's pelvis canted to follow as he slipped from Wilson's mouth. "House?"

House grunted, then lifted his head. His eyes were cloudy with lust but subdued somehow, and Wilson didn't really like that expression.

"You're allowed to touch me, you know."

A blink greeted this revelation, and then House glanced aside to process that through his hormone-muddied brain. He looked back a second later. "You want me to?"

Wilson refrained from smiling because he wasn't sure he could keep his expression from appearing patronizing. In a calculatedly sober tone, he replied, "I'm not a hooker. There's no hands-off rule."

House's eyes widened a fraction. "I didn't say you were a – "

"Relax," Wilson interrupted, marveling at this brand new side to his best friend. Since when was House afraid he might have insulted someone? Although, Wilson had never actually dealt with a hooker, outside of passing politely by a few outside House's door. Were they that temperamental? "I'm just saying. You can touch me."

House took in a few breaths along with Wilson's words, but he didn't make any effort to release his safety-grip on his shirt. He nodded eventually and settled again, but he wasn't nearly as relaxed as before.

Wilson swore inwardly because that meant that he wouldn't be able to get this over with as quickly as he'd hoped; unease was a good killer of hard-ons. "Okay." Wilson left off his efforts below and crawled around on the couch until he was straddling House, who appeared to consider flight as a good response to his new position. Wilson was actually starting to enjoy himself again, though. House must have been programmed over time to be skittish when in compromising positions, which made sense; House went out of his way to avoid seeming even the slightest bit vulnerable, even to Wilson, who had seen more of his softer side than anyone else over time. He wondered why that was, but now wasn't the time. Wilson just had to find a way to get him into the activity again. And Wilson really wanted him to get into it – he wanted to see House come undone, literally; and Wilson was good at getting people off. "Tell me what you like."

House groaned in frustration and glared at the ceiling for a second. "This isn't gonna work. Lemme up."

Wilson made a grab for House's hands when he tried to somehow squirm his way off the couch, which he couldn't possibly do considering Wilson's position. Wilson missed because House drew his hands protectively up against his chest, but he leaned down on House's shoulders instead, just to make a point. "House, relax. There's nothing to freak out over."

"I don't want to relax!" He seized Wilson's shirtsleeves but didn't really do anything with them.

Wilson pressed him harder into the couch as House's breathing sped up to epic rates. "Are you having a panic attack?"

"Oh my god," House muttered, and turned scarlet as much from embarrassment as anything else. He turned his head as if he could hide the fact, but it was no use. "Just leave. It's cool. We don't have to mention it ever again."

"Why are you so upset? I just came all over you," Wilson pointed out, but he released House's shoulders and sat up. He didn't get off, though. "And I don't want to forget about it; I want to do it again."

House sucked on his lip and shot Wilson a wary look. Wilson merely shrugged: no big deal. House actually balked at that. "It changes…things."

"No, it doesn't," Wilson scoffed. "It's sex. It's like…like movie night, times ten. It's just something people do. And since I'm not getting it anywhere else, and you're probably not either, why not get it with each other?" A little voice in the back of Wilson's brain called him a lying asshole, but he ignored it. Yeah, it was more than just sex, but he was pretty sure that they both knew that already. And House couldn't handle change very well, so it didn't need to be said out in the open. When House's gaze flit away again, Wilson spread his hands out, helpless. "You started it yourself."

"That was before I thought you'd do anything," House rasped, but his breathing had slowed back to a tolerable level.

Wilson could still feel House's ribcage expand and contract between his thighs, though, and the sensation stirred parts of his anatomy anew. He shifted, hoping to relieve the gradually building pressure in his groin, but it didn't help. Finally, Wilson began to panic himself, and he simply asked, "Do you want this, or was it just a dare?"

"You don't get it," House exhorted. He seemed to want to shove Wilson off, but at the same time, he didn't appear to want to touch him. And he point-blank refused to make eye contact. "I can't just risk…this means something. This – " He gestured at the two of them, but Wilson thought he referred to the friendship part, not the half-naked on his couch part. "I can't lose it again."

Wilson's lips parted a fraction, but he was saved the need to censor his shock since House still wouldn't look at him. "Again? House, we're friends. You never lost that."

"You said we weren't friends!" House's entire body shook with the proclamation. "And it did change. You don't come over anymore, we only have lunch together when I find you alone in the cafeteria – we're not friends. I can't just go sit in your office with you anymore and talk about the nurses – you get that look on your face. You said you can't choose your friends, like you wouldn't choose to be my friend, you just have to be…" He trailed off only because he lost his breath. Once he caught enough of it, he ended with, "I want the illusion. I don't have anything else left."

Wilson could only stare down at him and think shit, because House was really freaked out by this, and he honestly thought they weren't friends? That he needed some farce so badly because he was too afraid of losing Wilson altogether? "I didn't think you'd take those things literally," Wilson admitted.

"You said them," House replied, like that meant the world to him. They probably did.

Wilson knew that apologies were just thinly disguised white lies in House's world, so he didn't offer one. Instead, he reached out to brush some hair off of House's forehead even though it wasn't in the way of anything. House's eyes met his, filled with wariness and self-loathing, like Wilson had every right to have said hurtful things to him. Wilson leaned down slowly, looking for tells that he should just stop and let it all lie. Nothing moved in House's face, though; he had perfected impassivity over the course of a lifetime.

Wilson's lips grazed the corner of House's mouth, and then he pulled back far enough to see his face. There was a good reason for Wilson's silken reputation; he knew how to be seductive. At least this time, it would be sincere. "No illusion." He pecked at House's jaw line next and allowed his lids to flutter closed, shifting ever so subtly on top of him so that he could feel House's softened cock rubbing against the cleft of his ass. It was a strange feeling, but not unpleasant. Wilson's own groin was an unexciting place again, though the soft sensation of his balls resting on House's belly button left a warm spot in the pit of his stomach. "I want to know you, House." He slid his hands down from House's shoulders and over the flat, soft planes of his chest. "I want to spend time with you." His mouth moved over to lick at an earlobe, just once before moving on. "I want to gossip about the hospital…" He nipped the skin behind House's ear and House grunted softly. "…let you steal my lunch…" His fingers found nipples and circled aureoles while his tongue darted out to taste tangy flesh. "…watch you play with your damned lacross ball from my balcony door…" Wilson let a soft chuckle escape, and felt House shift against his buttocks, responsive. "I want to wonder…" He nipped and suckled hard on House's neck and House's breathing sped up. "…when I'm sitting at my desk…" He soothed the bruised skin with soft wet swirls of his tongue. "…if you're watching me too." Wilson simultaneously pinched both of House's nipples, bit down on his shoulder and rubbed his ass down on House's hardening cock.

"…hhnnngh…" House arched into every stimulus with a full-body shudder.

"I want you to think about me when you're sitting here," Wilson went on. He raked his blunt fingernails down House's chest, purposefully catching one nipple in the way down. House gasped and grabbed Wilson's shirtsleeves again, but for a wholly different reason. "I want you to wonder if I'm thinking about you too." Wilson settled one hand on House's abdomen, just below his ribcage, and rose to a crouch over him, the balls of his feet compressing the couch cushion beneath them. His thighs quivered at holding the position. "Thinking about this..." He snaked a hand between their bodies and cupped House's throbbing erection.

House's eyes had grown wide and black. He barely breathed Wilson's name, caught between the call for flight and an incredible arousal.

"…my hands on you…"

"Oh my god."

"…the heat…" Wilson curled his fingers around House's length and simply held it. "…how good it feels…"

House threw his head back and moaned, his spine curved off the couch.

Wilson shifted backwards, using the hand on House's stomach for leverage, pushing him back down on the cushions in the process. House's hands unclenched, allowing Wilson's shirt to slip free. "I want you to think…" He knelt back between House's legs and let his other hand slide down House's stomach, past his navel, then over to the crease of his inner thigh. "…that nothing else compares."

"Nothing," House grunted in agreement, his eyes drifting closed again.

"I want this…" Wilson bent down and pressed his lips to the sensitive inside of House's left thigh. "…even more…" He slid his tongue up and shoved his nose in beside House's balls. "…than you do." Wilson captured a nip of that skin between his teeth and milked it.


"Don't you want that too?"

"Yes," House exhorted with no hesitation whatsoever, as if he might chicken out of saying it. He groped about for some part of Wilson and ended up with a handful of Wilson's shirt collar and tie.

Wilson nibbled all around the base of House's cock, below where his fingers still grasped him, forcefully suppressing the urge to gag on more Cowper's fluid. Without breaking contact, Wilson mumbled, "You sure?"

House's breath came in short bursts that sounded suspiciously like whimpers, rendering his voice thready. "Yes, I want it."


House's hips twitched and quivered at the vibration of Wilson's voice, and Wilson moved to pin him down. One thing he knew, from watching his various wives' and girlfriends' reactions, was that those involuntary thrusts could put a serious damper on the moment. Wilson wasn't into being consensually choked, however accidental. He lowered his head and teased his tongue around the head of House's cock without actually touching his lips to it. When he prodded the edge of the foreskin, House swore breathlessly and gave another abortive thrust. His fingers tightened on Wilson's shirt and he tugged gently to urge him on.

Wilson complied, running his lips down over the head. He sealed his mouth around House's cock, just below the head, and massaged the glans with his lips. His tongue continued flickering about at random, over the foreskin, then along the rim. He puffed a breath of air under it again and House positively writhed. A hand showed up in Wilson's hair at that, though House didn't try to force Wilson's head down farther. He just anchored himself as Wilson continued teasing him, sliding his mouth a half inch lower, then back up, then farther down only to draw back to the very tip next time, his lips pursed to offer as much pressure as possible.

House quaked at Wilson's treatment, every limb taut with suppressed energy. Wilson decided that he had delayed long enough and took House in as far as he could. He bobbed his head in a steady rhythm, hoping that House wouldn't look down and see him cringing at the bitterness. He had a new respect for his ex lovers; he didn't think he'd be able to stomach doing this all that often. But for now, he was more concerned with repairing whatever had gone wrong between him and House, not just tonight but those other nights since Amber had died. Those nights when House had honestly thought that Wilson couldn't stand him.

Wilson's distraction ensured that he wasn't prepared at all for the burst of hot semen that spilled into his mouth. His eyes flew open but he recovered quickly enough to swallow a few times, a little bit horrified to be doing so, but the sight above him was well worth it. House's entire body had clenched, arched back off the couch, his head digging into the armrest. His lips were sealed over a plethora of noises that he tried to hold back – long, languorous, deep moans and helpless, staccato sounds of pleasure. Wilson sucked as hard as he could to prolong it, to pry as many muffled exclamations from House's throat as possible.

Once he could tell that the over-sensitized nerves were wrung out, Wilson let him slip from his mouth. He wasn't done yet, though. He proceeded to lave House's entire groin with his tongue, cleaning up every last bit of ejaculate that had spilled out. House twitched and quivered under this new onslaught, his fingers pulling painfully at Wilson's hair through no design. After he decided that he had done enough, Wilson took House's wrist and pried his fingers from his hair. Then he sat up and peered down the length of House's body.

Amazed blue eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling and Wilson grinned. "So…"

House craned his neck to get a good look at Wilson's grin. "So?"

"About that dare."

Post-coital House was apparently a little slow on the uptake. "What about it?"

Wilson's face turned smug. "I win."

House's chest heaved a few times, still out of breath, and then he came back to himself with a small twitch. "Rematch. You cheated."

Wilson snorted and shuffled around to sit properly with his pants still halfway down. "Did not."

"Did too."

"Not. You're just jealous."

"No, I just want a rematch."

Wilson smirked and turned his head to find the exact same expression on House's face. "Fine. You're on."