GHL fic: Duplex

[triedunture]

Title: Duplex
Rating: NC17
Pairing: House/Wilson established, Wilson/OMC, House/Wilson/OMC
Summary: 024. House/Wilson (Wilson/OMC optional) -- Someone who looks exactly like House is wandering around the hospital for no apparent reason and keeps being mistaken for the cranky doctor, except for the fact that he’s smiling. Wilson, thinking this is House, finds himself fascinated.
Words: 6,409
Warnings: threesome? Lookalike kink?

<><><>




"So what's your angle?" Wilson asked, flopping into an empty waiting room chair beside his target. "Are you waiting to drive everyone insane, or is this just an experiment in environmental disruption?"

For his part, House turned to him and said, "Hello." Not sarcastic, not biting, just polite and almost...cheerful. It was just like Brenda had said: House was grinning his head off. A wide, pleasant smile stretched his lips and lifted the little crinkle-lines at the corners of his eyes. No doubt about it. Something was very, very wrong.

"You're scaring all the nurses," Wilson warned. "Without them, who will change fluids and bed sheets for you?"

House frowned, and not in an over-dramatic, snarky way, but honestly worried. "Oh. Uh, so you think I'll be admitted soon?"

Wilson snorted. "Yeah, straight to the seventh floor if you keep this up." He glared at his friend's empty hands. "Where the hell is your cane?"

Blue eyes bulged fantastically. "Gosh, do you think I need one?"

"Okay, that's it." Wilson stood and placed his hands on his hips. "This isn't funny, House. It wasn't funny when you started three hours ago. If you don't get off your ass and out of this waiting room right now, the nurses will call Cuddy in to deal with you. And you don't want that, right?"

House gave a one-shouldered shrug, his gentle smile faltering. "I guess not."

"So are you going to give it up?" Wilson asked. "Or are you going to continue sitting here like an idiot?"

"Um..." House squinted at Wilson. "I'm sorry. Have I offended you somehow?"

Wilson blinked at the other man. House wasn't pushing back in their usual verbal sparring. He wasn't even defending himself. And if Wilson looked closely enough, he could sense beneath that friendly exterior the smell of confusion. House was at a loss. And House was never at a loss.

He also looked like he'd shaved that morning, which was doubly odd.

"Wait a minute," Wilson said slowly as a dawning realization crept upon him. He and House had become closer, much closer, in recent weeks. It was the same old story for Wilson: a talk had turned into a kiss which had turned into other things. Except this story was different, because instead of a vulnerable, trembling woman, it was his loud-mouthed, uncouth best friend. Who was, Wilson supposed, vulnerable in a way because of that.

But just the other day, during some post-coital pillow talk, which was actually couch-cushion talk, House had said something about weird fantasies. The kind where someone gets off on having sex with a stranger. House had snorted at that particular kink, pointing out all the dangers of STDs and a million other variables. Wilson had said that's what made it exciting. "You know, for people who are into that," he'd said with a blush.

House had laughed for almost five minutes straight, drowning out Wilson's flustered protests.

"Not that I've ever done it for real!" Wilson had shouted, whacking House in the face with a throw pillow. "It's just a fantasy, House."

Had all that mocking that Wilson had suffered through really been a smokescreen? Had House plotted and planned for weeks to make Wilson's stupid kinky scenario come to life? Wilson felt a small bubble of something in his chest; it was almost sweet.

Wilson smiled and leaned in close, his hands on the armrests of House's chair, hemming House in. "Are you doing this for me?" he whispered. His eyes darted around the waiting room, but none of the other patients or staff bustling through were paying them any mind.

House swallowed, and in that moment, Wilson could have kissed him in front of everyone in the hospital. He just looked too wonderfully ruffled. "I really don't have any idea what you're talking about, Doctor..." his eyes fell on Wilson's name tag. "Wilson."

"Oh, you're good," Wilson said, his lips quirking into an impressed mou. "Come on. Let's get out of here." He straightened and extended a hand to House, who took it after a moment of hesitation.

"Where are we going?" House asked as he limped behind Wilson down the hallway.

Wilson turned to watch House's pained progress, and he lent his arm for the other man to hold for balance. "I was supposed to have a meeting with the pharmaceutical rep, but I have a feeling I'll need to cancel. Let's just go home early, hmm?"

"But my foot!" House cried, his fingers digging into Wilson's forearm. "It really hurts and no one's had a chance to look at it yet."

"Oh, are we playing doctor too?" Wilson asked with a wolfish grin. "God, I thought you weren't into this stuff."

House flushed pink to the roots of his soft grey-streaked hair. "I--"

Wilson began walking briskly toward the door again, allowing House to use him for support. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Don't worry, sir," he said with a laugh. "I'll take a look at your foot, all right?"

A long pause. "...Okay." House nearly stumbled trying to keep pace with him.

<><><>

"This is a nice place," House said as he walked into the apartment.

"Yeah." Wilson closed and locked the door behind them. "The guy I share it with can be a real jerk sometimes, but other than that, it's a good deal."

"I see. That's--"

Wilson couldn't wait any longer. He pressed House against the wall, hands on his shoulders, and attacked his mouth with a deep kiss, more aggressive than he'd ever dared with House. For his part, the other man gave a muffled cry of protest before relaxing into the embrace. Wilson watched his blue eyes slide shut, fuzzy and unfocused at such close range. He canted his hips into House's, mindful of the crippled leg, and growled low in his throat.

"This is exactly like I imagined," Wilson breathed into the curve of House's neck.

"Wh-what are you doing?" House stuttered. That earned him another kiss from Wilson; House's acting skills really were superb. His voice was pitched high, frightened and befuddled. His body shook with the tremors of the uninitiated. Even his clothing, a plain white button down that Wilson had never seen House wear before, made him appear just a touch more innocent, a completely different man from the House Wilson knew.

"So hot," Wilson murmured, nipping at the overheated skin of House's throat.

"You don't even know my name."

Wilson smirked up at House. "Does it matter?"

"It, it m-matters to me." House was positively shaking now. Beads of sweat collected on his upper lip and his hairline, forming dotted patterns along his face. Wilson furrowed his brow and leaned closer to kiss his temple.

"Hey, hey, hey," he soothed. "I was thinking this would be a fun little test, but I don't want to go ahead with it if you don't want to. Or if you're pretending you don't want to. That's not something I'm into. I'm not that messed up."

"All right," House mumbled.

"So are we okay?"

"...yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"What should I call you?"

House bit his lower lip and looked down at the floor in a way that should have been illegal. "Richard," he said.

"Richard," Wilson rolled the name on his tongue. "I like that. It's nice to meet you, 'Richard.'" He gave House another slow kiss, tasting him freely, unhurried.

"And what's your name?" House asked, panting, when they broke for air. "Unless, should I just call you Dr. Wilson?"

Wilson chuckled and gripped House's hips tighter. "That's sort of stuffy. Why don't we just go with James for once?"

"Fine. James." House nodded. He brought his hand tentatively to Wilson's cheek, and Wilson marveled at the gentle contact. House was usually so volatile in bed, almost bordering on frenzied. It was a nice change to have him acting calm and innocent, even if it was just an act. "You're very attractive," House whispered, running his thumb along Wilson's cheekbone. "I--I've never done anything like this before. With a stranger, I mean. This is just wild."

"I'll show you wild," Wilson walked backwards, tugging House along with him, and deposited him in an armchair. "You can just sit back and relax."

"Oh, uh, if you really want to--" House paused to lift his hips; Wilson had already unbuttoned his jeans and was shoving them down. "That is, if you don't think this is going too fast--"

"Not fast enough in my opinion," Wilson looked up at House with a devilish smile, "Richard."

He turned back to the task at hand. And froze. And blinked. And opened his mouth. But nothing came out. House's jeans were now pushed to his knees, revealing boxer-briefs, which was bizarre enough, as House didn't even own any boxer-briefs.

But that wasn't the most bizarre thing.

The most bizarre thing was House's right thigh. It was intact. Pristine. Not a scar to be seen.

"What happened to your leg?" Wilson asked in a strangled voice.

"I told you, it was my foot." House lifted his right foot, still encased in a leather loafer instead of the familiar Nikes. "It's been sore all week."

"But..." Wilson shook his head. "House..."

A key scraped in the lock. Wilson felt the strange sensation of being in an episode of The Twilight Zone. The door swung open. A black cane with flame details poked inside.

Wilson hoped this was some kind of joke. Or that he would wake up soon. Or that a hidden cameraman would pop out from somewhere. Anything, anything at all, to negate the dawning truth of what had actually happened.

The cane was followed, nearly in slow motion, by a scuffed sneaker. Wilson's heart sank. The shoe was was, of course, attached to a denim-clad leg, which in turn belonged to a very tall man, who entered the apartment wearing his usual scowl.

The real House stared at Wilson, kneeling on the hardwood floor between another man's bare knees. Wilson stared back at House, and then at the man sitting in the chair that was supposed to be House, and then back at House-House. Was he crazy? Or did they look exactly alike?

Wilson hoped he was right, or else he was about to be dumped. Hard.

House finally closed the door behind himself and said, "Oh, this had better be good."

Wilson shot to his feet, gesturing frantically. "I thought he was you! He looks just like you!"

Richard (oh, god, was his name really Richard?) pulled up his jeans with no small amount of haste. "Wow. Uh. Wow," he said helpfully.

"Shut up," House directed his doppelganger. Then, to Wilson, "Are you kidding me? You seriously expect me to believe you brought a complete stranger back here without realizing he wasn't me?"

"He answered to your name in the hospital!" Wilson cried. He whirled on Richard. "You answered to 'House!'"

Richard fidgeted helplessly under the rigorous cross-exam. "I thought it was some kind of Jersey slang! I had no idea what you were talking about!"

Wilson turned back to House, his face turning red with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "I thought it was you pretending, you know...to be someone else?" He waggled his head back and forth, hoping to coax House's memory. House just looked at him blankly. "Like we were talking about the other day?" Wilson prompted. "Remember? On the couch?"

"Oh." House screwed his face up in a mask of distaste. "Wait. What? You thought I--"

"Maybe I should just get going," Richard said, rising from the armchair.

"Sit!" House barked, and Richard sat. "Wilson, just look at him! In a million years, how could you mistake me for someone like him? And you call yourself a loving boyfriend."

"Excuse me for thinking that there was even the remotest possibility of you doing something unexpectedly nice for me!" Wilson shouted in return.

"I really should--" Richard attempted to stand again.

"Stay!" Both House and Wilson yelled at him this time. The man slumped back in his chair with a sigh.

"I can't believe you'd be so stupid. He doesn't even look like me!" House jabbed his cane in the impostor's direction.

"I'm stupid? House, he could be your twin." Wilson looked suddenly stricken and glanced between the two men again. "Could he be your twin?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"No. For one, our metacarpals are different lengths. Look." House strode forward and grabbed Richard's hand, mashing it against his own. Wilson could see that House's thumbs were thinner, and Richard's forefingers were longer. "And he has a cleft chin."

"Oh." Wilson looked at the small indent in the stranger's chin. "I didn't notice. You...hardly ever shave, and I guess I chalked it up to that."

"And his earlobes are attached. And probably a dozen other small differences that you might have seen if you'd just looked," House spat, tossing Richard's hand back onto the armrest as he were a puppet.

"It's not James' fault," Richard finally spoke up. "The resemblance is really strong. Really, um, weird." He cleared his throat. "This has all just been a big misunderstanding, so there's no need to get angry, okay? No harm done." And then (Wilson cringed) Richard actually smiled at House. A calming, warm smile.

This was not good.

"Oh, excuse me." House smiled back, but Wilson could see it was a cold, ironic smile, designed to lull the prey into a sense of safety. "You're absolutely right. Instead of blaming the person who is supposed to know me better than anyone, I should probably be wondering who the fuck just waltzes out of a hospital to have illicit sex with a total stranger."

"H-he was a doctor," Richard said haltingly. "He was just so friendly a-and I thought--"

"What? That you'd walked into a letter from Beefcake Monthly?"

"House." Wilson spoke quietly, laying a hand on House's shoulder. "Back off."

House glared back down at the quivering doppelganger one more time before stalking off to the kitchen with a clipped, "Fine."

With a hand rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck, Wilson sighed and turned to the poor man in the chair. "Look, I'll drive you back to the hospital. The clinic--' Wilson checked his watch and groaned, "--closed fifteen minutes ago."

"That's fine," Richard said abruptly. "You can just drop me off at the hospital. My rental car's still parked in the lot." He gave a small shrug. "I'm not from around here. Obviously."

"I'm really, really sorry about this mix-up," Wilson said. "You have no idea how--"

"No, I think I do. I'm feeling kind of the same way." Richard ducked his head and covered his face with his hands. "This is so humiliating," he said, muffled, into his palms.

Wilson flinched just looking at him. "How's the foot?" he said, for want of another topic. "Would you like me to take a look at it?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Probably just--" He quieted as soon as House limped out of the kitchen.

"Which foot?" the man with the cane asked sharply.

"Uh, my right."

House stomped to his cluttered desk under the window and rummaged around in a junk drawer. He finally retrieved a roll of duct tape and brought it over to his near-twin. "Off with the shoe and sock, what's-your-face."

"Richard," he offered.

"Okay, Dick, let's see some bare tootsies."

"I can--" Wilson tried to offer, but House waved him off.

Richard obediently removed his loafer and crew sock, and House hooked his cane around a cane-backed chair to drag it closer. He sat directly in front of his double and gestured for him to lift his bare foot in his lap. Richard did as directed; Wilson looked on with unconcealed concern on his features, his arms across his chest.

"This hurt?" House pressed his thumb into the groove beside Richard's Achilles tendon, and the other man nodded.

"A little. Especially when I walk."

"You been walking a lot recently?"

Richard gave a nervous laugh. "Probably more than the rest of my life combined. I've been working a ton of conventions this summer." He turned his head to give Wilson a thin smile. "I'm in marketing. Johnson frozen potatoes."

"Fascinating," House said dryly. He unwound a length of duct tape with a loud FWWWP sound. "It's just strained. I'm going to wrap it for you. Should help if you keep it bound for a few days."

"Thank you." Richard watched as House tore the tape down the middle and arranged one strip in a yellow ribbon shape around his heel. "So you're both doctors?"

"No, I just have a thing for wrapping other men's feet in duct tape. But you're probably down with that too, right?" House quirked an eyebrow at him.

"House," Wilson said in his warning tone. He'd been so pleased to see House at least acting with some professional compassion for Richard. It would be a shame to mar that with more biting retorts.

"No, it's all right. I can't quite believe I did it, either." Richard swallowed as House paused in his wrapping. "Um, coming home with Dr. Wilson, I mean. I--I haven't been with anyone in years. I'm not really the best at the dating scene," he finished softly.

House pressed the other half of the strip of tape into a horseshoe shape around the back of Richard's foot. "So you think he's hot?" He tipped his chin in Wilson's direction.

"House!"

"What? Guy tells you to come home with him, you wouldn't go unless you thought he was modestly attractive, right?"

"Yes." Richard was staring at his hands folded in his lap now, his face flaming. "Yes, I think he is. I'm sorry, if I had known you were together, I wouldn't have--"

House snorted. "I'm not worried that you'll steal Wilson from me. Something tells me you're not the type. Call me crazy."

"If you mean I don't have the chutzpah to do something like that, you're right!" Richard gave a nervous chuckle. "I'm not looking for trouble."

House dropped his gaze back to the foot in his hands and hummed thoughtfully. Wilson quirked an eyebrow; House with his thinking-face on was hardly ever good news. House, though, merely finished wrapping with a small strip of tape around the ball of Richard's foot.

"There. How's that feel?"

Richard lowered his foot to the floor and pressed down on it slowly. "Much better." He glanced over at Wilson. "Well, I should probably be getting back..."

Wilson began digging into the pocket of his khakis for his car keys, but House stood with the aid of his cane and grabbed his wrist. "Just one moment," he said to Richard and proceeded to drag Wilson into the kitchen.

"I said I was sorry," Wilson hissed when they were far enough away from their guest. "It was an honest mistake. I--"

"Not mad anymore," House cut him off. "You were right. Just a freak coincidence."

Wilson let go of a big puff of breath. "Good." His eyes shut in relief, and in that one second that his guard was down, House leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn't as feral as House's usual kisses, but it still had that undercurrent of power and impatience. Wilson returned the kiss, not knowing what else to do. His hand reached out for House's waist; House's hand found his hip.

"So we're okay?" Wilson asked when they parted.

"Yeah." House scraped his prickly chin against the side of Wilson's neck, knowing how much that tickled him. Wilson squirmed and gave House a light-hearted push. House smirked in response. Then: "You think he'd be up for it?"

"Who?" Wilson asked.

"That stray you brought home." House tilted his head toward the living room.

Wilson squinted at him. "Up for what, exactly?"

"I don't know." House shrugged. "Maybe you and he should..." House flapped a hand between Wilson and the next room.

"What!"

"Just an idea!"

"An insane idea! House, you're the one who told me that if I fooled around--"

"Yeah, but..." House glanced down at his bum leg with a frown. "Not really cheating if you think it's me, right? And he can probably do a few things I can't. Like stand."

The anger melted off Wilson's face, and he fisted a hand in House's unbuttoned overshirt. "I don't care if you can't run a marathon or perform fifty percent of the kama sutra." He kissed House's lips. "I picked you for a reason."

House gave a pleased smile which he tried to hide. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'm going to suggest something, and you have to promise not to freak out."

<><><>

Richard idly flipped through a messy pile of magazines on the coffee table, but they were all medically related. Except for the Enquirer. He frowned and lifted himself from the chair to hobble carefully around the living room. He examined a few trinkets on the mantle: piles of sheet music, lovelorn books, one framed photo of both doctors in tuxes, cigars in hand, a banner behind them announcing some charity event.

Richard sighed. They were certainly a handsome couple.

The sound of a glass breaking resonated from the kitchen. Fevered whispers followed, and Richard crept closer to hear what was happening.

"--a total stranger! I thought you were completely opposed to that kind of thing!"

"Yeah, if it's just you."

"So why did you say I should...? Oh my god. Are you testing me!?"

"No! Just feeling you out. I mean, if you had really wanted to--"

"But I didn't! I mean, I don't!"

"You're the one who brought up the subject of kinks that night on the couch."

"Yeah, but not threesomes! I've never fantasized about that before."

"Me neither."

"So why...?" Richard heard Wilson pause momentarily. "You want to fuck yourself, don't you?"

"Well--"

"I can't believe this! All the mocking I endured because of my sexual desires, and you're into something way creepier!"

"It's not that creepy."

"You want to fuck yourself."

A small moment of silence. "You're always telling me to learn to love myself," said in a low drawl. "Plus, you're invited. Aren't couples supposed to share interests?"

"Yeah, like gardening."

"Well, there will be plowing."

"...I need to clean up this glass."

"Planting of seed?"

"I'm not even going to tell you how wrong that is."

"I still haven't heard you say no."

"House--"

"Because if you do say no, I won't bother asking your new friend."

"How about I just don't say anything?"

A popping of lips. "That'll be awkward, considering he's listening to us right now."

Wilson and House exited the kitchen, and Richard was standing right there, with had no time to conceal himself or pretend he hadn't overheard their discussion.

"Sorry, it was just," he swallowed, "loud."

"Look, Richard," Wilson said, his hands out in front of him as if he were calming a wild animal, "I'm sorry you had to hear that. House sometimes says things before thinking and--"

"I'll do it," Richard blurted out. "That is, if you both want to."

Wilson gaped. House said, "Seriously?"

Richard quirked his mouth into a slanted line. "I don't get out much. I'm not getting any younger. How many opportunities like this will a guy like me ever have? And also," he flushed as his eyes caught House's, "I'm a little curious too."

"Okay, so we're all in?" House put his hand out like they were about to do a team cheer.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "For God's sake."

Richard placed his somewhat paler hand on top of House's.

"That's the spirit," House said. "C'mon, Wilson. Live a little."

How was he supposed to deny House anything? With a sigh, Wilson slapped his left hand on top of the stack. "Fine. But someone else is washing the sheets tonight."

<><><>

Wilson wasn't exactly sure what to expect, having never participated in a threesome, but he was almost certain this wasn't normal. He sat at the foot of the bed and watched, for all intents and purposes, his boyfriend make out with himself. Two pairs of long, thin arms, two pairs of bright blue eyes flashing open and closed every few moments, two identical bare chests heaving with lost breath. Fingers running through two heads of the same grizzled hair. Both laying on their sides, wrapped around each other.

Wilson had to look down at their feet to tell them apart; Richard was the one on the right, his foot still bound in strips of silver duct tape. Wilson shrugged his own unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders as he watched. They really did make an interesting pair.

House was taking the initiative, of course, plunging his tongue into Richard's mouth repeatedly, growling in satisfaction when the almost-clone gave a small moan of pleasure. Richard seemed content to let it happen to him, to allow the force of nature that was House to rush over him.

Wilson crawled up on all fours until he was behind House. His fingers stole around to House's belt buckle, and he unfastened it with practiced ease. House gave a grunt as Wilson nipped at his neck.

"He'll see the scar," Wilson whispered in his ear. "You okay with that?"

"Yeah," House panted. "'s fine."

Wilson pulled House's jeans from his long legs, avoiding any jarring of the right thigh. He watched Richard's face as the scar was revealed: jagged, white, and ghostly. His eyes widened and his lips parted, but not in disgust, not horror. Just empathy.

"Is that why you use the cane?" Richard asked quietly.

Wilson prepared himself to head off an insult at such a question, but House just said, "Yep."

"You'll have to be careful around it," Wilson warned. "Try not to touch it."

"Right." Richard nodded. "Any other rules?"

Wilson looked to House, and House just shot him the same questioning glance. "None that I can think of. You?"

"Well, not really. But I usually, I mean, I used to always just go with the flow." He blushed all the way down his neck.

"Sweet deal," House said, and kissed his double again. As they squirmed against each other, Wilson climbed over them to alleviate Richard of his pants as well. He watched the matched pair kiss, lick, and press for a moment, threading his fingers through House's hair briefly.

"I know they say everyone has a double somewhere in the world," he said, "but it's just so eerie."

"Only so many genetic combinations available," House said, laving a path down Richard's chest to his nipple. "Good thing mother nature hit the jackpot twice, huh?"

Richard gave a tight laugh, shaking his head and burying his face against House's neck.

"Oh, get real, Richard," House admonished. "We're not bad for middle-aged dudes."

"I never thought of myself as anything special," Richard said demurely. "Just sort of gangly and--Oh!"

Wilson smirked against Richard's shoulderblade, which he had tasted to see how it matched up to the original. Not bad, he decided.

"So what do you two want to try?" Wilson murmured against the familiar-but-not-quite back.

"Well, Dick here said we could do anything we wanted," House said with a leer.

"He's a guest, House. Be polite." Wilson tugged said guest's boxer-briefs off his hips.

"You're right. Richard, could you please help me with Wilson? He's still wearing clothes." House wriggled out of his boxers like an eager salmon swimming upstream.

Richard, who could move much more nimbly than Wilson was used to, turned over and grabbed Wilson around the waist, flipping their positions so Wilson was the one sandwiched. Wilson was content to let the twenty talented fingers work his belt free and attack his zipper; at the moment, he was much more concerned with the two bare bodies on either side of him.

He cradled House's erection in his left hand, a warm, heavy, familiar weight. Curved only just the slightest bit. Leaking and wet. His right hand found Richard's cock as well: straighter,
surrounded by thicker, darker hair, just as hard. Wilson reveled in the feel of being in the middle for the moment; he figured that when House finally got around to fucking his doppelganger, he might have to make himself useful in some way. Maybe he'd suck Richard off during it, or Richard could suck him. Or perhaps he'd be content just to watch two Houses grinding against each other, listening to their twin moans.

When the last of his clothing was peeled away, Wilson heard House open the bedside table drawer. A square of red plastic fell on the sheets: one of their condoms. "I know exactly what I want to happen here," House said, mouthing his way down Wilson's collarbone. "So are we going to vote on it or what?"

"Why don't you share your grand plan?" Wilson jerked as House touched that sensitive spot behind his knee; House guided Richard's questing hand to find it as well.

"It's not complicated. Our new friend here fucks you from behind. I lay back while you blow me."

Wilson felt Richard stiffen behind him, both his limbs and his cock. "I--I wouldn't presume to--"

"Oh, quit apologizing. Do you want to do it or not?" House snapped.

Wilson watched House's face carefully. They had tried to have sex in that fashion exactly one time. House's knees had given out, and the pain in his leg had stopped him from actually enjoying any of the short time they'd had. But Wilson loved being taken from behind; sometimes he allowed House to drape over him like a blanket and just lay there because it felt so good to have that heavy weight bearing down on him. Was this some kind of weird gift? For Wilson?

"Why--?" he began.

"I want to watch myself do it, okay? It'll be like an out-of-body experience. Is that suitably healthy for you?" House answered before he could finish.

Wilson twisted his head around to look at Richard, who was gnawing on his lip and brushing his hand meekly down Wilson's flank. "I'll give it a shot if you're willing," he said.

Richard nodded enthusiastically, and Wilson smiled despite himself. He knew in that moment that, as kind as Richard could be, he could never be House. House was so himself, so uniquely qualified to spar with Wilson on a mental level, that the feeling Wilson got in his chest when they were together could only be made by him, but that brash, annoying, beautiful House.

Wilson gave the impostor a kiss and rose to his knees on the mattress, motioning Richard behind him. House handed the condom over Wilson's shoulder, along with a tube of lubricant. "You better prepare him enough," House said with a wag of his finger. "You break it, you bought it."

"Right, of course," Richard said, uncapping the tube with a loud snap.

Wilson shared a smirk with House and leaned forward for another kiss. He let the old, beloved taste of House's mouth distract him from the feel of new, trembling hands exploring between his legs. Richard managed to slip one slim digit around and around and, finally, inside his body, and Wilson groaned against House's lips. While Richard seemed to be trying his best to stretch him, Wilson could tell he wasn't as confident as House would be.

"Hey, give him a hand, would you?" Wilson said after breaking the kiss. He tossed his head over his shoulder, and House rolled his eyes. He did, however, obediently shimmy down the bed to join Richard.

"Ah, see, here's your problem," House drawled as if he were a southern mechanic and Wilson, a finicky roadster. "You gotta fill 'er up all the way."

Wilson dropped his head to a waiting pillow below as he felt the one finger leave him and then two, undoubtedly guided by House's steady hand, enter him. Wilson craned his neck to see behind him; House had clasped his hand over Richard's wrist, slowly forcing his fingers in and out, in and out. Twin looks of concentration furrowed their brows. House's eyes, feeling Wilson's gaze, flicked up to meet for a moment. Then, an evil smirk, and with his free hand, he reached between Richard's legs and massaged his balls within their tight sac. Richard jerked, and Wilson felt the vibration of it all the way though his own body.

"There you go," House whispered. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Richard said in a parched voice.

Wilson heard the rip of the plastic wrapper and the slick roll of a condom on flesh. Then House's hand was there once more to spread him and guide Richard as needed. The first contact of lifeless, squeaking latex, then the warm, blunt tip of the erection, then the slow burn of entry. Wilson breathed through his nose and let his muscles turn to liquid, focusing on balancing on his hands and knees. Then, with a bounce of the mattress, House was back in front of him.

"Doing okay?" House asked with a kiss to his slack mouth.

Wilson blinked. It was so unlike House to be checking up on him during sex, but then again, this wasn't normal sex. This was sex by proxy.

"Give me your cock," Wilson murmured in a deep, husky tone. "Now." Behind him, Richard was grinding away in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It was enough to drive him crazy.

House scooted himself back against the headboard and spread his legs in front of Wilson's panting mouth. The head of his erection bobbed against his stomach, dribbling tiny pools of fluid around his navel. Wilson lapped at the liquid and swirled his tongue around the familiar planes of House's stomach before taking his cock in his mouth. The rocking of the cock in his ass set the pace for this as well, and Wilson worked House into his mouth with languid ease.

House carded his fingers through Wilson's hair, muttering curses and urges and prayers to the ceiling. Wilson opened his eyes after a moment to look at House, and he found his bright blue gaze darting between Wilson's mouth and then beyond, to where Richard kneeled, fucking Wilson relentlessly.

"Faster," House said, and there was no doubt he was talking to Richard. The twin obliged, and Wilson moaned at the increased speed, the harder pounding. The light, obscene sound of balls smacking against the back of his thighs. The loud slurp as his lips released House only to plunge again.

"Bite his neck," House directed breathlessly. "He likes that."

Richard threw himself into the act with all his vigor, splaying his hands on Wilson's chest and draping himself over his back to suckle at his jugular. Wilson moaned, caught between the twin sensations of Richard inside and around him, and the musk of House in his nostrils, the pull of his fingers in his hair.

"His nipples," House ground out between clenched teeth, and Richard was already following his orders. His fingertips plucked delicately at the hard nubs, and Wilson inhaled sharply around the cock in his mouth. Above him, House let out a gasp.

Wilson abandoned House's erection for a moment. "Fuck, tell him to make me come, House," he pleaded. "Need to come."

"Richard?" House called. "Do you want to make Wilson come?"

"Yes, oh yes." Richard's rutting increased in fervor, and Wilson clutched at the sheets beneath his hands.

"Finish me off first," House told Wilson, taking his cock in hand and nudging its flushed head against his parted lips. Wilson took his task with only a small glare and muffled murmur of disapproval, then sucked and sucked as hard as he could. House bucked under him, and he steadied him with one hand on his hip while the other played with his sac. "Keep at it, yeah, just like that," House chanted, then, with a sudden shudder, "fucking YES."

Wilson tasted the bitter flood of fluid in his mouth, and he swallowed it down with only a little dedication; if a few drops escaped his lips, who the fuck cared?

He wasn't doing the laundry.

House seemed to recover with admirable swiftness. He massaged his hand across Wilson's scalp and called to Richard, "Okay, give him your hand."

Wilson felt the searing hot hand close around his bouncing erection and immediately succumbed. He keened low in his throat and emptied himself of stream after stream of come. His body twitched and flexed all over, and it wasn't long before House's twin also reached his climax, clamping his teeth down on Wilson's shoulder.

Shaking with the aftereffects, Wilson let his knees and elbows give out, and he fell face first into the bedding, damp with sweat. House petted his hair in a strangely soothing way, saying quiet things like, "You did good. God, Wilson, it was good."

Wilson glanced at their bed partner; Richard was breathless, laid out on his back at the foot of the bed, his blue eyes wild and swirling. It was the closest he'd ever gotten to looking like House; Wilson saw that now.

"Enjoy yourself?" Wilson panted, turning his head to stare up at House, nestling his head against House's stomach.

House shrugged. "Nah, not really." His grin only crept onto his face when Wilson's own face fell. "Of course I did," House chuckled as Wilson gave him a light punch on the arm. "You were having the time of your life. Always knew you needed two of me."

"Yeah, sure, I need two of you like I need a hole in my--" Wilson turned to Richard, to let the quiet, gentle man share the laughter, but he was fast asleep, snoring softly.

"Can we keep him, mom?" House whined, wrapping his arms around Wilson's shoulders. "There's still a ton of pages of the kama sutra to get through, and I can't handle them all."

Wilson placed a kiss above House's navel. "No, we'll find him a loving home tomorrow. But it was good of you to take him in tonight."

"What can I say?" House yawned widely. "He reminded me of someone. Can't quite put my finger on it, but he did."

"Goodnight, House," Wilson said with a smile.

"Goodnight, Wilson." And then, to the sleeping man at their feet, "Goodnight, Dolly."

"He's not a sheep, House."

"Baaah."



fin.

Comments

[jihime47.livejournal.com]

Oo-okay. That was weird.

"You want to fuck yourself, don't you?" That killed me. A happy death, though.