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Prurient Interests	By : ktatters Category: G through L > House Views: 3274 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Prurient Interests
- 1
Note: This was originally an LJ exclusive, written for Strikethrough. After the latest Bold controversy, I have decided not to leave it as an exclusive. I hope that you enjoy it.

The night after Wilson had traded House to Tritter in exchange for his car and his cancer patients, he walked up to House's door with the male equivalent of flowers and a variety pack of chocolates. Someone less euphemistically inclined might have said a six pack of beer and an assortment of DVD pornography. Wilson knocked on the door hesitantly, and then again less hesitantly, and finally just stood there knocking, getting annoyed. He was at it for ten minutes before House opened the door, a scowl on his face. Neither of them said anything.
House's eyes went to Wilson's shoes, which had ugly rubber covers on them to protect from the wet snow, then travelled up. The bottoms of his pant legs were wet, the tops wrinkled from sitting in his car too long. His palms were not quite sweaty, but far from dry. He'd unzipped his coat while standing in the hallway, so it hung open and showed to the world that Wilson had untucked his shirt. His jaw was set, and his eyes were determined, and his hair was stuck wetly to his head.
"Are you going to ask me to come in?"
House grabbed the beer and shut the door in Wilson's face, but left it unlocked as he staggered over to his couch, knowing that Wilson would come in regardless. Wilson did, but the knob turned slowly, and the steps he took after shrugging off his coat and removing his shoes were slow, heavy, and wholly unwilling.
He sat down next to House and offered him the videos. House didn't look at Wilson or his porn, but pulled out two beers and placed one in front of Wilson. He took a drink out of his own and stared at it.
"You took my keys," said Wilson.
"And you took my Vicodin," House replied evenly.
Wilson nodded slowly and drank from his bottle. They sat in silence for a while. "You're sure you won't take the... the deal? You need the rehab and--"
House slammed his beer down on the coffee table, then reached into his pocket and pulled out Wilson's keys. He turned on Wilson, grabbing his once-friend's hand and pressing the metal into it. "You got what you came for," he growled. "Now you can go."
Wilson's hand closed around the keys for a moment, but he placed them on the table instead of leaving, leaned back, and finished his beer quickly. He turned his head to look at House, staring at the haggard lines already etching themselves into his friend's face. "It was the right thing to do," said Wilson.
House pulled out another beer and pushed it into Wilson's hands. "You were terrified out of your mind," he accused.
Wilson frowned as the shadow they were both ignoring in the kitchen moved. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I wasn't terified. I agreed to this, didn't I? I got you this deal, too," he whispered. "No jail, no rehab, we can go back to our lives--"
House nodded fractionally. "I know. Stick to the script," he murmured back.
Wilson nodded, bit his lip and turned away. "Can we watch a movie?" He opened the bottle with a twist and tossed the cap onto the table. "We could order Chinese, pizza, whatever. I could give you a blow job." He took a long drink and swallowed. "We could even..." Wilson faltered for a moment. "We could have sex." He took a deep breath. "Whatever you want," he said softly.
House's eyes closed for a moment, and then he picked a movie at random. "I'll order something," he said, then grabbed the phone and went into the kitchen. "You're buying," he yelled.
Wilson drank and let out a long breath through his teeth, then stood up, stretching his legs as he turned House's television on and put the DVD into the player. He grabbed the remote and went back to the couch. By the time House got back, the video was loaded.
House handed him a cup of tea and sat down. "You should have taken a cab," he said. "You're going to get yourself sick, walking eight miles in the snow." Wilson huffed. "It doesn't impress me."
"I didn't walk from the hospital. I walked from three blocks away where I parked."
House's eyes turned to the keys and he raised an eyebrow. "I'm detoxing. I'm not taking care of you if you get hypothermia. Drink the damned tea."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Like practically every other Volvo owner, I'm part of the AAA, House. They brought me keys to my car, though obviously not to your place or my hotel room."
House grunted, grabbed the remote and pressed play to avoid giving Wilson a response.
Wilson shook his head in annoyance, then put his feet on the table and stared with some interest as Hot House started. He sipped his drugged tea slowly until the blowjob scene, when he unzipped his fly. House grabbed his hand before he could do anything, though, and placed it on his own groin.
Wilson turned to look at House. "Whatever I want," he said, eyes not moving from the onscreen action. Wilson nodded and began to stroke, firm but gentle, gaging House's responses with his eyes. "Watch the movie," he muttered, and Wilson turned away.
He kept his ears open for any sounds from House, but the man was nearly quiet. There were slight gasps as Wilson stroked through the thin material of House's boxers, and he could feel that his friend could, at least to some extent, appreciate the hand job, but he wasn't getting as hard as Wilson would have liked. When the movie blowjob finished, Wilson pulled his hand away.
"Sorry," said Wilson.
"'S okay. Detox," murmured House.
Wilson closed his eyes slowly. "I'm tired," he said loudly, putting his now-empty cup on the table. "That some kind of herbal tea?"
"Don't want little Jimmy missing out on his beauty sleep," quipped House. "Go to bed."
Wilson yawned. "We didn't eat," he said.
House pressed pause on the remote, then picked up Wilson's cup and turned it around in his hands for a while. "Yeah, don't worry, just go to bed," said House.
Wilson stood and banged his knees on the table. He stared at them for a moment. "Ow," he said belatedly.
"Sit down, Jimmy," said House. Wilson sat and yawned again. "Are you feeling okay? Drug isn't too strong, is it?" Wilson shook his head. House smiled slightly and put a hand around Wilson's neck, pulling their faces together. He kissed Wilson slowly, exploring every inch of the other man's mouth before he let go. Wilson's forehead fell against House's. "I've done a bad thing, Wilson. A very bad thing. But it's going to be okay," he said loudly. He stroked Wilson's hair. "All you have to do is pretend it's a dream." Wilson tilted his head, and House kissed him again. The door opened and closed while they continued to kiss. House looked away. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said softly. Wilson nodded his trust, his eyes glazing over with fatigue, and he yawned again.
When the doorbell rang, House called for Tritter to come in. The door opened, closed and locked in short succession, and the man himself entered House's living room. The detective looked between the pair on the couch and the television, DVD still paused on a very explicit shot. "Cozy," he remarked, as though he hadn't just watched Wilson rubbing House's balls minutes earlier.
Wilson stood up and banged his knees again. House stood and pushed him down, looking at him briefly before turning his gaze to Tritter. He had one of House's older prescription bottles in his hands and was turning it around two fingers with a self-satisfied expression on his face. "My leg hurts," growled House.
"You get these," he said with a rattle of the bottle, "when I'm finished with him."
House turned his attention to Wilson as the other man put his legs over the arm of the couch and pushed himself to his feet. House seemed uncertain, suddenly. "You're going to be careful with him, right?"
"Sure." Tritter grabbed Wilson's hand and pulled him to his feet. Wilson stumbled against him, and Tritter drew Wilson into his arms and squeezed his ass with the hand holding the pill bottle. "Where's your bed?" Wilson tried to pull away.
"Down the hall. Look," said House quickly. "Wilson hasn't done this before."
The hint of a smile appeared on Tritter's face. "You haven't sold him for a fix before?"
"I normally have a scrip." He walked over to Tritter, ignoring the way that Wilson was pretending to struggle in Tritter's arms. "He has a block about it, he's..." He paused and stroked Wilson's hair. Wilson turned his head to stare at House, a momentary annoyance in his eyes quickly masked by a hurt sort of innocence. He looked like a kicked puppy, or a betrayed child, and House found himself wondering whether or not the man had been in theatre. "Probably abused as a child," he muttered.
Tritter contemplated this for a moment. "Do you want to come?" he asked. "Do you want to watch while I take what you haven't? Is that it?"
House shook his head carefully. "I want my Vicodin," he said.
Tritter rattled the bottle again and tightened his arms around Wilson, then turned and began walking down the hall, pushing Wilson along in front of him. House followed, pretending to balk slightly as they entered the bedroom, keeping Wilson in his sight.
He closed the door behind them, as though a closed bedroom door really mattered when anyone could just look through the uncovered window. By the time he turned back, Wilson was on his knees in front of Tritter. House limped over to Wilson and replaced one of Tritter's hands with his own, leaning on him for stability. "When do I get my Vicodin?" he asked, his eyes focussing on the window on the other side of the room.
"House," said Wilson pathetically. He seemed lost for words.
Tritter unzipped his pants, and House heard the cloth fall to the floor. "You do the hard work, you get one after I'm hard," he said.
House nodded. "Open your mouth, Wilson." Wilson shook his head and tried to pull away. "Open your mouth," he repeated, but all Wilson did was try to stand up. House glanced at Tritter and reminded himself that realism, or at least what passed for it, was important here.
So House socked Wilson on his jaw. Wilson's mouth opened in pain and surprise, and House took the opportunity to put it around Tritter's limp member. Wilson tried to pull away, and House smacked the back of Wilson's head so that he was pushed forward. He gagged on Tritter's dick and tried to pull away again, and House grabbed his hair roughly and pushed.
Tritter's half-closed eyes moved back and forth between House and Wilson and he licked his lips. "Faster," he said, pushing his hips forward to coincide with House's thrusting of Wilson's head. Wilson gagged and choked, his eyes tightly shut. He tried to gasp in breaths around Tritter's now semi-hard member, but with the speed increase, seemed to be more and more dazed. He tried pushing his hands into House's leg. The other doctor swore a blue streak, but kept up with his movements, forcing his eyes to focus on the bottle of pills instead of his lover.
"That's enough," said Tritter finally, pulling out of Wilson's mouth. He opened the prescription bottle and took out a pill, pulled the coughing Wilson to his feet, and pushed the Vicodin into Wilson's mouth. "Kiss him for it." House pressed their faces together and pushed his tongue inside, trying to find his pill. Wilson tried to back away, but this time it was Tritter holding him in place. Wilson's mouth tasted like dirt and sweat, and House felt bad for him, slightly worried that this had been out of Wilson's comfort zone, but with Wilson's tongue trying to move House's dose into unreachable positions, his concern was assuaged quickly enough.
House massaged his leg for a moment and waited for the Vicodin to kick in. This was more painful than he'd thought it would be.
"Please stop," said Wilson, and House looked up to see that Tritter had already worked Wilson's pants and boxers down into a pool around his ankles. His hand was around Wilson's dick, and he was smiling nastily while Wilson ineffectively tried to push his hands away.
"You get what you deserve when you support criminals," said Tritter. "They'll sell you out for their next hit, betray you when you're not paying attention."
"Don't talk to him like that," said House.
"I'll say whatever I want to him, Doctor."
House bit his tongue on the retort, and bent down, pulling Wilson's wallet out of his pants pocket. "He should have a condom in here," said House.
Tritter grabbed the wallet and threw it to the other side of the room. "You helped me fuck his mouth without one, House. And if you want the rest of these pills, you're going to help me fuck his ass without one, too." He threw the bottle into the air and caught it. Wilson tried to back away from them both, but his coordination was off, and he tripped over his own clothes, hitting his head on the bed as he went down.
"Fuck," said Wilson, grabbing the back of his head with a slow, exaggerated movement.
House leaned down in concern and checked Wilson's injury for a moment, holding Tritter away. Seeing he was fine, House straightened and looked callously at Wilson. "Don't be a baby," said House. "That can't be half as bad as my leg."
"What did you give me?" he asked, his voice small and tired. "It feels too strong."
He started pulling his boxers back on, and was kicked for his efforts. "It doesn't matter," said Tritter. "Get on the bed."
Wilson shook his head. "House, I want to... I don't want to--" Tritter kicked him again, this time in his gut, knocking the breath out of him, but nothing worse than that.
Tritter bent down so that his mouth was beside Wilson's ear. "You're trying to back out. Shut up," he whispered, "or I'll tell them that your friend House gave you a sedative, and that I thought this was some kind of fucked up consensual role play situation, but that House was fooling me. And this will still happen, but it will hurt more. You try to cry rape, House'll be the one doing time. No deals, and if you've got any dirty secrets in your past, they'll be brought up at trial by his own lawyer." Wilson could hear the smile in Tritter's voice as he straightened. "Now, get your ass on the bed, or I'll do you here on the floor."
House leaned against the bed frame and offered Wilson a hand up. Wilson looked at him for a moment and shook his head, looking confused. "I want to stop."
"You're not making this easy," muttered House. Wilson's expression turned slightly panicky, and if House hadn't known that it was an act, he'd have been fooled. "Whatever I want, right, Wilson? I want you to get on the bed." Wilson laughed, and put his face in his hands.
Tritter had lost his patience with the situation. He grabbed Wilson's tie and pulled. Wilson's shoulders were still shaking as he raised himself against the bed. He put one of his hands into a fist against his face and let himself be pulled towards Tritter, then swung at the last possible moment, but in his drugged state, he didn't have much of a punch. He probably wouldn't have had much chance against the detective even if he had had full control of himself, but as he was, Tritter had no problem twisting his arm around. "That," he said, "was a bad idea, Doctor Wilson."
House tried to watch passively as Tritter twisted Wilson's arm, but eventually he had to step in. "You're going to break his arm if you don't stop," he said, his eyebrows drawn together. Tritter paused and smiled at House, then pushed Wilson to him. House stumbled and winced as both of their weights fell on his bad leg. "Get him on the bed." House put his arms around Wilson and frowned as he realized Wilson's laughter had turned into barely controlled sobs.
"Hey, come on, he didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, I really--"
"Stop breaking the mood," snapped Tritter. House nodded and guided Wilson to the bed with a kiss to shut him up, then turned him around and pushed him face first onto it. "Your bed's big enough for three. Get on with him."
House hesitated, eyes moving between Wilson and Tritter, both naked from the waist down. He wouldn't be able to monitor things as well from in the bed. Tritter shook the bottle of pills and put it down on the far bedside table, and House sighed quietly when he realized that Tritter was forcing the issue. House sat down and stroked Wilson's hair again, then lay down beside him. "Put your fingers in his ass," instructed Tritter. He pushed his pelvis forward. "This all at once would hurt him, and you don't want that." He leered at them both. "Or do you?"
Wilson shuddered. House pulled Wilson into his arms and gently inserted one digit. "You should have given me my Vicodin," whispered House into Wilson's ear, at just the right volume so that Tritter could hear his pretense of anger. "I didn't want to put you into this situation. You manipulated Cuddy, told her not to give me anything. But my leg hurts, Wilson. It hurts."
"Please, stop," begged Wilson. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"You're overdoing it," House muttered. He put another finger in, and Wilson whimpered. "This is going to happen, Wilson. I need my pills; Tritter's got them, and he's not going away until he's satisfied." House adjusted Wilson so that his face was pressed to House's shoulder, then dropped a kiss onto the top of Wilson's head. "It's all right. He's not going to hurt you."
House had to remind himself that Wilson was only pretending to be scared. Wilson started to shake when the bed dipped on the other side of him, and House smiled at the acting skills briefly before he remembered his own role and cast a glance at the Vicodin.
"Good enough," said Tritter, pushing House's hand out of the way and positioning himself against Wilson. "Ready, Wilson?" Wilson shook his head quickly, and Tritter pushed himself in with enough force to rock Wilson against House. House kissed Wilson's ears and muttered softly into them as Wilson let out a pained groan. Tritter smiled at House as he slammed into Wilson again. House was starting to get annoyed with the whole situation: Wilson sounded like he was in pain, and he really didn't like it. On the other hand, he was slowly getting hard as Tritter smiled at him over Wilson's head.
"I'm getting off, you're getting off." Tritter's smile widened. "You should try to get him off." House rolled his eyes and Wilson shook his head. "For the sake of your pills," added Tritter.
House nodded as though it were a good idea and let his right hand wander down to Wilson's groin. He began to massage Wilson's balls, using everything he knew from the previous handjobs he'd given Wilson, but Wilson stayed limp. "I trusted you," said Wilson. House turned their heads so he could kiss Wilson's mouth, confused because Wilson didn't seem to be enjoying anything.
Tritter had his eyes almost closed, obviously enjoying the sensation of being inside of Wilson while he cried in House's arms. Of course, they were also partially open so that he could enjoy the confusion and pain on House's face. One Vicodin hadn't been enough to completely dull his leg, and House grimaced slightly every time Wilson was pushed too hard against him. It meant so much more to Tritter, to be able to feel Wilson's pain and to see House's.
Wilson shuddered in House's arms, whimpering at each of Tritter's strokes, sobbing as House's tongue ran along his teeth and his gums and House's hand did that thing he'd always liked. He tried to push House away, but he felt like he was underwater as his hands pressed ineffectively against House's wrist and neck. He knew when Tritter was done, felt the ejaculate filling him like watery diarrhea, and he whined in the back of his throat while Tritter stayed inside of him, motionless.
House pulled away and kissed his ear momentarily, then stopped his hands, which were clearly not doing Wilson any good. His eyes met Tritter's and he held them. Tritter smiled and reached his hand backwards to grab the pill bottle, then got up and dressed himself. Wilson was still crying against House, unable to pull himself out of the arms which had encircled him when Tritter had gotten off of the bed.
"Hell of a cost," said Tritter, tossing the Vicodin between House and Wilson. House let go of Wilson to grab the pills and throw them off the bed, not responding to Tritter's comment. Wilson rolled himself to the other side as soon as House's arms were away from him. "All right. Consider the charges dropped, Doctor House. You won't need rehab. You can keep being that fantastically good doctor you claim to be. You're free."
"So you're happy now? That was enough humiliation to satisfy you?" House scowled as he sat up. "Good. Now, get out."
Tritter chuckled. "Good night, Doctor Wilson. Sweet dreams."
House waited until Tritter had left before turning his attention to the man beside him. "Stop being a girl. It wasn't that bad," he said. Wilson didn't respond. "What the hell are you so upset about?" He sighed. "Fine, don't talk." He turned Wilson over and kissed him. "You taste like his dick." Wilson cringed, and House ran a hand down his lover's side. Wilson stayed very, very still.
House paused to consider what was bothering Wilson, and eventually decided that it could only be that having sex with Tritter was disgusting. House felt the same. "Let's take a shower," he said, getting up. Wilson stayed where he was, so House limped over to the other side of the bed and pulled him off the bed, then dragged them both into the bathroom. He turned the water on as hot as he could, then stepped in and brought Wilson with him, letting it wash away the evidence, stroking Wilson's back until the other man stopped whimpering in the back of his throat.
When they were done in the shower, House supervised as Wilson brushed his teeth with House's toothbrush and rinsed his mouth out with non-alcoholic mouthwash, and then they both got in the bed. Wilson lay on his back, blinking at the ceiling and sniffling.
"Come on, Wilson," said House, lying on his side and stroking Wilson's hair. "It wasn't exactly my fantasy either, but--"
"I..." Wilson blinked his eyes rapidly, then took a deep, shuddering breath. "I wanted you to stop, but... I couldn't remember the safe word," he said quietly.
House turned and stared at Wilson for a moment, then gathered Wilson's unresponsive body into his arms and stared at the wall until long after Wilson had fallen into his drug-induced sleep.
- 1
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Prurient Interests