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The Ties That Bind
by Topaz Eyes
A/N: Thanks to bironic, secondsilk and housepiglet for concrit!
~~~~~
"Too tight?"
House loomed over Wilson, who was lying on the bed. Wilson looked up at House, his brow furrowing with mild chagrin as he pulled on the restraints that bound his wrists and ankles. "No, they're--quite comfortable, actually," he replied. "Considering that you've tied me up in my own ties."
House only smirked. "Correction. Your old ties. None of which you'll ever wear anymore. May as well put them to good use." He fingered a slip of fabric in his hands. "I'm doing Goodwill and all the homeless bums of Princeton a favor, by not forcing your hideous fashion sense on them."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "So what's your nefarious plan this time?"
House grinned, baring his teeth. "Good things come to those who wait."
Wilson shivered under that predatory look, nervously licking his lips. He forcibly reminded himself that he went along with House's sex games only out of curiosity--House was nothing if not inventive. That thought was so blinding hot that Wilson bucked with a pulse of desire. Truth be told, enlightened self-interest had everything to do with it: House might be a bastard, but he knew just how to make Wilson beg for release. The orgasm at the end was guaranteed to be mind-blowing, no matter what.
House reached over Wilson's body and took another tie , holding it up to the light to examine it. It was pure charmeuse silk, of muted peach and pink checks, with sparkling blue threads throughout; one which House derisively referred to as "Miami Vice chic". It had been a gift from Wilson's first set of ex-in-laws.
House knelt between Wilson's thighs, hissing a bit as he put weight on his bad leg. Grimacing, he shifted slightly to offset the pressure.
Wilson grew instantly concerned. "Do you need--?"
"Shut up," House cut him off. "I'm fine."
Wilson watched House relax as the spasm receded. House was naked too, his pale skin looking almost burnished in the warm yellow light from the bedside lamp. To Wilson's delight, he was just as aroused; his cock jutted straight out from its nest of pubic hair, just about in line with Wilson's mouth. It was Wilson's turn to lick his lips in anticipation at the sight of House's dick, already glistening with a small drop of pre-come at the tip. He fixed his gaze on it, humming as he imagined House straddled above him, musk flooding his nostrils, that swollen slick flesh sliding in and out between his lips--
"Earth to Jimmy."
Startled out of his reverie, Wilson blinked, his eyes re-focusing. "Wha--?"
House was looking at him, another amused smirk threatening to break on his lips. He leaned over, lowering himself on top of Wilson. "Shoot your load too soon and it's game over," he murmured, his breath hot and humid in his ear. "You definitely don't want that." Then he shifted, capturing his lips in a brief, teasing kiss. Wilson shivered with the loss of heat when House drew back.
"Here we go then," House said cheerily, waving the tie in his hand. Wilson waited, trembling with anticipation, thinking how they'd ended up here.
~~~~~
It had started a few weeks ago when, on a Saturday in late February, House caught Wilson in the bedroom while he was sorting out his ties.
Moving back into House's apartment meant consolidation of limited closet space. Almost immediately, Wilson was subject to House's sly (and not-so-sly) comparisons of Wilson's ties to other women's shoes. Accordingly, Wilson was forced to admit to himself that maybe his wardrobe of over one hundred ties was more than anyone really needed. Finally, tired of hearing House's intimations, Wilson decided to winnow them out.
That brutally cold afternoon, he stood at the closet in front of the tie rack, in his weekend uniform of faded jeans, sweatshirt, and bare feet, unrolling and studying each slip of wool and silk. He walked back and forth from the closet to the bed several times, weighing each choice before dropping them into one of two piles.
Wilson didn't know how long House stood watching from the doorway, but after a while he forgot House was there. House observed Wilson from the door of the bedroom, tracing Wilson's footsteps back and forth. While Wilson sorted them into either "To Keep" or "Goodwill", House walked over and sat down on the bed, leaning his chin on his cane, and watched him weighing ties in each hand. At first, Wilson paid him no heed; but when Wilson finally did look at him, House appeared thoughtful, and Wilson did not miss the wicked gleam. He could almost hear the gears whirring in House's head, and tensed, waiting for the inevitable strike.
After a few minutes in deep thought, House began to rummage eagerly through the "Goodwill" pile, pulling out several, especially hideous, ties. They both knew the history of those particular ones--House made sure to choose those that they both hated for some reason or another.
Wilson tried to remain silent, but his curiosity eventually overcame him. "Why do you, of all people, want to keep those?" he asked, his eyebrow quirking.
House smirked innocently, and Wilson recoiled. Those "innocent smirks" were nothing of the sort.
But, "Never know when they'll come in handy," was all he said. He pulled out about a dozen of the most repulsive ones from the pile, then rose and limped out of the room, whistling under his breath.
And House indeed said nothing more about it. The Goodwill ties were bagged, and placed in the collection box, along with a few other items. Wilson never saw where House stashed the ties; he decided he might not want to know.
Over the next few weeks, House acted as if it had never happened. Although occasionally, at work, towering over the heads of his lackeys during their differential diagnoses; or at home, while eating dinner on the couch; or just at odd times of the day; Wilson caught House studying him with a piercing, almost measuring stare. Wilson had, by and large, over several long years of association, learned to ignore it. And he slowly forgot the incident.
Until this evening, when House turned to him while they sat on the sofa, after Girls Gone Wild had ended.
"Ready to play tonight, Jimmy?"
He leered at Wilson, and Wilson's pulse quickened as House's suddenly rapacious gaze swept over him from head to toe. That hooded glare felt like living fire, almost incinerating the clothes from his body--he felt his dick harden almost instantly in his pants, his skin breaking out in a thin sheen of sweat as he flushed a deep red. "I--ah, I--"
House nodded in approval and licked his lips in a totally obscene gesture. "I take your sudden physical arousal as a yes then." House's own crotch was noticeably tented.
"What--what did you have in mind?" Wilson stammered.
House grinned widely. "Remember those ties?"
~~~~~
It was obvious that House had already planned this out. Wilson watched with increasing interest as he wrapped the thin end of the tie around his hand, leaving about half of it free. "Welcome to the wonderful world of silk," House said huskily. Then he reached down, stroking along the top of Wilson's shoulders with the wide end of the tie.
Wilson's eyes widened at the feather-light caress. Now it struck him that House had rescued only the silk ties from the Goodwill collection. "Is--is there something about your--ah, proclivities--that we need to discuss?" he said; bemused at how breathless it sounded.
House only smirked, brushing his fingers, and tie, deftly down the soft skin of his inner arm. "I botched the raid on Cuddy's underwear drawer," he said lightly. "My bad. Her black thongs would have been perfect for this."
House's hard cock bobbed against his own, sending a blue jolt through his body; and Wilson thrust up, seeking more contact. He groaned in frustration when House leaned back and out of his reach.
"I--don't think she'd appreciate us using her silk panties like this," Wilson stammered.
"You think she'd want to join in?"
"Only if it were you tied to the bed," Wilson replied.
The smoothness of the weave felt like the fabric equivalent of a warm hand brushing over him. Wilson hissed in pleasure, his dick already so hard it was painful.
"This is sick, you know," Wilson said, panting. "You're the one with the tie fetish."
"I'm not the one who owns literally dozens of them."
"I'm not the person who's about to masturbate his best friend with one." His heart pounded at the thought.
House's breathing matched his own. In the dim light, those always-mesmerizing eyes, normally blue as ice, were storm-gray with desire. "That is true," he conceded, his voice harsh with arousal, "but obviously part of you doesn't mind." He brushed the silk briefly across the tip of Wilson's already straining dick. "Think of this when you tie your noose around your neck tomorrow morning."
Wilson gasped and bucked into the touch. "Oh, God," he gasped, seeing stars.
"You called?" House said. He leaned back over and smoothed his hand over Wilson's chest, lightly rubbing his nipples, cajoling them into erect buds.
"Oh fuck," Wilson moaned, jumping at the faint friction across sensitive skin. He pulled against his wrist restraints and his hips rocked up involuntarily. "I hate you."
Wilson strained and arched, trying to get House to touch him. House pulled back with a wicked look.
"Uh uh, Jimmy. Patience is a virtue." He slowly, slowly ran his hands and the tie down his body, over his chest and down his sides in a deliberate caress, speaking softly all the while.
"Did you know that silk--" he smoothed it over Wilson's trembling stomach,"--has a triangular prism structure that gives it--" he let it glide over his hipbone, "--its lustre? It's the strongest natural fibre known to man."
House scrunched Wilson's pubic hair through his fingers. "It's so strong that it once was used as body armor, because it lessened the impact of arrows piercing the skin." He poked Wilson lightly in the navel, and Wilson inhaled sharply.
"Yet it's slippery enough, and wicks enough moisture away from the skin, to make it the desired choice for undergarments."
"Only you--" Wilson gasped as House's fingers slid along the exquisitely sensitive skin of his inner thigh, "would give a goddamned lecture--"
He hissed as the silk deftly brushed against his scrotum. "--About silk and its uses--Oh fuck!" he breathed as the silk ghosted under his balls, along the super-sensitive skin there, "during sex."
He felt warm, soft fingers gently cupping his balls. "I like to multi-task, what can I say? Talk about silky smooth," House murmured with amusement, and Wilson felt his eyes rolling back in both irony and pleasure.
"Will you just get to the--GAH!" Wilson arched when House took the tie and wrapped the wide end around his penis.
"Almost there," House assured, slowly bending down to blow a puff of humid air across the tip. "God, you are just too eager, Jimmy. Good thing your hands are already occupied, or you'd be grabbing my head and forcing your swollen cock in my mouth--"
He began to stroke Wilson's cock up and down lazily, alternating fabric with skin. At that Wilson's breath whistled through his teeth and he squirmed, rocking into House's fist. "For fuck's sake, House!" he pleaded through gritted teeth, his head thrashing side to side in frustration. "Finish me off!"
"Now where are your manners, Jimmy? I'm shocked that common courtesy is eluding you right now. We are civilized beings." Despite his light words, House's voice was rough with the effort to suppress his own lust. "Ask nicely."
Wilson writhed and whimpered shamelessly, bathed in a sheen of sweat, feeling the burning flush covering his face, neck and chest, the white-hot ball of need condensing at the base of his spine. "Please," he begged, thrusting up. "Oh God, House, pleasepleaseplease--"
"That's better."
House finally, finally encircled the head of his dick with his lips, and Wilson keened with the wet heat enveloping him. Arching his head back, his whole body straining with the need for release, he pumped his hips as House gripped his buttocks. And, with what seemed like only a few flicks of House's tongue, he was coming hard and fast, shooting into his mouth as the brilliance consumed him.
Wilson was only barely aware that House wasn't swallowing at all; just letting the semen flow down his shaft, onto the tie. He shook in the aftermath, feeling himself melt, boneless, into the mattress, his eyes fluttering closed with sated contentment.
Until he felt a shift on the bed and heard House's ragged breathing. He opened his eyes.
House was kneeling on the mattress in between his legs, as he stroked his dick. Wilson saw a brief flash of pale pinkish fabric in his fist, and his heartbeat quickened again as he realized House was jerking off into the tie.
Wilson watched, enthralled, as House tugged, using the spunk on the tie as lubricant; watched that well-muscled arm pulling on his dick frantically. Wilson's breath caught as House pressed down on his good thigh with the flat of his hand, clutching his leg rhythmically, bearing down as his hips rocked back and forth, thrusting into his hand. His abdominal muscles rippled and his chest heaved with exertion; his face contorting in utter focus, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched in need. Sweat plastered his hair onto his forehead, trickling in a glistening trail down his neck and chest.
In the warm, dim lamplight, House damn near glowed, and Wilson's heart leapt into his throat to watch House bring himself off. This was what Wilson lived for in these moments, the endgame; House coming undone in front of him, because of him, and damned if he wasn't going to help pull House over the brink to join him.
Wilson desperately tried to break his hands free, wanting, needing to touch him so much it hurt deep in his chest; but frustrated, he pulled at his restraints with no effect. He spoke instead, low encouraging words, whispering each syllable like a verbal caress.
"Come for me, House," he murmured.
A nameless thrill flooded his whole body when House inhaled sharply at the sound of his name. His hand shifted to clutch Wilson's thigh, gripping hard enough to leave bruises. Wilson flinched, but persevered; it was worth the discomfort. Wilson watched House stroke himself even harder, the head of his cock purpling with need in his fist. Wilson's voice lowered to a rasping growl. "God, to see you like this--so fucking close, you want to come so bad you can taste it--"
House whispered a formless curse, barely heard above the frantic sounds of his hand, and Wilson continued, deep and urgent. "I need you to come. Shoot your load for me, on me--"
At that House raised his head; their eyes met, gazes locking, and House stilled, suspended, his mouth open in a silent 'o'.
"Now, House," Wilson intoned. And an endless instant later, the first gasp of orgasm tore from House's mouth.
Wilson arched up as the first spurt of House's semen shot onto his stomach. "Yes," he hissed in triumph. The second dripped onto his pubic hair, and the remaining soaked into the tie, the same tie that had caught Wilson's. Still spent as he was, he bucked his hips in time with House's, groaning with him, drawing this pleasure out as much as he could.
The shudders and gasps subsided, until House slumped in on himself with release, panting heavily, still clutching Wilson's thigh. He slowly, slowly removed his hand from his cock, rubbing the tie lightly between his fingers. He brought the used tie up to his nose and sniffed it, then kissed it. Wilson watched him rub the silk lightly over his lips.
"Oh, fuck, that's hot," Wilson whispered hoarsely.
House lowered the tie, his eyebrow raised in amusement. "Who has the tie kink now?" he teased, his own voice deep with smug satisfaction. House then slowly brought the tie down to hover over Wilson's face.
Wilson closed his eyes and inhaled their mingled scents, the bitter-salt of himself and House invading his nostrils. He pursed his lips to taste the sticky-damp fabric. House then lifted the tie off and dropped it down onto the floor beside the bed.
Still shaking, holding onto Wilson for balance, he reached over for another tie, this one a horrid yellow paisley, and gently wiped up the sticky fluid on Wilson's abdomen and dick.
"Well, two ties down," he said, sounding completely sated; until he rose slightly, and his face contorted with pain. "Dammit."
"Untie me first," Wilson murmured.
House untied the knots binding his wrists, then collapsed, half-sprawling on top of him. Wilson enveloped him in a loose embrace while House leaned his forehead on his shoulder. This close, he heard House's heartbeat slow along with his own.
After a few minutes, Wilson flexed his ankles. "Uh, House, you forgot something--?"
"Not moving," House mumbled, his voice already distant and thick with impending sleep.
Wilson pushed House the rest of the way off, heaved himself up, and untied the restraints around his ankles. He leaned over to douse the lamp, grabbed the sheet and blankets, and pulled them up over them both, lying back down with a contented sigh. These sex games were probably going to kill one or both of them, he thought, but what a hell of a way to go. Then he wondered about something.
"Wait a minute. House? You've seen Cuddy's thongs?"
Only a light snore answered in reply.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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