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The Web That House Built
by Adnawun
Random Notes: This is version 2 of this story.
That look in the blonde's eyes was so very real, swirling around amongst the depths of pain and anger.
And Wilson had to wonder how long Chase had been caught in the web that House had created.
Silently the younger man leaned back and locked the door; the action hidden with his hands behind his back. Hardly a moment passed by the time the blonde shifted across the room to stand in front of Wilson.
He dropped to his knees gracefully, letting his blonde locks fall across his face, creating shadows where secrets could lurk easily and happily, content to drive their host mad with their taunting haze.
Chase's hands did not tremble when they reached for Wilson's slacks - confidence and frustration were controlling him and Wilson dared not to argue.
This was Chase's choice, Chase's actions.
Wilson shifted in his seat, accidentally hitting his elbow on the edge of the desk. Pain laced up his arm, but he welcomed it just as he welcomed the feel of Chase's hot breath on his skin.
There was never anyteasing Wilson noted, watching Chase lean closer to take his cock into the blonde's mouth. This had nothing to do with pleasure, not even a hint of enjoyment. And there had never been any requesting either, not even a breathed "Is this okay?" - He had never stopped Chase from putting his pretty mouth to use anyway, so he guessed it didn't matter.
He assumed that Chase probably would have enjoyed the rejection anyway. But Wilson was not going to test that theory any time soon, needing this as much as Chase seemed to.
After all, this wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last.
Wilson's handsdid shake as he curled his fingers into Chase's hair painfully. Shame was mixing with disgust and pleasure; Wilson had no control. He was too weak to stop Chase. He always was. He didn't want to start or stop change, but he was willing to accept it.
Wilson would rather adapt than take any first step towards whatever may be.
The brunette could never admit the failing marriage let alonethe craving for Chase's after-hours office activities.
Wilson just accepted the spiral that House had pushed him into; drowning in some pleasurable sin he couldn't quite place.
His trembling fingers could only hold onto the remaining strands of his fantasies...
(He was loosing himself because of House...)
The locks of blonde hair are the closest things he can touch out of desperation...
(Since Chase was now House's too...)
Chase never choked, no matter how tightly Wilson pulled him close by the soft strands of hair. Sometimes Wilson wondered how much it would take to make Chase choke, but he never carried through with the thought.
He urged Chase on with groans of stifled pleasure, bucking slightly every time the other curled his tongue around his cock inthatway.
He knew that Chase didn't care about him; Chase did what he did for himself, not for Wilson's pleasure. This was Chase's way of venting; whatever became of it was an added bonus.
So Wilson took as much as he could, staring at Chase's lips and the way his jaw moved under the effort, the pink tinge of a blush and the bobbing of Chase's throat. Fleeting thoughts that Chase was attractive danced through his mind...
He drove himself as deeply as he needed to into Chase's mouth, offering no support to the other at all as he came. (And still Chase did not choke...)
Pleasure played over his body, tickling his senses almost patronizingly as the first wave of warmth faded and the descent back to the cold reality began.
Deep breathes echoed around the room; light was fraying across the office floor.
And Wilson decided that Chase was broken as he watched the Australian swallow all that didn't escape that pink mouth.
It was one bolt short of being a mechanical movement.
Whatever Chase seemed to gain from his visits, Wilson could never guess. The man always looked completely empty at this stage, and Wilson couldn't help but find it reassuring - at least he wasn't as ruined as Chase was.
The cold air was more noticeable once Chase let Wilson's cock slip out of his mouth, moisture tainting his lips as remaining evidence. Blonde hair obscured Wilson's view of the other's eyes, but the elder man knew from past experiences that the fiery gaze had returned, as though a switch had been turned back on.
Chase never helped Wilson afterwards; he simply sat and closed his eyes, continuously swallowing as though trying to make sure nothing remained in his mouth.
`Like a cat cleaning its fur,' Wilson thought faintly.
Shifting in his seat, Wilson would pull his pants back up and lean back in his chair relaxedly without a glance at the blonde on his floor.
Although some nights he would dangle his hand down onto Chase's head and pet him like a treasured puppy, rewarding him for his efforts as the blonde leaned against his leg forlornly.
Wilson never offered Chase anything back, save the petting.
Because that was how they worked.
Days of seeing House, hearing House, never touching House would pass by and destroy them slowly inside. Like a poison that the crippled man had sneaked into their coffees, swirling in their veins and meddling with their minds.
And on these nights, Chase would walk into his office, lock the door, and drop to his knees to humiliate himself in order to enjoying the smothering self-destruction that it caused for him.
Wilson was no better.
He sat and let Chase suck him off; he didn't put a stop to Chase's strange form of self punishment because...
Because it was what Wilson needed.
He could see the scattered patterns and trails of the disease all over Chase, symptoms and signs that he too held. But he had House's cancer inside, eating away where he couldn't see. Chase's sickness was everywhere, bright and burning all over like skin cancer.
That was where the two were different.
Chase couldn't ignore it; he had to imprint it all in his mind so he'd never forget. But Wilson...
No, Wilson knew he was a coward, since every time Chase left his office afterwards, he would pretend it never happened.
He could hide it - forgetting it happened was easy.
If you couldn't see it (remember it) it wasn't there (wasn't real).
And Wilson could live happily again, playing house with Wife and friend with House.
Until House's poison ran through him once more, sending him (and Chase) into a spin of self-pity for something he knew he could never have. An endless cycle that Wilson could run around in until something changed to throw off the balance Chase and himself had.
His only last thought of the night as he locked his office door from the outside, was the painful knowledge that Chase always seemed better in the morning.
What Wilson never knew was that every night Chase went back to his empty apartment and headed straight for the bathroom.
He'd throw up until the disgusting tang ate away at Wilson's taste like an acid, cleaning yet tainting at the same time.
Then Chase would lean heavily against the wall of the bathroom, loathing all that he saw until everything bled together into a complete blur.
And brokenly, Chase would wonder how long Wilson too, had been caught in the web that House had created.
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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 Fox Television, 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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