Warning: Adult content. Do not view if you are under age.

Friday mornings at the Princeton/Plainsboro Teaching Hospital were, for some, the beginning of a vague sense of relief. A lighter start to the day - the precursor to the weekend. One might be required to work, but one could easily pass one's hours by daydreaming about any manner of recreational pursuits.

For Gregory House, Friday mornings were like any other morning, because an infarction didn't just dissipate at the thought of a sunny Saturday. From his seat in front of the television, the telltale beep of his pager was just audible. House snarled softly and reached out to his desk.

Wilson. What the hell did he want? Climbing somewhat awkwardly to his feet, House limped from the room, sliding the pager into his pocket and heading towards exam room two.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Wilson felt like a few quick ones in a nearby supply closet. But given their no-sexual-interaction-in-a-place-near-Cuddy rule, that option was registering less than improbable on House's scale of likelihood.

A nurse at the desk gave a half-smile, and received a grimace in return. House had no time for nurses right now.

Exam room two. He pushed the door open. There was Wilson, looking obscenely appealing in a lab coat and tie. And with him was...

"Morning, House," said an Australian voice.

"Dr Wilson," House drawled, ignoring Chase, "I find myself strangely disappointed. You need a consult for this?"

Wilson's expression gave nothing away.

"Sure," continued House, "he's disgustingly rich, obviously insufferable and - let's face it - not quite American... but that's hardly a case for my department. I would have thought you'd just pack him into solitary confinement for the week and do the hospital a favor." He paused, fishing for a reaction. "Maybe Vogler'd like to look him over."

The silence that met this remark was curious. Eventually Wilson broke it, eyes playing in an amused manner over House's face.

"Actually, I thought you could do the looking over."

"Sure, I've got nothing better to do. Who needs soaps when you can stand in an exam room getting ogled by bored practitioners?"

The looks passing between Chase and Wilson were frankly unsettling. House nearly flinched when Wilson's hand snaked out to circle his wrist, pulling him closer to the two of them. "You'll need to be nearer," whispered Wilson. "It's a very close examination."

There was a particular tone in Wilson's voice. And surely, that couldn't mean what he thought it did.

Then there was no time to think at all, because Wilson was wrapping his arms around Chase, and their lips were brushing: once, twice, the third time locking into something deeper. Wilson's hands were roaming, Chase was gasping; House got a nice sample of garbled pleading. He knew exactly how Chase felt; Wilson had a particular knack of finding just the right spot. Finally they parted, breathing heavily, Wilson slowly turning to face House.

"Well?" he breathed.

"Hmmmm." House parodied a clinical tone. "Diagnosis? Well, we're all aware that Dr Wilson is unable to control his nymphomania... but you," - turning to Chase - "I can only assume you're bored, curious, or suffering the effects of Wilson's torture methods."

Chase's mouth opened as if to speak, but Wilson got there first.

"So you're saying the sight of us does nothing whatsoever for you?"

House inhaled. He never lied. Except on Fridays.

"Nothing whatsoever."

"In that case," Chase almost purred, stepping towards House, "we'll have to step it up a bit." He was close enough now to notice any hitch in his boss' breathing. "How about I suck off Wilson right here?"

The flutter of House's pulse might have been undetectable, but there was no hiding the momentary clouding of his gaze. Not with Chase invading his personal space like this. Both of them were smirking openly at him, and for some unknown reason it frustrated him.

"All right," House said.

Wilson blinked. "All right?"

"All right, you win. I'm already missing a whole limb of functioning flesh... this must be your idea of compensation, making the rest of my body function spasmodically. What do you want, a seizure? Death by arousal?"

"Don't worry," said Chase, "there's a lot more where that came from." He lowered his eyelashes. "Dr Wilson's invited me back to your place tonight."

"If you're still calling him Dr after that, there must be some kinky string to your new friendship that I'm not aware of."

Wilson smiled.

"What I don't get," House continued, "is why Dr Chase is so eager to join in. Did Vogler want a tape of Wilson riding me for his files?"

"I thought we were past all that," Chase said slowly, lashes still lowered.

House appeared to be considering this. "Well, only if you pay for it in head." He flashed a look at Wilson. "I'm sure Jimmy will give you directions. If it's not too much to ask, could we leave the rest of the sexual banter till a more convenient time? Preferably one where Cuddy isn't lurking around every corner, waiting to pounce on irresponsibly horny staff."

"It's okay, Greg," said Wilson, straightening his tie. "You're the one in charge."

And before he had time to grapple with that statement and the sultry look in Wilson's eye, the two of them had swept from the room.

House gazed at the wall, fingers tracing the head of the cane, the beginnings of a smirk showing around his jaw.

Maybe Fridays had something going for them, after all.

---

The Corvette still felt new. It throbbed under him, stirring at his touch - more than a little like Wilson, actually. And now that he considered it, there were other similarities. The 'Vette moved with surprising speed once you got inside it. It looked in perfect condition. It had pretty impressive frontal flexibility, and of course, House's hand touched its gearstick at least twice every day. And its paint job was exactly the same colour that Wilson turned, right after they'd -

"Holy crap!"

He got the fright of his life when a hand appeared from nowhere, grasping his thigh. Fortunately, the car was stationary at the lights. A backwards glance past the hand and along the suit-clad arm told him that Wilson was the mystery molester.

"Did you get into the depressants and hope for a crash? Or was it some of Foreman's speed?" House fought for control as the lights changed.

"Actually, it was Viagra," said Wilson. On seeing House's expression, he grinned. "Not really... I don't think you could handle me on stimulants."

"I don't think you need them, Mr Kinky. Should I be expecting Chase to pop up beside you?"

"No," Wilson said, his tone unusually calm. "I handcuffed him and threw him in the trunk."

As the car careened across the lane, Wilson almost regretted saying it. Almost. But not quite, because House was losing command, and he loved it like this. The risk of an embarrassing automobile incident was well worth it.

"How did you talk him into this?" House asked, once his breathing was under control.

"I'm not sure talking is the right word. Physical persuasion comes nearer the mark."

"What, you snogged him into submission?" He got only silence from the back seat. "And he's coming over tonight?"

"Getting anxious, are we?" Wilson grinned. "Don't worry, it's all arranged. I gave him a few... lessons."

House wondered vaguely if there was a world record for Longest Time Driving With A Hard On.

He snorted and made no reply.

---

Normally the walk to the bedroom was a slow and lengthy process, interspersed with various attempts to ingest food or at least shed clothing. Tonight, House observed, Wilson seemed to have mistaken their course for a competitive sprint. He was thrown against the bed with just enough force to get him thoroughly stirred up, minus the pain. In silence, Wilson's lips found his. Then they were rubbing against each other, fully clothed, House's erection straining through his pants.

"Did someone leave the remote on fast-forward?"

"I think I dropped the remote somewhere around the front door." Wilson licked the hollow of his neck, wringing out a gasp. "Guess we'll just have to run on sheer hormone power..."

Hands stripped him clean, starting with the shirt collar and then finding their way to his trouser buttons. House lay back, whimpering slightly as two fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.

"Trying to kill me?" he managed.

"No, but I do plan to devour you later."

Wilson really was moving at an extraordinary pace now. Almost, House noticed, as if he was trying to meet a deadline.

He was on the verge of saying this when the doorbell rang.

He couldn't very well get up and greet in his current state of undress, so he had to be content with stealing a glance at Wilson's ass as he left for the door. Whoever it was, he hoped they were prepared for the sight of James Wilson, ruffled and aroused, leaning across the door frame.

Voices, seeping in from the front of the apartment. Laughter. The sound of glasses clinking. More clinking. House could feel a sense of mild frustration creeping in. Threatening to spank Wilson with his cane would have no effect, he realised, as he had no hope of getting up right now.

"Don't you know it's rude to leave a cripple half-erect?" he shouted.

Silence. More footsteps. Then Chase appeared in the bedroom doorway, champagne flute in hand, wearing nothing but a lab coat. And suddenly, half-erect wasn't quite the word.

"I figured," said Wilson, surfacing behind him, "that the waiting would enhance the experience."

He couldn't find words to do justice to the sight before him, so he simply sat up and rasped, "I'll have what he's having."

"The champagne?" smirked Chase. "Or the feelings of arousal?"

"I've already got the latter."

He breathed in hard as Wilson disappeared into the kitchen. Chase turned the turquoise eyes on full beam, running them over House. "So, House," he breathed, playing up the flirtation for all it was worth. "Does this feel weird?"

"It feels weird that Wilson gets an authoritative title and I don't."

Chase laughed. "What, you want to be a doctor too?" He leant closer to the bed. "Is that a turn on?"

There was absolutely no way that House was admitting to that.

Chase evidently took the silence as assent, because he walked over to the cabinet, lay down his glass, and made his way to House's bed. He spread himself out between House's legs, hair falling into his face. "In that case, Dr House, I'm ready for anything."

"Clearly, good little Australian boys put out."

"And aggressive geniuses don't?"

House leant over until his face was level with Chase's. "Aggressive geniuses put out all the time."

Chase's mouth tasted like champagne, which seemed somehow appropriate. The heady scent of his aftershave was enough to draw House even closer, until they were locked in a firm embrace, tongues sliding together, chests brushing against each other. The definitive stubble of House's jaw met smooth skin, creating friction that was pleasurable and strangely erotic. His hands began to wander downward.

"And I thought you were wanting alcohol."

They broke apart to find Wilson in the doorway, clutching the champagne bottle with a slightly evil look on his face.

"Dr House doesn't seem to need it."

"Dr House?" Wilson's eyebrows quirked. "What is this, some kind of twisted role-play?"

"It's called Naughty Male Nurses," House smirked. "Just let me get my latex gloves, and we'll be on to the next stage."

"Maybe," Chase said, shaking off the lab coat and getting to his feet, "Dr Wilson would like to join me."

House knew there was no way Wilson was turning that down. They'd spent previous nights in bed together, after sex, rating their colleagues as to who would be the best screw. Chase had come up on top every time, both literally and metaphorically speaking.

Sure enough, Wilson was shrugging off his jacket, pulling off his tie, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. That was as far as he got before Chase decided to make it somewhat easier. Then House was treated to the sight of Chase and Wilson, shirtless, groping each other while they kissed. By the time they pulled apart, he was beginning to wonder if he'd be hard for the rest of his life. If they kept this up - so to speak - he'd probably end up as a case for his own department. `Doctor suffers from freak case of perpetual erection' - he could see it now.

"So," he rasped, surprised he could find normal speech, "how long has wee Robert been batting for the other side?"

Chase smirked. "Not as long as you, I'll bet." Then, taking a look at the man beside him, "And probably not as long as Wilson, either."

House's mouth twitched. "Going to regale us with naughty stories of your experiments in college?"

"Actually, I'd rather just act them out." He settled onto the bed again, leaving Wilson watching in anticipation. House smiled, but his pulse began to speed up.

"Do share."

"Well," - Chase stretched his hands over House's groin, fingers looping inside his briefs - "it starts like this..."

He was pretty strong for a man with a useless leg, but House wasn't nearly strong enough to remain silent as Chase pulled his briefs away and leant in, fingers clasping him. What came out was something like a choked-off moan, and was accompanied by a small gasp from Wilson. Chase stroked down hard, tongue darting across House's lips, delighting in the wordless noises his boss was making.

"The next bit," Chase breathed, "is really good."

"Is this the bit where I get out a whip?"

"No." Chase shot him a dangerous look. "It's the bit where I eat you."

Those pouted lips were trailing down House's chest, past his ribs, reaching the level of his hips all too quickly. Chase's head dipped downwards, and then House felt the younger man's tongue tease around the base of his cock. He moaned, and heard an answering moan from somewhere above him. Without a mirror it was impossible to see what he looked like, but he was pretty sure Wilson's glazed expression came close to it.

Under the circumstances, it'd probably be embarrassing for him to come right away. But at the rate Chase was going, it was looking likely. Parted lips took him in, heat pulsing around him.

When he could gather enough breath to move his chest and look down, he caught the sight of Chase's blonde head pressed to his skin. That in itself didn't help his goal of not-coming-now.

"I haven't seen you this speechless for a long time."

Wilson was grinning. House searched for words but, oddly enough, couldn't find any. It might have had something to do with the fact that his brains were being sucked out through his cock.

Then Chase stopped.

That provoked a wide variety of reactions in House, the only positive one being that his powers of speech came flooding back.

"Just because it's twice as good doesn't mean you do it for half the time."

It was brief, but he caught it: that momentary flash of recognition between Chase and Wilson. A nod of confirmation. Which could only mean...

Fuck.

They'd planned this. And god, that really wasn't helping his fight against coming violently. As Chase retreated to take Wilson's position, he lay back, painfully hard, waiting for the next move.

Wilson was stalking towards him with a gleam in his eye. "I believe you're feeling a little discomfort, Dr House."

Oh no, now Wilson was doing the doctor thing. He really was going to come incredibly soon.

"If this is your idea of a little discomfort, I'd hate to see you in a torture chamber."

He gulped when Wilson didn't laugh but leaned over him. "You're lucky I know how to remedy that."

When Wilson lowered himself onto the bed, House knew exactly what he was going to do.

It wasn't as if they were new to it in any way, but somehow, with Chase watching, it took on an entirely different quality. He held back a moan as Wilson pulled a condom from the drawer and slid it onto him, and tried not to pant when he saw Wilson spread lubricant on his fingers and slide them, probingly, inside himself.

Chase's eyes met his across the room. As he watched, Chase licked his lips, slow and deliberate.

Fuck.

"Can't wait to get inside me?" Wilson whispered.

"I'm hungry like a fat chairman for dollars."

Wilson laughed.

And then slid down onto him.

For several seconds he couldn't tell which of them was panting harder, although he suspected it might be Wilson. James whimpered, then pushed down, driving House in as hard as he could. The sensation was sheer bliss. He bucked upwards and Wilson rose, thighs taut, chest heaving, suspended on House's cock.

"Christ," House breathed, "you're frisky."

There was absolutely no way Wilson could coherently reply to that. He slid down again, beginning to ride House, speeding up as their breathing shortened.

Someone moaned loudly. House looked up and caught an eyeful of Chase, sprawled in a chair, stroking himself. It didn't help that the next thing Chase choked out was "House."

That was approximately the moment when he yielded up all control. Wilson ground down onto him, teeth gritted, hissing "Yes." Again and again, until they were both sore, and Wilson was in pain, he had to be. Still, pain certainly wasn't the dominating emotion in Wilson's body, if his face was anything to go by. His mouth was open, jaw flexing with each breath. House reared up to kiss him, prompting another noise from Chase.

They were close now, heaving in unison. Usually it was Wilson first, but this time House was blissed-out, panting, coming forcefully. The desperate look on his face was enough to send Wilson pumping harder, legs apart, crying out as he came.

Sometime during all of this, Chase had similarly expired. Now he inhaled hard, looking over at the two of them. "That was definitely the hottest thing I've ever seen."

House, who only took seconds after sex to return to full causticity, sat up and eyed him over.

"That looks messy."

Glancing down at his legs, Chase nodded.

"It was." He got to his feet. "Where's your shower?"

"Through the second door on the left," Wilson called out. "Would you like me to show you in?"

Chase grinned. "I'll be right."

Both House and Wilson made sure they were sitting up to watch Chase wander out. Wilson, curling himself against House, grinned. "I don't believe you. You were checking him out."

"And what were you doing? Bird watching?"

Wilson kissed his neck. "I take it I've swayed you to my point of view."

"You can sway me to any point of view you like."

A chuckle. "I meant my point of view that bringing Chase was a good idea."

"It was a great idea. You keep coming up with ideas like that and I'll die from erotic asphyxiation before the week's out."

The words were the same, but the rest of him was just so un-House. Warm, soft, half-flirtatious. His arms wrapped around Wilson, fastening behind his shoulders. Wilson inhaled, isolating each feeling on his body: House nuzzling into his neck, House's fingers on his spine, House's feet rubbing against his. They slid down together into the bed, slowly caressing. And really, it was perfectly natural that their mouths found each other like this.

When Chase emerged in the doorway in a pair of white boxers, he couldn't help but enjoy the sight before him. House and Wilson, entwined as lovers. He ran a hand through wet blonde locks, smiling at the image.

"Get in," House said at length.

"What... in the bed?"

"No, in the oven. I feel like a little Australian pie."

Chase rolled his eyes and climbed over the bed-end. The two men parted to let him through, a space opening up between them.

"Aren't I the lucky one?"

"If you tell Cameron or Foreman about this," House murmured, "your life won't be worth living."

He pretended to consider it. "Well, I know Foreman would be up for it..."

"You think?" smirked Wilson.

"Hey," Chase said, sounding disturbingly cheerful, "maybe we could work it so everyone was screwing each other in a giant chain."

"Except Cuddy. If she had her way, we'd all be castrated." House shuddered.

"I heard she once did have her way." Chase's eyebrows twitched.

"Yeah," House said, "when I cheated on Wilson with her, on my desk."

"Ignore him. He's just jealous I ditched him for Vogler."

Considering the size of the splutters his statement caused, it was surprising that Wilson wasn't covered in phlegm.

"You'll pay for that remark in the morning," House snickered.

Wilson's reply wasn't verbal, but it said a lot. Chase, being caught in the middle, gave a pleasurable twitch.

He found himself thinking that daylight couldn't come soon enough.