Campaspe (cs_whitewolf) wrote,

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HMDFanFic: The Shala [GH/JW/RC]: Chapter iv

The Shala
By CS WhiteWolf
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Overall Story Details: Found Here!
For This Chapter:
Rating(s): R-Rated.
Pairing(s): Gregory House/ James Wilson.
Warning(s): Sexual Situations; Crossdressing; Pole Dancing; Public Sex.
Word Count: 2636words.
Summary: House discovers that Chase likes to dance… with a pole, on a stage, in front of other men. He drags a willing Wilson along for the show.
Prompt: o39 Blow of my House/Wilson Table.
Beta(s): Unbeatad, as once more I’ve left it a little too late- whoopsie!
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House sat reclining in the booth he was fast beginning to think of as his own, ignoring for the moment that this was only his second visit. He was sipping at his second whisky of the night, eying the mediocre entertainment of The Shala with mild interest. Wilson sat opposite House, nursing some girly drink and looking positively bored with the place despite the fact that tonight’s entertainment was an improvement from last night’s.
The girls currently bouncing along the stage, though no less glazy-eyed than their predecessors, were thankfully a bit more talented when it came to the dancing and a lot more touchy-feely when it came to each other. To House, it was almost like watching the L-Word, only with the dodgy music and no pause-rewind-slow playback option with which to amuse himself with.
“I can’t believe you brought me here again.” Wilson said, turning a glare of sorts upon his friend, clearly unimpressed with the talent.
“How could we not come back?” House asked turning his attention from the stage. “After teasing Chase like we did, it’s the least we could do.”
“I’d have had no qualms had we come later, House, but I didn’t think you were serious about coming here straight from work.” Wilson’s glare deepened at House’s smirk.
“It’s your own fault for being such a tease,” House responded, lifting his whisky to his lips for another sip.
Wilson raised an eyebrow, shooting House a daring look, “My own fault?” Wilson nodded, “Alright then.”
“You’re going to use this against me, aren’t you?” House asked, receiving only a smile from Wilson.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t quake in my boots, Chase has yet to perform after all.”
“And you don’t think I can control myself?” Wilson reached up to loosen another of his shirt buttons, his tie already lost for the evening.
“After watching Chase dance?” House feigned surprise, “Do you even remember what happened after last night’s performance?”
“You were just as turned on,” Wilson accused, “And I knew what I was doing.”
House nodded his agreement, “Do you think you will be any less turned on tonight?”
“Perhaps,” Wilson replied, “But either way I will be able to control myself.”
“Wilson, I have no doubt you will try to keep your hands off of me, but it’s your libido I’m counting on to overrule your upstairs brain.”
Wilson merely smiled with a shake of his head, his eyes soon sliding from House to peer over his shoulder. Wilson raised his glass in silent greeting to whomever he’d spotted and House couldn’t resist the temptation to turn and see who it was, his face lighting up as he caught sight of Chase and the look of defiance he shot their way as he stared at them only an instant longer before turning on his heel and storming off through the crowd. House watched him until Chase disappeared through the door beside the bar.
“We should be in for one hell of a show tonight,” House turned back to Wilson with a grin.
“Oh?” Wilson enquired.
“Oh yes,” began House, “Whenever Chase gets really riled up, he tends to push himself to the limit.”
“And you think because he knows we’re here he’ll pull out all the stops?”
“He’d better,” House said with a nod, “I’m counting on his performance getting me laid tonight.”
Wilson laughed. “Let us then hope he lives up to expectations, for your sake at least.”
“Fingers and toes crossed!” House lifted his glass in a toast, clinking it against Wilson’s own with a wide smile before settling back once more in wait.
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The lights dimmed down low, a near darkness descending upon the stage as the last of the dancing girls tottered their way out of the limelight. An expectant hush fell over the club, broken only by the occasional wolf whistle and eager chuckle let off by the patrons as they waited in anticipation of The Shala’s main feature.
House sat forward in undisguised eagerness and Wilson was hard pressed not to inch his way to the edge of his seat as the distinct sound of heels tapped their way across the stage. Wilson could imagine, the image vivid and mouth-wateringly real before his minds eye, the way Chase would look, standing proud and tall in heels high, those shapely legs of his perfectly balanced upon the inches as he stood before the clientele with intent, knowing that none would be able to resist the temptation his body offered to their eyes.
As it was, Wilson knew he himself would be unable to resist the desire that was bound to course through his veins at the mere sight of Chase all dressed up, having felt the first stirrings of lust as he did at the very thought of Chase in women’s shoes.
After a heartbeat or two of stretching silence the stage suddenly lit up from behind silhouetting the figure that stood, poised and posed upon the raised platform. A low beat started up from the speakers, a deep and sultry sound that soon became garbled and jammed up as it increased in both tempo and speed until with a blast of sudden sound the lights sprang on and the figure upon the stage was bathed in colour.
There was no mistaking Chase as he stood on the stage, his body swaying to the music from the moment the lights had turned upon him. Wilson’s eyes drank in the sight of Chase’s attire, roaming down from the female version of a top hat, over the tight, tiny black jacket and the long, white shirt beneath which almost hid the fact that underneath the rather translucent fabric Chase also wore a pair of shorter short shorts than he had the previous evening, the bottom of the shirt just skimming the ends of the black leather’s.
Wilson shifted in his seat as he allowed his eyes to drift lower, his mouth dry at the sight of Chase’s stocking-clad legs and the black, stylishly pointed heels he had on. Knowing as he did that Chase was actually a man, it was almost impossible to comprehend the fact that no one else seemed to have noticed this little fact, or if they had it certainly hadn’t lessened their appreciation of Chase’s talents on the stage.
And why should it? Wilson mused as Chase spread his legs obscenely wide, rotating his hips to the music as he dragged his hands up his thighs, reaching further upwards to toy at the fastenings of the jacket he’d donned before ripping it open and off, allowing it to drop to the floor as he approached the pole in the centre of the stage. 
Swinging his body around the shaft, Chase wrapped one of his long legs securely about it to better aid his balance as he released his hands and allowed his body to bend over backwards in a crescent, lifting the top hat from his head as he did so and flinging it somewhat clumsily into the crowd as he swung himself back upwards with a cheeky grin twisting his mouth.
The horde of men cried out for more and Chase obliged, touching his fingers to the shirt that sat so tantalisingly upon his upper thighs and toying with the buttons as he undid them one by one, before then running a finger between the sliver of a gap the parting fabric allowed, his eyes heavy-lidded and sultry though still he smiled.
His shirt soon followed the example of the top hat and made its way into the grabbing hands of the onlookers as Chase finally gave up the teasing and tore it from his body, leaving him in nothing but his small shorts, a tiny top (which somehow managed to disguise the fact that Chase’s breasts were not in fact real) and his heels.
Dear God, those heels! Both House and Wilson could not tear their eyes from Chase as he lifted his leg in an impossibly high kick before twisting round and grabbing onto the pole, all but climbing it as he hugged his body about it and slid himself upwards then back down.
It was like nothing they had ever seen before and something they wished never to see end, their eyes fixated upon Chase’s body as it twisted and wrapped itself about the pole, throwing himself about the slim metal with intent and purpose and every twist and rub had the men baying for more, money appearing by the fistful in sweaty-palmed hands as they too stared transfixed at the perfection that danced so exotically before them.
Chase was clearly in his element upon the stage, no hint of hesitation or vacillation could be seen in his movements as he dropped to all fours and crawled wantonly across the stage, allowing men to reach out and touch at him, their grubby fingers pawing at those firm legs of his, rubbing over the curve of that delicious looking arse- slipping their dollar bills wherever they could find purchase.
Wilson felt himself grinding his teeth at the sight and wondered only briefly at the surge of jealously he felt when Chase pulled back from the men, his eyes lifting to the general direction of their booth as if in a taunting tease as he crawled backwards, a lusty smirk touching his lips as he knelt upwards and bent his back in an arch, touching himself wantonly as the music swelled, ending on a high note at the precise moment Chase had himself cupped, his hips pumping against the palm of his hand.
The lights dimmed down again in finish and Chase was able to leave the darkened stage with the howls of many men following after him, their hungry eyes squinting for even the barest of glimpses of their dancing beauty as he left the stage.
Dry mouthed and hard up, Wilson could only tear his eyes from the stage when the lights were once more turned up and the music changed for the next act- a set of dark-headed twins whom looked barely past legal, but oh-so coveted as they walked into the limelight.
Wilson became aware of House’s eyes on him and did not have to look up at the older man to know that there would be triumph shining in his eyes. Still, when House shifted round to his end of the booth, Wilson had no choice but to look up at House; matching him smirk for smirk even as his fingers clenched around the fabric of his seat in a bid to keep from jumping House.
House leant temptingly close, his breath a tingling heat across Wilson’s cheek as he turned his head away, keeping his gaze away from House’s and resisting all urge to molest him right then and there.
“Wilson,” House purred in his ear, his tongue flicking out to lave up the curve in a quick swipe. Wilson suppressed a shiver.
“Oh, Wilson,” House blew across the wetness he’d left and Wilson’s mouth dropped open in a bid to suck in more air, his cheeks heating as desire coursed its way through his veins. It was all he could do to push up and away from House; a minute feeling of triumph touching him at the gaping look House gave him at the action.
“Wilson?” House asked in disbelief, his eyes slipping from Wilson’s face to his groin- the bulge of his cock beneath his trousers a clear indication of just how much Chase’s performance had affected him- before lifting to his face once more.
“Outside,” Was all Wilson managed in reply, his voice tight as he flicked his eyes in promise over House a moment before he turned away and made his way towards the club’s exit.
“And bring my jacket!” Wilson called over his shoulder and House shot his retreating back an affronted look as he contemplated staying where he was just to spite Wilson and curb this complex he was developing that said House would ask ‘how high’ whenever the oncologist yelled ‘jump’. The promise of relief to his aching hard-on however was too strong and House pushed himself from his seat, preparing to follow after Wilson. He left the jacket behind on principle.
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House snatched sight of Wilson disappearing into the thin alleyway between The Shala and a neighbouring strip joint and upped his pace to follow. Catching up with Wilson as the younger man paused for a moment some paces away from a doorway and a dumpster, House grabbed him about the waist and pulled Wilson back against him, his arms holding tight as he ground his hips against Wilson’s arse, catching the open moan Wilson gave at the contact.
“You’re a sodden tease,” House growled against Wilson’s ear, giving the lobe a playful nip. House missed Wilson’s smirk as he latched his lips to the younger man’s throat and so, when Wilson spun and shoved him up against the wall opposite the dumpster, House was left more than a little surprised at both the action and the burst of pain that flared from his bumped head.
Hearing the whoosh of air that left House at his impact against the wall, Wilson was quick to launch himself at the diagnostician, an animalistic urge gearing him on as he ground his whole body against House’s own.
“So much for self-control,” House mocked breathlessly, reaching up with one hand to rub at the back of his head and wincing at the touch.
“Do you want me to stop?” Asked Wilson, baring his teeth in a self-satisfied grin. Wilson knew House would never ask him to stop as he slipped a hand over House’s crotch, moulding his hand around House’s straining erection and drawing a soft moan from his lips.
House reached up to grab at Wilson’s shoulders. “If you so much as think about it…” He threatened, his words drifting off into a groan as Wilson’s mouth latched onto him, bestowing fierce kisses upon his lips for a moment only before Wilson was dropping swiftly to his knees in front of House. Wilson’s fingers worked quickly and effortlessly to unbuckle and unzip House’s pants and it wasn’t long before his trousers were pooled about his ankles.
Wilson’s hand was wrapping tightly about the base of his cock in the next instant and then, his mouth, hot and wet as it sucked House in, his tongue laving at House’s swollen cock with relish and House was powerless to resist. Powerless even to stand but for the free hand Wilson pushed into his hip, keeping him back against the wall and controlling the thrusts he so uncaringly attempted in order to push himself deeper into the dark cavern of Wilson’s mouth.
Wilson’s tongue teased at the darkened head of his erection, drawing out House’s pleasure till with purpose, Wilson drew as much of House into his mouth as he was able, deep-throating his member and blowing House’s mind and body into orgasm. House’s eyes slipped closed as the blood rushed through his ears and colour burst before his closed lids. He felt the loss as Wilson removed his mouth from his now flaccid cock and forced his fingers to reach out and latch onto the waistband of the trousers Wilson was kind enough to tug up for him.
House opened his eyes through the fading haze of orgasm at the sound of the door beside the dumpster opening with a rusted creak, a slim figure appearing in silhouette for a minute before stepping out into the back alley. House could only chuckle deeply at the irony of the figure being none other than Robert Chase, his sentiments not exactly shared by the young man in question as Chase spotted him in return. 
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Tags: fic: series: the shala

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