Oh my God. This is rated T at the very least. Closer to M. Actually, don't read it.
This is easy. Don't overanalyze it. I need sex, he offers, we have sex, and that's that. Don't talk about it. It's not love, not on my part, at least, and he knows that. I'm in love with…someone else.
If he wants love, he should just go pick up one of his girls. He practically keeps them on call.
It's so easy. There is no way it can go wrong.
…Or so I thought, right up until the moment I said Wilson's name while having sex with Chase.
So now he knows. He doesn't seem to care. It's fine. It's fine. He won't tell anyone, because then he'll have to tell them that we had sex and he'll be fired. I have nothing nothing? nothing to worry about.
For God's sake, I'm in love with Wilson and I'm using Chase and he doesn't care. That's not love, not even on his part. That's prostitution.
It's disgusting that I'm using him, and it's disgusting that Chase is letting me. And it's disgusting that it's because I lust after my best friend.
Still, every time Wilson leaves my office, Chase walks in and closes the blinds and I don't feel like killing something with the frustration.
The frustration is building again, now. Because things can't stay this way.
Until everything is destroyed, though, I'll be weak and use him to put one more layer of duct tape on my world.
Sometimes, though, I have to wonder…
Who is using who?
...Anyway, I got this idea because one of the reviewers mentioned HouseChase and I decided to use it. Still a lot of HouseWilson overtones, of course.