by Kass

A sonnet

House sends his yo-yo flying toward his feet
And wonders idly what the night will bring.
Wilson arrives and doesn't say a thing,
Just gestures toward the windowshades, discreet,
Then closes them and loosens up his tie --
A sign of what's to come, House thinks, and grins.
Why hide the fact he likes when Wilson sins
Against his wife? The glint in Wilson's eye
Awakes his blood and sends it thrumming south.
House puts the yo-yo down, lets his thighs part,
And Wilson cuffs his sleeves. He knows the art
Of tantalizing. How House craves that mouth!
The times when they don't talk, the dirty sweet
Of Wilson on his knees: House yields to heat.

The End