How did House and Wilson's screwed-up messed-up verging-on-noncon semi-abusive seriously don't try this at home relationship get started? here's one way it might have. Probably part of the "In the Closet" / "Good Boy" / "With All the Love in the World" universe, but it doesn't really have a timeline, more a succession of PWP moments.
In the beginning...
House moans and writhes, as far as he can writhe when Wilson's weight is pinning him to the bed and Wilson's cock is buried deep in his ass. His mouth opens and closes, his eyes blink and weep: Wilson can make him grunt by changing the angle of his thrust, bumping the head of his cock against House's prostate. Amused, Wilson decides to see if he can make House come without touching him or letting House touch himself. He takes House's arms and pins them down, leaning backward a little so that his grip on House's arms keeps his balance, so his cock is shoving against House's prostate with every twitch, so that House's cock spears the air, lonely and twitching. It only takes a few minutes before House comes, spraying and quivering, a physical and emotional meltdown.
Fucking House now would be like fucking jello. Delicious, but unsatisfying. Wilson pulls out, not bothering to warn House or be gentle - the time for that is past.
"I want this," he tells House, who stares up at him bewildered, but cooperates as Wilson, breathing heavily, rolls House on to his lap. House is face down on the bed, whining and panting in the aftermath of orgasm: his butt is sticky and shivering. Wilson runs his left hand over House's buttocks, and then slaps, hard.
House freezes and cries out, louder than Wilson expected. Wilson smacks him again and House makes a noise, still wordless, than sounds like protest. A third smack, harder still, and House whimpers his name, "Wilson, no..."
"I want this," Wilson repeats. He's still hard, and House's shaking body over his cock feels so damn good, and the knowledge that House doesn't like this and isn't going to stop him feels even better. "Shut up and take it. You deserve it," he adds, thinking that House really does, that House needs this as much as Wilson does: needs to know he'll get what he deserves. His hand is beginning to sting as he slaps House's butt, and he rests a momemt, rubbing the quivering flesh.
"Wilson - "
"Shut up." Wilson smacks him again, and again, each blow sending a jolt through House and into Wilson's cock. He was close already - he'd have liked to take longer - but when he comes it feels almost better than coming inside House. He delivers a last, lingering slap to House's bare and reddening ass, and lies back, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction.
House is crying. Wilson sits up, wriggles out from under House, and fetches a damp washcloth from the kitchen. He wipes them both up. House doesn't help or resist, and he doesn't argue when Wilson gets into bed with him and arranges them both in a position comfortable for House's leg. He just goes on silently weeping, as if those few swats on the ass broke his control in a way nothing else ever did.
*HOUSEMD*HOUSEMD*HOUSEMD*
Wilson wakes up before House the next day: he always does. Unlike House, he gets to work on time: House shambles in about ten, sends his ducklings scrambling off for clinic duty and other tasks, and walks into Wilson's office five minutes after noon, when Wilson's third patient of the day has just gone.
"Lunch?" Wilson says.
"We should talk," House says.
"That's a first," Wilson says.
"What you did last night..." House says, and trails off, as if he's really not sure what to say.
"It didn't bother you, did it?" Wilson asked, very faux-concerned. "A few pats on the ass?"
"Of course not," House says. "But we should talk..."
"I liked it," Wilson says. He looks up, and looks House over, smiling to himself. "I liked it almost as much as you like getting fucked by me. Let's make a deal, House. A reciprocal arrangement. You want to get fucked by me - you have to ask me to beat your ass. I'll do it: then I'll fuck you."
House stares at Wilson, his mouth opening and closing. He sits down on the couch. Wilson watches him.
"I thought we had a reciprocal arrangement," House says, after a few minutes. His voice is low, and he looks up at Wilson, frowning.
"We do what you want," Wilson says. "I'm fine with that. I'm used to catering to your whims. But I want to do some of what I want, too. And that's what I want."
House goes on sitting there, and Wilson goes back to his paperwork. After a while, without another word, House gets up and leaves. He hasn't said yes or no, but when Wilson looks into the Diagnostics office before he goes home. House is still there.
"Do we have a deal?"
House looks up at him. "I don't think I can," he says. He swallows. "I don't think I can ask you to..."
Wilson is more disappointed than he lets on. He smiles. "Well. Have it your way. As usual."
House looks bewildered.
"I won't fuck you again until you ask me to beat your ass," Wilson clarifies. "Good night, House." He closes the door and walks away down the corridor. He doesn't think it will take long before House asks him.
And it doesn't.