Title: Retribution ('cause I got nothing for a title)
Rating: NC-17, Minors must be accompanied by an adult preferably one they know and not one they paid to get them in…Oh like I'm the only one who did that as a teen!
Pairings: House/Wilson
Warnings: There's some slapping, mention of a sex toy, and man-on-man action
Summary: Wilson tries to force House to accept retribution. Nobody makes House do anything! Usually.
A/N: Based on the LJ Dark Wilson Community prompt "Penance", but it's really more Manipulative!Wilson and Darkish!House. It's way too freakin' long so any mistakes prove how much I hate reading my own work. I can't go through it again! *sob!*
House was so tired the phrase "bone weary" came to mind. His big new, exciting case turned out to be a non-starter. After one test his theory had been confirmed and the patient treated. She was already feeling better and would probably be released tomorrow. Then Cuddy heard about the successful diagnosis, somehow, and before he could interrogate his team to find out who the latest snitch was, he found himself in the clinic. Wilson was too busy to distract him and had spent most of the week acting like he was mad at House and he hadn't even done anything. In fact, House had gone out of his way to not be a jerk to Wilson. He wasn't any good at it, but he was trying to be a supportive friend. House could hear his dad's voice saying "No points for trying, worm". He involuntarily remembered his dad explaining that at least the maggots he trained would turn into Marines. House would never be anything but a worm. House groaned at the unwanted memory. He'd rather be in the clinic than walking down memory lane.
And hadn't the clinic been a trip to the circus – a trip for a coulrophobe allergic to sawdust? He had tried to make a game out of it to try to make the day go by faster. That never worked for long and today hadn't been an exception. He dragged himself back and forth from room to room, banged his shins on a dozen exam table steps and hit his shoulder at least three times fitting through the doors that were too small and clearly not designed to accommodate his gait. Every patient seemed to be more moronic than the one before. Every time he tried to sneak away Cuddy would pop up and send him back. She hadn't even been wearing anything interesting today. On the plus side, he hadn't been commanded to fill out billing paperwork, out dated charts, or referral requests. Then again, he could have pretended to do them and sat at his desk in relative physical comfort. On the other hand, paper work sucked donkey dong. He needed to fire one of his fellows and hire a paper jockey. They kept quitting and coming back before he could get the paper work to hire somebody to do the paper work finished. The next time one of them quit he was going to make it stick. First thing tomorrow, or at least nearly first, he was going to fill out the forms and exit interview sheets for each of them and leave the date blank.
"I hate you, House. I can't work under these conditions any longer," he mocked in a childish falsetto. Next time he'd just agree and hand them the forms to sign. It was Kutner's turn next, but he seemed to be able to vent his frustrations without stamping his feet. Then again, even House had quit recently so maybe it was something environmental other than him. House bounced the back of his head against the couch cushion. He really didn't want to think about the present either. And he didn't have a future. Oh god, he thought, I'm so breaking out the Stagg whiskey and blazing up some weed.
House only managed the whiskey before he fell asleep on the couch. He figured he'd get a nap in before the demons woke him and he had to start the whole cycle over. It wasn't a demon that woke him, but a thumping noise outside his door. His first thought were the techno-goth Armenians next door, but they'd moved out a month or so ago. He thought about investigating, but realized his motivation to solve the sound was far less than his antipathy at standing. After a moment a sound of metal scratching his door was followed by what sounded suspiciously like a key in the lock. His mind immediately wandered to an unknown assailant breaking in and, surprised at finding an occupant, panics and stabs him to death. He hoped it wasn't like that, but maybe he could stay quiet and the intruder would strangle him. He hadn't been strangled before. Beaten, stabbed, shot, electrocuted, overdosed, even thrown from a third floor window, but strangled? Not yet. At least it would be new.
Instead he realized it was Wilson as he threw open the door and stumbled in gracelessly. Drunk Wilson wasn't new, but it was pretty rare. Wilson took several steps before turning around, staggering back, closing the door, and lurching towards the couch. He collapsed next to House and looked around confused.
"Did you move the couch? It seems a lot farther away from the door than it used to be." Something about Drunk Wilson that Drunk House couldn't quite put his finger on wasn't right.
"No, I moved the door. Now that you mention it, moving the couch would have been easier." Wilson made a snorting laugh sound that made House smile. At least he wasn't crying.
Wilson held up his hand clenched around a key with only the edge sticking out between his fingers. If it had been anybody else House would have thought he was going to punch him with the key between his knuckles to cause more damage. With Wilson he waited to hear what he had to say. After a few false starts Wilson finally found his voice.
"I wa…you coud…can I have this?" House reached for his pills as his buzz began to slip away.
"It's your key. 'Your' indicates you already have it. It's an adjective like stupid Wilson." He popped a pill as his usual preferred punctuation. Wilson shook his head dramatically. His hair ruffled and tossed loosely. House wondered what could have sent Wilson out in the middle of the night without mousse. It was only 10:30, but he preferred the image of a much later hour. House wondered if that was what seemed off. Wilson drunk on a school night at 10:30 was beyond rare. It was like a previously thought extinct species that was miraculous found deep in the Amazon.
"Not mine. I gave mine back. I stole this one off the, you know, that little, you know, that thing above the door." House was officially amused. He fought back the urge to tousle Wilson's hair.
"The lintel - that's my spare key from the lintel. I wondered what all that thumping was."
"It was really high," Wilson said stretching out the last word.
"Sounds like it isn't the only one. Sorry, I had the door elongated when I moved it." Wilson nodded as though that made perfect sense.
"So can I have it?"
"Sure. I'll replace it with your old key." House's curiosity was nagging away at him and he decided to risk a potential personal conversation. "Anything special going on tonight? You look like you drank what I have."
"Oh, House," Wilson sighed further collapsing into the couch and sinking onto the corner. "I've screwed everything up."
"Everything isn't within your realm of influence, my liege." House hoped this wasn't going to turn into something involving crying.
"You always do that," Wilson said with a hint of indignation. "Do you think you're the only one that can fuck things up?" House decided he'd rather have the crying.
"I screw up lots of things. I only do one thing well. You do lots of things well and have screwed up nothing." Wilson sat up quickly and put his head in his hands.
"I have. My brother for one." House wasn't sure if there was going to be bemoaning or crying or anger. He wasn't sure how to defuse the situation without knowing which situation was imminent. It also didn't really matter since he was terrible at defusing any emotional situation.
"Your brother isn't your fault. If anything I'm sure he lasted as long in society as he did only because you took such good care of him."
"I should have helped him more. And you, I haven't taken good care of you."
"But I'm not your brother. I've even got a certificate saying I'm mentally competent to stand trial. I'm not a house plant you need to take care of or a neighbor's fish you promised to feed." Wilson shook his head violently before abruptly grabbing House's shoulders.
"How can you not hate me? I've done so much trying to help you, but it never turns out that way. I've even turned you in to the police. That was a horrible thing to do. And how do you get even with me?"
"I stole $50 from your wallet, didn't pay you back for everything you lost, and stole food from your plate even when I wasn't hungry." Wilson tightened his grip on House's shoulders and shook him lightly.
"You think that makes up for my … betrayal? You should have punished me! Maybe if you had I wouldn't have kept on ruining your life." House exhaled loudly. Wilson's grip loosened. He pulled Wilson's hands off his shoulders and momentarily questioned where he should put them before putting them awkwardly on Wilson's leg.
"You haven't ruined my life. My life was ruined long before I met you!" When Wilson looked up at him with big, sympathetic eyes House decided to change tactics. "You are the only thing in my life that consistently doesn't suck."
"You don't know half the things I've done to you," Wilson said evenly.
"I know you haven't done anything you need to feel bad about. Now I've got some Hazmat here and some chronic in the bedroom. We can have a little party and pretend this awful day never happened." House started to stand, but Wilson pulled him back down.
"What would you do for me?" House didn't know how to respond. "What would you do?" Repeating the question didn't help.
"I don't know, Wilson. What do you want? Money? Food? I'm not good at giving you a shoulder to cry on, but I'm trying. I can't do empathy, but I'm trying for sympathy. If you tell me what you want, I can try to do it. I'll probably fail, but you know me well enough to know that." House was having a hard time looking at Wilson. He was so tired. "If I can help you, I'll try," he said wearily, "but I can't help myself." House forced himself to make eye contact. "What do you want me to do," he asked sincerely.
"I want you to hit me," Wilson said in the same monotone. House looked shocked, then confused, then amused.
"I thought you were serious for a moment. Man, I've had more to drink than I thought. Let me get you a glass." Wilson pulled House down again this time harder.
"I am serious, House. I know you want to hit me. You must! I've been a horrible friend to you."
"No, you haven't," House said emphatically. "What has gotten into you? I'm the bad friend. I killed your girlfriend." House hoped that would shock Wilson into normalcy.
"No, it was an accident. If I hadn't lied to you about my schedule, you would have known I was working and wouldn't have called me."
"Oh please! We can agree it was an accident, but it had nothing to do with you lying. I was so drunk I didn't even call your cell phone. I'm amazed I remembered any number to dial. If I'd charged my cell phone – no accident. If I'd come home to get drunk – no accident. If I'd let Amber take me home – no accident. If a garbage truck driver hadn't been text messaging – no accident. It's just one of those shitty things that happen in life."
Wilson continued shaking his head and sucked on his lips.
"I've lied to you about patients."
"I know, but you never did it maliciously."
"How can you know that?"
"I know you," House replied, his voice getting louder than he wanted.
"No, you don't. Just, just punch me. Tell me I've fucked up and hit me."
"No. I do know you. You feel bad about things you can't control. You want to punish yourself for it, but you want me to do the dirty work." Wilson moved closer and grabbed House's hands. He seemed almost frantic.
"I've tried to punish myself. It isn't enough anymore. I need you to do it. Hit me." House had a sudden flash of Isabella Rossellini.
"I'm not going to hit you," he said adamantly even though part of him felt like it for making them have this conversation.
"You've hit patients. You've hit the families of patients. You've hit strangers at bars. You hit Chase and sometimes I think you think of him like a son. Why can't you hit me?" House didn't say anything. "Is it because you love me?" House tried to find geometric patterns in the carpet. "They say nobody can hurt you as much as somebody you love. I've hurt you so much. I need you to hurt me."
"You're trying to goad me into punching you. It's not going to happen," House said with resolve. Wilson put his hands on House's face and turned him to face him. House found himself frozen. Unexpected physical contact always unnerved him and he was sure Wilson knew that.
"How much do I need to hurt you before you hurt me?" Wilson paused as if he was steeling himself. "I know your secrets, things you don't know I know. Do I need to use them to hurt you? Would that be enough? Do I need to tell you how I learned your secrets? Will that do it?" House still felt exhausted, but now he felt small. He felt like he was slipping away. Why couldn't he disappear or just fade away? House had a lazy desire to not exist like he had as a kid and like he found himself feeling increasingly lately.
"I don't know what you think you know, but you should know anything you say won't make me hurt you, but it will make you feel like crap tomorrow."
"Did you know I slept with Stacy," Wilson blurted out. House smirked.
"Did you know I'm not a complete idiot? Of course I know." Wilson was stunned.
"Wait, you knew?" House noted silently that Wilson didn't seem nearly as inebriated as he had moments earlier.
"Yep. Not a secret. No wonder all your wives find out about your indiscretions. You weren't exactly sneaky." Wilson wasn't giving up.
"But did you know I fucked her before she left you?" House shook his head nonplussed.
"You do think I'm an idiot. Yes, I know. I know you did it before the infarction. I know you did it while I was in the hospital. I know you did it while I confided to you that she was going to leave me. I know you did it when she moved out. I thought she was going to be Mrs. Wilson number 3 before Julie came around." Wilson looked disgusted.
"You knew? I betrayed you with the only woman you've ever loved, didn't tell you for years and you still don't want to hurt me, punish me in some way, take something from me?"
"I know I could never make either of you happy. I liked to think the two of you could find a little happiness together." House didn't add that it hurt him more that he couldn't make them happy than anything either of them could do.
"You love me so unconditionally that you forgave me?" House didn't answer. He didn't like that particular L word being bandied about. "If I give you details will that be enough? The first time, she'd only been with you a few months. You had to go to a conference. You asked me to look in on her. She needed help with the garbage disposal. Before I got off the phone I knew what was going to happen."
"You don't have to tell me. I've imagined it all."
"I don't remember what I was mad at you for, but I told her about it. She told me about some embarrassment you'd caused her." Wilson was getting angry. House wasn't sure if he was angry at himself or if he was mad at House. He guessed it was both.
"It's okay, Wilson. I've done far worse to nicer people."
"I fucked her in your bed! I screwed her on your floor. I did her on your kitchen table while you were knocked out in the bedroom on your post-op meds. We even joked about how you were so out of it we could have done it in your room with you there! I used you as my excuse to not go home to Bonnie and Stacy told you she had to get out for a little while and we'd meet at a hotel."
"I get it! You guys bonded over me being a bastard. If I'd been a better friend, a better lover, it wouldn't have happened." Wilson clenched his jaw.
"If we had been better people we wouldn't have done that to you."
"Are you stoned? I don't blame either of you." House scooted away from Wilson. "Are you drunk? I thought you were, but you seem pretty sober right now." Now he was angry. It was in the moment. Wasn't he just philosophizing how the past wasn't worth thinking about and there was no future? The present, this moment, was all he had and Wilson was playing him.
"I've been drinking, but I'm not as drunk as I need to be." He picked up House's glass and drank it down in a large gulp. There was a squint to Wilson's eyes as the whiskey burned.
"That's sipping bourbon. If you do that again you'll end up in the ER with alcohol poisoning." Wilson glared at House. He seemed to make a decision.
"Whose betrayal hurt more, me or Stacy? Which of us did you love more?" House stood up and limped around the room.
"I'm not hurt. I wasn't even surprised! I knew the moment you picked me up at the airport from the conference. I was disappointed that neither of you thought I was worth putting in some effort to hide it from me."
"Which of us, House?" House ran his hand over his face and wished Wilson would be gone when he opened his eyes.
"I'm more hurt that you seem to be trying to provoke me. Do you want me to tell you I'm angry at you? I'm not. Do you want me to say I love you? Fine. I love you. Unconditionally? Until I find the condition, yes!" Wilson stood up and blocked House's path. He was smiling disconcertingly.
"Do you love me like a brother or like you loved your college boyfriend?" Now House was shocked. "Stacy told me all about him, at least, everything you told her. I'm sure there were others, but she said she worried he had been the love of your life. Do you love me like that?"
House shoved Wilson out of his way and limped back towards the couch. Wilson grabbed him from behind in a bear hug.
"Would you rather talk about how good it felt to be inside him? Or do you want to talk about how much you want to be inside me?" House shrugged out of Wilson's hold.
"You want me to feel hurt? Ok, I'm feeling hurt. I've told you I have sex with men. You said it wasn't a big deal. Do you think I've been pining away for you all these years? Ego much?" House had backed himself against the desk which only added to his feeling claustrophobia. "I don't think you want the gory details of me blowing Trevor so what do you want?" Wilson moved in very quickly invading his shrinking space.
"I already told you. I think you love me more than you loved Stacy, more than…" he paused recalling the name House had leaked. "…Trevor, more than anyone you ever had or ever will love. Admit it. Admit it," Wilson parroted, his face inches away from House's.
"I think you're losing it."
"I think you chased after me when I left because you couldn't stand the idea of losing me like you lost him. You say I have a hard time losing people. You have a hard time losing me."
"I think, no, I know, I want to stop talking about this."
"If you don't want to talk, what do you want to do?" Wilson grabbed House's crotch making House jump back. His back hit a sharp corner. He shoved Wilson off him; this time hard. He didn't feel it. While House was exhausted, Wilson seemed exhilarated.
"Leave me alone," House shouted with more force than he thought he could manage at the moment.
"You don't want to be alone. You liked pushing me, didn't you? Why do you have to make everything so hard? Why do you make me hurt you more?"
"Again, what do you want from me?" House regretted how angry he sounded. He didn't have any right to be angry at Wilson. Wilson hadn't said anything that wasn't true.
"I want you to hurt me back." House inwardly collapsed. They were back at square one.
"I don't know how to do what you want." He stared into Wilson's eyes looking for an answer. He hoped Wilson would drop it.
"I know," Wilson said gently. "But this is what I need from you or I'll leave and I won't be back this time. I can't keep hurting you with no retribution."
"How about just not hurting me?" House didn't think he'd live through Wilson leaving again. Wilson was right. He couldn't stand the idea of losing him again. He felt like a frightened child. It was too familiar a feeling. It was an unfortunate reminder of why he hated himself.
"I've tried, but I keep screwing up. Maybe if we find a way to level the playing field again it'll be different. The way it is now?" Wilson shook his head. "I've got too many marks in my column. You need to make things even." House let out a shaky breath.
"Ok, I'll hit you," he said just above a whisper. Wilson smiled at him benevolently.
"I'm sorry, House. That might have worked before, but Stacy, Trevor, I shouldn't have brought that up. Now you'll have to do more or we won't be even." Wilson put a hand on House's cheek. "You love me. You want me. Now you need to take me."
House stood still and felt himself fall into the analytic mode he used to cope with situations he wasn't properly equipped for like Chase confiding in him or Cameron crying or, he now realized, his best friend offering himself to him. It made him feel alien, an alien trying to understand human behavior, an alien unable to understand human interactions.
Wilson staggered forward until he was pressing against House.
"Have you dreamed about this?" House could smell the oaky Stagg on Wilson's breath. It somehow added to the detached, trance-like feeling coming over him. With effort he stopped himself from admitting his Wilson masturbatory fantasies. If it had been anybody but Wilson he would have damned the consequences … but it was Wilson – not a pro or a pick up, but Wilson. He struggled to think of Wilson's motives. Maybe he was just trying to embarrass House or have something new to lord over him. He wondered how far Wilson would go before mocking him for his unseemly desires. He couldn't live with it if …
"House, stop thinking." Wilson brushed his lips across the stubble on House's cheek. His insides ached to make his brain stop. Instead he tried to push Wilson away again, but Wilson had learned his lesson and had a firm grip around his waist. Wilson pulled House closer in retaliation.
House closed his eyes and tried to commit the feeling of Wilson's body flush against his to memory. He was sure he'd probably never see him again and he certainly would never feel their bodies tremble against each other again. The idea of never seeing Wilson again helped him find words to say.
"You're not gay." It wasn't much, but House had managed to say it. It was far less colorful than the words floating through his mind that threatened to spill out. He took some measure of pride in that.
"Neither are you. Isn't that what you always say? 'Just sex'?" Wilson took a half step back and ran a hand from around House's waist to the front of his jeans. He groped denim until he found House's stiffening cock. He closed his eyes more in embarrassment than lust. Wilson shouldn't see him like this. He shouldn't be like this. "What turns you on more – me or being angry at me?" House hated the weakness of his flesh. He needed to get control.
"I'm not angry." He didn't sound angry, but he wished he did or at least sound like anything except the needy rasp he heard.
Wilson stopped groping him and took his other hand off his waist. House assumed this was when Wilson would call him pathetic and storm out forever. Instead he felt Wilson pull at the button of his jeans. He looked down and marveled at Wilson's hands struggling against the fastening. Something about the uneasiness of the situation and the sudden graceless hands of Wilson made House chortle. This was his Wilson – uncertain, unsteady, unsure.
"Don't laugh," Wilson griped sounding more like himself than he had since he arrived. "I've never done this before." Wilson pulled his hands away from House's jeans and ran his hands through his own hair. He made uneasy eye contact with House. "I'll get this, just give me a minute." House smiled then raked his teeth against his lower lip.
"That is what turns me on more – you being you." House placed a tentative hand on Wilson's cheek. "If only you really wanted a miserable, old bastard like me," he said shaking his head. "There's plenty of bourbon left. Help yourself to the couch." House started to stagger towards the bedroom, but Wilson grabbed his arms roughly.
"Don't … don't dismiss me! I need this. I need you to do this to me. Take from me what you want. Use me!" Now House couldn't pretend he wasn't angry.
"You need to be punished? And, what, touching me is punishment? Is that why you hang out with me, as some kind of self-imposed penalty? Does it count as self-flagellation to have lunch with me?" House couldn't understand how he could feel so angry and still feel so worn out. This, he thought, is what they mean by soul sick.
Wilson shook him sharply, but House didn't even notice.
"Giving me a hand job would purge you for at least a week. Maybe longer." Wilson tightened his already bruising grip on House's arms and shook him again, harder.
"Why do you always do this? Can't you let me have one thing? Just one thing? I spend time with you because I like you, as hard to believe as that is. I bring you so much pain and hurt why can't you enjoy this? You get what you want and I get what I need."
"I appreciate your martyrdom, but I don't think it's enough to start a religion. Hey! Maybe you could be a saint. I've heard the papacy doesn't have a problem overlooking one man touching another man's penis." Wilson's mouth twisted. "Thanks for the offer of a handy shandy, but I'm going to pass on helping your canonization."
Wilson grabbed at the top of House's pants. His hands were much steadier this time. House swatted his hands away. He grabbed again. House felt like he was moving in slow motion. After swatting, batting, and slapping, Wilson pushed House hard against the wall. He knocked the wind out of him. In a quick, violent motion he had House's jeans undone.
"Please, House, don't make this harder than it already is." Wilson grabbed for House's wrist, but House lifted his arms out of his reach. That was what Wilson wanted and he took advantage of House's position. He latched on to the waistbands of House's jeans and boxers and yanked them down to his mid thigh while dropping to his knees. House fell back from the shock and unexpected pain and found himself trapped between the wall and Wilson. He panted breathlessly and wondered if this was how Wilson felt when he was about to have a panic attack. He wanted to go back to his previous disconnected, empty feeling. Wilson latched his fingers into House's hips.
"House might say no, but it looks like little Greg wants to join the congregation." House tried to think of a clever "traitorous flesh" cliché, but his mind went blank with the sensation of Wilson brushing his hair along his dick. It jumped to prove his point.
"I like it when women do that, too," Wilson said smugly. House looked down reluctantly. Seeing Wilson on his knees rubbing his head gently, too gently, against his cock encompassed all his dreams and nightmares. He closed his eyes tightly. He didn't want to see this. This wasn't happening. This was expensive bourbon and too many pills. Then he felt and heard Wilson laying tiny kisses along his length. He had to look. Wilson's dry, gentle, almost innocent kisses were bizarre on so many levels House couldn't help, but analyze his movements.
Wilson looked up and House saw the young man he'd met so many years before. The words came out before he could stop them.
"You're so beautiful." Wilson didn't acknowledge him. That was only fitting, House thought, since this is a chemically induced dream. Wilson barely stuck the tip of his tongue out and tentatively licked a line no more than an inch long. He looked up at House and smiled. House realized this wasn't a dream. If it was a dream Wilson would be deep throating him, not looking scared. Wilson stuck his tongue out more and took a wider lap. He experimented with different angles, but he didn't move far from the base where he started. House groaned in frustration.
"If you're going to do this then maybe you should move the process along." He knew it was a bad sign of his encroaching sobriety and his waning libido that he said a complete sentence with a clear voice. Wilson let go of House's hips and fell back on his heels.
"This isn't as easy as it looks. Well, you know that. I know it's stupid, but I'm not sure what to do. It doesn't feel like I thought it would. Give me a chance and I'll get it right." House didn't mean to laugh, but Wilson sounded like he was trying to duplicate a magic trick or make it to the next level of a video game.
"It's ok, Wilson. I don't know why you started this in the first place." House started pushing himself away from the wall when Wilson responded by grabbing House's dick hard in an almost crushing grip. He fell back to his place against the wall.
"This is going to happen. We've already started. I need to finish this." Wilson sounded annoyed and frustrated, but determined. He loosened his grip a little and stroked House slowly. "What should I do? What did Trevor do that you liked? I can do whatever any other man can do for you." House moaned, but not from pleasure.
"Stop asking me about other men. And don't talk about Trevor. You don't know what you're talking about." House had enough of Wilson's jibes about his sexuality and his innuendos about Trevor. It mixed with his anger at Stacy for telling his secrets to anybody yet alone to Wilson. A voice in his head told him a lousy blow job was still better than no blow job and if Wilson wanted it then he could take it. "Do what you like women to do to you." Wilson looked away clearly embarrassed.
"I was going to, but," Wilson hesitated, "it's different. From down here it looks too big."
This, House thought, epitomized why he hated virgins.
"My ego isn't what you should be stroking." House felt Wilson grip tighten slightly. He reached down and placed his hand over Wilson's. He moved Wilson's hand up and down several times. It was easier than he thought to get back into a more receptive mood.
He pulled Wilson's hand off and gave himself a few hardening tugs. House was going to make this work if for no other reason than making Wilson regret getting what he asked for. He palmed the tip of his cock and lifted it exposing the underside. Wilson stared.
"Do I need to get out some instructional porn? Suck here," he indicated the flesh right above his scrotum. Wilson looked pleased to have House change his attitude. He bent his head and pressed his lips where House told him. After what felt like minutes, Wilson uncertainly parted his lips slightly and applied what House supposed counted as suction in the same way a burnt out match counted as a forest fire. Wilson going down on him? Hot. Wilson thinking this was a punishment? Hurtful, but doable. Wilson acting like it was disgusting, like he was disgusting? That was demeaning. House might have been shameless, but he did have his pride. He decided a pathetic blow job wasn't better than no blow job.
"Ok, well that was fun. Get out." House reached down to pull up his pants. Wilson put his arm between House's legs above his pants to keep him from getting very far. House's exasperation was evident.
"I'm sorry I'm not doing it right." Wilson appeared to be thinking. He seemed to come to a decision. He stood up and undid his khakis. House wondered absently if Wilson put soap on his zippers to make them unzip so quickly. It probably came in handy for quickies.
"I don't want to know why you're taking your pants off." House said it, but he didn't make any move to leave. He was curious to see what Wilson would do. And he never missed an opportunity to see Wilson, or to be honest anybody, naked.
Wilson pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid movement. House knew he must have practice that. He absent mindedly stroked himself. Maybe he'd been too dismissive of that hand job. Wilson kicked off his shoes and practically ripped off his pants. House tried to memorize every inch of flesh. No matter how enticing a naked Wilson was, he knew he had to put an end to this.
"Nice socks. I should buy some dress socks. Do those fall down? I hate it when they bunch up at the ankles." Wilson lifted each foot and took his socks off. He rolled them into a ball and threw it at House.
"Take them. Aren't you going to get undressed?" Wilson asked so matter-of-factly House had to smile. Had Wilson thought any of this out? House decided Wilson must have not planned beyond asking him to hit him. He probably thought House would jump at the chance exactly like he seemed to think House should jump at the chance of jumping him.
"Is there a reason why I should? What are you doing? If you want to watch tv nude that's ok with me. I think the Munsters are on in 5 minutes." Wilson pounced on him. He tore at House's t-shirt. House obstinately refused to raise his arms. Wilson was clearly getting frustrated.
"Why are you fighting me on this? I know you want it." Wilson ran his hands over House's chest behind the bunched up shirt. House couldn't remember when anything had felt that good. Too bad he wasn't a bigger bastard so he could take advantage of deranged Wilson.
"I'm tired. It's been a long day and you having a nervous breakdown wasn't on my to-do list. You're going to regret this when you start thinking clearly again." Wilson responded by grabbing House's dick and rubbing it against his own. House moaned more at the idea than the actual friction.
"You let me do my penance and then you can sleep. We need to finish this." There it was again, House thought. I'm a punishment and Wilson has OCD.
"I know you don't find me attractive, but you could at least stop making me sound like the living embodiment of an iron maiden. Just get dressed and get out." Wilson tightened his grip.
"You want me to tell you I want this, I want you? I'm here, naked, rubbing your cock. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want you." Wilson let go of House and returned to caressing his chest. He leaned in and kissed House's neck. He gently kissed his way up to House's cheek. He leaned back to look into House's eyes.
Wilson closed his eyes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. House thought it wasn't a kiss of passion or lust or even need. It was a benediction. House decided if Wilson wanted to start a religion he might as well be the first convert.
He lifted his arms up and Wilson's face lit up like he'd got a bike for Christmas or more aptly a Lego Castle for Hanukah. He didn't waste anytime pulling House's shirt off. Wilson kissed him again only this time it was passionate, lusty, and needy. He dropped to his knees intent on finishing pulling off House's jeans enthusiastically. In his rush Wilson jostled House's right leg and House winced in pain. Wilson pulled on the pant leg and the force made House place his weight on his right leg. He screamed silently.
"Oh god, House! I'm so sorry!" Wilson jumped up. "Are you ok?" When House didn't answer, but kept his eyes firmly shut, Wilson cradled his face in his hands. He delicately kissed House's quivering lips. House was only peripherally aware of it. After a minute of deep breathing, House opened his eyes. He wasn't so sure Wilson had done that accidentally.
"I need to lie down," House said. He looked down at his denim bonds. Wilson finished removing House's jeans, this time more carefully. He helped House to his bedroom. House flopped onto the bed.
"Are you ok," Wilson asked softly. House almost didn't hear him.
"I'm fine. I went from tired to wiped out." House closed his eyes again. He hoped when he opened them Wilson would be gone or at least dressed. He felt the bed rock as a weight suspiciously the same as Wilson climbed in next to him. His suspicion was confirmed with Wilson's hand floating across his stomach. It didn't only feel good, but it tickled. He couldn't let Wilson find out he was ticklish. He put his hand over Wilson's stilling it.
"Do you want me to try the oral thing again?" House chuckled shaking his head.
"No, I want you to go home. The sooner you leave the sooner we can start pretending this never happened." Wilson licked one of House's nipples. House moaned. He didn't want to, but his body had been on autopilot all evening so there wasn't much point in trying to stop it now. Wilson alternated flicking his tongue against the nipple and sucking it.
"That doesn't feel like you want me to go." House didn't like the almost sing song quality to Wilson's voice. The idea he was being played loomed large.
"I don't know what else to tell you to get through to you." House felt Wilson's tongue behind his ear. He groaned. He reached to push Wilson away.
"Don't make me beg," Wilson whispered. He licked the shell of House's ear. "Unless that's what you want me to do."
House turned on his side and looked at Wilson. For the first time House could see a trace of lust on Wilson's face. House slowly ran a hand up and down Wilson's arm. Wilson caressed House's hip. A sexually charged Wilson, House learned, was not a timid creature as he abandoned House's hip for his cock. Wilson stroked him in a much more self assured way than he had touched him before. House felt himself getting hard again. It wouldn't be an easy erection, but if Wilson kept stroking him like that at that speed with that pressure House was pretty sure Wilson could get him off. He rocked into Wilson's fist.
"That's it, House. It feels good doesn't it?" House grunted an affirmative. "I want to get you hard."
"This will be a very disappointed hand job if you stop at getting me stiff." Wilson kissed House's mouth. House would never tell Wilson, but he loved kissing. He kissed back enthusiastically.
I'm kissing Wilson, House thought. It was fairly obvious, but he had a hard time accepting it. In this moment, when only moments matter, I'm kissing Wilson.
"This is just the foreplay." Wilson merged their lips together again. A hungry and demanding tongue painted House's teeth. House slid his hand down to stroke Wilson. He was harder than House had expected. House matched the rhythm Wilson was using. It felt so good. If he could just get Wilson to add a little twist…
"What are you doing," Wilson yelled jumping off the bed. "I didn't say you can touch me."
"You're naked lying on my bed!" House gave himself a point for an excellent argument.
"I'm naked because I thought it would turn you on not so you could molest me." If House wasn't so mad he would find Wilson naked, his arms akimbo, with a big, stiff dick looking indignant, cute.
"This emotional and sexual roller coaster isn't my kind of ride. Get out of my carnival." House scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up faster than a non-angry House would have attempted. He grabbed Wilson's wrist and twisted it around behind his back. Wilson yelled. House twisted Wilson's arm a little more as he leveraged his weight on Wilson. He tried to push Wilson forward, but Wilson was planted firmly to the floor. House could feel Wilson's pulse racing. "I'll seriously hurt you if you don't get out now."
Wilson reached his free hand back and wildly searched for House. House laughed mirthlessly at what he thought was Wilson's pathetic attempt at escape. At least he laughed until Wilson's hand finally came in contact with his cock. After a few blind slaps made more difficult from House arching away, Wilson found his goal and wrapped his fingers around him as best he could at that angle. He rubbed House's dick. House tried to pull away more without letting go of Wilson, but it only increased the sensation.
"That's it, House. Show me what you want." House barely heard him over the noise in his head. House grabbed Wilson's rubbing hand with his free hand. He was fairly sure Wilson could have gotten his twisted arm free while his attention was split. Instead he leaned into House. House twisted the other arm behind Wilson's back.
"Oh God! Yes, House, yes!" House didn't think that sounded right at all. Wilson bent his knees, bouncing slowly up and down causing his arms to pull more on each downward bend. House thought he might have lost control of the situation. Again. Wilson jutted his butt back against House. He wriggled wantonly. Wilson made a guttural groan House couldn't mistake.
"Does that hurt," he asked. Wilson panted some kind of affirmative. House let go of his hands and pushed Wilson forward. "Fuck you," House yelled. Wilson wasn't as unbalanced as House had hoped. He caught himself on the bed.
"Oh yeah, House, fuck me," Wilson purred in the way House always imagined he'd sound in a moment of ecstasy. It incensed House no end.
"Is that why you wanted me to hurt you? To get you off?" Every cell in House's body vibrated with anger and arousal. "I'm going to teach you a lesson about pain. What do you think it's going to feel like with my dick up your ass?" House expected Wilson to look shocked or scared. Maybe he would jump up and run for his clothes. Always surprising him, Wilson smiled insanely. He did jump up, but only to bend himself over the bed.
House was at a loss for a moment, but then he thought about teaching that lesson, about how Wilson wanted to use him. He moved in closer to Wilson. He lightly scratched his fingernails down Wilson's lower back slowly increasing the pressure. He did it again with his left hand. Wilson moaned. House slapped Wilson's right buttock hard. Wilson jerked upwards then dropped his torso back onto the bed. He stretched his arms out as far as he could.
House catalogued the reaction and limped towards the nightstand. Wilson turned his head to the side to watch him. He wasn't sure how far this would go, but meticulous, immaculate Wilson would stop it once he realized the logistics. The messy details would snap him back to reality.
House opened an Altoid's tin he kept extra Vicodin in and popped one. He thought better as he put it back and took a second one. He took a condom out of the drawer and tossed in on the bed in front of Wilson. Wilson looked delighted. Delighted. House added that reaction to the growing list. Whatever this had started out to be, it had become a lusty game. House loved games almost as much as puzzles. He wanted to win.
He picked up a tube of hand lotion. He turned to face Wilson and held up the tube. Wilson's expression didn't change. House made a show of picking up his reading glasses. He turned the tube over in his hands as if he were reading the label of a can of ravioli. He tossed the tube back in the drawer.
"Petroleum based. That kinda negates the point of the condom." Wilson was barely containing his glee. House pulled out a bottle of aloe vera gel. He waved it at Wilson. "Water based, a little sticky though. You're lucky," House said turning the bottle over in his hands exaggeratedly reading the label. "I thought this was the one with added menthol for sun burn. Of course, the burning would keep you from feeling anything else." He tossed the bottle next to the condom. He slowly took his glasses off.
Wilson's expression only changed enough for him to drag his teeth over his lower lip. He rotated his pelvis against the bed. House knew he was moments from humping the comforter. House chastised himself for finding that amazingly hot. No matter when Wilson called it off, House was sure he'd be jerking off to that image for the rest of his life.
"Come on, House," Wilson said in the tone House was more accustomed to followed by a purred, seductive "please." House smirked smugly. He was so going to make Wilson regret starting this. He didn't move any closer to Wilson. He stroked his cock slowly. House hadn't felt this hard since he did that line of coke with some nameless pro in Atlantic City.
"Is this what you want?" Wilson gave an affirmative whimper. "Are you sure you can take it? If you thought it was too big to suck don't you think it's too big to fuck?" House wished he was as steady as his voice belied. Wilson answered by moving his hands to spread his cheeks apart. He rocked against the bed.
Oh god! He is humping the comforter! House used every ounce of self control he didn't normally possess to stop stroking himself. The functioning part of his brain still believed Wilson would call time out any moment. It was a bold move, but House thought a quick lick of Wilson asshole would bring that moment to fruition. He'd win this game. He moved behind Wilson. He dragged his finger tips roughly along Wilson's shoulder blades.
"Let's see how ready you really are." He placed his hands on top of Wilson's and pushed him forward and up giving him more access. House bent down, tongue involuntarily pocking out in anticipation. He stopped cold. This was not happening. He looked at Wilson's glistening opening with his analytic eye. He swiped a finger across it making Wilson twitch. He rubbed the substance between his thumb and forefinger. Slick, light, oddly wet without being wet…
"Astroglide?" House took several steps back. Wilson turned on his side and looked back at House's confused expression.
"Yes…" When House only gave him an accusatory look Wilson continued. "I wanted to be prepared. I want you to hurt me, not tear me apart." House covered his face with his hand until he felt the lubricated finger. Pulling his hand away in horror, House grew more annoyed.
"So you came here with the plan of having sex with me? You have been playing me this entire time?"
"Does it matter, House? You're hard. I'm willing. I tell you what. Next time I'll give you a real blow job." House shook his head.
"You were pretending to be clueless? I can't believe you. Did you wake up this morning and think 'hmmm, House would be an easy mark'?" Wilson sat up and held out his hands in the universal body language of "I don't want to argue, but I'm going to be condescending about it".
"Believe me, nothing about this was easy. Do you have any idea how hard it was to touch you, taste you, and having to restrain myself? And I woke up this morning thinking that tonight would finally be the night. After years, I'd finally get to be with you. All week I've been planning how I could make this work."
"It didn't occur to come in and say something like 'Hey House, instead of watching television why don't we have sex?'"
"Yeah and I've almost done that a thousand times." Wilson crawled off the bed. House eyed him warily. "If I'd come here tonight and said 'Hey House, why don't you slap me around, take me hard, and fuck me into your mattress?' would you have done any of that? Christ! I thought I'd never get you mad!"
"And you thought I wouldn't figure out you were messing with me?"
"I knew you'd know! I thought you had it figured out when you called me on not being drunk. I thought when you realized it you'd play along so you could have sex with me with plausible deniability of emotional attachment. I was drunk; you were angry. I imagined that some day you'd be used to the idea enough that I could come here and tell you I want you without any pretense." Wilson took a dangerous step towards House.
"You get turned on by confrontation. Sometimes I get turned on by watching you confront. My fantasy was to have our first time be confrontational, passionate, out of control!" House cocked his head and stared at Wilson.
"So you thought this would happen again? I'd think you were so good I'd overlook you manipulating me?" Wilson looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. House narrowed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. He took a step forward and Wilson moved several back. "You think you can do whatever you want and I'll just let it go?" House bared his teeth. "You think you can fuck with me playing your goddamn mind games and I won't mind?" He shoved Wilson so hard he almost toppled over onto the bed. Wilson held his hands up palms out again.
"House, I'm sorry. I should have known I'd screw this up. I thought we'd have fun. I didn't mean to upset you or hurt you…" House cut him off.
"Really? Bringing up my past failures at relationships? No, why would that be hurtful?" He grabbed Wilson's hands. "You know what really hurts?" He pushed Wilson down hard enough he bounced when he hit the bed. Wilson sat up on his elbows, eyes wide with fear. House pulled his hand back and slapped Wilson's face hard enough that his hand stung as much as Wilson's cheek. "That's what hurts."
Wilson looked truly scared for the first time all evening.
"Isn't that what you wanted – to be slapped around?" Wilson's lips trembled, but he didn't speak. House slapped the other side of Wilson's face and took his momentary shock to shove and manhandle Wilson into a similar position to how Wilson had placed himself before.
"What else did you say you wanted?" House pulled Wilson's hair and forced his head to the side. "Oh that's right! You wanted me to take you roughly and fuck you into the mattress. What kind of selfish jerk would I be not to give my bestest friend what he wants." House kept a firm grip on Wilson's hair and wriggled his other hand between Wilson's cheeks.
He let go of Wilson's hair. Wilson rubbed at his scalp. House thought Wilson was near tears. He smiled as he shoved two fingers into Wilson's ass. In spite of how easily they slid in, Wilson bucked up and let go of his head to grip the comforter.
"Is that considered taking you roughly?" He twisted then scissored his fingers when he didn't get enough of a reaction. Wilson cried out. That was what House was looking for. He pulled his fingers out. He almost laughed at the amount of lubricant on his fingers. Waste not, want not, House thought rubbing the lubricant on his dick.
"You really did a lot of prep, didn't you? Do you buy it in bulk? And you're so loose and stretched. Did you do that with your fingers or did you use something else?" When Wilson didn't answer House pinched the skin in the crease between Wilson's buttock and his leg. Wilson cried out again. "When somebody asks you a question you should answer it. Tell me what you did to yourself." Wilson gasped for breath and stammered almost soundlessly. House pinched him on the other side.
"I put the stuff on my fingers." House massaged Wilson's back alternating between what he considered relaxing and deep tissue. I put my index finger in and it wasn't much so I added my middle finger." House reached his hand between Wilson's cheeks again.
"So you started with one," House's voice low and seductive. House shoved a finger in and out almost gently. "Then you added a second finger." He added a second. Then what did you do?"
"I needed more so I poured more of that stuff on this thing…" Wilson moaned.
"That's pretty vague. Was 'that stuff' put on a sex toy 'thing'?" Wilson closed his eyes tighter and nodded. "Was it a vibrator or a butt plug or maybe just some anal beads…" He trailed off pleased at how the color of red Wilson's face turned contrasted with the red from being slapped.
"A plug. It's purple." House had to suck and bite on his upper lip to keep from laughing. Of all the details to voluntarily offer only Wilson would think the color was important. House added a third finger.
"Is it a purple butt plug or a purple, vibrating butt plug?" House tried to keep any affection out of his voice. Wilson mumbled something into the mattress that House took as 'vibrating'.
"That's pretty hot. You home alone, getting yourself ready. Did you make yourself come?" Wilson nodded. "Did you call my name?" Wilson nodded and buried his forehead into the comforter. It sounded to House like he was sobbing. "Did you think about how you were going to humiliate me?" House slammed his fingers in the slowly pulled them out taking an extra moment to delicately swab his fingers along the prostate. "Hurt me?" He shoved in again making sure he hit Wilson's prostate hard. House was smugly pleased at Wilson's reaction. The man was falling apart. House repeated his soft/hard technique trying to perfect the move.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Wilson huffed. "Uuuaaawww! I got carried awaaaayy, oh god!" House decided he had perfected it. Wilson started babbling. House only made out a few words. "Won't…need…god…House (which House thought might have been "how" followed by a slur)…fuck…love…please…" House decided that translated to "I'm ready to move on to the next phase." He pulled his fingers out with a final come hither tease. He counted to five for Wilson to catch his breath. He slapped the side of Wilson's right thigh.
"Roll over," he barked. Wilson was slow to obey. House backhanded the same spot on Wilson's thigh. Wilson rolled onto his back. House smiled predatorily. He'd been told by more than one person it was a sexy, but dangerous look. Wilson was shivering so House decided he still had it. House stroked his own cock covering it in the lube he'd transferred from Wilson's ass. Wilson reached to touch himself and House rapped his knuckles.
"Do you think this is about you getting off? Oh no, Wilson. This is me taking what I want. You might have been lying about wanting to make amends, but that's what you'll be doing. You're going to make up for lying to me."
"Ok," Wilson rasped. He swallowed and licked his lips. If House hadn't already been desperately hard that would have gotten him there.
"Open that condom," House said nodding his head to where it laid above Wilson's head. Wilson turned and grabbed it too eagerly for House's taste. He pinched one of Wilson's nipples. Wilson collapsed onto his back again. House let go. Wilson tried to open the condom wrapper. House noticed Wilson's hands were shaking. House showed his approval by bending done and nipping at the skin around Wilson's waist. He sat up and massaged the wound.
"Did you like that? Maybe that's why they're called love handles." Wilson concentrated on the condom wrapper. He was taking heaving breaths. Under different circumstances House would get him a nasal cannula and dial up some hi-test O2.
"It's open." In those few words Wilson had managed to sound concerned, needy, and proud. House wasn't sure either of them could take this much longer. He awkwardly moved around on the bed to get his cock within easy reach.
"Put it on me." Wilson's hands were still shaking so House helped guide him. The condom glided on smoothly and House held back from making an ASStroglide joke. This wasn't the time to joke. Wilson lifted his legs and bent them towards his chest. House slapped at them. "Do you think I'm going to look at you while I violate you? Get up!" Wilson did as he was told. "Put your hands on the dresser and bend over. Spread your legs apart more." Wilson obeyed. He looked back at House. "Don't look at me! Look at the floor." Wilson looked down, but turned his head again to see if House approved. He didn't.
House stood up and limped heavily to Wilson. He exaggerated his movement making the sound of his steps loud and uneven.
"I'm going to hurt so bad tomorrow. I suppose you didn't think about my comfort, did you?" Wilson looked down at the floor. House reached his hand around grabbing Wilson's face, forcing his mouth into a pained pout. "I guess your plan for evening things out means I'm gonna hafta make sure you hurt tomorrow, too." Wilson squirmed, but didn't try to move away from the dresser.
"When you were fucking Stacy on my furniture did you try this dresser? It's at the perfect height. It's almost like it was designed to brace someone while they are being pounded into." Wilson groaned. "Is that a yes? House dropped Wilson's face. House kneaded Wilson's ass. "I'm still waiting."
"Yes," Wilson whispered.
"Was that yes," House asked punctuating his question with a slap at the bottom of Wilson's bottom.
"Yes," Wilson cried. House snorted. He gave him another swat.
"I know why you two really betrayed me." He bent down to Wilson's ear. He nuzzled his ear then licked at his ear lobe. House sucked his earlobe into his mouth and grabbed his dick at the same time. Wilson gasped. "You're both sluts," House whispered in Wilson's ear with as much venom as he could.
Wilson sobbed and tried to catch his breath. House didn't give him much of an opportunity. He moved behind Wilson and rubbed his cock along Wilson's crack. He manhandled Wilson to get him precisely where he wanted him. Satisfied, House unceremoniously stabbed his penis into Wilson balls deep. He enjoyed the feeling for a long moment. Once Wilson began to squirm again, House pulled out. He immediately pushed in deeply. Wilson's knuckles were white from gripping the dresser.
"You like that? I can tell you do." House speeded up his thrusts. "Do all tramps like to be bent over and fucked?" House slammed in harder. Wilson's arms buckled, but he regained his purchase quickly. House bent down and kissed Wilson back. He used Wilson to hold him up with one hand and snaked the other to Wilson's leaking cock. House sped back up making shorter thrusts in time with stroking Wilson's shaft.
"Hoooouse!" Wilson cried out a stream of expletives and animalistic sounds.
"You know…ahhhhh…why…fuck!...why you sluts like it like this?" House worked at getting his breathing under control. "Because it's like you - fast and shallow." House worked the head of Wilson's dick in a hard twisting motion. If House could see Wilson's face, he would have seen his eyes roll up into his head.
Wilson screamed what House decided was his name (although it sounded more like "howzzzzzz"). He sounded like he was choking. House gave him three more deep slams and Wilson came in House's hand. Wilson shook as his bones turned to gelatin.
"Don't…move…" House grabbed Wilson's hips. He pounded into him at a punishing pace. Wilson's choking turned into a hiccupping sound. He was struggling to keep a hold on the dresser. House closed his eyes and reveled in the beautiful blankness of his mind. He counted out five final deep thrusts and came hard inside Wilson.
House was dizzy and saw stars. He pulled out of Wilson and dropped to the floor to keep from passing out and falling to the floor. Wilson followed his lead. He leaned back against the dresser letting his head fall against it.
After what felt like an eternity to House, he opened his eyes. Wilson's eyes moved, but he didn't open them. House crawled over to him.
"You were right. That wasn't bad." House wrapped an arm weakly around his neck and kissed his shoulder. "I was tired, but now I'm spent." Wilson opened his eyes. "Next time let's not do all the set up and foreplay. I was so hard I bet I have stretch marks." House smiled in the way he only could when he was able to stop thinking.
"Next time?" Wilson sounded confused. That confused House.
"Were you playing me when you admitted to playing me and promised me a blow job next time?" House remembered the phrase soul sick as that feeling from earlier began to bubble to the surface or, more accurately, seep into his pores and pool inside his body.
"Uh…no, I was serious, but aren't you mad at me?" House closed his eyes and silently cursed both of them. It never ceased to amaze him how they could know each other so well for so long and still have no idea how to communicate or understand.
"Of course I'm not mad at you! I thought you wanted your 'fantasy'. I thought you understood that from the moment I slapped you."
Wilson looked like he didn't understand. Wilson stood up gracelessly.
"Now you decide to leave? God! Are you an idiot? Do you really think I'd give you a hickey on your side, spank your bottom, and call you a slut if I didn't think that's what you wanted?" Wilson quickly headed off what sounded like the beginning of yet another misunderstanding.
"No! No, I know you wouldn't do that!" Wilson reached down for House's hand. He hesitantly took it and let Wilson help him painfully to his feet.
"Damn right! You're definitely more of a whore than a slut." He hoped Wilson knew he was joking. Mostly.
