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The drive home from Princeton-Plainsboro on this particular day was tense, to say the least. House’s headache throbbed in his ears as he tried to ignore Wilson’s incessant babbling about his day. His attention waxed and waned throughout their trip, and he grew more and more annoyed with every word Wilson spoke.
“Did you hear what Foreman was saying about the new student annex? Really cool stuff, he asked me if I wanted to lecture next month—“
“Cool stuff,” House repeated dryly, hoping Wilson would take the hint and stop talking.
Instead, Wilson reached for the radio and turned the volume up. Madonna’s whiny voice grew louder as it keened through the speakers. House finally reached his limit as he aggressively pushed the mute button, an irritable silence filling the air around them.
Wilson’s smile died on his face as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked softly.
House placed a threatening hand on Wilson’s thigh and squeezed. “A better question would be, ‘did I do anything right?’”
Wilson froze under House’s touch, all his words sucked dry from his throat. He knew he’d have to pay for this when they got home. His cheeks were hot with shame, and the fact that his cock was growing harder by the second in his slacks wasn’t helping. When they made it home, House took his hand and practically dragged Wilson inside, Wilson trying desperately to cover himself with the hem of his button-down with his free hand.
As soon as Wilson had pulled the door shut behind them, House wheeled around and took Wilson’s hips in his hands, pushing him up against the door. “You think you can just do whatever you want, don’t you?” He snarled in his ear.
Wilson shivered under him, every coherent thought in his brain flying out the window after feeling House’s hot breath down his neck. He stayed silent.
“Oh, so now you finally decide to be quiet?” House dug his fingers deeper into Wilson’s hips until he got a gasp out of him. “Acting all entitled to whatever you have a taste for. You love my attention. Talking my head off at work, sauntering around my office in these tight pants,” House spun him around so his chest was pressed to the door, palming his ass. “Only you could look like a whore in khakis.”
Wilson stifled a moan as House touched him, trying to inconspicuously get some friction on his cock as he pressed himself harder to the door.
“What’s this?” House said in a low voice, snaking a hand around to Wilson’s stomach and sliding it down to his crotch. He rubbed Wilson lightly over his pants. “You’re already hard? God, aren’t you pitiful.” House planted rough kisses along Wilson’s neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth.
Wilson pushed his hips forward into House’s hand, whining to be properly touched. House’s fingers dipped past the waistband of his slacks and under his boxers, fingertips grazing his lower belly and going no lower. Wilson was on fire, panting from the anticipation. He knew better, but before he could stop himself he choked out a “Please,”
House wrapped a hand around his cock, but didn’t move it any more. “You want me to touch you?” He crooned. He took Wilson’s moan as a reply, then pulled his hand away. “Then earn it. On your knees,” He said, his tone turning cold as he undid his belt.
Like his body was on autopilot, Wilson found himself turning around and dropping to his knees in an instant. House let his trousers drop to his knees and let Wilson do the honors of peeling back his boxers and stroking his half-hard cock until it was ready for his mouth. He pressed wet kisses to the tip before gracing it with a dollop of spit and going to work. He swirled his tongue around the tip slowly and stroked the base, working his way down with his tongue as House tangled a tuft of Wilson’s hair in his fist. Then, without warning, he took House’s entire cock in his mouth, resulting in a groan producing itself from deep in House’s belly.
“It’s almost like– fuck –like this is what you wanted all along. You– ah –you wanted me to drag you home and shove my cock down your throat. Always so greedy,” House said, trying and failing to keep up his stone-faced demeanor as Wilson took him even deeper. Wilson was a man on a mission. He knew House’s weakness by heart: sloppy blowjobs. This was the one time Wilson had the upper hand, gagging on House as he held his hair so tight, Wilson swore he might pull a chunk out any minute now. “Don’t you dare make me come, James.” He said sternly, tugging one final time on Wilson’s hair. “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
Wilson stood up, wiping his mouth as he waited for further instructions.
“Bedroom.”
Next thing Wilson knew, he and House were standing in front of the bed, House impatiently undressing him until stray shirt buttons as well as the rest of Wilson’s clothes lay forgotten on the floor.
“You’re gonna learn how to keep your mouth shut. The more you talk, the longer it takes for you to get off. You hear me?” House said, his forehead pressed to Wilson’s.
“Yes,” Wilson breathed.
“Yes…what?”
Wilson shuddered. “Yes sir.”
“Good boy.” House kissed him roughly. “Lay down for me.” He moved to the dresser, producing a small bullet from the top drawer. He twisted the bottom, and just hearing the vibrating as it turned on made Wilson’s cock twitch. House straddled Wilson’s thigh and traced the vibrator along the tip of Wilson’s cock, making his whole body jerk. Wilson winced, doing everything in his power to keep quiet as he bit down on his lip. House worked his way down with the bullet, holding Wilson’s hips down every time he tried to buck them towards the sensation. Somehow it was murder , the pleasure that pulsed through him with no end in sight. House had a way of making the seconds in his bed feel like hours. Wilson’s balls ached for a change in pace, a release, something. House started to make slow, circling motions around his cock when Wilson couldn’t take it anymore, stifling a needy whine with his hand as he bit into the flesh.
House immediately seized the offending hand in Wilson’s mouth. “You seem to be insistent on defying my rules,” House growled. “You want to get off? Fine, I’ll get you off. Until you can’t fucking walk.” He twisted the bottom of the bullet until it was at its highest setting, applying direct pressure to the underside of the head. Wilson cried out, fingernails digging into the sheets below him as his head grew fuzzy from the stimulation. He didn’t even realize how close he’d been this whole time until the moment of truth was upon him. The climax hit him like a train and he was coming, legs trembling and eyes watering. He felt a hand stroking his hair.
“You still with me?” House’s softened voice was music to his ears.
“Yeah,” Wilson’s breathing was just starting to even out when he felt nimble fingers making their way up his inner thighs. He still felt so weak from the first orgasm, yet he couldn’t stop himself from spreading his legs wider for House. He took a sharp inhale as House’s finger traced down his perineum and then pushed inside him. There was something nauseatingly beautiful about the way it stung as House’s dry finger pushed into him, making slow circles inside as he stretched Wilson out. Wilson gasped for air as House reached his prostate, but he didn’t dare move to get more of his finger inside him. House added a second finger, scissoring the digits as sweat began to bead on Wilson’s chest.
“You can add another,” Wilson said softly, growing more and more desperate to feel full as his cock was fully hardened once more.
“I know I can,” House said as he lined Wilson’s hips up with his. “But I’m not going to.” He pressed his cock against Wilson’s hole and it seemed like an impossible fit. “No talking, James. You’re going to lay here like a good boy until I’m through with you. Understand?”
Wilson nodded fervently.
House stayed perfectly still, teasing Wilson’s hole until he pushed in without warning, almost coming right then and there from the sheer tightness. Wilson couldn’t help but cry out, a few tears sliding down his face. God, it burned, and he couldn’t get enough. House slowly found his rhythm, grinding at Wilson with urgency after spending all this time rock hard with no payoff. Wilson still hadn’t had time to recover mentally after coming the first time, completely dazed by the feeling of House ramming into his prostate over and over again. And yet, no matter how good he already felt, he couldn’t help but want more. He reached up to hold onto House’s hips, letting his fingernails sink in as he pulled him even closer, House let out a delicious, guttural groan before snapping out of it.
“Arms,” He said.
Wilson wordlessly raised his arms above his head. House took both his wrists in his hand as he pinned them against the bed, speeding up his strokes now. There was nothing House loved more than seeing Wilson come undone like this, eyelids heavy and vision unfocused as he fucked him senseless.
“Is this what you wanted? You feeling– ah– good? Look at you, such a mess under me.” House said, struggling to talk as he bottomed out in the other man.
Wilson simply moaned in reply when it all came crashing down again; white hot cum shot out onto his stomach, chest heaving as he twitched all over. House fucked him through it and released his arms from his hold, letting them fall limp at Wilson’s sides. He stayed buried inside Wilson, leaning down to kiss him slowly. Wilson’s reply was sloppy and open-mouthed as his eyes fluttered shut and he hummed into House’s lips. It felt like they were the only two people in the whole world at this moment, like this was all there would ever be. Wilson was perfectly content with the idea of them staying like this forever.
House pulled away slowly, waiting until Wilson was looking up at him to speak. He stroked his cheek. “Don’t think we’re done yet, beautiful. I don’t think you’ve quite earned your redemption.” And that was all the warning Wilson received before House started moving again, his slow thrusts filled with so much red hot want. Wilson’s cock was threatening to get hard again already, and if he had any semblance of a coherent train of thought right now, he might have taken a moment to marvel at the effects House had on his body. He knew he’d be absolutely ruined after this night with House, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Sometimes he liked to piss House off on purpose at times like these, which was exactly his plan as he trailed a hand down to his half-hard cock and began to stroke himself as House fucked him.
House immediately swatted the hand away. “No touching.” He wrapped his own hand around Wilson’s cock instead. “That’s my job.” He synced the motions of his hand with his thrusts, and the noises that came out of Wilson in that moment were nothing less than sinful. He’d entered a new realm of pleasure, his thoughts transcending words as he felt everything in terms of colors now. And never were things redder than when he was under House in his bed. He fought to keep his eyes open despite the earth-shattering sensations erupting throughout his body because there was no way he was going to miss this view of Gregory House, sweating as his mouth hung agape. It was a sight worthy of the Sistine Chapel.
House’s hand suddenly moved from Wilson’s cock to his neck, squeezing lightly at the sides. Wilson’s moan died in his throat and he let his eyes roll back as he focused on his one purpose at the moment: getting truly and utterly fucked .
“You’re so pretty when you’ve got your mouth shut,” House said, so close to losing control.
Wilson panted heavily, too far gone for much else at this point. He could feel himself leaking onto his stomach as his cock wept for a third release. The low hum of House’s voice only added to the haze. He was sure his neck and his hips would have some wicked bruising in the morning as things heated up even more. Wilson’s hand weakly grasped at House’s, dizzy from the overwhelming stimulation. He didn’t know it was even possible to experience this much intensity, but had clearly been proven wrong as hot, liquid passion filled his brain and he truly thought he might die like this. And finally, House’s thrusts grew erratic and sloppy as he came, emptying himself out into Wilson with a rich moan. Wilson followed soon after, convulsing at the sheer force of the orgasm as his stomach tightened and his peripheral vision grew dark and blurred. He closed his eyes and felt his body go completely limp as everything around and inside him faded. He opened his eyes to the feeling of a new warmth pulling against his stomach and saw House wiping him clean with a wet rag, new boxers pulled carefully over his hips.
“Did I pass out?”
“Only for a minute,” House said softly. “Surprised you didn’t tap out sooner.” Wilson couldn’t help but smile at the sight, still feeling floaty. He lived for these moments after sex– like seeing the destruction a hurricane leaves behind. Light purple marks already dotted his skin, his lip throbbed from biting on it and he was sure he looked like a strangulation victim by now, too. House tossed the rag aside and joined him on the bed, turning him on his side and wrapping a loving arm around his waist as he pulled him in close.
“Am I forgiven now?” Wilson said, the smile on his face obvious in his tone.
“Don’t push it,” House laughed against Wilson’s neck and littered it with gentle kisses. “You could always screw up tomorrow.”
Wilson fell in love with the absent twitching in his thighs, the warm, claimed feeling nestled deep in his gut. “I just might.”