karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,

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"Crime of Passion" House/Wilson Non-con. NC17

Title: Crime of Passion
Author: Karaokegal
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Up to and including “Son Of Coma Guy”
Warnings: Non-consensual! Really. I mean it.
Summary: Wilson has had enough.
Author’s Notes: Big bad bunny attack right after “Son Of Coma Guy” and most of the mental work done while riding down Mt. Haleakela on a bicycle.Thanks to Beta Goddess Carol for super-quick turnaround and sheer brilliance.
Dedicated to daasgrrl for helping me with the welcome music at my Halloween party. She wanted H/W hate!sex, but things got a little out of control.
Word Count: 2212

Crime of Passion

The front desk called to say a Dr. Cameron was there to see him, and Wilson considered having them say he wasn’t in and then using his sheets to escape out the window. The entire day had been an emotional ordeal. First the insane road trip with the former vegetative-state guy and its gut-wrenching denouement, followed by a frustrating few hours on the phone with his lawyer, trying to keep desperation out of his voice as he looked for a way to get access to his money.

“Send her up.”

He looked around the room. Hopefully, whatever was bringing her out this close to midnight was important enough to keep her from asking why he was still living in a junior suite at the Park Hyatt. However, personal boundaries had never been one of Cameron’s strong points. She proved it the minute he opened the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, shutting the door behind her.

House’s lack of social skills must be contagious. It was a wonder Wilson still had please and thank you in his vocabulary. He didn’t bother playing games along the lines of “Tell you what?” because it was obvious from the grim set of her mouth and the reddened eyes. Looking down, he considered the simple and obvious answer Because it was none of your business, as well as I thought I had. I can’t help it if you’re slow on the uptake.

“You weren’t afraid I would hurt him. You were afraid I might take him away from you.”

Cameron’s tone of self-loathing told him she knew better. Wilson still wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking when he handed House the condoms and gave him dating advice.

“That cop told me what House did. He forged your signature on prescription pads and you lied to protect him. The only other person who would do that for him is me, but he would never give me the chance.”

You’re lucky and you don’t even know it.

“That person who made you feel good and you didn’t want to let it go and that’s why you cheated on your wife. You never said it was a woman. You just let me assume.”

Wilson still needed to protect House, not to mention himself. He could live with a reputation as a womanizer.

“Tritter talked to Chase and Foreman, too. Do they…?”

“Don’t worry. Chase still buys the whole hooker thing and Foreman honestly doesn’t care. Did the two of you laugh at me while I was making a fool out of myself?”

Wilson felt guilty about it but his conscience hadn’t kept him from smiling at House’s nastier japes about his love-struck fellow with the figure like a stick insect. In fact it had become a running gag. “Be a good boy, or I’ll start giving this to Cameron,” House would say when Wilson wasn’t properly responsive to his sexual whims. Even though he knew it was a joke, Wilson would suck harder, spread his legs wider, let House do whatever he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Wilson said, because that’s what he always said.

He heard a sniffle and prayed she was getting a cold. A few blinks and a quivering lip later, there were tears streaking her face. Wilson had never been able to resist a crying woman.


“I’m sick of this shit.” Wilson was speaking to no one in particular and no one could hear him because his face was pressed firmly into a pillow on House’s bed. House was preparing to do what he always did when Wilson screwed up.

When did I become the bad guy?


He’d dutifully gone to House’s apartment to let him know exactly what kind of shit-storm he’d unloosed when he put that thermometer up Tritter’s butt. House had shrugged off his own arrest and pending charges as well as the havoc he’d wreaked in Wilson’s life. Maybe the possibility of having their affair exposed would make more of an impression on him than a night in jail listening to the world’s worst song.

“Cool.” House hadn’t bothered to look up. He was fiddling with his Season Passes on TiVo. "Weeds" was in. “Big Love” was out.

“Did you hear me? Cameron knows about us.”

“Right. Ally’s all broken up because she’s finally figured out that Greg doesn’t let girls in his clubhouse.“ There was a pause followed by the emphatic, ominous click of the set going off. “But Jimmy still does, doesn’t he?” House’s voice had been speculative and accusing at the same time.

He turned around and Wilson almost wished he hadn’t. House’s eyes had that particularly knowing gleam to them.

Here we go again.
It was always like this.

Wilson practically lived at House’s place after Stacy left. House was impossible to be around, but Wilson refused to leave.

“If you really wanted to help me, you’d get on your knees.”

“You want me to pray for you?”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Wilson blinked. “I know you miss Stacy. I…could get you a phone number…”

“Are you really that naïve?”

Wilson felt his leg shaking nervously. He didn’t want this. He had never considered thinking of another man like that, and had no idea that House had either. He just wanted to help House and try to overcome his own guilt. He’d heard the screaming and hadn’t diagnosed muscle death either. So why was his heart beating harder and his skin tingling? House had never been much for personal grooming, but he’d truly let himself go since the surgery. In spite of the scruff and semi-stupor, Wilson was still acutely aware of his personal magnetism.

“You want it, don’t you?”

“No. No, House. It’s not…”

“You knew she was going to have the surgery done.”

Wilson felt a pain in his own gut, as if he’d just ruptured something. He watched House take two pills and grimace as he swallowed them.

“I’m not asking to fuck you. Yet. Just a nice sloppy blowjob to take the edge off. You owe me that much.”

He’d licked his lips and dropped to the floor while he was still shaking his head no and his brain was screaming, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Six years of earning a masters’s degree at cock-sucking, in return for their twisted version of friendship, including the privilege of getting fucked every time House had a grievance. Wilson loved House for his captivating, cranky self, but House couldn’t accept that Wilson still considered himself straight.

“Can your wife give you that?” House sometimes demanded, when Wilson let out a particularly gratifying expression of pleasure. “I love fucking straight guys,” he’d grunt after leaving Wilson physically satisfied, but emotionally wanting.

How can I be gay? I’ve never fucked a man, Wilson occasionally asked himself, even when he was sore enough to contemplate stealing one of House’s pills. He still gravitated toward women -- the needier the better if he was being honest with himself or letting House do it for him. Julie, Debbie, Grace, too many others to count, each of them a reason for House to be that much rougher with him.

He’d hoped for something different after the shooting. That was why he’d browbeaten Cuddy into lying. It wasn’t professional humility he wanted House to acquire.

“Cameron shows up to tell you she realizes she’s really the world’s biggest fag hag and you figure you’ve got her in a hotel room anyway so…”

“I hugged her.”

“No, you kissed her.”

“She was crying.”

“Is that all it takes? Boo hoo hoo. Now, get in the bedroom.”

He was here. Again. Naked and hard, because he hadn’t made love to Cameron, or perhaps because House was on top of him, breathing cruel words in his ear.

“I’m sick of this shit.” Wilson braced his hands against the bed and raised himself up to his knees fast. House tried to hang on, possibly thinking that Wilson was trying to speed up the process. With a deliberate burst of motion he pushed House off him and onto the bed on his back, twisting and holding him down with his own body. House was taller, but Wilson had some weight on him and the element of surprise.

“What the fuck?”

Wilson shut him up by forcing his tongue into House’s mouth and reaching his hands up to hold House’s wrists in place. If House didn’t cede control gracefully, Wilson would have to risk hurting him.

House let their tongues slide against each other, a real kiss, not the perfunctory attacks he sometimes launched prior to pushing Wilson down between his legs. He felt House’s body squirm upward against him. Belly to belly, cocks rubbing together, House’s chest rough against his smooth one. He felt, more than heard, the groans against his mouth. Wilson thought he might come from just the physical contact, but he needed to know what House experienced when he fucked him. Maybe then he could be what House wanted him to be.

“Turn over,” he whispered hoarsely.


“I want to fuck you.”

“I figured. Ain’t gonna happen. This has been fun, so why don’t you be a good boy and suck me off while you’re there.”

Wilson’s mind filled with rage and lust. The adrenaline gave him enough energy to grab House by the shoulders and roll him over while House was still sneering, expecting him to back off.

The yelp of pain as House’s right leg hit the bed went into Wilson’s body like a poisoned arrow, but didn’t stop him. He felt House’s body trembling with the exertion of not screaming harder and louder and knew that House couldn’t fight him with that much agony coursing through his leg. The lube was in sight, but not within reach while he was holding House’s body down and straddling him. He used his own saliva and didn’t bother with preliminaries. It didn’t have to be like this, but like so many things, House had brought it on himself.

He didn’t know if the loud, long “No” that came out of House’s mouth when he pushed inside was a continuation of the original “No” or a reaction to pain or even pleasure.

Wilson moved slowly until he felt his cock surrounded by walls of hot flesh. He went further, ignoring any protests coming from the body underneath him, completely lost in the sensation, knowing he was hooked for life and he hadn’t even come yet.

House was hissing curses and threats. Wilson couldn’t stop and didn’t want to. He started pulling out and then went back in. It was nothing like making love to a woman. Things were moving faster as he became slick and House flattened himself against the bed, giving up any pretense at resistance, although the cursing continued. In and out, faster and harder and he must have hit House’s prostate at some point because he heard a groan instead of protests. It didn’t change anything; he was raping his best friend. Saying the word to himself pushed him over the edge as he moved in one more time and dug his fingers into House’s shoulders.

His feet jerked spasmodically as tremors of release shot through him. A shudder went through his whole body, beginning and ending in his cock, exploding into House’s ass. The only sound he could make a was a long drawn-out sigh against House’s back where he licked gently and found the tang of salt.

He wanted to stay there forever, licking sweat off House’s back, telling him he loved him, a sentiment belied by the red tinge noticeable when he pulled out.

He went to House’s bathroom for washcloths and Vicodin. By the time he returned House had pulled himself into the familiar position on his left side, that was safest for his right leg. He accepted the pill bottle without meeting Wilson’s eyes.

“Can I…”

House shrugged.

Wilson gently cleaned him off, discovering in the process that House was still erect. He reached out experimentally, gentling the smooth flesh with his fingers. Whatever House was about to accuse him of, the rest of his body was still interested.

“You heard the part where I said ‘No’, not ’Kabuki’, right?”

“I needed to know.”

“That’s a hell of a defense.”

Wilson wasn’t sure if he should listen to House’s words or the hard-on straining against his hand. He took a deep breath and a leap of faith.

“Maybe you could call your friend Tritter. He can add sexual assault to whatever else they’re investigating me for.”

He waited. House’s cock was responding to his caresses, but he still had no indication whether he could be forgiven for what had just happened.

“Yeah. I’m really…I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry too,” he replied, because that was what Wilson always said.

House let his legs extend and spread them slightly. “Are you going to be a good boy and give me that blow job now?”

There’d be a conversation at some point. Or knowing House, maybe not. At least now he knew. If not House, maybe someone else. Would House be more or less pissed if he fucked other men instead of women?

Wilson smiled and licked his lips.

Tags: house/wilson, housefic, nc17, noncon

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