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Living together meant they ended up sharing most things.
The same dumb cheerios cereal. 90s vinyl records no one except them listened to anymore. Clothes when House couldn't be bothered to wash his own or Wilson was looking for something a little more casual.
One thing House did not expect to share was his adult DVDs. Not that he thought Wilson lacked sexual experience - accounts from his ex-wives were more than insightful in disproving that - but Wilson was far too much of a composed, put-together gentleman to transgress to this level to get off. It really had been a while since he last got laid, huh?
House came home from work to find Wilson rifling through his rented pornos, reading the blurbs on the back with scepticism.
"You find out a lot more if you just watch them," House commented helpfully, setting his bag down on the counter.
Wilson jumped up like he'd been electrically shocked. His cheeks reddened instantly as he spluttered some excuse, eyes comically wide.
"I'm not- I wasn't-"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," House waved a hand, deciding to save this delicious information until later to make fun of Wilson for. "Borrow them, I don't care. Just make sure to put the discs back in the right cases."
He heard Wilson hurriedly shoved them all back on the shelf as he walked to his room. That was fine. He knew Wilson would no doubt return as soon as the apartment was empty again.
No more was spoken of the matter for the next few weeks. House was plotting some strategic way to weaponise it, tease Wilson - maybe even make a display of it in front of his team. In the meantime, Wilson acted completely normal. Besides the first few days afterwards, when he blushed every time House was in the room and nervously avoided eye contact, it was business as usual. They bickered, they watched monster trucks together, they gossiped about their colleagues.
That was, until one day House came home early one day. Initially, House had called ahead to say he was going to be home late - his current case was particularly gruelling - so not to bother making dinner for him that night. But then he had a genius epiphany and solved the case, allowing him to leave much earlier than scheduled. It was Wilson's day off, he remembered, so he half expected Wilson to not be there when he got home, seeing as his evening would be free of both work and House.
As House opened the door to their apartment, however, he was met with the unmistakable sound of artificial male moans coming through the TV's sound system. So Wilson really had taken his advice. Good on him. House was oddly proud, even as he picked up on the sounds of two different men and, perhaps even more conspicuously, the absence of any female moans.
House slowly padded into the living room, curious. Playing on the screen was a video of two men making out and feeling each other, shamelessly grinding their erections together. His eyes slid over to Wilson, who could not have looked more uninterested if he tried. He was relaxed a little, a glass of whiskey by his side and his jeans unzipped, but otherwise had no obvious reaction to the images flashing across the screen and obscene noises filling his ears.
"I've never seen someone look so depressed watching porn," House just had to declare, stalking around the couch to enter Wilson's field of vision.
Wilson apathetically glanced up at him. "I think I like men."
His words were laced with no sarcasm, not even dry humour, but they didn't correspond with his lack of enthusiasm at the hot men getting off in front of him.
House stared.
"I thought it would turn me on," Wilson finally explained, with a sigh. He gestured towards himself, a little deflated. "Obviously, it didn't."
"Well, does straight porn always turn you on?" House questioned, taking a seat on the couch besides Wilson. It was a little early to get his hopes up yet, but it was also a little early for Wilson to give up.
"No."
"There you go, then." House sat back, satisfied. Case solved.
"Yeah, but this isn't the first I've watched," Wilson protested dejectedly. "It's never..."
House scoffed. "Wilson, porn doesn't define whether you're gay or not." He watched him for a moment. "Come on, you're probably still figuring out what you do and don't like. How is raw sex gonna tell you that? You're a man of emotion. Something big like this, you want feelings involved."
To his surprise, Wilson nodded in agreement. "The only time I've ever been turned on by a guy is one in real life," he admitted, too caught up in contemplation to realise the ammo he'd just voluntarily handed House.
"Who?" House asked, grinning deviously.
"I'm not gonna tell you that," Wilson defended easily, still mostly functioning on autopilot as he mulled over this new perspective.
"Fine."
Wilson blinked. He was usually too smart to be this hopeful. "Really? You're actually gonna drop it?"
"For now. I'll figure it out sooner or later."
True to his word, House dropped it for a while. They switched the channel and watched TV in amicable silence, occasionally filled by House describing that day's case or Wilson debating whether they should order takeout. Wilson should have known better than to hope House could keep his mouth shut.
As they were flicking through the menu of a new Chinese restaurant that had opened around the corner from them, House conversationally piped up, "Is it that cute new male nurse in paeds?"
Wilson gave him a long-suffering glare. "No."
"It must be someone you're at least friendly with," House pushed on, deliberately oblivious. "There has to be the emotional aspect for it to have appealed to you."
"Well, yeah."
There was a pause.
"It's me, isn't it?"
House could feel the apartment still as he spoke the words. Wilson froze, shocked eyes locked on him as his lungs refused to authorise any inhalation or exhalation. The air hung heavy between them, thick and loud and impenetrable.
"What?" Wilson uttered, voice a shell of what it had been not a minute before. He had the resignation of a dying man and yet some evolutionary survival instincts in him still pushed him to deny in any way he could.
"I'm your only real friend," House explained all too easily. For the first time in his life, he understood the feeling of being an impostor as he threw out confident assumptions that were once only hopes during long nights and scalding showers. "And smoking hot, might I add. Really, it's understandable."
Wilson pulled his best 'you can't prove that' face, all forced confusion and purged guilt, but no words escaped his agape mouth.
Leaning closer than he normally would've dared to, House whispered salaciously, "Did you jerk off to me?" With Wilson still startled and mute, he continued, "Did you moan my name? Did you imagine me under you? On top of you? At your feet, on my knees?"
"This isn't funny anymore," Wilson protested all in one breath, pale and trembling.
"Good thing I'm not joking, then." House's breath was hot and promising upon Wilson's ear. "I'm just trying to figure out how you'd like our first time to be."
Wilson audibly swallowed. "You mean it?"
"Yeah," House murmured, bringing possessive fingers up to trace lines across his chest. Didn't Wilson know he'd never go this far for an act?
"Umm, ok." He paused, and House was at a loss as to whether he was panicking, or considering, or just processing this new, uncharted territory in general. Then, a little more confident, he blurted out, "Under me."
House smirked, victorious. He'd secured the win now, he was certain of it. Still, he'd better check one last time.
"You're sure?"
"No point in hiding it now."
"So..." House made a point to drag his hand up his neck as he pulled back. "You gonna kiss me or what?"
This earned him a pointed look. "We should probably go to the bedroom for this. Y'know, considering..."
"Doesn't mean we can't kiss now." Wilson shot him another look. "What? Seriously? Fine."
House wasn't one to beg or whine or wear his heart on his sleeve but he sounded dangerously close to those trying to fight for just a kiss before they moved away, before Wilson had the chance to rethink this entire thing and back out, before he could no longer play this off as something less serious than they both knew it was.
But as soon as they stood up, Wilson grabbed him and kissed him deeply, sinfully. So caught by surprise and without his cane, House leant against Wilson with all his weight as he kissed back, but even with his pent-up desire, he couldn't catch up to the eager ministrations of Wilson's tongue, enthusiastic in a way House had only heard about before. It sent a chill through him to experience it firsthand, so close he could feel Wilson's warmth radiating and bleeding into him. His heart was almost tachycardic, but if House were in any conscious mental space he'd notice his own was too, as he clutched at Wilson in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.
Together, they stumbled towards Wilson's bedroom, lips not breaking contact once, and Wilson expertly supporting House without any apparent thought. He was always looking after House like that. And when House tripped backwards onto the bed, Wilson came with him, almost knocking the breath out of him but then rising to steal his breath in a very different, much hotter way.
House had no idea when Wilson first realised he was gay, or when he first became okay with it, or where the hell he had learned to kiss this well, gender be damned. He vaguely pushed these questions to the back of his mind to focus on a more pressing (in more ways than one), more important task in front of him, that would require a lot more of his energy. Wilson was kissing down his neck, causing mark after mark as his lips and tongue and teeth attacked House's skin like he'd been personally assigned to leave an impression there. House would have accused him of over-performing with the soft, aching little sounds he was making into House's neck until he glanced down and saw the slack, pleasured expression on Wilson's face and damn, Bonnie had really meant it when she said he was a selfless lover. He was getting off on House's pleasure rather than his own - now that was an achievement.
House wasn't just going to let Wilson do all the work, though. He tugged at Wilson's perfectly conditioned strands to meet him in another searing kiss, running his hands across the warm skin under his shirt.
"Get this - ahh - thing - off," he groaned between kisses, shoving it up like it personally offended him.
In one swift movement, Wilson obliged. He allowed House a compulsory ogle at the soft skin of his chest, the trimmed hair there, the glistening sweat, and then he was diving in for another kiss and another and another until House melted, feebly scratching at his back. For someone who had apparently never got it on with a guy before, Wilson sure seemed like he knew what he was doing.
This point was only further proven when Wilson experimentally rolled his hips against House's, earning a delicious synchronised moan from both of them.
"Keep doing that," House demanded with what little strength he had left, reaching up to wrap his arms around Wilson's back to feel his warmth once more. Touch, touch, touch.
Wilson's lips were on his again, biting, sucking his tongue, anything they could claim purchase on - which was everything; House was so willing after waiting so long. He would never confess that - not yet - but this was sure more than letting his friend experiment more practically because the porn wasn't enough. No, this was desperation, this was longing, this was finally-after-fifteen-fucking-years.
"So," House had to ask, tossing his own shirt aside, "This turn you on?"
Unwilling to dignify that with a verbal response, Wilson grabbed his hand and shoved it on his hard-on tenting his jeans. House groaned. All that just for him?
"Wow," he couldn't help but say. "Porn won't do that, but I can."
Wilson just laughed and kissed him again, hands reaching for House's belt buckle. He deftly undid it with skilled fingers, tugging down his zipper too, until he finally made claim on House's dick. House moaned, throwing his head back into the pillow and digging his fingernails into Wilson's back.
"Don't you dare stop now," he commanded through gritted teeth, but Wilson apparently had no such plans anyway, smoothly gliding his hand up, circling, and then stroking straight (ha!) back down again. He even lowered two fingers to fondle House's balls.
House was rapidly losing it, bucking his hips up into Wilson's fist. He'd made a kind of mental plan to try and remain composed for as long as possible, keep up the casual demeanour, maybe lead Wilson to believe he didn't want it so badly so it wouldn't look as awful if Wilson changed his mind. But Wilson's ex-wives and all the numerous nurses he'd slept with, none of them had exaggerated one bit, he really was just that good, and they hadn't even gotten to the main event yet. He distantly worried how the hell he was going to last that long, until Wilson suddenly withdrew his hand and well, he'd have to wait a little longer now.
"What're you-" He paused as Wilson leaned over to the bedside cabinet, rummaging around in the drawer. House took the opportunity to grasp his hips, giving them a firm squeeze and grinding his own up towards them. Wilson shot a grin at him as he pulled out the lube. "Oh, you've been practising?"
Wilson smirked wider. "Yeah. With your name."
House couldn't have stopped the resulting noise that escaped his mouth if he tried. He didn't care if Wilson was telling the truth or not, just the image of him laying in the bed they were in now, furiously jerking it, chants of House's name tumbling from his lips, maybe even while House was home, asleep and unknowing - oh, it was all too much.
"Wilson," he whimpered, watching Wilson coat his fingers. "Fuck me now, ohmygod."
"Patience," Wilson reprimanded, bringing one finger up and circling his hole. Seriously, how the fuck did he know how to do this? As if reading House's mind, he chuckled, deep and low, "The porn didn't turn me on, but I never said I didn't learn a thing or two from it."
Clearly, he'd learnt a lot more than one or two things as he pressed a finger in, locating his prostate in record time and curling his finger just right, and then adding another, and then a third. God, if he was this talented with his fingers, what was his cock going to feel like? Those hips?
House knew without a doubt it was going to be the best sex he'd have in his entire life.
And that was surpassing all the hot wet dreams he'd had about Wilson. All the fantasies when too bored in his office. Even the times back in Wilson's apartment when he'd heard him jerking off through the vent and tried to match his pace.
At last, and also too soon, Wilson withdrew his fingers, messily wiping them on the sheets as he leaned back down to kiss House once again, he just couldn't stop kissing him. House blindly stretched an arm across the bed until he made contact with the lube and sloppily rubbed some on his fingers. Then he reached between them and began to stroke Wilson's cock, coating it with the lube for him, and earning some delicious moans into his mouth.
"Oh, God, House," Wilson all but mewled, breaking the kiss and burying his head in the crook of House's neck as he instinctively thrust his hips into House's hand. And that was just his hand, oh god, what about-
"Please, please House, I wanna fuck you," Wilson gasped like he was drowning, like only House could save him, like only House could help him breathe, "Wanna fuck you so bad."
Whether he really had a massive thing for House, or just hadn't been laid in ages, House had no idea but he was equally as desperate, in disbelief that Wilson was really here above him, moaning into his marked skin and begging in his ear and fucking House's fist.
"Yes," House agreed, his brain not much more cooperative than that. "Yes, Wilson, fuck me, please."
They wasted no time after that. After efficiently rearranging House's limbs just how he wanted them, Wilson finally pushed in with one aching, decisive thrust. House was so lost in the noises Wilson was making he barely registered his own; they were probably worse but he didn't care, neighbours be damned. Hot gay sex after years of pining took precedence, thanks.
And then he was pulling at Wilson's hair, God he looked a mess, urging him to move - and damn, did he know how to move those hips. House could barely believe this was real, but no way could his mind imagine in detail something that felt this good. Wilson reached a considerate hand between them, gently but firmly stroking House in time with his thrusts but House batted him away. He wanted to last as long as possible, wanted this to continue forever, and he knew he'd come in about two seconds if Wilson carried on like that with his perfect fingers and perfect cock and perfect mouth.
He sought out Wilson's lips again, pulling him into a frantic, panting embrace as the bed rocked with the force of their movements. Then Wilson was kissing his jaw and his neck and his chest again, grunting and moaning and whining as he placed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses there. House could only rake his nails down his back, any higher brain functioning long gone. Fuck, this was bliss, this was perfection. Even if they never did this again, or if they did it again every five minutes, nothing would never feel as good as the knowledge that this was finally happening, he finally had Wilson in the way he wanted. Even if it were just once, this was the closest to heaven House was ever going to get.
"Harder," he begged before he even knew he was saying it, "please, Wilson, harder."
Wilson pulled back a little, adjusting his position so he could diligently fulfil House's request, slowing down but hitting his prostate with double the force. House felt overwhelmingly sorry for all the people who would never get to experience this - or all his exes who would never get to experience it again. Would he soon be included in that list?
The decrease in speed gave House more time to think in between thrusts, which gave him the opportunity to start up an unnecessary but puzzling question.
"So," he panted, one hand grasping Wilson's gorgeous bicep to get his attention as if Wilson wasn't hyper-focused on him and his needs all the time, let alone now. "When did you- mm- start que- ohmygod- questioning this?"
Wilson sent him a look as if to say now? seriously? but House enticingly clenched around him and really, he'd been willing to do anything for House all along.
"Ages ago," he admitted, hot breath mixing with House's. "I just - pushed it away."
"Huh. Makes sense." House kissed him again, more gasps than tongue now, but swiftly broke away again because he just had to know- "So what was the- Wilson- what was the breaking point? What- ahh- made you rea- oh, fuck, Wilson, just like that, oh my God-" He had to pause his line of thought temporarily because unless he focussed, he was going to come any second, and he couldn't let this end, not now, not ever- "What made you realise yeah, I wanna fuck guys?"
Wilson pulled a face and rolled his hips even harder in the hopes of shutting him up. It didn't deter House, though it did earn him a drawn-out moan and some new red lines down his back.
"What, are you still- still repressed?" House questioned in breathless incredulity. "Internalised homophobic?"
"Of course not." Wilson gave him a few teasing strokes to demonstrate his point. "But do you have to put it so vulgarly?"
House wanted to laugh, this was so Wilson, but the sounds emerging from his throat were nowhere near PG. "Fine," he acquiesced, brushing away Wilson's hair from where it had fallen across his forehead. "Making love to guys."
"That's no better," Wilson huffed, and House had no idea how he managed to still sound so composed when House was actively falling apart in his arms. "It's more than just sex," he elaborated when House stared at him confused, helpless.
"It is?"
"Well, obviously. You-" Wilson took a breath to steady himself, eyes screwed shut in pleasure- "You yourself said earlier how I'm all about feelings-"
Wilson stilled. Actually stopped moving, still half-inside House. House clawed at him desperately, whining at the loss of friction, urging him to continue, to do something, but Wilson just looked down at him with a creeping doubt in his eyes, like he'd made a terrible mistake. House had prayed he'd have that realisation after, damn it-
"Wait...you..." he said faintly, gesturing between them. "This is more than just sex, right?"
House let out a breath of relief and yeah, maybe in his vulnerable state, he actually full-on grinned. "Fuck yes, Wilson."
"Good," Wilson muttered and kissed him, hard, picking up the pace again with incredible finesse.
When House came, it was harder than he had in his entire life, and his vision whited out momentarily before Wilson was cleaning him up and pressing soft kisses to his temple and whispering sentimental things like "I've got you".
"You're really good at that," he giddily told Wilson, grinning and pulling him closer.
"Mm, I had some good motivation."
Wilson gave him a light kiss before settling in his arms and pulling the covers over both of them.
"Bit of advice," House muttered after some time, not wanting to fall asleep just yet, "Never watch porn again. Or sleep with any other guys. Or any women, for that matter. They won't turn you on."
Wilson chuckled against his chest. "I love you too, House."