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Until House, sex for Wilson had been performative.
Do the right thing, say the right thing, rub the right spots for the right amount of time. X + Y = orgasm. Women loved him for it, his attention to every detail of their pleasure earned him the title of Best Lover They Ever Had from many of his sexual partners. But that was just it, it was all about their pleasure.
Spontaneous sex was never really his thing. He needed to set the right mood. Candles, dim lights, a strategically placed towel so there would be no wet spot when she eventually wanted to sleep, James Wilson put a lot of effort into making sure his ladies were comfortable. Sure, occasionally one of his wives or girlfriends would come on to him out of the blue and when that happened he did everything in his power to ensure they still got there. And yeah, usually he got there too.
But sex had never been about him. About his pleasure or what he wanted. As a man it was his job to please his woman and usually he derived secondary pleasure from that. From knowing he was making them happy.
He had no idea what sex could be like until House.
He didn’t even realize how aroused he could get until he had House on his back, legs spread, cock swollen red and dripping. House flushed from his face down to his chest when he was aroused, his stomach muscles twitched when his cock throbbed. Wilson’s own cock ached at the sight, so much so he’d needed to reach down and stroke himself.
“You look good when you touch yourself.” House had rasped, voice low with arousal.
“You just look so pretty, all spread out for me.” Wilson had responded, desperately trying to keep his eyes open and resist the urge to fuck into his hand until he came all over House’s willing body.
And this, this dialogue that always accompanied their sexual exploits, was something Wilson didn’t even know he wanted. Sure he’d interspersed his previous love making with whispers about beauty but the words he and House exchanged during sex were filthy.
“Someday I want to watch you stroke your thick cock until you cum all over me. Use your cum to bring myself off when you're finished.” House’s pupils were blown wide, only a ring of icey blue left.
And god, the thought that House wanted to watch him pleasure himself had him fucking harder into his own fist.
“Keep talking like that and I will.”
House let out a low laugh.
“Not tonight, Boy Wonder. Tonight I want that thick cock fucking me into the mattress.”
And over the months of their relationship they did more than just fuck. Sex with House opened his eyes to just how broad a definition sex could have. When the equation stopped being X + Y, P in V, it opened up a whole new world of sexual possibilities. Sex wasn’t just one thing - sex was anything that felt good.
Now on lazy Saturday mornings when they both sleep in and wake up hard in their pajama pants they’ll shove them down to take each other’s cocks in their hands. None of his previous partners had ever offered him a hand job and truth be told he never considered pleasing his previous lovers with just his hand. But now bucking his hips into House’s tight grip and feeling the responding dribble of precum from House as he does that same is one of his favorite ways to wake up.
He’s pretty sure he’s had more blow jobs in the few months he and House have been dating than ever before in his thirty-eight years of life. While all his wives occasionally went down on him it was usually just for special occasions like his birthday, and it was rarely to completion. House, however, has no reservations about oral, Wilson has learned.
On one very memorable occasion, he and House had both worked late meaning that the hospital was practically deserted. House had slipped into Wilson’s office, popped a double dose of Vicodin, and crawled underneath Wilson’s desk. Wilson had been hard by the time House had freed his cock from his pants. It hadn’t taken long before he was spilling down House’s deliciously tight throat. When House reappeared from under the desk Wilson helped him stand and offered to reciprocate, gesturing to the obvious bulge in House’s jeans.
“Don’t worry about it.” House had said, adjusting himself in his pants.
“But House,” His protest had been cut short.
“You know, it can just be about you sometimes.” House smirked, wiping at the corners of his mouth.
After that something changed about the way Wilson saw sex. He started going after it just because he wanted it. Pouncing on House as soon as they got in the door after a long day because he wanted to fuck. He wanted to bury himself in House’s tight hole and he wanted to cum.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. Feels so good.” He’d say as he pushed into House.
“Yeah, that’s it Jimmy. You wanna cum inside me, don’t you? Fill me right up?” House would pant out breathlessly.
And god, was House right. Sometimes he’d get so lost in his own pleasure he wouldn’t even think to reach around and jerk House off until after he’d finished and pulled out.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” He’d apologize, “Do you need me to,”
“God you’re so self loathing. I finished, Jimmy. Kinda hard not to when you fuck me like that.”
And while Wilson usually tops, House did introduce him to the wonderful world of prostate stimulation.
When Sam would give him his occasional blow job, she would occasionally massage behind his balls which elicited a warm and pleasant sensation through his pelvis. It was nothing compared to the deep pleasure of having his prostate stimulated by House’s fingers inside him. The first time they tried it, the minute House’s fingers had begun massaging his prostate Wilson’s left hand had flown to his cock and he was spurting all over his chest within minutes.
Wilson had never been so sexually satisfied in his life. He’d long assumed his best sexual experiences were behind him, but apparently whoever wrote “Life Begins at Forty” wasn’t far off.