House MD Fanfiction

What Bad Boys Like

Hilson, idk, 678 words
By: gracefultree

Dr. Gregory House was a bad boy. He took pride in it, from the inability to be on time to classes, Rounds, or meetings, to the casual grunginess of his clothing and grooming, to the motorcycle he had waiting at home for him to finish the God-awful medical conference in the wonderful, sinful city of New Orleans. He had drinking to do before he left, and maybe there’d be a hooker that struck his fancy. None of the dweebs and nerds at the conference interested him at all.

House liked sex. Loved it, actually. It didn’t matter if he was sleeping with men, women, or both, and there had been one memorable night where he’d had a threesome with a pair of conjoined twins, and that other night with the person with the rare genetic disease that gave him two sets of genitalia, even if neither worked quite properly for reproduction.

House was a bad boy, and what did bad boys like more than anything? Good boys, like the fresh-faced kid he’d seen carrying around what looked like unopened divorce papers. Brand new doctor, younger than the usual newly-minted MDs, with floppy brown hair, bushy eyebrows and dark, expressive eyes.

He liked good boys turned bad boys, too, like that same fresh-faced kid who started a bar fight because of a Billy Joel song, of all things. It made House hard just watching him, and House knew exactly what he wanted to do about it. He decided to follow him to see if he could find a way into his heterosexual pants.

And the best thing of all? Good boys trying to be bad andfailing spectacularly, like the fresh-faced kid who got arrested for starting the bar fight, and still clutched those divorce papers like a lifeline. It nearly made House cream his pants when the kid practically started crying when the hotel manager rejected the check for damages and sent him off with the police.

House stuck around long enough to learn the kid’s name: James Wilson. Then he went to his hotel room and jerked off, coming harder than he had in a long time. Women were nothing compared to the rush of good boys being bad, and House had quite a number of ideas about turning good-boy Wilson down the dark path. That they involved sucking his cock and bending over didn’t even need to be said.

So House took a chance and bailed Wilson out of jail, deciding at the last minute that telling him he didn’t bore him was a more trustworthy excuse for doing it than wanting to bone him. It gave him an in, got him a few drinks on Wilson’s tab, and by the end of the night he found himself dragged back to Wilson’s hotel room, because good boys really, really liked bad boys, and Wilson had decided that if his wife was leaving him, the best antidote was to have sex with the man who had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen and a tongue that could perform minor miracles on his body.

It was fifteen years, two more ex-wives of Wilson’s, a long-term girlfriend each and countless hookers of House’s and flings of Wilson’s before they admitted that they were best suited to each other. House sat at the organ in the loft Wilson purchased for him from under Cuddy’s nose. The organ that Wilson bought because House told him he had to buy one thing that spoke to him, and he chose something for House, to make the lofttheirs, and not just his.

“I’m moving into the master bedroom with you,” House declared, standing to approach Wilson. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Wilson grinned happily. “No, no problem here.”

“I am so fucking glad you broke that mirror,” House declared, pulling Wilson to him for a kiss.

“And I’m so fucking glad I dragged you back to my hotel room,” Wilson answered.

“My bad boy,” House murmured.

“You like when I’m bad,” Wilson pointed out.

“Yeah,” House admitted. “I do.”