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No Need To Ask
by Peculiar
Disclaimer: I don't own the show House M.D. or any of the characters in this story.
Almost always it was me the one who did it. Not always, sometimes he had done it, but being half-forced by me. I just wanted to see the way he felt, I wanted to feel him holding my hips and entering me, slowly. I knew he was scared of hurting my leg. That was funny. Like I could even think of my leg when I was with him. But still, I was almost always the one who did it. Because he loved it and because I loved it.
I was the only one fucking him. I loved repeating that in my head. It was only my name what he moaned and I was the only one looking at him when he did it. His eyes, desperately asking for more, as I gave him everything.
He layed on his back and raised his legs a bit, putting them around my waist, while I just rested my body on my good leg's knee. He knew it was a more difficult way to do it, but he liked it that way and I wanted to see him enjoying. I loved to see him grabbing the sheets on my bed, forcefully. I loved to hear those words that were almost impossible to understand, but made me understand that he was coming, that I had to keep going.
And I asked him to do things in that moment, a minute before he came, when his mind and his body weren't in the same space or time. That would have been a torture for any other person, but he loved it, because I was controlling him, because he wanted to feel he was mine and he knew the only way to do it in bed was letting me be the boss.
'Robert, look at me' and he opened his clear eyes and searched for mine that were already looking at him.
'Gre-uh. Greg.' And I kept pushing, as if there were no tomorrow. 'Please' and God, I could die happy after his lips had drawn that word.
I came a few seconds before he did. Secons after that, I layed on top of him, trying to hold my own body with my arms, with our lips a blink away and our eyes showing a blissful expression, feeling our breaths on the other's mouth. And then, all my efforts to keep my weight on my forearms had been useless. He put his arms around my neck and pulled me closer, while I buried my head in the angle between his neck and his shoulder and kissed the former, swirling my tongue lightly on his skin, still hearing subtle sobs coming out of his mouth that let me know he still hadn't recovered.
And still, after so many nights together that ended up like this, with him falling asleep in my bed, his back laying against my chest, I didn't know how to call this. He wasn't a friend. He wasn't a boyfriend. I didn't know what he was and I didn't know if I wanted to find out. I didn't know if i loved him and i didn't know if he loved me. I didn't want to ask.
I put my arms around his waist to put his naked body closer to mine and I kissed his neck. Then, exactly in that moment, I realized that one night of sex didn't end up like that. One night of sex would end up with the other person getting up and leaving without saying bye. One night of lovemaking ended up just like this, with the two people laying in the same bed, sleeping, knowing they're going to wake up next to each other the following morning.
Maybe I didn't need to ask.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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