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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.