House was lounging in his bed, reading a medical book, his glasses perched on his slender nose. The warm glow of the lamp cast shadows across the pages, and you could hear the faint rustle of paper as he turned each page. He had to admit, he could get used to this warmth—the color you brought to his life since you arrived. It sounds cheesy, but those were House's internal thoughts after making your relationship official. The discreet looks and subtle flirting had said enough, and making excuses to work on the same case as House or be with him late at night alone in his office wasn't normal.

But, God, he loved every kiss, every caress, every "I love you," even if he was too stubborn to respond and would just say, "Oh, shut up," or something like that when he got nervous. The scent of his cologne still lingered on your skin from the night before, a comforting reminder of his presence.

It was one of those days when you stayed at his place—not for another case, just to spend time together. Whether it was watching TV, eating takeout, joking around, or making love, you did it all, literally. The sound of rain pattering against the window created a cozy atmosphere in the apartment.

House was bored, having reached a part of the book that talked about lupus. "Tch, trash," he muttered, tossing the heavy book aside onto the mattress. He took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand with a soft clink. He was bored until the sound of water running in the shower caught his attention. As soon as an idea popped into his mind, he smiled wickedly and got out of bed, limping toward the bathroom with his cane tapping against the wooden floor.

As soon as he entered, he saw you there, your body's silhouette visible through the steamed-up glass of the shower. The warm water created a mist that fogged the mirror, and he felt a familiar warmth in his groin that he tried to ignore. He approached, placing a hand on the sliding glass door and opening it.

"Routine inspection," House exclaimed, pulling off his t-shirt in one fluid motion. He didn't bother taking off his pants yet, placing a hand on your sides. "Ribs feel normal," he commented, his hand moving temptingly up to your breasts and squeezing them softly. "Mammary glands check out." His hand began to move lower, cupping your sex—wet from the warm water and something more. His lips found your neck, leaving hickeys that would linger tomorrow as he kicked off his wet pants, letting them fall to the side. He began to rub against you, his semi-hard cock sliding between your ass cheeks, the head peeking out with each thrust. He groaned, lifting one of your legs and hooking your knee over his forearm as he guided himself to your entrance.

He slid in slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein as his girth stretched you. The pleasure made you see stars as House groaned softly, his free hand moving to your clit. He rubbed in slow, experienced circles with delicious pressure that made you clench around him. "Ngh, that's it..." he panted in your ear, nipping at your neck while the sound of water hitting the tiles mixed with your heavy breathing.