House silently had to give Foreman credit for playing it so cool. House had noticed several intrigued expressions--tilted heads, raised eyebrows--among the fellows, but Foreman's nonchalance halted their interest. Despite that, House was relatively confident that the fellows would be more mindful of Foreman's behavior, and he wouldn't put it past them to question Foreman about the level of truth to what House had said. Several of them wouldn't care, but some of the others were too curious, had raised their eyebrows with enough initial interest to follow through later. He still felt satisfied that Foreman had taken the avoidance route, had proven him right. The fact that he was so adamantly avoiding meant that Foreman had been thinking about the weekend as much as House had been, that he was keeping up appearances.
House volleyed Foreman's cool comment with an amused tone. "Just wait until all of the male nurses start harassing you. I want front row seats for that."
When Kutner started relaying the information in his file, House's eyes widened at the image of 'writhing spasms', his mind recalling the way Foreman looked when he came above him. The helpless jerk of Foreman's body. The tension easing out of his face, jaw slackening and eyes closing before his head dropped down to the curve of his neck. Hot, humid puffs of air against his skin. The heavy press of him as his orgasm faded. God. He'd been struggling to get those images out of his head for the last day and a half, and the fact that a symptom triggered them was fucking ridiculous. House bowed his head, just in case he was giving anything away--he wasn't sure what, if anything--and shook it as if he could clear his thoughts with a physical action if not by force of will.
Foreman's voice gave him something to focus on, although House couldn't decide if it was a suitable distraction. No, he decided. It wasn't. Fuck. "You want me to get more explicit?" House said, turning his head to look at Foreman, who was studying the book in front of him. "I can."
House wasn't interested in gaining the fellows' attention or inviting them to eavesdrop, and he interrupted Kutner--it wasn't the case he was remotely interested in. "Not nearly as impressive as you'd like to think. Next!"
When Cole began to list another set of symptoms--headaches, hearing loss, seizures--House gave Foreman a sideways glance and continued. "Never thought you'd be this cranky if I decided to make your job completely obsolete. Cuddy has no use for you, and you're free to bolt off to California. Or wherever. That's what you want anyway, right?"
no subject
House volleyed Foreman's cool comment with an amused tone. "Just wait until all of the male nurses start harassing you. I want front row seats for that."
When Kutner started relaying the information in his file, House's eyes widened at the image of 'writhing spasms', his mind recalling the way Foreman looked when he came above him. The helpless jerk of Foreman's body. The tension easing out of his face, jaw slackening and eyes closing before his head dropped down to the curve of his neck. Hot, humid puffs of air against his skin. The heavy press of him as his orgasm faded. God. He'd been struggling to get those images out of his head for the last day and a half, and the fact that a symptom triggered them was fucking ridiculous. House bowed his head, just in case he was giving anything away--he wasn't sure what, if anything--and shook it as if he could clear his thoughts with a physical action if not by force of will.
Foreman's voice gave him something to focus on, although House couldn't decide if it was a suitable distraction. No, he decided. It wasn't. Fuck. "You want me to get more explicit?" House said, turning his head to look at Foreman, who was studying the book in front of him. "I can."
House wasn't interested in gaining the fellows' attention or inviting them to eavesdrop, and he interrupted Kutner--it wasn't the case he was remotely interested in. "Not nearly as impressive as you'd like to think. Next!"
When Cole began to list another set of symptoms--headaches, hearing loss, seizures--House gave Foreman a sideways glance and continued. "Never thought you'd be this cranky if I decided to make your job completely obsolete. Cuddy has no use for you, and you're free to bolt off to California. Or wherever. That's what you want anyway, right?"