"Yeah," Foreman said, echoing House's words. "Yeah, you like that. Just--like that--" He closed his eyes, leaned in so that he could taste the back of House's neck, push him down just that much more. Couldn't get enough oxygen, though, and had to pull back. They were both sweating, and Foreman loved watching House's back each time he pushed in, seeing his muscles clench and release. He could see House's profile and that was even better, watching his mouth open almost involuntarily around his groans, the flicker of his expression every time Foreman's thrust was a little stronger. Exactly what he'd wanted, to see that, to know he was having that effect. He sped up, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of sliding in, grunting a little each time his balls met House's ass. He'd stopped worrying about House--his every breath showed how much he liked this--and it was so easy to give up control, to just keep going, as fast as he liked, as hard as he wanted. He could feel the build, the drive, his balls tightening, the heat in his skin permeating his entire body. Every feeling was magnified, the sensations rolling through him higher every time.
"Fuck, oh. Oh." He was going to come. Too soon. He wanted to make this last, draw out every last moan and breathless plea from House that he could, but it was a losing battle. Short, strained groans caught in his throat with every thrust. Pleasure arced through him like live current, hot and unstoppable, making his muscles jerk and clench. The rhythm of his body overshadowing everything else. He could barely hear House, only knew that he was begging for more, and that turned him on so fucking much. He was already riding the edge of his orgasm, had to find something to slow his body down. Foreman drove in, finding the angle that made House writhe and struggle underneath him. Breath aching in his throat, he waited, biting his own lip, body wracked with need. He gave another powerful thrust and shuddered. House wanted it harder, so Foreman concentrated as much as he could, ramming his hips forward, his thighs and abs burning from the way he was half-curled over House's body, and forced himself to stop between each perfectly-angled thrust. His hand was still working House's cock, as fast as he could, running his thumb over the head and then squeezing on the downstroke. House was so hard, his precome slicking every movement, he had to be close. "Come on," Foreman said. "Come on, House, so good when you come for me--"
God, he couldn't keep this up. He couldn't make himself slow down any longer. He gave in completely and started thrusting again, forgetting about finesse, forgetting about everything. He couldn't think beyond his own pleasure, the demands of his body. Need this. Need it so much. He could feel his orgasm pouring through him, over him, all his nerves firing at once. His body spasmed, his thrusts becoming erratic and rough, but he kept moving. Wanted to fuck House's orgasm right out of him, didn't want to stop. He was panting so hard that he felt like he was going to pass out but he kept going. Knew he'd stay hard at least long enough to finish this. He pounded into House, kept his hand moving on his cock, even as his own aftershocks made him tremble.
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"Fuck, oh. Oh." He was going to come. Too soon. He wanted to make this last, draw out every last moan and breathless plea from House that he could, but it was a losing battle. Short, strained groans caught in his throat with every thrust. Pleasure arced through him like live current, hot and unstoppable, making his muscles jerk and clench. The rhythm of his body overshadowing everything else. He could barely hear House, only knew that he was begging for more, and that turned him on so fucking much. He was already riding the edge of his orgasm, had to find something to slow his body down. Foreman drove in, finding the angle that made House writhe and struggle underneath him. Breath aching in his throat, he waited, biting his own lip, body wracked with need. He gave another powerful thrust and shuddered. House wanted it harder, so Foreman concentrated as much as he could, ramming his hips forward, his thighs and abs burning from the way he was half-curled over House's body, and forced himself to stop between each perfectly-angled thrust. His hand was still working House's cock, as fast as he could, running his thumb over the head and then squeezing on the downstroke. House was so hard, his precome slicking every movement, he had to be close. "Come on," Foreman said. "Come on, House, so good when you come for me--"
God, he couldn't keep this up. He couldn't make himself slow down any longer. He gave in completely and started thrusting again, forgetting about finesse, forgetting about everything. He couldn't think beyond his own pleasure, the demands of his body. Need this. Need it so much. He could feel his orgasm pouring through him, over him, all his nerves firing at once. His body spasmed, his thrusts becoming erratic and rough, but he kept moving. Wanted to fuck House's orgasm right out of him, didn't want to stop. He was panting so hard that he felt like he was going to pass out but he kept going. Knew he'd stay hard at least long enough to finish this. He pounded into House, kept his hand moving on his cock, even as his own aftershocks made him tremble.