Overwhelming. It was almost overwhelming, Foreman actually listening and driving into him even harder, jerking him off hard and fast. The weight of his body pressed House down, his hand still holding his wrist to the bed, and, fuck, it felt so damn good. Foreman's breath warmed the back of his neck even more, the heat spreading outward, down to his shoulders and over the side of his face. Everywhere.
Nothing but Foreman. House could feel nothing but Foreman, what he was doing to him. Hand so tight around his cock. Thumb smoothing over the head, making him jerk, stomach muscles clenching and his breath rushing out of him with each slick press. Hyper-sensitive. The world was narrowing fast, down to the hard, fast strokes of Foreman's cock, his voice, urging him to come. God. Pleasure rocketing so fast through his body that he couldn't think anymore. Grunts and groans burst out of him. Couldn't stop them. His body was acting on its own, his mind overwhelmed. So fucking overwhelmed, and, God, it was what he'd wanted, to let go like this, even underneath Foreman. Even knowing that Foreman was now more than armed to throw all of it back in his face, be as smug as he liked. House couldn't bring himself to care, not then, not when Foreman was starting to snap again, lose himself just as much. Had to be. House felt his body rocking with Foreman's thrusts, vaguely aware of the break in Foreman's rhythm, the roughness, as frantic as the desperate jerks of House's body moving to push himself into Foreman's hand. Faster. Harder. Oh, fuck, yeah.
House managed to lift his head, twist enough to catch a glimpse of Foreman's face as his body jerked hard, Foreman's hips pushing into him with uneven thrusts. "Yeah," House said, keeping his eyes open long enough to watch Foreman's face contort with pleasure. Watching him come. Come because of him, because he'd wanted to fuck him that much, that hard. He collapsed down to the bed, feeling himself on the edge of his orgasm. God, it wouldn't take long. Another few seconds. Foreman was thrusting roughly, still uneven, not much of a steady rhythm, but it would be enough. Knowing Foreman couldn't keep up a steady pace, that he'd let himself lose control that much, made House groan. The pressure was almost too much, the drive to come so fucking intense it almost burned through him. "Come like that," he said, voice rough and low, to Foreman as much as himself. "Fuck, yeah."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-01-04 06:54 pm (UTC)Nothing but Foreman. House could feel nothing but Foreman, what he was doing to him. Hand so tight around his cock. Thumb smoothing over the head, making him jerk, stomach muscles clenching and his breath rushing out of him with each slick press. Hyper-sensitive. The world was narrowing fast, down to the hard, fast strokes of Foreman's cock, his voice, urging him to come. God. Pleasure rocketing so fast through his body that he couldn't think anymore. Grunts and groans burst out of him. Couldn't stop them. His body was acting on its own, his mind overwhelmed. So fucking overwhelmed, and, God, it was what he'd wanted, to let go like this, even underneath Foreman. Even knowing that Foreman was now more than armed to throw all of it back in his face, be as smug as he liked. House couldn't bring himself to care, not then, not when Foreman was starting to snap again, lose himself just as much. Had to be. House felt his body rocking with Foreman's thrusts, vaguely aware of the break in Foreman's rhythm, the roughness, as frantic as the desperate jerks of House's body moving to push himself into Foreman's hand. Faster. Harder. Oh, fuck, yeah.
House managed to lift his head, twist enough to catch a glimpse of Foreman's face as his body jerked hard, Foreman's hips pushing into him with uneven thrusts. "Yeah," House said, keeping his eyes open long enough to watch Foreman's face contort with pleasure. Watching him come. Come because of him, because he'd wanted to fuck him that much, that hard. He collapsed down to the bed, feeling himself on the edge of his orgasm. God, it wouldn't take long. Another few seconds. Foreman was thrusting roughly, still uneven, not much of a steady rhythm, but it would be enough. Knowing Foreman couldn't keep up a steady pace, that he'd let himself lose control that much, made House groan. The pressure was almost too much, the drive to come so fucking intense it almost burned through him. "Come like that," he said, voice rough and low, to Foreman as much as himself. "Fuck, yeah."