Foreman shivered a bit when House angled a hand inside his coat, his fingers icy through Foreman's shirt as he spread his hand against the small of Foreman's back. He had no problem sharing his body heat, not while House was cooperating enough to lean down and slide his tongue against Foreman's, his mouth hot and wet and meeting Foreman just as strongly every time he pushed the kiss forward. It felt good, sending a shiver of arousal down Foreman's spine, making him want to move his hands down to House's hips and yank him closer. He didn't think that a kiss was going to convince House that he was right. House was too entrenched in whatever denial he had left, as if Foreman wasn't telling him he wanted this, saying it right the fuck out and showing that he wanted House. Each kiss, each time he cornered House, he wasn't bothering to hide it. But even though House was kissing back, his breath as ragged as Foreman's, his fingers curling in Foreman's shirt just above his ass, that didn't mean House wouldn't try to get away without having to face any consequences. As much as House got away with on a regular basis, at work, with that cop, treating his patients, it seemed like he wouldn't be so goddamn afraid to let a kiss become something more. But he was. He stepped back, his voice strained and tense when he told Foreman to back off.
Foreman tilted his head back and watched him. A kiss like that did a hell of a lot to restore his confidence, his control. If House didn't like declarations, Foreman just wanted to shower him in them. "You punched Chase in the face and all he did was tell you you were wrong," he said. "I'm telling you I want to get on my knees and blow you and you can't even push me away?" Besides, nobody kissed like that, and then ran like that, if they didn't feel something. Foreman smiled, even though House had turned his back on him and was heading for his motorcycle. "I am more stubborn than you," Foreman called after him. "And you know what? I kind of like you running scared."
He caught up with House in a few steps. House didn't want him? Fine. Foreman hadn't suffered through three years as House's fellow without learning something about patience. But Foreman wasn't about to let him escape that easily, either. He grabbed House's arm to stop him, and then reached for his front jeans pocket--House probably thought he was copping a feel, but Foreman just reached in and grabbed his keys, holding them up and dangling them in front of House's face. "Go get your damn helmet," he said. "I don't need you killing yourself over me."
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Foreman tilted his head back and watched him. A kiss like that did a hell of a lot to restore his confidence, his control. If House didn't like declarations, Foreman just wanted to shower him in them. "You punched Chase in the face and all he did was tell you you were wrong," he said. "I'm telling you I want to get on my knees and blow you and you can't even push me away?" Besides, nobody kissed like that, and then ran like that, if they didn't feel something. Foreman smiled, even though House had turned his back on him and was heading for his motorcycle. "I am more stubborn than you," Foreman called after him. "And you know what? I kind of like you running scared."
He caught up with House in a few steps. House didn't want him? Fine. Foreman hadn't suffered through three years as House's fellow without learning something about patience. But Foreman wasn't about to let him escape that easily, either. He grabbed House's arm to stop him, and then reached for his front jeans pocket--House probably thought he was copping a feel, but Foreman just reached in and grabbed his keys, holding them up and dangling them in front of House's face. "Go get your damn helmet," he said. "I don't need you killing yourself over me."