House could feel Foreman's eyes on him, and the suspicion made House walk faster, struggling to add extra inches to his stride. He was such a fucking chicken, but that knowledge was better than telling Foreman 'yes'. When Foreman began to speak again, calling out behind him--House really hoped that nobody else was nearby, because he didn't need the hospital's grapevine spreading talk about this--House nearly faltered, his eyes closing tightly at his words. Get on my knees and blow you. Fuck. House pretended not to hear him, refused to acknowledge him, and kept walking. He could see his motorcycle; almost there.
As Foreman's hand wrapped around his arm and forced him to stop, House released a frustrated, hard breath of air, the visible cloud of it forming and dissolving in front of his face. He had barely settled his feet under him before he sharply inhaled a lungful of cold air, fast enough to make him cough, his body going still at the push of Foreman's hand inside his pocket. Another warm rush coursed down his body. Foreman's hand was so fucking close to his cock, and House hoped like hell that Foreman hadn't noticed that he was beginning to get hard. Jesus, he needed to get the fuck away from him, before he gave in to his desire for Foreman to keep pushing, for Foreman to want him and feed his stupid, pathetic need.
Anger bubbled up inside him beneath the arousal--he couldn't decide if it was caused by Foreman or himself--and House glared at Foreman as he jangled his keys in front of him, instructing him to get his helmet like he was some sort of insolent teenager. "Oh, yeah. I'm so emotionally distraught that I'm planning to wrap myself around a tree on the road home," House said, the cold air--and all the fucking arousal pumping with his blood straight down to his dick--forcing him to talk faster, not quite as sarcastic as he hoped, but he rolled his eyes to compensate.
"Give me my damn keys." House swiped for his keys, hoping to catch them. He could stab Foreman with one of them once he got them back, then make his get-away. Foreman was playing head games; he didn't want him. If he did, he wouldn't have a folder full of cover letters at his place. He wouldn't be planning to leave again. If Foreman still didn't want him, or need him, then House saw no reason to indulge Foreman's implied suggestions or his 'concern'. "Give them back."
no subject
As Foreman's hand wrapped around his arm and forced him to stop, House released a frustrated, hard breath of air, the visible cloud of it forming and dissolving in front of his face. He had barely settled his feet under him before he sharply inhaled a lungful of cold air, fast enough to make him cough, his body going still at the push of Foreman's hand inside his pocket. Another warm rush coursed down his body. Foreman's hand was so fucking close to his cock, and House hoped like hell that Foreman hadn't noticed that he was beginning to get hard. Jesus, he needed to get the fuck away from him, before he gave in to his desire for Foreman to keep pushing, for Foreman to want him and feed his stupid, pathetic need.
Anger bubbled up inside him beneath the arousal--he couldn't decide if it was caused by Foreman or himself--and House glared at Foreman as he jangled his keys in front of him, instructing him to get his helmet like he was some sort of insolent teenager. "Oh, yeah. I'm so emotionally distraught that I'm planning to wrap myself around a tree on the road home," House said, the cold air--and all the fucking arousal pumping with his blood straight down to his dick--forcing him to talk faster, not quite as sarcastic as he hoped, but he rolled his eyes to compensate.
"Give me my damn keys." House swiped for his keys, hoping to catch them. He could stab Foreman with one of them once he got them back, then make his get-away. Foreman was playing head games; he didn't want him. If he did, he wouldn't have a folder full of cover letters at his place. He wouldn't be planning to leave again. If Foreman still didn't want him, or need him, then House saw no reason to indulge Foreman's implied suggestions or his 'concern'. "Give them back."