When Foreman followed him into his office, House glanced toward the door from where he stood beside his desk. He reached for his backpack, setting it onto the chair as Foreman shut the blinds, blocking the view of the corridor and the conference room. House felt his heart beat a fast, loud rhythm; he was vaguely surprised Foreman couldn't hear it. He watched Foreman set his keys on his desk, his eyes not leaving Foreman's as he kept approaching, crossing into his personal space until Foreman's hands curved around his hips. Already breathing faster, still keeping eyes fixed on Foreman's, he let Foreman guide him backwards until he ran into the balcony door. The glass was cool, and he could feel it through his jeans, drawing a breath of air into his lungs with a quiet hiss. He wished he could say something, but words couldn't make it to his brain before Foreman leaned into him, kissed him again, harder and with a purpose.
A kiss wouldn't prove that Foreman would ever stay, but it would prove that Foreman did want him. House wasn't entirely sure if Foreman wanted to fuck him or fight him. With his mouth occupied, Foreman seemed to be arguing with his body, keeping House pinned against the door, his fingertips pressing into the muscle around House's hips, and House pushed himself away from the door--not to resist, but to eliminate the little distance left between their bodies. His control was slipping away from him, and House suddenly wasn't sure that he wanted to regain it. It would be so easy to let it go, as Foreman's mouth slid over his, heat already rushing over his skin, his dick already beginning to harden. It would be so easy to slip his hands under Foreman's shirt and touch, to rock his hips forward and grind against Foreman's body. Work himself to a full erection before pressing on Foreman's shoulders to urge him to his knees. House was really tired of arguing, and he wanted to forget it. Just concentrate on this, because it felt so damn good. So good. He'd avoided it because he knew it would be, knew he'd want it again, but he hadn't been as sure about Foreman. Foreman's flight risk had helped House keep some distance between them, but now that Foreman wanted him--kept showing it--fuck, he couldn't hold on to the reasons he'd used to justify the distance. Raising his hands to Foreman's biceps, he gathered a handful of Foreman's sleeves in his fists, about to pull him down, let him know what he wanted, but he stopped himself before the first tug.
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Date: 2008-12-06 10:22 am (UTC)A kiss wouldn't prove that Foreman would ever stay, but it would prove that Foreman did want him. House wasn't entirely sure if Foreman wanted to fuck him or fight him. With his mouth occupied, Foreman seemed to be arguing with his body, keeping House pinned against the door, his fingertips pressing into the muscle around House's hips, and House pushed himself away from the door--not to resist, but to eliminate the little distance left between their bodies. His control was slipping away from him, and House suddenly wasn't sure that he wanted to regain it. It would be so easy to let it go, as Foreman's mouth slid over his, heat already rushing over his skin, his dick already beginning to harden. It would be so easy to slip his hands under Foreman's shirt and touch, to rock his hips forward and grind against Foreman's body. Work himself to a full erection before pressing on Foreman's shoulders to urge him to his knees. House was really tired of arguing, and he wanted to forget it. Just concentrate on this, because it felt so damn good. So good. He'd avoided it because he knew it would be, knew he'd want it again, but he hadn't been as sure about Foreman. Foreman's flight risk had helped House keep some distance between them, but now that Foreman wanted him--kept showing it--fuck, he couldn't hold on to the reasons he'd used to justify the distance. Raising his hands to Foreman's biceps, he gathered a handful of Foreman's sleeves in his fists, about to pull him down, let him know what he wanted, but he stopped himself before the first tug.