He couldn't do it. Not here. It would be bad enough glancing at the door of the balcony and imagining this--this kiss--now. He would become absolutely useless if he ever conducted another differential in his office and found himself combating images, memories, of a fucking blowjob. And, even though the blinds were closed, Foreman hadn't locked the door, and House couldn't risk a surprise visitor from a janitor. If Foreman wanted to do anything, he would have to make use of those seat-warmers and drive him somewhere private.
Releasing Foreman's sleeves, House broke the kiss. He turned his head to the side and breathed fast, shallow breaths, ignoring his burgeoning hard-on and pushed himself away from the door, past Foreman. He quietly shrugged on his jacket, the decision to hitch a ride with Foreman already in his head--it really was way too cold for the ride home on his motorcycle now. He'd figure out the particulars of morning transportation later, depending on how the night went and where he ended up.
A flutter of anxiety traveled through his chest, but he squashed it. Foreman wasn't messing with him. He couldn't understand why Foreman suddenly had an interest in him, when only several months ago he'd left him with the impression that he'd never wanted to be near him again, but he didn't detect a lie in Foreman's words when he said he was interested in him. It had to have been more than just enjoyment. Foreman knew how to separate a 'good time' from other parts of his life, and, if House had just been a 'good time', Foreman wouldn't have attacked him with kiss after kiss tonight. The important thing was that Foreman showed that he wanted him now, and House couldn't keep up the act anymore. At least not for now, not for tonight. It had felt too good to feel Foreman pressing him up against the door, kissing hard. He wanted that, but not here.
Drawing a deep, steadying breath, House slipped his keys into his jacket pocket. "Let's go," House said, shouldering his backpack and walking towards the door of the office, leaving his helmet underneath his desk. "You could do your 'something' at home. I want to test your seat-warmers."
no subject
Releasing Foreman's sleeves, House broke the kiss. He turned his head to the side and breathed fast, shallow breaths, ignoring his burgeoning hard-on and pushed himself away from the door, past Foreman. He quietly shrugged on his jacket, the decision to hitch a ride with Foreman already in his head--it really was way too cold for the ride home on his motorcycle now. He'd figure out the particulars of morning transportation later, depending on how the night went and where he ended up.
A flutter of anxiety traveled through his chest, but he squashed it. Foreman wasn't messing with him. He couldn't understand why Foreman suddenly had an interest in him, when only several months ago he'd left him with the impression that he'd never wanted to be near him again, but he didn't detect a lie in Foreman's words when he said he was interested in him. It had to have been more than just enjoyment. Foreman knew how to separate a 'good time' from other parts of his life, and, if House had just been a 'good time', Foreman wouldn't have attacked him with kiss after kiss tonight. The important thing was that Foreman showed that he wanted him now, and House couldn't keep up the act anymore. At least not for now, not for tonight. It had felt too good to feel Foreman pressing him up against the door, kissing hard. He wanted that, but not here.
Drawing a deep, steadying breath, House slipped his keys into his jacket pocket. "Let's go," House said, shouldering his backpack and walking towards the door of the office, leaving his helmet underneath his desk. "You could do your 'something' at home. I want to test your seat-warmers."