Foreman could feel the slick, obscene glide of House's tongue circling the tip of his thumb as he sucked. Every nerve in his body seemed tuned to that one spot, his cock throbbing in time with the movement of House's mouth around his thumb. Foreman's hand was sweating, his harsh, desperate breaths coming out noisy and uneven. He was barely able to keep his eyes open, wanting to sink down inside the sensation and focus on feeling it. At the same time, he couldn't look away. He knew House was good. He remembered House's blowjob last time, the way he'd been focused and intent on driving Foreman to orgasm as hard and as fast as possible. But Foreman hadn't been able to watch his face then, the movement of his throat and lips, the flutter of his eyelashes. The way House was meeting his eyes, steadily, seemed halfway between a challenge and some sort of promise, and Foreman couldn't break away from his stare, didn't want to. House's eyes were practically hypnotic, his direct gaze turning Foreman on almost more than the moist sound when he pulled his lips off Foreman's thumb.
"Yeah..." Foreman couldn't keep entirely quiet, the sight of House swallowing firing his imagination. And House had pretty much given him permission to talk, had stopped stroking him long enough to demand that Foreman tell him what he wanted. Watching House's eyes, the cloudy look of desire that had taken over his features when Foreman had first touched his thumb against House's lip, was incredible, making his heart hammer in his chest, feeling like he was coming to a flashpoint. It was so hot, watching House's breathing speed up just from what Foreman was telling him. He wanted to see the effect he could have, how much he could turn them both on just by talking. "Gonna fuck your mouth," Foreman said raggedly, working to keep his voice even and serious. "Come on your face, watch you swallow..."
House bent his head, and Foreman could already feel his breath against his stomach. He bit back a moan--there was no way in hell he'd live that down; House hadn't even touched him yet--and then gritted his teeth when House looked up again a moment later. One look at the bed, their positions, made it easy enough to see what House wanted, and if House thought Foreman was going to fight, or resist, when House was the one doing what he wanted, then he was very, very wrong. Foreman hauled himself up by his arms, bunching the pillows behind his head and shoulders, so that he was half-sitting against the headboard. He spread his legs--he knew it looked goddamn wanton, like he was begging for it, but if it gave House room to lie between them and finally suck him, then he didn't care. And Foreman knew he'd be able to see everything from this angle, the bob of House's head, the sight of his lips sealed around Foreman's cock. Fuck, he wasn't going to last; there was already hint of precome at the tip of his cock, and he was so hard that he hurt. Come on, he thought, keeping his mouth determinedly shut, at least until House touched him. He wanted to get his fingers in House's hair, jerk his head forward until he got some kind of relief, but he also wanted to see House do what he'd asked--demanded--without any prompting at all. Foreman couldn't imagine anything hotter than that.
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"Yeah..." Foreman couldn't keep entirely quiet, the sight of House swallowing firing his imagination. And House had pretty much given him permission to talk, had stopped stroking him long enough to demand that Foreman tell him what he wanted. Watching House's eyes, the cloudy look of desire that had taken over his features when Foreman had first touched his thumb against House's lip, was incredible, making his heart hammer in his chest, feeling like he was coming to a flashpoint. It was so hot, watching House's breathing speed up just from what Foreman was telling him. He wanted to see the effect he could have, how much he could turn them both on just by talking. "Gonna fuck your mouth," Foreman said raggedly, working to keep his voice even and serious. "Come on your face, watch you swallow..."
House bent his head, and Foreman could already feel his breath against his stomach. He bit back a moan--there was no way in hell he'd live that down; House hadn't even touched him yet--and then gritted his teeth when House looked up again a moment later. One look at the bed, their positions, made it easy enough to see what House wanted, and if House thought Foreman was going to fight, or resist, when House was the one doing what he wanted, then he was very, very wrong. Foreman hauled himself up by his arms, bunching the pillows behind his head and shoulders, so that he was half-sitting against the headboard. He spread his legs--he knew it looked goddamn wanton, like he was begging for it, but if it gave House room to lie between them and finally suck him, then he didn't care. And Foreman knew he'd be able to see everything from this angle, the bob of House's head, the sight of his lips sealed around Foreman's cock. Fuck, he wasn't going to last; there was already hint of precome at the tip of his cock, and he was so hard that he hurt. Come on, he thought, keeping his mouth determinedly shut, at least until House touched him. He wanted to get his fingers in House's hair, jerk his head forward until he got some kind of relief, but he also wanted to see House do what he'd asked--demanded--without any prompting at all. Foreman couldn't imagine anything hotter than that.