The more House responded, the more Foreman wanted to make him respond. He hardly knew why it affected him so much. House's ragged, breathless words, the moans he couldn't--didn't--hold back, echoed in Foreman's ears. Yeah. Oh. Fuck. Each time he heard House's voice break Foreman felt the urge to suck even harder, to find that same spot and focus all his attention on it. Christ, Foreman should be able to take more control, to screw around and pretend he was only deigning to blow House, smirk as he let House's cock fall from his lips and make him wait. But he didn't want to; all he wanted was to make House come, to drag his orgasm out of him, to listen to those final, unstoppable sounds that he knew House wouldn't be able to repress. There was no way in hell House wasn't being honest right now. And maybe that was it. The fact that for once, Foreman knew that House's reactions were real. For him.
He sucked vigorously, getting turned on all over again by the sound of his slick, pumping fingers and the sloppy wet movement of his mouth. It was getting more difficult to keep up his rhythm, as House squirmed under him, his legs parting--Foreman moaned around House's erection, letting his throat vibrate. It was so fucking good feeling House submit to the sensations, to what Foreman was doing to him, and silently ask for more. His hips lifted each time Foreman found his prostate, and his stomach tensed under Foreman's cheek. He must be close; his hand squeezed the back of Foreman's neck, not to push him lower but as if he needed something to hold onto. Needed Foreman.
Foreman was breathing hard, barely able to get a full breath, his air bursting erratically through his nose. He wanted House to come, yeah, but not without a little struggle. On the next push of his fingers, instead of withdrawing, Foreman kept his fingertips against House's prostate. He stopped sucking, his mouth still closed around House's cock, letting the thick, hot weight of it rest against his tongue. The only stimulation House would get was by the movement of his body. Foreman closed his eyes long enough to take in House's desperate, jerky motion. For the length of a breath, maybe two, Foreman was completely still. Then, without warning, he started again, as fast and as hard as he could. The tiny break could only make the renewed sensation that much stronger, and Foreman was ready to force as much pleasure out of House as he could.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-19 12:36 am (UTC)He sucked vigorously, getting turned on all over again by the sound of his slick, pumping fingers and the sloppy wet movement of his mouth. It was getting more difficult to keep up his rhythm, as House squirmed under him, his legs parting--Foreman moaned around House's erection, letting his throat vibrate. It was so fucking good feeling House submit to the sensations, to what Foreman was doing to him, and silently ask for more. His hips lifted each time Foreman found his prostate, and his stomach tensed under Foreman's cheek. He must be close; his hand squeezed the back of Foreman's neck, not to push him lower but as if he needed something to hold onto. Needed Foreman.
Foreman was breathing hard, barely able to get a full breath, his air bursting erratically through his nose. He wanted House to come, yeah, but not without a little struggle. On the next push of his fingers, instead of withdrawing, Foreman kept his fingertips against House's prostate. He stopped sucking, his mouth still closed around House's cock, letting the thick, hot weight of it rest against his tongue. The only stimulation House would get was by the movement of his body. Foreman closed his eyes long enough to take in House's desperate, jerky motion. For the length of a breath, maybe two, Foreman was completely still. Then, without warning, he started again, as fast and as hard as he could. The tiny break could only make the renewed sensation that much stronger, and Foreman was ready to force as much pleasure out of House as he could.