Foreman caught his breath when House moved closer. He was fucking fooling himself if he thought he had the upper hand, because House was right, damn him. Foreman had been so busy making House shut the hell up that he hadn't worried enough about afterward, when House would rub Foreman's actions in his face. Foreman didn't regret a lot tonight--certainly not kissing House, and not insisting on getting him back here--but the instant House said jealous boyfriend, Foreman's shoulders knotted with tension. He was gripping the counter and his knuckles ached at the force. It pissed him off that he'd been acting that way--that he'd felt that way at all. It wasn't Terzi's fault, she was probably just as deluded as the rest of House's candidates who thought that winning a job with House was some sort of honour. Foreman knew better but he'd done it too; treated Terzi as a threat, as if she'd ever last with House.
"Not to mention, because 'everything else' wouldn't exactly fit your theory," Foreman ground out, ignoring House's remark as best he could. "Since you weren't exactly complaining." Not once they'd really gotten started. But Foreman had been the one who'd broken--who'd begged. God, some day he wanted to bring House to the edge and then just leave him, until he'd asked, until he'd been polite. Until then Foreman would be at a disadvantage, and they both knew it.
Worse, Foreman was conflating work and personal issues, and he fucking hated that, the confusion of it, the lack of boundaries. He was standing here with House leaning over him, his--Foreman's--t-shirt brushing against his back and his nipples tightening with goosebumps as House's breath washed hot across his neck, getting turned on and hating himself for proving House's point, for being that easy. A pushover. He responded almost instantly when he felt House's hands on his back, the warm spread of his fingers, and he hated that, too, for how good it felt. House wanted him, wanted to touch him, but at the same time he thought he had some right to judge Foreman for making it happen? Ridicule him because he'd been stupid enough to feel something?
"That must be pretty damn convenient for you," Foreman said. No, House didn't have to ask, because Foreman had done all the work for him--big change there; House's talent was making everyone else do the heavy lifting. Foreman shrugged back, angrily, forcing House to give him enough space to turn around. "When did you ever ask for anything, House? And I don't mean food or pills." He tilted his head, evaluating House with his eyes. Waited for the answer that probably wasn't coming. "Why the hell are you questioning it now? At least I learned something in New York. It's not a crime for me to get what I want. It's not the end of the world to ask and expect to get something back."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-27 05:09 am (UTC)"Not to mention, because 'everything else' wouldn't exactly fit your theory," Foreman ground out, ignoring House's remark as best he could. "Since you weren't exactly complaining." Not once they'd really gotten started. But Foreman had been the one who'd broken--who'd begged. God, some day he wanted to bring House to the edge and then just leave him, until he'd asked, until he'd been polite. Until then Foreman would be at a disadvantage, and they both knew it.
Worse, Foreman was conflating work and personal issues, and he fucking hated that, the confusion of it, the lack of boundaries. He was standing here with House leaning over him, his--Foreman's--t-shirt brushing against his back and his nipples tightening with goosebumps as House's breath washed hot across his neck, getting turned on and hating himself for proving House's point, for being that easy. A pushover. He responded almost instantly when he felt House's hands on his back, the warm spread of his fingers, and he hated that, too, for how good it felt. House wanted him, wanted to touch him, but at the same time he thought he had some right to judge Foreman for making it happen? Ridicule him because he'd been stupid enough to feel something?
"That must be pretty damn convenient for you," Foreman said. No, House didn't have to ask, because Foreman had done all the work for him--big change there; House's talent was making everyone else do the heavy lifting. Foreman shrugged back, angrily, forcing House to give him enough space to turn around. "When did you ever ask for anything, House? And I don't mean food or pills." He tilted his head, evaluating House with his eyes. Waited for the answer that probably wasn't coming. "Why the hell are you questioning it now? At least I learned something in New York. It's not a crime for me to get what I want. It's not the end of the world to ask and expect to get something back."