The abruptness of Foreman's action made him stumble backwards until he crashed against the counter, the impact making him set his jaw, inhale through clenched teeth. His hand loosened around his cane, and he glanced down to watch it fall away from him before returning his attention to Foreman, who hovered close, intent clear on his face. House waited, not bothering to answer Foreman's question--he had a feeling Foreman wasn't expecting an answer anyway. Maybe Foreman actually got it. Don't ask. Just do it. House stayed still as he waited, refusing to dish out any more hints.
His frustration began to dissipate when Foreman leaned forward, practically charging, and kissed him. Yes. He let Foreman take what he wanted, kiss him how he wanted. He met Foreman's tongue, even yielding a little, enough to make Foreman pleased with himself and continue, but not enough to stop him from pushing harder, trying for more the next time he kissed him like this. His hands gripped the counter on either side of him, tightening as a small moan slipped out of him, muffled by the kiss. He hated himself for how much he wanted to touch Foreman. Spread his hands over his stomach, run them along his ribs, his chest, his arms. He especially hated himself for the way his body was reacting on its own, fighting slightly against Foreman's grip, arching for more contact.
It was always nice to be right, but now House felt like he'd armed Foreman with a secret to dealing with him. He might have kept his mouth shut altogether if the end result wasn't this, if it didn't feel so damn good to feel the force of Foreman's body pressing into him, mouth moving on his, tongue pushing against his as if Foreman was searching for something. House was a little nervous as to what he might find, but he refused to view his own response as 'giving in'. It was still a part of the greater plan, he tried to tell himself. Prove that, if Foreman skipped the verbal permission slip, Foreman stood a better chance at inspiring cooperation. Remind Foreman that he didn't response to niceties. No, not 'giving in'. Just some carefully distributed positive reinforcement to set up a repeat performance, preferably when House could actually follow through, when his body wasn't recovering from a romp in the sheet, when he wasn't this damn hungry. He had a feeling that, past all the bullshit, Foreman might actually make it worth it.
no subject
His frustration began to dissipate when Foreman leaned forward, practically charging, and kissed him. Yes. He let Foreman take what he wanted, kiss him how he wanted. He met Foreman's tongue, even yielding a little, enough to make Foreman pleased with himself and continue, but not enough to stop him from pushing harder, trying for more the next time he kissed him like this. His hands gripped the counter on either side of him, tightening as a small moan slipped out of him, muffled by the kiss. He hated himself for how much he wanted to touch Foreman. Spread his hands over his stomach, run them along his ribs, his chest, his arms. He especially hated himself for the way his body was reacting on its own, fighting slightly against Foreman's grip, arching for more contact.
It was always nice to be right, but now House felt like he'd armed Foreman with a secret to dealing with him. He might have kept his mouth shut altogether if the end result wasn't this, if it didn't feel so damn good to feel the force of Foreman's body pressing into him, mouth moving on his, tongue pushing against his as if Foreman was searching for something. House was a little nervous as to what he might find, but he refused to view his own response as 'giving in'. It was still a part of the greater plan, he tried to tell himself. Prove that, if Foreman skipped the verbal permission slip, Foreman stood a better chance at inspiring cooperation. Remind Foreman that he didn't response to niceties. No, not 'giving in'. Just some carefully distributed positive reinforcement to set up a repeat performance, preferably when House could actually follow through, when his body wasn't recovering from a romp in the sheet, when he wasn't this damn hungry. He had a feeling that, past all the bullshit, Foreman might actually make it worth it.