"I already know what kind of soap you buy," House said before he could stop himself, but he paused for another bite, figuring he might as well continue avoiding Foreman's questions in favor of making him squirm even more. "And what deodorant you buy, and cologne, and underwear."
It was all House bothered to say, only opting to watch Foreman as he rose from the couch and vaguely suggested that he could be doing 'better things'. Like what? Dishes? Calling a cab? Joining Foreman in the shower, even though he'd just had one of his own? House wasn't sure, and he stayed put, finishing off the last of his lasagna and draining his beer bottle as Foreman disappeared into the bedroom. House stubbornly sat there for a few moments, browsing the channels before caving to the desire to follow Foreman, not quite sure why he was even doing it, what he hoped to achieve.
Once he reached the bedroom, House felt the nearly unbearable pull of his curiosity, forcing him to gravitate toward the bathroom door, arm already outstretch as if the doorknob had an inescapable magnetic pull. As his mind recalled the sense of satisfaction he had experienced earlier, when Foreman had attempted to open the door, House brought himself to a stop, pressing his hand against the side of his thigh, refusing to go any further, to open the door and give Foreman the same satisfaction. He glanced around the room, hoping for a distraction, and took a seat on Foreman's bed, propping his cane against the footboard, his back to the bathroom door.
He had put off his search of Foreman's bedroom, and now, despite Foreman's taunts, was as good a time as ever, with Foreman occupied. He doubted he would find much, but he hoped he would find--even if he found nothing else--an interesting array of sex toys around the bed. Noting that the shower was still running, House scooted along the bed, toward the bedside table and quietly opened the drawer. One peek inside, and House already felt pleased enough to call off any further search. (For now.) Leaning forward, he reached inside to remove a box of condoms--the same kind he had found in Foreman's car. These were, House noted, nearly expired, although Foreman probably wouldn't have to worry about them reaching the date unused if he kept bringing him into his bed with the same regularity as he'd been lately.
House refused to think about the implications of that thought too much, and tossed the box back into the drawer, trading them for a pair of Playboys. Foreman had to keep up appearances even for himself, apparently, House thought, flipping through both of them quickly before replacing them. The edge of the magazines jostled another object against the back of the drawer, and House felt around for it with his hand, a grin spreading over his face as his hand wrapped around the unmistakable shape of a dildo (http://comeasyouare.com/images/Product/tantus-faerie-lg.jpg). Taking it out of the drawer, House inspected it, taking in the curved shape, perfect for reaching a prostate. Or a g-spot, House reminded himself, but he had reasons for believing this particular toy wasn't intended for that purpose.
Men didn't usually supply dildos for women, certain didn't keep one on hand for one-night-stands, and House could only come to the conclusion that Foreman had this for himself. Arousal stirred in him as images flashed through his mind: Foreman spread on his bed, one hand pushing the dildo inside himself to search out his own prostate. His other hand sliding across his hip, wrapping around his dick. One hand pushing, the other pumping, stroking. Making himself moan. Fuck. It made House want to sneak up on Foreman with this while he was still in the shower. Even as he entertained the thought, House had a feeling that, if this really was for Foreman's own use, Foreman would refuse to take it--a dildo or a real cock, now that House thought of it--up his ass from anyone but himself, but even that was hot, made House squirm where he sat, his face flushing with a burst of heat. So much for a distraction.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-29 10:29 am (UTC)It was all House bothered to say, only opting to watch Foreman as he rose from the couch and vaguely suggested that he could be doing 'better things'. Like what? Dishes? Calling a cab? Joining Foreman in the shower, even though he'd just had one of his own? House wasn't sure, and he stayed put, finishing off the last of his lasagna and draining his beer bottle as Foreman disappeared into the bedroom. House stubbornly sat there for a few moments, browsing the channels before caving to the desire to follow Foreman, not quite sure why he was even doing it, what he hoped to achieve.
Once he reached the bedroom, House felt the nearly unbearable pull of his curiosity, forcing him to gravitate toward the bathroom door, arm already outstretch as if the doorknob had an inescapable magnetic pull. As his mind recalled the sense of satisfaction he had experienced earlier, when Foreman had attempted to open the door, House brought himself to a stop, pressing his hand against the side of his thigh, refusing to go any further, to open the door and give Foreman the same satisfaction. He glanced around the room, hoping for a distraction, and took a seat on Foreman's bed, propping his cane against the footboard, his back to the bathroom door.
He had put off his search of Foreman's bedroom, and now, despite Foreman's taunts, was as good a time as ever, with Foreman occupied. He doubted he would find much, but he hoped he would find--even if he found nothing else--an interesting array of sex toys around the bed. Noting that the shower was still running, House scooted along the bed, toward the bedside table and quietly opened the drawer. One peek inside, and House already felt pleased enough to call off any further search. (For now.) Leaning forward, he reached inside to remove a box of condoms--the same kind he had found in Foreman's car. These were, House noted, nearly expired, although Foreman probably wouldn't have to worry about them reaching the date unused if he kept bringing him into his bed with the same regularity as he'd been lately.
House refused to think about the implications of that thought too much, and tossed the box back into the drawer, trading them for a pair of Playboys. Foreman had to keep up appearances even for himself, apparently, House thought, flipping through both of them quickly before replacing them. The edge of the magazines jostled another object against the back of the drawer, and House felt around for it with his hand, a grin spreading over his face as his hand wrapped around the unmistakable shape of a dildo (http://comeasyouare.com/images/Product/tantus-faerie-lg.jpg). Taking it out of the drawer, House inspected it, taking in the curved shape, perfect for reaching a prostate. Or a g-spot, House reminded himself, but he had reasons for believing this particular toy wasn't intended for that purpose.
Men didn't usually supply dildos for women, certain didn't keep one on hand for one-night-stands, and House could only come to the conclusion that Foreman had this for himself. Arousal stirred in him as images flashed through his mind: Foreman spread on his bed, one hand pushing the dildo inside himself to search out his own prostate. His other hand sliding across his hip, wrapping around his dick. One hand pushing, the other pumping, stroking. Making himself moan. Fuck. It made House want to sneak up on Foreman with this while he was still in the shower. Even as he entertained the thought, House had a feeling that, if this really was for Foreman's own use, Foreman would refuse to take it--a dildo or a real cock, now that House thought of it--up his ass from anyone but himself, but even that was hot, made House squirm where he sat, his face flushing with a burst of heat. So much for a distraction.