House scoffed at Foreman's lie--he knew it was a lie; Foreman had put no conviction behind it--and he was about to launch an entire series of taunts, attempting to work out a way to maneuver his way around Foreman and retrieve his toy. Flaunt it, what House thought Foreman did with it, how he used it, what Foreman imagined as he thrust it inside himself. The words were at the edge of his tongue, the smirk still playing at his mouth, but he never had the opportunity to unleash them before Foreman leaned down, gripped the back of his head, and pulled him into a kiss. A hard kiss, almost vicious, and it made House reach up to curl his hand around Foreman's forearm, squeezing. He fought to angle his head against the force of Foreman's grip, and he returned the kiss with an equal ferocity, refusing to let Foreman force him into compliance, just because he'd managed to embarrass him. It reminded House of their first kiss, the shove-and-pull of it, and despite his growing arousal, he refused to give in to it. He caught Foreman's bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to remind Foreman of who he was kissing, that he wouldn't back down, bend over, and take whatever Foreman wanted just because he made him really fucking hot.

His position--and Foreman's, the way he loomed over him, somehow maintaining his balance--prevented any kind of escape; House didn't have the strength or agility for it. House opted for another method, reaching between them to roughly take hold of Foreman's dick, immediately stroking, touching without any kind of preamble, not planning to release him until he worked him to full hardness. It made his own cock stir, and he felt himself begin to get hard, but at least House felt as though he was taking a little control back, even if he had to prove he would fight Foreman to do it.