House smirked against Foreman's mouth. Couldn't stop himself, not when Foreman was groaning, partially pulling away to draw breaths. Not when Foreman seemed to get so fucking lost all of a sudden. House kept his eyes open, watching Foreman's face. He was inhaling all of Foreman's thick, hot puffs of air. Not caring that he could barely draw a full breath of fresh oxygen himself, reveling instead in the way Foreman's respiration had skyrocketed, in the way Foreman seemed desperate to catch his lips, his tongue as he kissed him, the way Foreman pushed into his touch as if he couldn't get enough of it.
Every one of Foreman's actions only served to heighten House's smug satisfaction--so far, none of them approached even mildly intimidating--and fed his ego. House let Foreman continue to push, act on his aggression and desire, just to feel the rise of victory in his chest. There was no other word for it; each movement Foreman made seemed like a victory to House, because Foreman wanted more. He grinned, looking up into Foreman's face, as Foreman shoved him backwards, down onto the bed. House kept his hand wrapped around Foreman's cock even as he shifted to straddle him, but let it fall away when Foreman took hold of his left wrist, holding it down. He'd expected Foreman to reach for the other one, but he had little time to consider the surprise before Foreman bore down on him to take another kiss, the surprise quickly replaced with a rush of satisfaction, even more desire. House wasn't quite sure how this had gotten so hot and urgent so fast, but, God, he wasn't about to put a stop to it.
It was fucking amazing, being able to let go like this, not having to physically keep himself in check, confident that Foreman could (and would) take--and return--as much as he dished out, and as hard. Foreman wasn't afraid to hold him down or kiss him with enough force to make him fucking whimper, but spoke enough of Foreman's desire for him that it boosted his own ego, drove his own need and desire. Enough to erase most of his thoughts. If this was what it would be like to do this, kiss and fuck, House couldn't bring himself to care if he and Foreman never had a full conversation again. This, he considered, might as well be a God damned conversation; there was enough back-and-forth, push-and-pull. Better than a fucking conversation.
He lifted his head away from the bed to push harder into Foreman's kiss, deepening it, his tongue pushing roughly inside Foreman's mouth. He curled his left hand into a tight fist, flexing his forearm and pushing up, just to keep up the fight; he knew Foreman had the advantage, that he wouldn't get far. The fight for control was fucking intoxicating, and, in as blatant a show of it as he could manage, House kept his free hand away from Foreman's cock--exactly where he knew Foreman wanted it. He gripped Foreman's thigh instead, fingertips digging hard into the muscle there, feeling its strain, its subtle movements under the skin as Foreman moved above him. With a wrench of his head, House pulled out of the kiss, dropping his head back to the mattress, panting his Foreman's face.
"I never knew it was possible to beg so much from a dominant position," House said, pausing to return for another kiss, sucking hard on Foreman's lip, over the place he'd bitten him, hoping that the draw of blood would make it throb even more. "But you've got it down."
no subject
Every one of Foreman's actions only served to heighten House's smug satisfaction--so far, none of them approached even mildly intimidating--and fed his ego. House let Foreman continue to push, act on his aggression and desire, just to feel the rise of victory in his chest. There was no other word for it; each movement Foreman made seemed like a victory to House, because Foreman wanted more. He grinned, looking up into Foreman's face, as Foreman shoved him backwards, down onto the bed. House kept his hand wrapped around Foreman's cock even as he shifted to straddle him, but let it fall away when Foreman took hold of his left wrist, holding it down. He'd expected Foreman to reach for the other one, but he had little time to consider the surprise before Foreman bore down on him to take another kiss, the surprise quickly replaced with a rush of satisfaction, even more desire. House wasn't quite sure how this had gotten so hot and urgent so fast, but, God, he wasn't about to put a stop to it.
It was fucking amazing, being able to let go like this, not having to physically keep himself in check, confident that Foreman could (and would) take--and return--as much as he dished out, and as hard. Foreman wasn't afraid to hold him down or kiss him with enough force to make him fucking whimper, but spoke enough of Foreman's desire for him that it boosted his own ego, drove his own need and desire. Enough to erase most of his thoughts. If this was what it would be like to do this, kiss and fuck, House couldn't bring himself to care if he and Foreman never had a full conversation again. This, he considered, might as well be a God damned conversation; there was enough back-and-forth, push-and-pull. Better than a fucking conversation.
He lifted his head away from the bed to push harder into Foreman's kiss, deepening it, his tongue pushing roughly inside Foreman's mouth. He curled his left hand into a tight fist, flexing his forearm and pushing up, just to keep up the fight; he knew Foreman had the advantage, that he wouldn't get far. The fight for control was fucking intoxicating, and, in as blatant a show of it as he could manage, House kept his free hand away from Foreman's cock--exactly where he knew Foreman wanted it. He gripped Foreman's thigh instead, fingertips digging hard into the muscle there, feeling its strain, its subtle movements under the skin as Foreman moved above him. With a wrench of his head, House pulled out of the kiss, dropping his head back to the mattress, panting his Foreman's face.
"I never knew it was possible to beg so much from a dominant position," House said, pausing to return for another kiss, sucking hard on Foreman's lip, over the place he'd bitten him, hoping that the draw of blood would make it throb even more. "But you've got it down."