"House, shut up." Even as the words left him Foreman knew it was the lamest comeback he'd ever given. Pathetic. Fuck, he didn't care. House lifted his hips and his cock was hard and all that was between them were the pajama pants--such a stupid thing to get worked up over--and he wanted them gone. He kissed House again, still forceful but distracted, too, by what House had said. That grin of his, the laugh, were nothing but provocation. Foreman had never seen House actually happy, so it had to be just another taunt. He panted against House's mouth between kisses, and gasped when House's hands slid up his thighs to his ass, dragging them closer together.
Foreman lifted up long enough to grab the waistband of the pajama pants and pull them down over House's hips, dragging the material along his cock. From where he was sitting he didn't have the reach, or the patience, to get rid of them entirely; House could worry about freeing his legs if he wanted to. Foreman swept his gaze down House's body as House's hands squeezed his ass, his eyes half-closed as House rocked him forward, their erections pressing together. It was the gentlest touch they'd had since this had started. Felt so good; focused, heated pleasure, hot but not frantic. Foreman frowned in concentration, his mouth opening just enough to flick his tongue across his lips, wetting them. He didn't want to buck forward, rubbing hard until the touch chafed. This pressure, slow and deliberate, was suddenly better than the rough, desperate kissing. He was finally staying still long enough to actually think. He shuddered, his breath escaping unevenly, as he leaned forward. He caught House's forearms, pulling them away from him, trapping them against the bed on either side of House's head and putting all the weight on them that he could spare. Had to get the upper hand, somehow. Not just holding House down, but putting him in a position he'd hate. Vulnerable. Foreman gritted his teeth and forced himself to breathe slowly, and this time when he leaned down, instead of kissing House's mouth, he dragged his lips along the tendon in House's neck. Down to his collarbone, bending nearly in half as he sucked open-mouthed kisses along it, then retracing his path, up to House's ear. House's hair smelled like him, his soap, his shampoo, and Foreman sucked gently on his earlobe for a moment, breathing it in.
"What makes you think," he said at last, remembering how much he'd responded to House leaning on him in the kitchen, the hot whisper of his breath, "it's an either-or question?" He couldn't let House set the parameters if he wanted to win. Foreman wasn't about to let House taunt his way into fucking him, and he wasn't going to oblige him by giving in completely to pushing him around. With both his hands trapped, House might not be able to touch Foreman but he couldn't touch himself, either. Foreman smiled a bit as he backed off to watch House's face, then took in his chest rising and falling with his breaths, and down to the flush of his erection against his stomach, their cocks pressing together as Foreman rolled his hips forward to increase the pressure.
no subject
Foreman lifted up long enough to grab the waistband of the pajama pants and pull them down over House's hips, dragging the material along his cock. From where he was sitting he didn't have the reach, or the patience, to get rid of them entirely; House could worry about freeing his legs if he wanted to. Foreman swept his gaze down House's body as House's hands squeezed his ass, his eyes half-closed as House rocked him forward, their erections pressing together. It was the gentlest touch they'd had since this had started. Felt so good; focused, heated pleasure, hot but not frantic. Foreman frowned in concentration, his mouth opening just enough to flick his tongue across his lips, wetting them. He didn't want to buck forward, rubbing hard until the touch chafed. This pressure, slow and deliberate, was suddenly better than the rough, desperate kissing. He was finally staying still long enough to actually think. He shuddered, his breath escaping unevenly, as he leaned forward. He caught House's forearms, pulling them away from him, trapping them against the bed on either side of House's head and putting all the weight on them that he could spare. Had to get the upper hand, somehow. Not just holding House down, but putting him in a position he'd hate. Vulnerable. Foreman gritted his teeth and forced himself to breathe slowly, and this time when he leaned down, instead of kissing House's mouth, he dragged his lips along the tendon in House's neck. Down to his collarbone, bending nearly in half as he sucked open-mouthed kisses along it, then retracing his path, up to House's ear. House's hair smelled like him, his soap, his shampoo, and Foreman sucked gently on his earlobe for a moment, breathing it in.
"What makes you think," he said at last, remembering how much he'd responded to House leaning on him in the kitchen, the hot whisper of his breath, "it's an either-or question?" He couldn't let House set the parameters if he wanted to win. Foreman wasn't about to let House taunt his way into fucking him, and he wasn't going to oblige him by giving in completely to pushing him around. With both his hands trapped, House might not be able to touch Foreman but he couldn't touch himself, either. Foreman smiled a bit as he backed off to watch House's face, then took in his chest rising and falling with his breaths, and down to the flush of his erection against his stomach, their cocks pressing together as Foreman rolled his hips forward to increase the pressure.