House already regretted it. Regretted that he couldn't keep it together enough to stop himself from uttering those two words. Two had been enough, and no amount of encouragement or prompts from Foreman would be enough to force the rest of that sentence out of his mouth. I want you to turn me around, cover me with your whole damn body, and press me into the fucking mattress. I want you to fuck me, any way you fucking want, and make me come as you do it. Come so fucking hard I won't be able to fucking think anymore. Jesus, it was bad enough that he imagined it, that he wanted it, never mind started allowing himself to translate his thoughts into words. He had to get a fucking grip--it was one thing to let go on his terms, when he set the pace--but it was nearly impossible when he was this hot, this desperate to feel more contact, for Foreman to rock forward, grind down harder, and give him a real touch. He didn't know why he was so damn desperate for Foreman, why it mattered that it was him. Didn't know why he wanted to raise his head and catch Foreman in another kiss as Foreman lowered his mouth close to his, Foreman's breath washing over his mouth, part of his cheek. House kept his head turned, refusing to give in to that pathetic, needy desire, but the pull to react--along with the ache low in his stomach, in his cock--jumped a notch as Foreman laid a kiss on the inside of his forearm.
As Foreman moved down his arm, the touch of Foreman's lips turned almost tender, and it surprised House enough to make him draw a sharp, quick breath, his eyes opening to stare, transfixed, at the way Foreman's tongue trailed along his arm. It wasn't dirty, or forceful, or like any of the other moves Foreman was using on him; it was confusing. House closed his eyes again, turned his head to face the ceiling. God, it felt good, still a tease, but softer. This suddenly felt as though it were more than a spontaneous, casual fuck, and, if Foreman didn't choose that moment to speak, House might have forgotten that it was Foreman who was nearly covering him, kissing him like he wanted to explore him, not just tease him. House wasn't sure of Foreman's motivations and wasn't about to ask--he'd watch instead, think about it later. Foreman's actions would lie less than his words, House figured.
Foreman's current words, however, seemed to be completely truthful. An honest, urgent request, but House had a better idea of why Foreman wanted him to finish that sentence. "Yeah," House said, heavy on the sarcasm, opening his eyes to find Foreman studying him. He kept his eyes steady on Foreman's face, not backing down. "So I can--" He stopped for several breaths, straining again under Foreman's grip to free himself. "--watch you refuse? Do--do nothing? No, thanks."
House knew that Foreman only wanted to hear the rest of his sentence just to hear it, confessed with his tongue, because Foreman had demanded it. Foreman wanted him to beg, lose all of his control, and stroke his ego. House saw no reason to bend to Foreman's will, certain that Foreman wouldn't give him what he wanted if he asked, begged. Suddenly the situation had turned to a lose-lose. If House gave in and told Foreman exactly what he wanted, Foreman would deny him, just to spite him, just to prove he could. If he refused to share what he wanted, Foreman would still deny him. So, House figured, he might as well keep his pride intact. It was already driving him crazy enough--the way Foreman was holding him down and rubbing their cocks against one another, too gentle and not enough. He wasn't about to tell Foreman what he wanted without the guarantee that Foreman would listen and follow through, and, as far as he could tell, that wasn't Foreman's plan. "Don't pretend--you're interested in--in anything more than a--fucking ego boost."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-31 08:48 am (UTC)As Foreman moved down his arm, the touch of Foreman's lips turned almost tender, and it surprised House enough to make him draw a sharp, quick breath, his eyes opening to stare, transfixed, at the way Foreman's tongue trailed along his arm. It wasn't dirty, or forceful, or like any of the other moves Foreman was using on him; it was confusing. House closed his eyes again, turned his head to face the ceiling. God, it felt good, still a tease, but softer. This suddenly felt as though it were more than a spontaneous, casual fuck, and, if Foreman didn't choose that moment to speak, House might have forgotten that it was Foreman who was nearly covering him, kissing him like he wanted to explore him, not just tease him. House wasn't sure of Foreman's motivations and wasn't about to ask--he'd watch instead, think about it later. Foreman's actions would lie less than his words, House figured.
Foreman's current words, however, seemed to be completely truthful. An honest, urgent request, but House had a better idea of why Foreman wanted him to finish that sentence. "Yeah," House said, heavy on the sarcasm, opening his eyes to find Foreman studying him. He kept his eyes steady on Foreman's face, not backing down. "So I can--" He stopped for several breaths, straining again under Foreman's grip to free himself. "--watch you refuse? Do--do nothing? No, thanks."
House knew that Foreman only wanted to hear the rest of his sentence just to hear it, confessed with his tongue, because Foreman had demanded it. Foreman wanted him to beg, lose all of his control, and stroke his ego. House saw no reason to bend to Foreman's will, certain that Foreman wouldn't give him what he wanted if he asked, begged. Suddenly the situation had turned to a lose-lose. If House gave in and told Foreman exactly what he wanted, Foreman would deny him, just to spite him, just to prove he could. If he refused to share what he wanted, Foreman would still deny him. So, House figured, he might as well keep his pride intact. It was already driving him crazy enough--the way Foreman was holding him down and rubbing their cocks against one another, too gentle and not enough. He wasn't about to tell Foreman what he wanted without the guarantee that Foreman would listen and follow through, and, as far as he could tell, that wasn't Foreman's plan. "Don't pretend--you're interested in--in anything more than a--fucking ego boost."