House was counting on being left to tend to himself, ready for Foreman to snap a criticism of his attitude and leave him there, or, worse, shove his clothes at him before forcing him out of his apartment. Either prospect sucked; Foreman had gotten him so fucking hot that his whole body was flushing with heat, goosebumps rising on his arms, cock throbbing and begging to be touched. He would have been angry if his head wasn't clouded with so much arousal and desire, and, fuck, Foreman's words, even though they were laced with Foreman's own anger, made House's brain fog even more, and he fought to take in what Foreman said, what he meant.
With you. He wasn't sure what Foreman meant by it. Was it a slip? Did Foreman actually see them as...together? House had a feeling that Foreman hadn't been referring to proximity, and he had to close his eyes, trying to push away the implications of Foreman's words. Telling himself he didn't care. It didn't matter. It--this--didn't mean anything. Foreman claimed he wasn't in this--whatever it was--for his ego, but House doubted it. If Foreman wasn't getting something out of it, he wouldn't stick around, and House was sure Foreman's ego had something to do with it.
When Foreman let go of his wrists, House could feel the blood rushing back into his hands and he flexed them a few times to help the flow before pushing himself up, following the heat of Foreman's body. "Like you were ever interested in doing this my way," House said, even though he had a feeling he was just arguing to get in the last word at this point. By the look of it, his and Foreman's ideas about the way to do this were close to the same. Foreman was grabbing the lube and a condom from the drawer. House took the opportunity to kick the pajama pants off and onto the floor, shifting back onto the bed to put a little distance between them, maybe make Foreman believe he still had some control of the situation. Make himself believe it.
As he watched Foreman, leaning on his elbows, eyes glancing down to the lube and condom in his hands, House said, unable to resist, "Aren't you forgetting something? I assume 'your way' means maximum pleasure for you, right? That toy might be useful. Or do you want me to fuck you with something else?" Based on how Foreman had been holding him down, doing everything he could to rip House's control away, House figured that Foreman had no plans to get fucked, but reminding Foreman of how all of this had started was too good to pass up, and House held his gaze steady as he watched Foreman's face.
no subject
With you. He wasn't sure what Foreman meant by it. Was it a slip? Did Foreman actually see them as...together? House had a feeling that Foreman hadn't been referring to proximity, and he had to close his eyes, trying to push away the implications of Foreman's words. Telling himself he didn't care. It didn't matter. It--this--didn't mean anything. Foreman claimed he wasn't in this--whatever it was--for his ego, but House doubted it. If Foreman wasn't getting something out of it, he wouldn't stick around, and House was sure Foreman's ego had something to do with it.
When Foreman let go of his wrists, House could feel the blood rushing back into his hands and he flexed them a few times to help the flow before pushing himself up, following the heat of Foreman's body. "Like you were ever interested in doing this my way," House said, even though he had a feeling he was just arguing to get in the last word at this point. By the look of it, his and Foreman's ideas about the way to do this were close to the same. Foreman was grabbing the lube and a condom from the drawer. House took the opportunity to kick the pajama pants off and onto the floor, shifting back onto the bed to put a little distance between them, maybe make Foreman believe he still had some control of the situation. Make himself believe it.
As he watched Foreman, leaning on his elbows, eyes glancing down to the lube and condom in his hands, House said, unable to resist, "Aren't you forgetting something? I assume 'your way' means maximum pleasure for you, right? That toy might be useful. Or do you want me to fuck you with something else?" Based on how Foreman had been holding him down, doing everything he could to rip House's control away, House figured that Foreman had no plans to get fucked, but reminding Foreman of how all of this had started was too good to pass up, and House held his gaze steady as he watched Foreman's face.