House closed his mouth, forcing himself not to say what he wanted to say. You'll stop yourself. The words would only propel Foreman away, just so Foreman could try to prove him wrong, and that would defeat the purpose of what he was trying to do. He kept his eyes open, lips parting with a hard sigh as he stroked himself a little harder, fighting to keep himself propped up on his elbow. Foreman was still looking, still interested, even though he'd backed away. A few more seconds and he'd fucking have him. Even Foreman wouldn't turn down a show like this. He'd want to join in, and House knew he would. Only a few more seconds.
He knew that Foreman cracked--he could see the moment it happened--when Foreman shook his head and pushed his own underwear down his legs. House smirked openly, letting the smile show in his eyes so Foreman could see every tiny bit of smugness in his expression. Foreman practically leaped onto the bed, and his glare did little to cover his eagerness. House was so fucking satisfied with himself, even when Foreman met him with an almost bruising kiss, pushing him back to lie flat, that he let a laugh loose in Foreman's mouth. His mouth curled with another grin as he tried to kiss back, give Foreman every reason to give in fully, and laughed again at Foreman's groan. God, it was more awesome than he anticipated, making Foreman break so fast, forget about his damn obligations and reputation. Fuck. It was so damn good. House moved his hand away from himself, raised it to Foreman's ass to pull his hips down to grind against him. He left it there when Foreman reached between them to stroke them both, pleasure heightening his smugness, his self-satisfaction. Foreman was doing this all on his own, and House was more than willing to let him. The urgency was dizzying, gratifying to know that even Foreman didn't want to say no to this, to him. He was drawing breaths through his nose, letting Foreman continue the kiss as long as he wanted, moaning to spur Foreman on, fingers squeezing his ass, hips lifting as much as he could to make Foreman break.
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He knew that Foreman cracked--he could see the moment it happened--when Foreman shook his head and pushed his own underwear down his legs. House smirked openly, letting the smile show in his eyes so Foreman could see every tiny bit of smugness in his expression. Foreman practically leaped onto the bed, and his glare did little to cover his eagerness. House was so fucking satisfied with himself, even when Foreman met him with an almost bruising kiss, pushing him back to lie flat, that he let a laugh loose in Foreman's mouth. His mouth curled with another grin as he tried to kiss back, give Foreman every reason to give in fully, and laughed again at Foreman's groan. God, it was more awesome than he anticipated, making Foreman break so fast, forget about his damn obligations and reputation. Fuck. It was so damn good. House moved his hand away from himself, raised it to Foreman's ass to pull his hips down to grind against him. He left it there when Foreman reached between them to stroke them both, pleasure heightening his smugness, his self-satisfaction. Foreman was doing this all on his own, and House was more than willing to let him. The urgency was dizzying, gratifying to know that even Foreman didn't want to say no to this, to him. He was drawing breaths through his nose, letting Foreman continue the kiss as long as he wanted, moaning to spur Foreman on, fingers squeezing his ass, hips lifting as much as he could to make Foreman break.