House was caught between another moan and a laugh when Foreman pulled out of the kiss, Foreman's words low and rough, Foreman's body pushing down against him and making House grind his head down against the mattress. "You could--oh--leave, but you can't bitch if I finish this without you." He would have, too. It wouldn't be nearly this good, and he'd rather Foreman's hand around him like this, the friction of it and Foreman's cock. He'd rather Foreman's warm weight bearing down on him than thin, cool air. Foreman's hand moved faster, his head leaning down for another kiss, and suddenly House wasn't laughing anymore. He still felt pleased with himself, but it was easier to let himself focus on all the sensations since Foreman seemed intent on staying. He let his hands fall to his side, pushing against the mattress to give himself some leverage, lifting his hips and thrusting into Foreman's fist. He closed his eyes, breathing harder, a groan slipping as he felt the heat of Foreman's mouth near his ear.

Foreman's words only started to register after Foreman had begun attacking him with--what the fuck?--tickles. House barely had time to think about the reasons Foreman was fucking tickling him, a yelp bursting out of him as he instantly squirmed, trying to get away from Foreman's hands. High-pitched, breathless laughter started streaming out of his mouth--he couldn't fucking stop it--and he pushed desperately, uncoordinated, at Foreman's shoulders, his chest, trying to get him to stop. His body was arching, wriggling against Foreman's, their cocks still pressing and rubbing together, keeping House hard. House struggled to get words out between gasped breaths and bouts of laughter. "Stop! No! Foreman! I'll--" He tried to twist away, but didn't get very far, pinned down by Foreman's body. His boxers were still caught around his legs, giving Foreman an even greater advantage, not like he really needed one. "I'll fucking piss all over you. Or make--sure you get fired. Foreman!"