Surprisingly, Foreman didn't sound smug, wasn't acting smug; Foreman's breathing was just as hard and harsh as his own. No remarks about the wanton way House was spreading himself out. Instead, it seemed like Foreman was going slow, being gentle, kissing his leg and slowly pushing his finger further inside. House had a feeling that Foreman was thrusting his finger just like Foreman wanted to fuck him--slow and easy, and, God, it was going to drive him a little insane. He was already aching, the pressure to come strong and spurring him forward. He lifted and lowered his hips to the rhythm of Foreman's hand, trying to angle himself so Foreman's finger rubbed against his prostate, but Foreman seemed to be avoiding it purposefully. House didn't give a damn if he came right now--Foreman could still fuck him--but he guessed that it wouldn't be the way Foreman wanted it. A second later, House wasn't so sure, and his body arched and tensed, a groan gritting out as Foreman pushed in with two fingers, sliding over his prostate every fucking time. God, House couldn't think, his mind saturated with the pleasure of it, was vaguely aware of his own reactions, gasping words and grunts and moans. He would have been embarrassed if it didn't feel so damn good. He was more than fucking ready, and if Foreman didn't take advantage of it in about five seconds, he was going to come.
The groan that burst out of him a second later had nothing to do with Foreman and everything to do with the damn phone ringing beside the bed. This was the second time he'd been close, the second time Foreman had stopped. He'd fucking finish this himself if he had to, and he sure as hell wasn't answering the phone. Whoever it was could wait. He didn't have a patient. It wasn't important. House answered Foreman's question with a glare, propping himself up on one elbow. "No," he said, ignoring the phone, reaching for the condom near his hip and tossing it at Foreman. "Unless you're okay with whoever-it-is listening to you fuck me over the speakerphone."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-02-22 12:23 am (UTC)The groan that burst out of him a second later had nothing to do with Foreman and everything to do with the damn phone ringing beside the bed. This was the second time he'd been close, the second time Foreman had stopped. He'd fucking finish this himself if he had to, and he sure as hell wasn't answering the phone. Whoever it was could wait. He didn't have a patient. It wasn't important. House answered Foreman's question with a glare, propping himself up on one elbow. "No," he said, ignoring the phone, reaching for the condom near his hip and tossing it at Foreman. "Unless you're okay with whoever-it-is listening to you fuck me over the speakerphone."