House's attempt to make Foreman speed this up, really let him fucking have it, seemed to have an effect, and House thought Foreman was going to give him what he wanted as Foreman shoved a pillow under him. House squirmed as much as he could, eventually working the pillow under his hips instead of his back and raising himself up. God, this angle would be amazing; each of Foreman's thrusts would go straight for prostate central, and if House wanted to make Foreman fuck him until he screamed before, he was burning with the urge now. But before he could do anything besides find a comfortable position over the pillow, Foreman pulled away. Worse, he pulled out, taking a pathetic whimper straight out of House's mouth as he went. House glared at him, even when Foreman reached for his dick, wrapped his hand around it. He couldn't maintain it, though, as soon as Foreman squeezed, and House dropped his head back down to the mattress, shuddering with the pleasure that shot through him, bright and sharp.
Foreman's voice pulled him down, out of the ecstasy of sensation, and he blinked at the ceiling. A minute? What the hell was Foreman talking about? He couldn't remember Foreman mentioning anything about a minute. "I think there's an--" Alarm clock on the table. House cut himself off before he could form the words. No alarm clock. That was why they were doing this. Why he was receiving phone calls. "--an egg timer in the kitchen if you need some help," he said, grinding his head back against the mattress, closing his eyes, feeling pleasure coil low in his stomach. God, he was so damn hot already; a few more strokes like that and he'd come all over Foreman's hand. No wonder Foreman pulled out. He'd probably been getting close, too, or was afraid he would too soon.
He ignored Foreman's other question, wondering if Foreman was trying to ask for permission again, as if the fact that House had positioned himself on the pillow wasn't a green light. "And if you're just going to do that," House said, trying not to pant, pushing against Foreman's hand, into his fist, "why should I let you fuck me?" He raised his head to look at Foreman. "Or is this a warm-up for something else? A trial run to see how I'd fuck you?" House used the leverage of his shoulders and his arms to thrust a few times, hard, fast, rolling his hips, just to help along Foreman's imagination. He nodded down to his erection, knowing it wasn't what Foreman wanted, but it might spur him to give him what he wanted anyway. "Go ahead. Hop on."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-02-26 06:04 am (UTC)Foreman's voice pulled him down, out of the ecstasy of sensation, and he blinked at the ceiling. A minute? What the hell was Foreman talking about? He couldn't remember Foreman mentioning anything about a minute. "I think there's an--" Alarm clock on the table. House cut himself off before he could form the words. No alarm clock. That was why they were doing this. Why he was receiving phone calls. "--an egg timer in the kitchen if you need some help," he said, grinding his head back against the mattress, closing his eyes, feeling pleasure coil low in his stomach. God, he was so damn hot already; a few more strokes like that and he'd come all over Foreman's hand. No wonder Foreman pulled out. He'd probably been getting close, too, or was afraid he would too soon.
He ignored Foreman's other question, wondering if Foreman was trying to ask for permission again, as if the fact that House had positioned himself on the pillow wasn't a green light. "And if you're just going to do that," House said, trying not to pant, pushing against Foreman's hand, into his fist, "why should I let you fuck me?" He raised his head to look at Foreman. "Or is this a warm-up for something else? A trial run to see how I'd fuck you?" House used the leverage of his shoulders and his arms to thrust a few times, hard, fast, rolling his hips, just to help along Foreman's imagination. He nodded down to his erection, knowing it wasn't what Foreman wanted, but it might spur him to give him what he wanted anyway. "Go ahead. Hop on."