House already felt his orgasm approaching, and he couldn't help imaging how Jake's hand had wrapped around his cock then. How he'd made him spread his legs even further, let his right hang off the couch, wanting it, his body begging for it as Jake drove into him. Jake stroked him fast, fist tight, making him buck and jerk, moan against his palm. "Was jerking me off as he did. Oh, yeah. Had me naked. He was still wearing everything--shirt, tie, coat--except his damn pants. Fuck." House was forgetting about pissing Foreman off, though he wondered if he was still managing to do it, openly jerking off to thoughts of an ex-boyfriend. He was talking more for himself, making himself even hotter, pushing his orgasm even closer. He almost wished he had lube, so he could slump in the seat, reach down and finger himself, nearly recreate the memory. Instead, House tightened his fist, smearing more pre-come, using the added friction.
House was starting to forget where the hell he was, his head fogging over with the fantasy, the pleasure leaping across nerves. Jake's dick finding his prostate and stroking, pounding. Jake's tie sweeping over his back, almost tickling him, but the feeling just added to the flood of sensation everywhere. Jake's hand moving with the same rhythm, making House writhe until he came like Jake said he would--onto the cushion, come soaking slowly into the fabric--whimpering, breathing hard through his nose over the back of Jake's hand. "Made me come on the fucking couch. Yeah. Yeah." House was breathing fast, his balls heavy, needing to come now, his orgasm so close. Frantically, he reached to the side and grabbed for his t-shirt--he already had to wash it--and laid it over his stomach and chest, not wanting to come all over himself or, despite what he'd said earlier, Foreman's car.
He couldn't resist anymore, sliding down in the seat, lifting his left foot onto the armrest between the two front seats. Leaning slightly to his right, House slicked up one finger in his mouth, reached under his left leg, and pressed his fingertip over his ass before pushing in. He worked himself open enough to take in his whole finger, and House started working his dick, thrusting his finger together, just like Jake's hand, his cock. God, he was seconds away, and he couldn't get it out of his head--that memory, that adrenaline rush of excitement, coming so hard and knowing that, despite the cover of Jake's hand, whoever had been on the other side of the door might hear them, and if they hadn't heard him, they might have heard Jake. House had still been trying to recover, push back against Jake's dick when Jake came, dropping his hands to House's hips--one slippery with House's come, the other hot from his breath--and thrusting all the way inside. House had felt the heat, the twitch of Jake's body when he'd come inside him, and both of them had groaned softly, vaguely aware that the knocking had stopped.
House pushed his finger as deep inside as he could reach at this angle, unable to reach his prostate this way, but he didn't fucking need it. It was enough just to fill himself with something as he jerked off. The last image played in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from talking. "Could feel it when he came. No condom. Fucked me like that. God, yeah. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck--" House pushed his head back, arched his neck when his orgasm slammed into him. Pleasure shot out from his groin as he came over his hand, onto the t-shirt across his stomach, before he relaxed against the seat. He was breathing hard as he opened his eyes again, withdrawing his finger and balling up his t-shirt. He wiped his hands, taking a note to wash them when he got inside the hospital, and sat up, looking into the mirror to meet Foreman's eyes. As he started to pull his jeans and underwear back over his hips, feeling even more smug and satisfied, he managed, "Still doubt it?"
no subject
House was starting to forget where the hell he was, his head fogging over with the fantasy, the pleasure leaping across nerves. Jake's dick finding his prostate and stroking, pounding. Jake's tie sweeping over his back, almost tickling him, but the feeling just added to the flood of sensation everywhere. Jake's hand moving with the same rhythm, making House writhe until he came like Jake said he would--onto the cushion, come soaking slowly into the fabric--whimpering, breathing hard through his nose over the back of Jake's hand. "Made me come on the fucking couch. Yeah. Yeah." House was breathing fast, his balls heavy, needing to come now, his orgasm so close. Frantically, he reached to the side and grabbed for his t-shirt--he already had to wash it--and laid it over his stomach and chest, not wanting to come all over himself or, despite what he'd said earlier, Foreman's car.
He couldn't resist anymore, sliding down in the seat, lifting his left foot onto the armrest between the two front seats. Leaning slightly to his right, House slicked up one finger in his mouth, reached under his left leg, and pressed his fingertip over his ass before pushing in. He worked himself open enough to take in his whole finger, and House started working his dick, thrusting his finger together, just like Jake's hand, his cock. God, he was seconds away, and he couldn't get it out of his head--that memory, that adrenaline rush of excitement, coming so hard and knowing that, despite the cover of Jake's hand, whoever had been on the other side of the door might hear them, and if they hadn't heard him, they might have heard Jake. House had still been trying to recover, push back against Jake's dick when Jake came, dropping his hands to House's hips--one slippery with House's come, the other hot from his breath--and thrusting all the way inside. House had felt the heat, the twitch of Jake's body when he'd come inside him, and both of them had groaned softly, vaguely aware that the knocking had stopped.
House pushed his finger as deep inside as he could reach at this angle, unable to reach his prostate this way, but he didn't fucking need it. It was enough just to fill himself with something as he jerked off. The last image played in his mind, and he couldn't stop himself from talking. "Could feel it when he came. No condom. Fucked me like that. God, yeah. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck--" House pushed his head back, arched his neck when his orgasm slammed into him. Pleasure shot out from his groin as he came over his hand, onto the t-shirt across his stomach, before he relaxed against the seat. He was breathing hard as he opened his eyes again, withdrawing his finger and balling up his t-shirt. He wiped his hands, taking a note to wash them when he got inside the hospital, and sat up, looking into the mirror to meet Foreman's eyes. As he started to pull his jeans and underwear back over his hips, feeling even more smug and satisfied, he managed, "Still doubt it?"