Foreman grunted and let go of House's coat when House planted a hand on his sternum and shoved, rocking Foreman back on his heels. House was just as unsteady and Foreman nearly reached for House's elbows to keep him on his feet. His first instinct was still to help, whether House would let him or not. Before he could, House was pushing off him, throwing his cane away. Foreman followed it with his eyes, having no clue what House was trying to accomplish. "What the hell are you--" he started, but when he looked back, House was leaning against him, arms on either side of him. Foreman's breath caught, his blood pounding in his ears, feeling frozen. As much as he liked the image he'd conjured for himself, he didn't want to fuck House for revenge. They both enjoyed pushing each other in bed. Struggling to see who could hold out and who would beg. That wasn't the same as what House was doing, throwing sex on the table like Foreman had demanded it in exchange for something. House was already out of his coat and working open his belt, and Foreman couldn't push him away without knocking him off his feet. The heat of House's breath against his neck when he leaned in made Foreman's heart race. His groin tightened, a quick, instinctive reaction, and Foreman drew in a sharp breath.

"What's this going to solve?" Foreman demanded. He had no idea what to do. It wasn't like he wanted to turn House down. The fury in House's offer turned him on, reminded him of the way he could make House shut up and turn needy and pliant by touching him just right. House was standing in front of him, half-naked, and Foreman couldn't imagine that he'd ever get the chance again, if House thought he was saying no now. "I'm not going to fuck you to get back at you," he said, frowning, reaching out as if he could keep House from running, slipping his hands under House's t-shirt and finally spreading his fingers to grip House's hips.