Confusion seemed to break its way through the anger on Foreman's face, but House wasn't about to let go of his. Standing half-naked with his chest heaving and his heart racing wasn't the time to back down. And how the fuck would that look? Like a dog shrinking back with its tail between its legs. He'd collect his clothes, dress as furiously as he could to preserve his dignity, leave, and then Foreman could see what it was like to be ignored and avoided. Fuck. No, he wasn't going to let Foreman off the hook. "You're the one criticizing my logic, and you're the one who suggested it, so maybe you could tell me what it's supposed to solve," House said, the volume of his voice under control. His tone was vicious, and he fixed his eyes on Foreman's face, trying to stand as straight as he could.
House's anger slipped for a split-second as Foreman gently curved both hands around his hips, but House regained it, ignoring Foreman's touch, refusing to acknowledge it. Maybe it wasn't clear. Maybe Foreman needed another damn clue, and House almost lost his balance as he stripped off his shirt, stumbling when he threw it onto the floor. He had to reach out and steady himself with a hand on Foreman's shoulder but he let go as soon as he could, dropping his arms to his sides. This was fucking insane. He could hardly remember what he was trying to prove anymore, except that what he'd done to Foreman in the car wasn't anything he couldn't handle, wasn't really important in the long run. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, letting his head fall as he breathed hard and fast. His skin was hot. He felt flushed, and he fought the urge to cover himself, suddenly struck with the realization of how vulnerable he'd just made himself. Naked. Without his cane. Standing in front of Foreman in his damn kitchen. No way Foreman had felt this vulnerable back in the car, left to jerk off himself. Fuck. But his pride demanded that he not back down. He couldn't, after going this far.
His voice was even, but low, when he said, "Come on, Foreman. Teach me a lesson. Do whatever you want." Even as he said it, he wasn't sure he had that kind of trust, but Foreman probably wouldn't do any worse than what he'd proposed. And then maybe Foreman would fucking get it.
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House's anger slipped for a split-second as Foreman gently curved both hands around his hips, but House regained it, ignoring Foreman's touch, refusing to acknowledge it. Maybe it wasn't clear. Maybe Foreman needed another damn clue, and House almost lost his balance as he stripped off his shirt, stumbling when he threw it onto the floor. He had to reach out and steady himself with a hand on Foreman's shoulder but he let go as soon as he could, dropping his arms to his sides. This was fucking insane. He could hardly remember what he was trying to prove anymore, except that what he'd done to Foreman in the car wasn't anything he couldn't handle, wasn't really important in the long run. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, letting his head fall as he breathed hard and fast. His skin was hot. He felt flushed, and he fought the urge to cover himself, suddenly struck with the realization of how vulnerable he'd just made himself. Naked. Without his cane. Standing in front of Foreman in his damn kitchen. No way Foreman had felt this vulnerable back in the car, left to jerk off himself. Fuck. But his pride demanded that he not back down. He couldn't, after going this far.
His voice was even, but low, when he said, "Come on, Foreman. Teach me a lesson. Do whatever you want." Even as he said it, he wasn't sure he had that kind of trust, but Foreman probably wouldn't do any worse than what he'd proposed. And then maybe Foreman would fucking get it.