Jesus, he had no idea what he was saying. It was a fucking stupid move. As if sex of any kind could solve a problem. Foreman forced himself to wait, to watch House blink at him and stare as if he'd been possessed or knocked on the head. Once House caught up, maybe he'd get that it wasn't really about the sex. It was something that Foreman didn't do with every guy. He trusted himself, not any one-night stands, not anyone who wasn't important. Foreman wanted to take it back the second House gave him the opening. Tell him he'd misheard. Anything to get out of admitting how important this was. Maybe it didn't matter after all, because House kept on staring, finally blurting out a denial.

"Yeah, I do," Foreman said. It wasn't like he'd never been fucked before. It wasn't new, and it wasn't like he was inexperienced either. It wasn't always what he wanted, or what he preferred, but it was good. It would be good. And if it would show House that he was serious, then yeah, he wanted it. Foreman let go of House's hips long enough to pull his hoodie over his head, dropping it next to House's clothes. Christ, if House could push, and try to prove something, then Foreman could too. He took the last step forward, so that he could feel the heat of House's skin against his. Raising his chin so that they were almost touching, close enough to kiss. His whole body felt like it was vibrating, nerves urging him to run, or shut up, and not tell House one more word. If House was going to challenge him, though, then Foreman wasn't going to back down either. "I want you to finger me," he said. Voice low and hoarse. Heart slamming in his throat. "Work me open. Fuck me."