Foreman stared down at House through his eyelashes, smiling slightly. He spread his hands wide on House's stomach, feeling his muscles clench and release under his palms, matching the slight, nearly imperceptible movements as House pushed deeper inside him. God, Foreman could feel every inch of him, and he hitched his own hips forward and back to match House's tiny thrusts. Not quite moving yet, but feeling just how good it was going to be, feeling filled. House's chest was heaving, and Foreman smiled a bit more, moving his hands up over House's chest. House looked damned good, probably better than he thought. Probably better than Foreman would have thought a month ago. Solid, and muscled, and looking so fucking smug, even though Foreman had him nearly pinned. He could pop House's self-satisfaction like a balloon if he started tickling him. House was smirking up at him, trying to cut him down, and Foreman actually liked seeing it. House wanted to pretend that everything he'd shown Foreman was something he'd decided to reveal, to 'let' him see, and maybe, in a way, he had. Just by letting Foreman fuck him, until he had no choice but to forget himself, give himself over to the pleasure, to what Foreman was doing to him.
Foreman didn't react to House's taunts beyond smirking right back at him. He knew he was being obvious. That was the point. More than he wanted to say out loud, but every look and touch said it for him. Yeah, I'm hard for you. Going to come for you. Doing this for you. If House wanted to gloat over that, then Foreman wasn't going to stop him. Foreman glanced down his body at House's urging, his breathing hitching as he watched House touch him, watched his own hands massaging House's chest lightly, letting out a sharp mmn when House pinched his nipple. It fired him up again, brought back the need to move to his full attention, and it only increased when House started stroking his cock. Foreman lifted his chin, eyes closed, mouth opening as he strained to catch his breath. Groaning at House's touch, light on his balls, tight and slick on his cock. God, he had to move. Lift up off House's hips and then slide back down. Change the angle minutely and do it again. Over and over again. Thrusting his hips forward until he'd found the exact angle, freezing sharply as a helpless huff of air shot out of him. There. Yes. Fucking yes, oh God. Foreman sped up, moving into the pleasure, thrusting forward into House's hand, back onto his dick. Needing both sensations, reveling in both sensations. Not talking any more--not able to talk--but letting out short moans each time, as if they'd been yanked out of his throat.
Not going to be able to stop yourself. No, he wouldn't. Not if House kept stroking him, not if Foreman kept moving on him, arching his back to make sure House's dick rubbed him right there. He groaned again. He couldn't just do nothing. No matter how badly he wanted to come, to give up, give in. Foreman ran his hands down House's arms, hardly aware of anything outside of his own body. Felt House's muscles flexing in his forearms as he jerked him. Foreman couldn't just allow himself to get lost in the pleasure that was already rising hot and unstoppable through his body. God, he was an idiot. He'd come soon enough, but he couldn't give up on proving something first. He clamped his hands around House's wrists, squeezing as tightly as he could, and pushed House's arms away from him. Down to the bed. Foreman leaned forward, practically hanging over him. Pinning him. "Who's--not going to be able to stop?" he asked. "Hm? You can't move, but I can do this--" He clenched down and moved, grinding down hard. Pushing House, tight and hot inside him, biting back a gasp as he moved over top of him. Probably giving House exactly the view he wanted, confirmation of how hot this was, how much Foreman liked it. Leaning over House enough to rub his dick against House's stomach, slippery from his precome, and fucking himself hard and fast. Driving them both forward, and he'd take what satisfaction he could if he could make House come first.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-04-14 08:17 pm (UTC)Foreman didn't react to House's taunts beyond smirking right back at him. He knew he was being obvious. That was the point. More than he wanted to say out loud, but every look and touch said it for him. Yeah, I'm hard for you. Going to come for you. Doing this for you. If House wanted to gloat over that, then Foreman wasn't going to stop him. Foreman glanced down his body at House's urging, his breathing hitching as he watched House touch him, watched his own hands massaging House's chest lightly, letting out a sharp mmn when House pinched his nipple. It fired him up again, brought back the need to move to his full attention, and it only increased when House started stroking his cock. Foreman lifted his chin, eyes closed, mouth opening as he strained to catch his breath. Groaning at House's touch, light on his balls, tight and slick on his cock. God, he had to move. Lift up off House's hips and then slide back down. Change the angle minutely and do it again. Over and over again. Thrusting his hips forward until he'd found the exact angle, freezing sharply as a helpless huff of air shot out of him. There. Yes. Fucking yes, oh God. Foreman sped up, moving into the pleasure, thrusting forward into House's hand, back onto his dick. Needing both sensations, reveling in both sensations. Not talking any more--not able to talk--but letting out short moans each time, as if they'd been yanked out of his throat.
Not going to be able to stop yourself. No, he wouldn't. Not if House kept stroking him, not if Foreman kept moving on him, arching his back to make sure House's dick rubbed him right there. He groaned again. He couldn't just do nothing. No matter how badly he wanted to come, to give up, give in. Foreman ran his hands down House's arms, hardly aware of anything outside of his own body. Felt House's muscles flexing in his forearms as he jerked him. Foreman couldn't just allow himself to get lost in the pleasure that was already rising hot and unstoppable through his body. God, he was an idiot. He'd come soon enough, but he couldn't give up on proving something first. He clamped his hands around House's wrists, squeezing as tightly as he could, and pushed House's arms away from him. Down to the bed. Foreman leaned forward, practically hanging over him. Pinning him. "Who's--not going to be able to stop?" he asked. "Hm? You can't move, but I can do this--" He clenched down and moved, grinding down hard. Pushing House, tight and hot inside him, biting back a gasp as he moved over top of him. Probably giving House exactly the view he wanted, confirmation of how hot this was, how much Foreman liked it. Leaning over House enough to rub his dick against House's stomach, slippery from his precome, and fucking himself hard and fast. Driving them both forward, and he'd take what satisfaction he could if he could make House come first.