Of course Foreman would smile, now that he wasn't underneath him and begging for it, but still, Foreman wasn't denying a damn word House had said. Foreman was confirming them, all of them, groaning, starting to move and not stopping. Pushing in both directions--into his hand and onto his cock. House felt like he was staring--he probably was--and he didn't think he could possibly get more aroused than he already was, but fuck. Even that theory--that thought--was blown out of the water when Foreman ran his hands over him before taking a tight hold of his wrists and pinning him down. House inhaled sharply, looking up at Foreman, watching his lips move as he spoke. More taunts. House knew his control, his resistance was slipping fast, and he couldn't get it back, not with Foreman clenching so fucking tight and coming down hard on him. Pleasure rocking him--all Foreman's doing. The bastard could find a way to fuck him even while he was taking his dick into him, but, fuck, House loved it. Jesus. Foreman was going to make him come in ten damn seconds if he kept this up, and House wasn't going to hold back for him and make it last any longer.
"I know--what you're--trying to do," House said, already panting. And it's going to work, you asshole. House couldn't stop watching as Foreman moved on him, took him in until he disappeared. Fast and hard and smooth. Foreman's cock rubbing over his stomach, smearing clear traces of precome over his skin. God. He knew Foreman wouldn't do this if he didn't like it, if he didn't want it. Fucking loved seeing Foreman's face when he slammed down, sure Foreman was drawing as much pleasure from this as he was, probably hitting at just the right angle to stroke his prostate. With his dick. Getting off on him. On holding him down. Practically grinding on his cock. Rubbing off on his body. Fuck, yeah. House could feel himself toppling toward his orgasm, pressure almost fucking unbearable, so close, so fucking good, so--
"Ohh, fuck. Foreman, you--fuck. Yeah. Yeah." House let the words fly, tiling his head back, his neck arched as his shoulders and heel dug in to the mattress and pushed up as far as he could, trying to bury himself inside Foreman--inside all that slick heat, so good--as he tensed and trembled with his orgasm. He'd let Foreman do this, allowed himself to stop thinking and stop trying to resist, give himself over to the pleasure, Foreman's weight, and his aggressiveness. After teasing Foreman, fucking him, exerting enough control himself, this...God, this felt so good. He let the pleasure drag moans out of him, his eyes squeezed shut, and his brain shut down from way Foreman was moving on him, making him come like he didn't have a choice.
When the intense waves of pleasure gave way to warm aftershocks, tingly sparks that still left him drawing sharp breaths of air, he kept his eyes closed as he hummed and mumbled, "Oh, God, I fucking hate you." House almost laughed, didn't want to give in to the urge, even blissed-out on sensation, and reached for Foreman's dick, wrapping his fingers around it and starting to stroke, intent on having a part in making Foreman come, wanting to feel him twitch and give in, too, when he did.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-04-15 05:04 am (UTC)"I know--what you're--trying to do," House said, already panting. And it's going to work, you asshole. House couldn't stop watching as Foreman moved on him, took him in until he disappeared. Fast and hard and smooth. Foreman's cock rubbing over his stomach, smearing clear traces of precome over his skin. God. He knew Foreman wouldn't do this if he didn't like it, if he didn't want it. Fucking loved seeing Foreman's face when he slammed down, sure Foreman was drawing as much pleasure from this as he was, probably hitting at just the right angle to stroke his prostate. With his dick. Getting off on him. On holding him down. Practically grinding on his cock. Rubbing off on his body. Fuck, yeah. House could feel himself toppling toward his orgasm, pressure almost fucking unbearable, so close, so fucking good, so--
"Ohh, fuck. Foreman, you--fuck. Yeah. Yeah." House let the words fly, tiling his head back, his neck arched as his shoulders and heel dug in to the mattress and pushed up as far as he could, trying to bury himself inside Foreman--inside all that slick heat, so good--as he tensed and trembled with his orgasm. He'd let Foreman do this, allowed himself to stop thinking and stop trying to resist, give himself over to the pleasure, Foreman's weight, and his aggressiveness. After teasing Foreman, fucking him, exerting enough control himself, this...God, this felt so good. He let the pleasure drag moans out of him, his eyes squeezed shut, and his brain shut down from way Foreman was moving on him, making him come like he didn't have a choice.
When the intense waves of pleasure gave way to warm aftershocks, tingly sparks that still left him drawing sharp breaths of air, he kept his eyes closed as he hummed and mumbled, "Oh, God, I fucking hate you." House almost laughed, didn't want to give in to the urge, even blissed-out on sensation, and reached for Foreman's dick, wrapping his fingers around it and starting to stroke, intent on having a part in making Foreman come, wanting to feel him twitch and give in, too, when he did.