"Yeah?" Foreman panted fast, slamming his hips down as hard as he could, clenching his jaw to be able to speak at all. It felt fucking good to be able to taunt House after Foreman had been the one jammed down against the sheets under House's weight, feeling the hot breath of House's smug goads against his ear. "What am I--doing? Making you come? Uhh--God." He wanted to keep going, drive House over the edge with his voice as much as his body, but he couldn't keep up the fast, brutal pace and everything he wanted to say at the same time. His hands on House's wrists were slick with sweat and traces of lube and he couldn't even keep up his grip as tightly as he wanted. House was arching under him, mouth opening, pushing up--into Foreman--oh yeah, so good, yes--his eyebrows arching, body shuddering, moaning harshly. Foreman grunted, forcing himself to keep going, keep his eyes open, wanting to see every last second of House's orgasm. His thighs and abs were burning, aching, but the pleasure overwhelmed it all. Jesus, he was close. One touch. Anything.
He only just caught House's words, and he laughed breathlessly, but he couldn't stop yet. Moving. Letting House's hands go so that he could concentrate on thrusting in time with the pulsing, simmering sensation that was almost, almost enough, on the fucking edge. "Yeah, I--ahh--" Hate you too. Foreman stopped, couldn't finish his sentence, not when House reached for him again. This time there was nothing he could do. No way to prevent his orgasm from smashing through him, not that he'd want to. Every jerking movement of his body was instinctive, seeking out as much pleasure as he could wring from House's body, from his hand on Foreman's cock. "Yes. Fuck me. House--" Whether he wanted to or not, Foreman knew he was losing control, practically losing himself, sharp waves of pleasure bursting through his body, coming all over House's hand, his stomach. Christ, yes. Like that. Like that. Foreman gasped through the aftermath, feeling stunned, his body jolted all over again when he moved and House's dick stroked his prostate again. Too much. Too intense. Foreman lifted himself slowly, just enough to collapse beside House, only enough presence of mind to fall on House's left side, still half draped over him. He dropped his face against the pillow, breath burning in his throat.
God, his ass was sore. Foreman grunted into the pillow. It should be impossible to feel this damn good and still know he'd be paying for it, if not tomorrow, then later tonight. "Fuck, haven't done that in a while," he muttered, eyes closed, hardly caring if House heard. He huffed a short chuckle. He felt vaguely ridiculous, for attaching so much meaning to any kind of sex, but fuck, that had been good. Powerful. He nudged closer to House, enough to share his warmth, not willing yet to do anything like moving.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-04-15 06:12 am (UTC)He only just caught House's words, and he laughed breathlessly, but he couldn't stop yet. Moving. Letting House's hands go so that he could concentrate on thrusting in time with the pulsing, simmering sensation that was almost, almost enough, on the fucking edge. "Yeah, I--ahh--" Hate you too. Foreman stopped, couldn't finish his sentence, not when House reached for him again. This time there was nothing he could do. No way to prevent his orgasm from smashing through him, not that he'd want to. Every jerking movement of his body was instinctive, seeking out as much pleasure as he could wring from House's body, from his hand on Foreman's cock. "Yes. Fuck me. House--" Whether he wanted to or not, Foreman knew he was losing control, practically losing himself, sharp waves of pleasure bursting through his body, coming all over House's hand, his stomach. Christ, yes. Like that. Like that. Foreman gasped through the aftermath, feeling stunned, his body jolted all over again when he moved and House's dick stroked his prostate again. Too much. Too intense. Foreman lifted himself slowly, just enough to collapse beside House, only enough presence of mind to fall on House's left side, still half draped over him. He dropped his face against the pillow, breath burning in his throat.
God, his ass was sore. Foreman grunted into the pillow. It should be impossible to feel this damn good and still know he'd be paying for it, if not tomorrow, then later tonight. "Fuck, haven't done that in a while," he muttered, eyes closed, hardly caring if House heard. He huffed a short chuckle. He felt vaguely ridiculous, for attaching so much meaning to any kind of sex, but fuck, that had been good. Powerful. He nudged closer to House, enough to share his warmth, not willing yet to do anything like moving.