Why the hell had he said that? Foreman fumed to himself, his hands clamping down on the steering wheel, driving aggressively enough to make the guy in the next lane flip him off. The last thing he wanted was for House to start thinking about who he fucked, or where, or how. It had been bad enough when he'd been dating Wendy--the insinuating little questions, the speculative, interested way House looked him up and down. Foreman caught the tail end of House's shocked, wide-eyed look out of the corner of his eye, and his irritation blended for a moment with his self-satisfaction at making him shut the hell up.
When House's silence continued, though, Foreman squirmed. The last time he'd had any use for those condoms had been with Wendy, six months ago. Since then...not even a one-night stand. But the meaning of his words caught up with him, what it would actually be like to fuck House--to fuck the smug right out of him. Foreman's face heated as the images started to creep in. He'd seen House get high and he'd seen him in pain; the look Foreman imagined if he ever actually followed through was somewhere between that, an expression of astonished concentration.
It wasn't like this was the only time he'd ever given it a passing thought. Fantasies were rarely controllable in the heat of the moment. Bosses, coworkers--they were the people that surrounded him on a daily basis, and if he'd thought about them while getting off, it was like a dream, just his subconscious throwing up a random picture that helped drive him over the edge. He'd just never done it with House sitting six inches away, and asking him are you? in a voice that--Foreman had to be imagining it--was just slightly rougher than usual.
This was idiotic. It didn't mean anything. He'd just been jerking House around, and now House was returning the favour, trying to get the best of him. Foreman closed his eyes in frustration--bad choice of words. He followed House's directions, keeping up a stony silence as he drove, and parked on the street across from the restaurant. "Here," he said flatly. He was not going to be involved in interrupting Thirteen's date. "Finish up your stalking."
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When House's silence continued, though, Foreman squirmed. The last time he'd had any use for those condoms had been with Wendy, six months ago. Since then...not even a one-night stand. But the meaning of his words caught up with him, what it would actually be like to fuck House--to fuck the smug right out of him. Foreman's face heated as the images started to creep in. He'd seen House get high and he'd seen him in pain; the look Foreman imagined if he ever actually followed through was somewhere between that, an expression of astonished concentration.
It wasn't like this was the only time he'd ever given it a passing thought. Fantasies were rarely controllable in the heat of the moment. Bosses, coworkers--they were the people that surrounded him on a daily basis, and if he'd thought about them while getting off, it was like a dream, just his subconscious throwing up a random picture that helped drive him over the edge. He'd just never done it with House sitting six inches away, and asking him are you? in a voice that--Foreman had to be imagining it--was just slightly rougher than usual.
This was idiotic. It didn't mean anything. He'd just been jerking House around, and now House was returning the favour, trying to get the best of him. Foreman closed his eyes in frustration--bad choice of words. He followed House's directions, keeping up a stony silence as he drove, and parked on the street across from the restaurant. "Here," he said flatly. He was not going to be involved in interrupting Thirteen's date. "Finish up your stalking."