It wasn't until House started kissing him back that Foreman felt the consequences of his action slam home. Underneath his fury, he enjoyed it, House's roughness and the fierce energy of the kiss. That wasn't supposed to happen. None of it was. But the fact that House returned the kiss, that Foreman could feel his palm pressed against his chest, filled him with righteous satisfaction, his whole body heating with his smugness. So he wasn't the only one trying to hide something.
He started to grin into House's mouth, only to have House clamp his teeth down on his lip and tug before pulling back. "Fuck," Foreman said, lifting his fingers to his mouth. There wasn't any blood, though it felt like House had bitten his lip in two. He touched his lip, still warm and moist from the kiss, and stared down at House, whose breath was heaving as he pushed himself deeper into his seat, looking wide-eyed, as if he was searching for an escape.
Oh, Christ. Fuck. He'd kissed House. The realization hit Foreman in the solar plexus, and he couldn't breathe. His lip throbbed where House had bitten him, and he could feel his heartbeat racing. Nerves jangling, he tried to find some cover, some way to pretend that he wasn't affected. He sat back abruptly and turned the key in the ignition, starting the car so hastily that he nearly stalled it before he was able to pull out into traffic. He headed for the hospital--he wanted House out of his car as fast as possible, but he was not going to drive him home. "This is over," he said flatly, trying to forestall anything House might say. He'd been an idiot, and as soon as House regained the power of speech Foreman was sure he would say so, but for now all Foreman wanted was to ignore what had just happened.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-11-03 09:59 am (UTC)He started to grin into House's mouth, only to have House clamp his teeth down on his lip and tug before pulling back. "Fuck," Foreman said, lifting his fingers to his mouth. There wasn't any blood, though it felt like House had bitten his lip in two. He touched his lip, still warm and moist from the kiss, and stared down at House, whose breath was heaving as he pushed himself deeper into his seat, looking wide-eyed, as if he was searching for an escape.
Oh, Christ. Fuck. He'd kissed House. The realization hit Foreman in the solar plexus, and he couldn't breathe. His lip throbbed where House had bitten him, and he could feel his heartbeat racing. Nerves jangling, he tried to find some cover, some way to pretend that he wasn't affected. He sat back abruptly and turned the key in the ignition, starting the car so hastily that he nearly stalled it before he was able to pull out into traffic. He headed for the hospital--he wanted House out of his car as fast as possible, but he was not going to drive him home. "This is over," he said flatly, trying to forestall anything House might say. He'd been an idiot, and as soon as House regained the power of speech Foreman was sure he would say so, but for now all Foreman wanted was to ignore what had just happened.