"We're talking about it. We'll talk about it." Foreman moved his shoulders in as much of a shrug as he could manage. He didn't talk about anything, usually. Amber couldn't know how deep she'd already gotten. When Foreman felt like he couldn't handle a situation, he tended to turn inwards, isolate himself so that he could work through the problem. When the problem was with Amber, he wouldn't be able to do the same thing; he had a feeling she wouldn't take kindly to being shut out. In fact, that was part of the problem: she wouldn't let him escape when he needed to. Be alone. Be angry if he needed to. He'd been angry a lot during his life and he hated showing it. Frustration, annoyance, the obvious reaction when House insulted him, those were all easy to reveal. When he was so furious he felt out of control, he wasn't interested in seeing anyone's face. He didn't want anyone to know he couldn't handle himself, and even worse, be told that it was nothing but a temper tantrum, that he wasn't allowed to be truly angry. That was bullshit. He worked through his problems in his own damn time. And he didn't know if that would stop, or even if he'd want that to stop, if his problem was with Amber. Any relationship that got to the point where it was even an issue was one he cared about enough to let himself get that worked up. This matters. He'd said that, but it was more true than Amber knew. He wasn't about to admit that, no matter how much else he was blurting out about himself.
Amber tensed when she asked him to tell her even more. Foreman could feel it in her leg hooked over his, and in the shorter pauses between her breaths against his collarbone. She acted like she was straining to hear, when they'd both been nearly whispering in the dark and not missing a word. Foreman was glad, at least, that Amber wouldn't be able to make out his face; only the warmth of his skin if he flushed.
"When you told me to stop--" The first time, his mind supplied, with a wry twinge of sourness. "You were upset. I didn't know why. And I thought--" He paused to swallow, wondering if this would upset her or just leave him looking like a fool. "I thought you knew a guy who didn't stop." His breath puffed out, waiting for reaction. "I was angry at him," he said lamely, his jaw clenching again, although this time it wasn't fury at Amber's imaginary boyfriend, but bracing himself against Amber laughing at him for inventing the man entirely.
Foreman lifted a hand to his chest, finding Amber's, and twined their fingers together. That was the surface reason he was angry; it had been what had been passing through his mind right then. The idea that he couldn't trust Amber to stop--and not only during sex, but at any point: during an argument, or just when Foreman was feeling like shit--was still there, underneath. It was stupid, and he was stronger than that. Anyway, he wasn't going to doubt her without a reason. He pushed the idea away. He'd be a fucking coward to run away from the woman he was dating. It wasn't going to happen.
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Amber tensed when she asked him to tell her even more. Foreman could feel it in her leg hooked over his, and in the shorter pauses between her breaths against his collarbone. She acted like she was straining to hear, when they'd both been nearly whispering in the dark and not missing a word. Foreman was glad, at least, that Amber wouldn't be able to make out his face; only the warmth of his skin if he flushed.
"When you told me to stop--" The first time, his mind supplied, with a wry twinge of sourness. "You were upset. I didn't know why. And I thought--" He paused to swallow, wondering if this would upset her or just leave him looking like a fool. "I thought you knew a guy who didn't stop." His breath puffed out, waiting for reaction. "I was angry at him," he said lamely, his jaw clenching again, although this time it wasn't fury at Amber's imaginary boyfriend, but bracing himself against Amber laughing at him for inventing the man entirely.
Foreman lifted a hand to his chest, finding Amber's, and twined their fingers together. That was the surface reason he was angry; it had been what had been passing through his mind right then. The idea that he couldn't trust Amber to stop--and not only during sex, but at any point: during an argument, or just when Foreman was feeling like shit--was still there, underneath. It was stupid, and he was stronger than that. Anyway, he wasn't going to doubt her without a reason. He pushed the idea away. He'd be a fucking coward to run away from the woman he was dating. It wasn't going to happen.