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alwaysright2009-10-19 09:00 pm
eric_foreman) wrote in alwaysright2009-10-19 09:00 pm
October 30, 2007 - Evening
For the rest of the afternoon, Foreman found himself chuckling at odd moments. He'd be in the middle of the monstrous pile of paperwork, his back cramping from leaning over, his eyes aching, and all of a sudden he'd realize he was grinning like an idiot. He'd glance up, glad that there wasn't anyone to catch him at it, and think of Amber suffering horribly down in the clinic, and shake his head before going back to work. She'd be tired after a long day, and if her reaction to the usual run of mild complaints was anything like his, she'd be too tired to do much tonight other than go home and collapse. Foreman could spare some compassion then: he'd offer to cook, or at least, to order something in. Hell, even massage her feet if she wanted. The fact that he was going with her--that she'd invited him again, and that he already had all the things he'd need waiting in his car--buoyed him up, even when the stack of consult requests only seemed to get stupider the deeper he delved into them.
By twenty to five, Foreman had sent form letter replies to as many idiot doctors as he could without losing his faith in humanity. He'd go down and let the candidates off early, be magnanimous for as long as he could afford to be. He needed to ingratiate himself with them somehow, even if was only by knocking fifteen minutes off their drudgery. Cuddy could hardly complain: she'd been underusing six of the most talented doctors in the hospital for most of the day, and, Foreman knew--since they had to be sharing Cameron and Chase's old salaries among them--for a pittance. House was a bastard, but days like this were ones Cuddy probably counted as a win in their perpetual battle.
Foreman turned of the computer, turned off the lights, and grabbed his coat. He wouldn't bother with his briefcase tonight; he wasn't planning on sucking up to Cuddy any more than he'd be compromising with House. If he'd gotten his own office and his own staff like he'd asked for, then she could think about making him stay late trudging through House's paperwork.
He arrived in the clinic five minutes later. The first person he saw was Brennan, who only gave him a mildly disgruntled stare when Foreman gave him permission to go. He snorted, but he seemed glad enough to go and tell the others that they were off the hook.
Foreman checked the board to see which exam room Amber was in with her last patient, and, leaving his coat at the nurses' station, he went and knocked on the door. He was already sure that everyone in the whole hospital was well aware of what was going on between him and Amber. That didn't mean that he had to confirm all their suspicions--but he could also take a few liberties that he might not have if they were still being 'discreet'. Feeling pleased with himself, he opened it just enough to stick his head in and said, with as much seriousness as he could muster, "Dr. Volakis, could I have a word with you?"
By twenty to five, Foreman had sent form letter replies to as many idiot doctors as he could without losing his faith in humanity. He'd go down and let the candidates off early, be magnanimous for as long as he could afford to be. He needed to ingratiate himself with them somehow, even if was only by knocking fifteen minutes off their drudgery. Cuddy could hardly complain: she'd been underusing six of the most talented doctors in the hospital for most of the day, and, Foreman knew--since they had to be sharing Cameron and Chase's old salaries among them--for a pittance. House was a bastard, but days like this were ones Cuddy probably counted as a win in their perpetual battle.
Foreman turned of the computer, turned off the lights, and grabbed his coat. He wouldn't bother with his briefcase tonight; he wasn't planning on sucking up to Cuddy any more than he'd be compromising with House. If he'd gotten his own office and his own staff like he'd asked for, then she could think about making him stay late trudging through House's paperwork.
He arrived in the clinic five minutes later. The first person he saw was Brennan, who only gave him a mildly disgruntled stare when Foreman gave him permission to go. He snorted, but he seemed glad enough to go and tell the others that they were off the hook.
Foreman checked the board to see which exam room Amber was in with her last patient, and, leaving his coat at the nurses' station, he went and knocked on the door. He was already sure that everyone in the whole hospital was well aware of what was going on between him and Amber. That didn't mean that he had to confirm all their suspicions--but he could also take a few liberties that he might not have if they were still being 'discreet'. Feeling pleased with himself, he opened it just enough to stick his head in and said, with as much seriousness as he could muster, "Dr. Volakis, could I have a word with you?"
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"Yeah," Amber whispered. "Okay." He wanted to hear her. She could tell him. What she wanted, what she needed. That'd feel good. She'd be in his hands (mouth). She was trusting him, and from their time at the desk, when he'd understood her wordless pleas as clearly as if she'd written them out, she believed he'd do the same now. Trusted him to pick up on her cues. She was in his care. But if she could tell him, that was one more comfort, one more reason for her to relax, to preemptively spread herself. "Make me feel good, Eric," she said just as softly, caressing his collar bone and shoulders before he slipped out of reach.
As he settled between her legs, Amber tore her sweat-damp sweater off. It had long since become greater than a nuisance; her breasts swayed with the motion, freed. Her nose was clearing up, and she could just pick up the scent of sex-- it'd be overwhelming under normal circumstances.
Her tummy quivered as he kissed her there, a new rush of arousal lighting up her pussy. God, how did he do this to her. How was he so amazing. Amber squirmed, panting, as Eric touched her, always guessing right, making her rigorously aware of forgotten body parts. The tingling spread everywhere, like ink in a glass of water, bringing pleasure to her quads, to her hamstrings. "Yeah. Yeah, like that," Amber said, still quiet. She curved her hands around his head, fingertips brushing against the pinpricks of buzzed hair; wanted to let him feel how good she felt.
Her abdomen clenched as he lowered again, in anticipation, in sudden worry. What if this was like last time. She hadn't predicted hurting like that. Amber forgot to take in air as she waited for his next action, for her reaction to it. But all she felt, his breath moist on where she felt so sensitive, was a desire for more. She whined, hoping Eric wouldn't stop there, or lag for long. And he didn't. Amber threw her head back, moaning, arching up, digging her elbows into the mattress. But-- she gasped. "Not yet," she said, pushing down away from his tongue. "Lower," she tried to explain, letting him know that she still wanted this, and how. She hoped the moment hadn't been ruined, that they could build on this. "My entrance, inside--"
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A second later he drew back, turning his face toward Amber's damp thigh, and panted hard, forcing himself not to pull away entirely. Why the hell not yet? Why did she ask if she didn't want it? He barely heard Amber's next words, caught up in his own frustration, but a moment later he realized her hands were still guiding him closer, and she hadn't said stop. Different, that was all. Talking to him as he'd asked. Telling him. Foreman licked one long line along Amber's thigh, back toward her labia, tasting salt: sweat and arousal.
He took a breath, steadying himself, and went lower this time. He circled his tongue around her vagina, where she was even wetter, her taste stronger. Not pausing to tease for long, Foreman slipped his tongue inside her, the tip exploring slowly. His grip tightened on her thighs, then moved up to her hips, to steady her and himself. He was getting a crick in his neck, but that was the last thing on his mind. What mattered was Amber spreading her legs wider, reacting more strongly with each passing second. Foreman thrust his tongue deeper, feeling how tight she was with arousal. Imagining his dick inside her, now, feeling each pulse and throb of her around him--oh fuck, it'd be so good, so fucking good. Later. His breath was washing over her, his whole face damp and hot from rubbing against her, her pubic hair scratching his cheeks.
He knew now what it was. That Amber was sensitive, more than he'd ever expected, from her previous orgasm or simply from how strong her arousal was now. Foreman touched her just above her labia, not directly on her clit but higher up on her mons, where she'd still feel the pressure. He began massaging his fingertips in circles, the same motion that had brought Amber off so spectacularly in the living room. Nothing too firm, too insistent. With his tongue lapping upward, deeper inside her, and his fingers pressing, Foreman breathed as best he could through his nose and started a rhythm, so light and achingly slow, touching her at the same pace that he wanted, so badly, to feel around his dick as he thrust into her.
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Amber forgot time, lost in the increasingly higher brinks Eric raised her to. Forgot herself, every muscle of hers delivered to ecstasy, straining for climax. If she'd had the presence of mind, she'd have told him not to come; told him to save himself so that she could really feel him deep inside, where his tongue and fingers couldn't reach. Even now, about to come, Amber still wanted that, Eric as close, as inside, as he could be. It would never be enough. But they could do better. As it was, Amber could only clutch his head once more, because it was now, only she'd lost her words, and the best she could do was to angle him, her cries becoming louder and increasingly frustrated. He had to bring her off now, touch her clit more directly, because if the moment passed, she’d become too raw for any more. It’d be a repeat of last night.
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Amber's frustration, her impatience, it all showed through. Her fingernails were pinching the skin at the back of his neck as she tried to pull him up; her hips were moving so much that she was nearly rubbing off on his face the way she'd been doing on his leg earlier. Each sound that left her throat seemed to be torn from her, high-pitched and halfway between pain and entreaty. They were wordless, sharp moans, ohh gasped out, and Foreman knew she needed more. Was asking for more. He was almost hesitant to go further, though. The last thing he wanted was to ruin it now. Just enough, just that last touch--God, he wanted her to remember this, remember feeling like this, remember trusting him. He never wanted to hurt her.
He switched positions, sliding one finger inside Amber, enough to give her something to clench down on, not so much that his thrusts would leave her oversensitive. His mouth went to her clit, careful, so goddamn careful. One swirling lick, paying attention to Amber's reaction, straining his ears to hear her, concentrating on her hands tightening around the back of his head. All the signs pointed towards keep going, and he did, sucking gently on her clit, adding the occasional probe with his tongue, his finger inside her rubbing almost delicately. Foreman increased the suction incrementally, let Amber's hips free to push herself against him or to pull away, tell him what she wanted. She had to be close. Because of him. Wild, because of him, lost and needy and feeling so good, for him. So hot. Come on, baby. Come for me.
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That was-- no, words still hadn't come back to her. Amber took a shuddering breath, sitting up, trying to avoid any more physical stimulation to her genitals. She was tired, raw, sated, like she'd just finished five exercise sessions one after the other. Tingled all over. But she sought Eric with her hands, wanting to bring him up, to kiss him, to hold him as her heart kept on swelling, threatening to burst. She wanted to tell him, to give him an inkling of how she'd felt and was feeling, and how, if she weren't so exhausted, happy she'd be. Amber wouldn't have told him how dependent she'd been there, relying on his every movement to keep her on the right track, as if he'd been carrying her along the edge of a cliff. That she'd keep to herself. But if he'd known, read her well enough, how to keep her from falling, then he could probably notice all that without her saying a single thing. Amber sighed, carressing with her hands every part of him within reach, trying to communicate that way some of the emotion inside her.
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God. He didn't have to see her to know how beautiful she was--messy and sweaty and shaking, yeah, and his, all his. Foreman ran his forearm across his face, wiping himself off as best he could, and then he moved up the bed. He couldn't have stopped himself. It wasn't even because he wanted, needed to come--for the instant, his body was his last concern. He wanted to cover Amber, hold her, share his warmth, and keep this feeling going for as long as possible. He let his weight settle on her, his cock trapped between them, and hugged her as well as he could, kissing her lightly where he could reach. He gulped back his breath, trying not to pant too heavily right in her face, and finally he buried his face in the crook of her neck, so that he could force his breathing to calm down without making Amber feel like she had to do something for him--at this point, Foreman wouldn't ask for more if she couldn't take it; he'd bring himself off with all the satisfaction in the world, because he'd already been with her in the moment that mattered.
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God, she was exhausted, practically numb from ecstasy. Every once in a while a new aftershock washed over her, and she shivered, sensitive, unable to stop her body from singing so much joy.
Still. Despite her haze, his hard, thick erection hadn't escaped her attention. It seemed so distant, hardly related to her, throbbing hot against someone else, though some part of Amber knew that he must be aching with desire and that it was because of her. She blinked, slowly, pupils immense, slowly working through a thought process. He was hard. He wouldn't want to stay that way. Warmth tinged through Amber, making its way past the fog she was traveling through. She could help him with that. Could coax him into her, into coming. Maybe she was too sensitive for that. Just his body around hers, their sweat-- when had they built up so much, they were sliding against one another-- felt like an overkill. Amber rolled her head to the side, breathing shallow, but deep.
Still. She wanted him inside her, wanted him to feel pleasure from her, to feel every inch of him losing control, to know inside and out how his orgasm was. To know how good she made him feel. It’d make her happy, that she could return the favor. Her hips rose, not as another aftershock of the orgasm, but as an encouragement. She wouldn't come again, not any time soon, but she still wanted more. "The condoms," Amber whispered, lazily, somehow finding the strength to cup his face again. "They're in the bed stand, top drawer--"
Taking advantage of the natural lube their bodies had provided, Amber twisted so that her back was to him for the second time this evening. Earlier, it had been to hide her vulnerability; now, it was because on her side, with him aligned against her back, there'd be less stimulation to where she felt sore. Amber's breath quickened in anticipation; sucked on her lip in anticipation. Wriggled and bent her upper leg forward to give him the space to enter. To invite him.
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His heart nearly stopped when Amber offered more. Foreman wanted to ask you sure? but Amber wouldn't say it if she didn't mean it. Her hand brushing his cheek was an assurance, a promise. "Yeah. Okay." He rolled off her, to his back. Cold air swept down his chest as soon as he lost contact with Amber. It wasn't his room, and he was unfamiliar with the furniture, but his groping hand finally knocked against the bed stand. He found the drawer, jerking it open at last, and fumbled inside. The condoms were in a box, which Foreman tore in his hurry.
He hated the awkwardness of the condoms--ripping a packet open in the darkness, tossing the foil away where it wouldn't get lost in the sheets, and then rolling the latex over his erection. Fuck. They were both doctors, it wasn't like they couldn't get tested and Amber could get a prescription for the pill, and then they could skip this step entirely. He'd think about it. Ask her. Later, when he was capable of rational thought. He'd already been rubbing against Amber's stomach, and between the two of them, there'd been more than enough sweat to ease the condom on without chafing. His own hand squeezing his dick was such a relief, pressure giving way to pleasure, and the anticipation that soon he'd have more only made it better.
When he rolled back again, to find Amber, he realized that she'd turned on her side as well. Foreman ran his hand from Amber's ass to the back of her knee. With her leg bent, all Foreman had to do was lean in, close. Holding himself, he guided the tip of his erection against her--still so wet; he let out a huff of air, gulped for another breath--and then, pushing slowly, entered her. "Oh God. Yeah." Foreman pressed his lips against Amber's shoulder, his chest expanding with each panting breath. "Amber, God, you feel so good." He took his time, and it felt like forever until he'd worked his way in fully. He slung an arm over her, around her stomach, and pulled her closer, onto his dick. Beginning to ease into a slow, stroking rhythm. Shuddering as the feelings swam through his nervous system like fire. Amber was tight around him, and even through the latex Foreman could feel each pulse of aftershock from her orgasm. He knew she was sensitive, that she'd already been overwhelmed by sensation. It was impossible to imagine giving this up: all the heat, clamping down on his dick and sending throbs of pleasure through his whole body. He'd have to, though. Be ready to, at least. His voice strained, desperate, he whispered, "Tell me. If it's--nhh. Too much."
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It was already too much. Amber held back her gasps, shaking with each impulse of Eric's entrance, exit. But near-pain or no, she wasn't going to give this up. This felt good, too, in its own way. The satisfaction of pleasuring him even when she felt ready to drift off into an eternal sleep. Amber didn't care how rubbed raw she was, she wanted Eric to come inside her. Because he was hers. She was marking her territory, claiming him for herself, even if she'd have laughed incredulously, at herself, for thinking so. It was illogical, but she felt it. "Keep going," she gasped, and ground her hips weakly, to prove her point. Clenched her hand over his, pulling both into her stomach; entwined their fingers and squeezed, anchoring herself on that hold. Delivered herself to another timelessness, now punctuated by Eric's obscene sounds, the shuddering of his body behind hers, the direction of his penis as he drove into her. Rocked back, encouraging him to pick up the speed.
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Both times she'd given him everything, like a gift. Didn't ask him to restrain himself. Demanded, instead, that he lose himself in his own pleasure, first when she'd sucked him off, deep and hard, without once trying to pull away; and now, telling him to keep going even when it couldn't be as good for her. Foreman shuddered again and relaxed. He wasn't going to hold back, but he didn't need to go fast either. He'd already come hard once this evening. This time, he felt warmer and relaxed, glad of Amber's closeness. Each thrust was like another wave against a dam, the tide rising. There didn't seem to be any separation between the growing heat in his groin and the moment when the dam burst. His orgasm was a long, amazing release. Any tension, any energy he'd had left, rushed out of him like the ocean retreating. Foreman moved with it, panting, trembling, enjoying. When he finally stilled, he felt too shaken to even pull out at first. Utterly limp with relaxation, eyelids drooping, mouth slack on Amber's shoulder.
He moved at last, a groan spilling out of him as he disengaged from her, and slipped the condom off his penis. There were tissues on the bed stand. Foreman forced himself not to give in to his own delicious exhaustion until he'd wrapped the condom in a few tissues and dropped it over the side of the bed. Hopefully he'd remember it before he stepped on it. At this point, he couldn't even imagine caring. All he wanted was to wrap himself around Amber and fall asleep. Foreman nuzzled up close behind her, mirroring their position of a moment ago, and draped his arm over her, letting out a sigh as he relaxed completely.
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