alwaysright | November 3, 2007

November 3, 2007 - Morning

Foreman had been right about one thing: when he finally woke up, his whole body felt like he'd run a fucking triathlon the night before. He opened his eyes slowly, a smile already curving his lips. Saturday. No work, no obligations. Last weekend he'd thought that he'd fucked up completely with Amber. This morning, here he was, grinning half into his pillow at the sight of her hair, tangled and fanned out across the sheets. So he hurt; that was no different than the morning after a lot of workouts. Some stretching and he'd be fine. If that was the only price he'd pay for last night, he'd always choose to do it again.

They'd finally made it out of the bath when the water was cooling. Fingers and toes pruned, shivering because they'd both fallen asleep, towelling off vigourously to warm up again. Foreman hadn't bothered waking up beyond the most basic functions. He'd gotten his teeth brushed, pissed, hauled his boxers on, and fallen into Amber's bed all without engaging any higher mental faculties. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Looked like he was the first one to wake up this morning. Usually his body woke him up after eight hours whether he needed more or not. Affection poured through him at the sight of Amber, still sleeping. This way he could admire her before she realized that her hair wasn't in place, and it made the feeling sweeter, somehow, that she didn't know. To let her sleep herself out, Foreman tried to keep himself quiet as he climbed out of bed. He eased out of the bedroom after he'd hauled his trousers and hoodie on. Amber's keys were next to her purse, near the door, and Foreman ducked out for a quick, shivering trip to his car. He came back in with the bag he'd packed yesterday without running into Murphy or any of the other tenants, thank Christ. It didn't take him long to sort out things that he could leave here--deodorant, shaving stuff, cologne, toothbrush--along with a few clothes, more comfortable stuff so that he wouldn't be limited to suits on the weekend.

He showered about as quickly as he would on a weekday, not lingering once he'd gotten clean. He dressed in a pair of battered jeans and a clean sweater, before heading for the kitchen.

He wasn't a great cook, which Amber knew by now. When he was a kid, Mom had let him and Marcus into the kitchen for baking only--to lick icing off the spoons, or to dump too much flour in the bowl, making a mess with the ingredients and then burning his tongue crunching through the resulting--usually rock hard--cookies or cakes. But she'd also considered the kitchen more or less her domain, and she'd swatted their rumps with a dishtowel if they'd gotten in her way when she was cooking the big meals. Not that it was her fault he'd never learned. If he'd ever shown a real interest, rather than sprinting through and grabbing at whatever was sitting out to stuff into his face while Mom was in the middle of preparations, she probably would have taught him. He'd been an ungrateful teenager, he'd expected his meals to be ready for him, and he hadn't paid much attention except when they weren't. What he did know, he knew from disastrous experiments when he was in college, and certainly Claire had never stooped to cooking for him when they both had the same punishing hours at the hospital.

But there was one dish that he was terrific at. It was Claire who'd taught it to him, actually, after he'd complimented her effusively one too many times and given her his best wide-eyed, hopeful look when it seemed like she might be about to make breakfast. Denver omelette, egg whites only since he was trying to keep himself in weight training trim. He'd seen all the ingredients he needed in Amber's fridge last night. Peppers, onions, even some bacon. Cheese, maybe. He'd have to check. He could even set the table this morning since he'd reuse the clean dishes from dinner last night. It wasn't that he always expected to cook, but in this one case, he knew what he was doing, and damn, he already knew Amber could be astonishingly grateful for a simple meal. The omelette, maybe some toast, and fresh coffee--God, who knew how she'd want to thank him next? Grinning, Foreman set to work, far more confident than he'd been about the stir fry.

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It was absolutely graceless, having Amber up against the shower wall. They were both wet, slippery, and as Foreman started to touch her, Amber arched in his arms, sharp movements that he couldn't predict and only wanted to provoke again, trying to find the exact touch that had set her off, over and over again. His arms under her thighs were enough to steady her for now, but he wanted more room. Curving his hand, he was only just able to touch the entrance of her vagina, fingertips teasing along her labia, shallow and not nearly enough. After he'd lifted her, he lost the friction against his cock, leaving him frustrated, half-aroused, getting nowhere.

He hadn't thought this position through, and the more Amber squirmed, slick and restless, the less Foreman thought he'd be able to hold her up for long. His arms were tired, from the game and from his struggle against the cuffs last night. This wasn't going to last. But it was so good as long as it did. Amber was breathless, eager, her words spurring him forward as much as the sight of a drop of water sliding over her breast to gather on the tip of her nipple, until he couldn't hold back from tasting it. Slow, lingering. Gentle, and then a sudden hard suck. She was right--he couldn't get enough. Foreman licked a long swipe up her chest again, to her throat. God, he wanted to kiss her. "Yeah," he said, roughly, hoarse. "I want you, wanna see you--" Her long neck as she arched back, the sight of the flush on her skin, her nipples tightening; her arms and legs wrapped around him, God, he loved seeing all of it. Made the pleasure when he was inside her rise even higher, sharper.

If he let her slip down, slow, onto his cock--he wasn't quite there yet, but it wouldn't take long--Christ. No fucking condom. He wasn't going to forget that again anytime soon. Foreman groaned in frustration. He lowered his arms, letting her find her footing. He didn't have the damn brain cells to tell her the problem--think about it later--for now, he kissed her again, firmly, and let his palm slide up from her hips, fingers slipping through her pubic hair to touch her, softly, but fully.

It wouldn't last. His grip was giving way-- at last Eric revealed he was no Hercules, but he could've had better timing-- and Amber's back scratched and burned as she slipped down the door. Hardly seemed to matter, though. Amber was wet, outside and in, becoming more so at the hint of his touch at her entrance. That won a full-body jerk, trying to get more, only making her fall further.

He didn't go through with the promise, focusing more on her breasts. Well. Amber supposed that was acceptable, for now. Gasped as he sucked, the sound tapering off into a light moan as he kept at it, kissing, licking, eager as if it were for him. No wonder they were a match, if their wants and needs overlapped so conveniently.

No surprise when Eric lowered her for good; Amber's feet slid down til they met ground again, legs straightening to come face to face with him. Was the most natural thing in the world to kiss him, open-mouthed, slow, tongue melding against tongue. Amber watched him through lidded eyes, heart thudding because she felt so good, loved touching him so much. His family, the basketball game, they barely crossed her mind; how could they matter, when giving herself to pleasure was so much better than lingering over nasty thoughts. This was why they were together.

Eric was so focused, like he dedicated all his mental facilities to touching her. She loved that too. Loved the attention, his intensity. "Deeper," she said, breathing shallow. Amber wanted to see his finger disappear into her, god, almost as much as she wanted to feel it. Couldn't kiss him now, it'd block the view.

Didn't mean she was helpless, though. Back on her feet, she had full mobility. Choices. First thing was to lean over and quickly turn off the water growing increasingly cold. Rivulets streaming over half her body, her hair mostly damp, it'd be chilly, but the gym's heating would take care of them. And they could heat each other up. Lips parting, Amber then traced her fingers over his sternum-- she hadn't forgotten--starting out light, increasing the pressure as she lowered her hand. Followed a straight line down his abdomen and soon all she had to do was turn her wrist to lightly wrap her hand around his dick. Squeezed her fingers one by one, in sequence. So thick, so long. There was still enough shower water to rub him teasingly, enough to make him growl and fuck her hand and beg for more. "Something in your pocket?" she asked, smiling. “Or happy to see me?”

"Always. Happy to see you." Before Amber, Foreman never would have thought seriously about fucking in the shower at the gym. Fantasized about, maybe. The place had plenty of women who'd make more than adequate visual material if he was beating off. But actually being with someone, like the gym employees didn't have a key to the room--throwing caution to the winds, and pursuing Amber, and his own pleasure, simply because he wanted her so damn badly, needed her now, he'd never done anything like this before her. The restaurant, when she'd turned him on so much right at their table, had felt mortifying, but he'd come so hard in the bathroom, fucking Amber up against the door. That same excitement, the shivering tautness of knowing they could get caught, drove him now.

Slowly, feeling his way while he kissed Amber deeply, Foreman slid his middle finger deeper, until he was completely inside her. He explored, rubbing her firmly and inexorably, more massage than thrusting. Amber was wet, and knowing how much she was turned on made the feel of her fingers wrapped around his growing erection even sweeter. The kiss ended when he had to breathe, and Foreman let his head fall forward, so that he could watch. Her hand, working over his cock, was so fucking hot to see--to feel. "You know--you know how hot you were--" That wouldn't stop her from wanting to hear it, smug as a cat, eyes narrow and pleased as he started to rock into the friction of her hand. "Uh. Wanted to. Fuck you in the gym. You'd've--liked that--all of them watching--" Now that there was no possibility of a real audience, the idea didn't piss him off half as much. Instead, the power of it made him shudder. Showing those jackoffs that Amber was his, that she'd let him touch her, that she might have lowered herself down to her knees and watched him in amusement as she slipped her lips around his cock, hard and straining-- "Ohh. There, just--yeah, harder..."

Everything he felt, he wanted her to have. His fingers were already slick, and he spread her wetness along her labia. He let his forefinger join his middle finger inside Amber, and pressed his thumb over the hood of her clit. Pressure, moving only as much as the push of his fingers inside her allowed, echoing the pulsing rhythm of her muscles. "Amber," he whispered. His voice echoed in the shower cubicle now that the water wasn't spraying around them. The growing heat in his groin, the lingering strokes of her hand, was bringing him fully erect, pleasure burning along his nerves. But Amber--she'd been so sensitive before, telling him to back off when he went down on her, and last night she'd fucked him so hard. He wouldn't be surprised if she was more sensitive today, after that. "That good, honey? You want more?"

Amber squirmed slightly as Eric's finger delved deeper; felt good, she wanted more, but it was awkward too. The angle wasn't quite right and the way he was doing it, slow, circular, felt more like an examination than an attempt to turn her on. And why did he have to bring up the basketball game? She'd almost forgotten it and her wretched defeat. Amber's grip slackened then tightened excessively to compensate for that slip; well, he had asked for harder.

Settling for a pressure between the two extremes, Amber pressed her thumb into the under part of his shaft, rubbing the firm and yet oh so sensitive flesh just beneath his head. "Yeah," Amber breathed into his ear, closing her eyes, imagining. Wouldn't have been the right moment to fuck, she was too busy trying to win, but that aside, it'd be amazing to have that kind of audience. And she liked hearing her proud and shy Eric fantasizing people watching them. "Want everyone to know--" Paused to suck his earlobe, lick his jaw beneath. "How hot we are, make them all jealous-- ahh--"

She had to tilt her head back, drive her hips up. He wasn't exploring no more, stroking now, inside and over her clit. Amber stood on her toes, digging her shoulder blades into the door as she arched for more of that pressure. "S'good," she let out. "Real good." It took every ounce of concentration to not simply give in to the jolts of pleasure his every thumb flick brought, to not release herself to abandon. Forced herself to focus through the haze and fist his erection, to curve her other hand around him and down his ass crack. Still. Really hard to keep at it. Amber was burning up, from Eric's warmth and her own growing heat. Had practically forgotten they were in a shower, despite the wet strands against her neck, the hint of soap and mildew. Eric's scent was so much stronger, and he was all she could see, hear, feel. "Annh."

A short, sharp moan spilled out when Amber tightened her hand. Foreman jerked against her, pushing up, but by then she'd already relaxed her grip, and went back to the even, thumbing strokes. He panted shortly, trying to surge closer to her, taking everything she'd offer. She was making him feel so good, he was losing track of where he was, why it mattered. Bare feet slipped against the floor of the shower as he thrust his hips forward. He dropped kisses everywhere he could reach--close to Amber's mouth, on the point of her chin, against the damp hair at her temple as she suckled his earlobe.

He never let himself lose track of what he was giving her in return, no matter that his knees were turning to jelly under her ministrations. Amber cried out, and if it was possible, she seemed even hotter around his fingers. Foreman quickened his pace, not slamming in, but just enough to give her a rhythm to work against. As much as he could, he circled his thumb over her clit, feeling its hardness nestled in the slippery, swollen folds of her labia. Moving the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, he let himself focus on the damn image. "They were staring, bet you left them with hard-ons." He had no intention of ever letting this kind of thing happen, but from the way Amber had started moving, moaning, giving herself over more to how she felt when he'd mentioned it, Foreman couldn't make himself hold back. Too bad for them. Mine. To touch, however he wanted. Foreman's free hand wandered over her body, stroking where the water drops had left her warm and wet, over her belly, up to her breasts to pinch her nipples again, then cupping her head to draw her into a long kiss.

Her fingers, whispering down over his ass, made him remember what else Amber could do--how much she could make him feel. A burning blush suffused his face, and his chest tightened before Foreman could speak. "It's, uh. Okay, if you want to touch me..." Jesus, he really was asking for it, not that they had any lube for her to finger him like she had that first night, but he wasn't going to deny wanting it. He'd learned his lesson, and she could touch him any damn way she wanted. All of it was good. She could drive him out of his mind if she had the slightest wish to, and she probably did. He trusted her.

God. Amber's eyes flew open, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation, muscles spasming. Her cry became a continuous whimper, needing more, jerking her hips into Eric's increasingly strong touch, just a bit more; the way he pressed into her clit, god, it consumed her, and his stroking inside her to a rhythm, it was almost too much, but for a short while it'd get her over. Her calves strained as she went up higher and higher on tiptoe, back arching; would’ve called out his name, but it was too many damn syllables, the best she could do was “Euhh—“ There were obscenities in her ear, visions of so many people wanting to fuck her, and the only one who mattered here with her, palpable, groaning out her fantasies because he knew she loved it, and relentlessly fucking her, oh god. Amber drowned in his kiss, sucking his tongue back hard, taking what she needed; wished he hadn't drawn his hand away from her breast but anyway it'd have been redundant because already she was shuddering, head twisting helplessly to the side, her own hands jolting up to his shoulders, needing to hold on as she ground herself against him, increasing the pressure and speed. His hand crunched between them, his dick got caught between their abdomens; wasn’t quite ideal, but what did Amber care, she was coming, a hot rush burning up all her nerves, over and over; so good, so damn fucking good.

It left her trembling, shaky on her legs. Didn't quite remember it was because she'd already overexerted herself, running herself to exhaustion on the court. Didn't matter. Felt too damn good. The surges of pleasure died down too quickly, becoming longer yet less intense, but she still twinged along to them, taking in sharp breaths with every sudden motion. Towards the end Amber opened her eyes, smiling at Eric, feeling light and free and perfect, like the end of an accomplished day. Kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek. “Yeah,” she said, drifting into laziness, “I’m never giving up the sex.” Kissed his lips now, softly, with all the tenderness inside her. Filled her arms with him, wrapping round his biceps. Sex with Eric was so incredibly different. The mechanics were the same, but she’d never felt so safe afterward, wanting what came even after the orgasm. And he knew what to do with her, what drove her over the edge. Jesus. He made her so happy. “You’re amazing.”

Eric’s stuttering mention that she could touch him, if she wanted, came back to her. Amber chuckled. Sure, they could make it about her, if that made him feel better. Lips making a wet sound as she kissed him long and sensually, Amber’s fingers danced down his spine, back into his crack; brushed over his anus gently. “I’ve got lotion in my bag.” Condoms, too, but it was starting to look like they might not need any. Her left hand journeyed down his side, squeezing as it went, to nestle in his pubic hairs and cup his balls. “Sound good to you?” She’d loved taking her time, as she could now that she’d come, torturing Eric with pleasure. Loved the fact that he wanted her to penetrate him again; it made her feel proud, that she’d made him crave what had frightened him so much.

Amber's desperate kiss brought out a low, rumbling moan from deep in his chest. Foreman circled his thumb faster, his chest heaving as he studied every sign crossing Amber's face, the pleasure bringing short, needy cries to her lips and flickering through her eyes. "Yeah, feel that?" Foreman whispered. "They want you, can't have you, you're coming for me--" He shuddered as he felt Amber's body tense and arc into his fingers, as if completely in response to his words. Foreman kept going, kissing her, touching her, the tip of his cock rubbing against her belly to the same beat as his fingers inside her. The fantasy disappeared into the gorgeous reality. Amber surging against him, again and again, her hand slipping away from his cock but it didn't matter when he could feel the quiver of her orgasm around his fingers?

He chuckled softly--no one had ever asked her to give up the sex, least of all him. "Don't think that's gonna happen," he said. His body warmed again at her compliment, and although they'd reached a lull, with him swaying against her just enough to keep up the friction that was keeping him hard and wanting, Foreman couldn't help the sharp spike of pride and pleasure that came from his smugness, his tenderness, over making Amber feel so much. She might think he was amazing, but she hadn't seen herself, how beautiful she was, open and vulnerable and trembling with every sensation.

Amber was satiated, kissing slowly. Foreman's quick breathing left him dizzy after the long kisses, but he couldn't give up being so close to her, even if it meant panting against her lips between sliding his tongue deeper into her mouth, driving the heat in his body higher. He didn't know if it sounded good to him, only that he was getting more impatient. She'd stopped stroking his cock, and all he had now was the soft press of her stomach. "Mmn," he said, hands smoothing down her sides. Christ, his heart felt like a snare drum more than a vital organ. Uncertainty squeezed his lungs, and all he got out was "Uh--" Amber's palm cupped his balls, and Foreman's breath shot out in a shaky exhale. "Y-yeah."

He hadn't been thinking about it, hadn't been wanting it. Just--he thought Amber had been, from the way she'd squeezed his ass. Once she'd spoken, it seemed immediate, inevitable. On some level, Foreman remembered the sensation, the uncomfortable intrusion giving way to something deeper and amazingly good, but it had been just once, could've been a damn fluke. Now he had no idea how she'd do it, how she'd want him, and he didn't really want to stop kissing her or for Amber to stop touching him the way she was, just so he could find out.

Sated, the shower stall seemed cast in a soft glow. Amber's reaction time was slower, too; wasn't until a few seconds of him probing her mouth, deepening their kiss, did she giggle lightly. He wanted her so much. Her. If it was joy, or pride, or simply the post-orgasm buzz— something made her feel invincible. Gave in to that kiss, to bring Eric closer, because even now she wanted him. Like this, all she could see were his lidded eyes, his curved lashes. Felt so much more, the scrape of his beard around her mouth, his goading, insistent humping. Probably thought her the worst tease in the world.

Delayed perception or no, Eric's dithering filtered through her awareness. For all that his dick throbbed against her skin and however dilated with arousal his eyes were, he sounded more like a trapped animal than a man about to receive extreme pleasure. Oh jeez, not this again. He always came so damn hard whenever she did something unconventional to him, hard enough to be wiped out for the rest of the night, but he kept getting so damn hesitant and guilty. Amber held back an exasperated sigh. If she had to school him how to be a hornball, she could teach him how to look forward to a bit of anal play. "Baby, I'll make it feel good," she whispered, borrowing his beloved endearment. And she would; she knew she could blow his mind. Squeezed his balls for a second, thumbing the base of his dick. "Be right back."

Fumbling for the handle behind her, the door swung open and, legs weakened, it took her a couple of uncertain steps to remember how to walk. Her flip-flops stuck to her feet, smacking as they finally parted from her soles and struck the ground. Amber swayed to the bench where she'd left her bag, riffling through a side compartment where she kept a small bottle of body lotion in case her skin dried up after a hot shower at the gym. From a smaller pouch she extracted a condom; who knew, it might come in handy. If Eric or her got the urge to fuck, she wouldn't want to leave the warmth of his arms again.

Amber turned around, meaning to hurry back to the shower, but damn. She had to take a moment to appreciate how fucking gorgeous Eric was. Naked, dark skin gleaming from the changing room lights and remaining dampness; and such a beautiful form, with wide shoulders, shapely thighs, and a perfectly kissable stomach. Not to mention his erection, long and magnificent, rising impatiently. "Sexy," she informed him, flirtatious and completely honest.

Motor functions fully regained, Amber stalked back to him, letting her subtle swing entice him. Dipped to drop the condom at the entrance, then stepped into the shower box, not bothering to close the door. But he was so hard, so needy, she knew better than to delay things any further. "Tell me what you’re feeling," she said softly, pushing him towards one of the side walls and pressing her entirety of her body against his, tilting her head for a kiss, rocking for maximum friction. They fit so snug, her breasts flattened against his pecs, his dick trapped between their stomachs. Meanwhile, her right hand flipped the bottle open and turned it upside down, squeezing out a generous amount of lotion.

The disappearance of Amber's body heat reminded him that he was wet, the air wasn't exactly super-heated, and he was about to get fucked. Again. After asking for it. Amber's reassurance wasn't nearly as comforting as she probably thought, even though he knew it was true. What stopped him from stopping her was her soft, careful voice, calling him baby. Foreman had no idea what it meant to her, not after she'd gotten so upset the first time he'd used it. But in her mouth, he found it calming, the same way her hands were when she massaged his shoulders or cupped his head as she kissed him. Damn irrational, but it kept him from screwing things up in the bare minute she spent getting the lotion she'd promised.

Foreman raised his arms, resting his wrists against the upper edge of the shower door, and leaned forward. The movement stretched out his lower back and his delts. The physical loosening of his muscles left him warm and eager, the stretch seeming to spill a lava flow of desire through him. He smirked at Amber's ass as she crossed the small space, rummaging in her bag, turning back to him with a condom and some lotion. The slow, appreciative evaluation that she gave him as she turned back made him want to stretch more, show off somehow. His cock twitched, anticipating the slick grip of her hand again. Not to mention whatever else she planned to do to him. Foreman grinned, confidence from her words and hesitation from what he knew she'd want combining in a strange mixture of arousal and nerves low in his stomach. It felt good, though, the ambivalence bringing a delicious edge to the sensation. He backed up easily as Amber urged him back to the wall, his eyes running slowly down her body, then back up to catch her intent expression.

He sighed as she moulded herself to him. Kissing her languorously, Foreman matched her movements, thrusting against her stomach, the easy pleasure of the friction easing his anxiety. What he was thinking, Christ, he didn't know, and even if he did, he wasn't sure how to tell her. "Good," he started, since it was true. His eyes flew open, wide, to catch the sight of her uncapping the lotion and spurting some, creamy and white, into her palm; it looked fucking erotic, and Foreman's breath grew even more shallow. "I, uh. Want to feel you. Your fingers." Steeling himself, he added, "Nervous." Not that there was any fucking reason to be. Why he couldn't just let it be what it was? It was what he wanted, and Amber had never once backed down when Foreman finally let her know what was on his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, then met Amber's gaze. "Fuck me."

Good; it seemed Eric was overcoming his hesitation despite himself, eagerness building at the signs that she really would finger-fuck him. It was way too soon to feel anything but a faint twinge of arousal, still contracting from ebbing waves of orgasm, but Amber's excitement grew with his. Felt more delicious, knowing how relatively new this was to him; loved being able to share new forms of ecstasy. "Okay," she coaxed the stilted words out of him, purring. And then: fuck me. Oh god yeah, that deserved another kiss, mouthing fast and needy, head spinning just from hearing that. "I'll fuck you," Amber promised, squeezing his ass with her left hand, staring into his eyes. "Though you know, if you want a real good fuck, you'll have to wait til we get back home." Smiling at him, letting him puzzle out the meaning, Amber shut the bottle close and dropped it. It crashed against the floor, but no greater harm was done.

From the last and only time she’d given him a rim job, Amber knew she couldn't let up the stimulation, lest Eric fall out of the rhythm and thus the mood. He was already hard and wanting; no point in teasing with lighter touches. A hand job would do just as well, but-- who was she to pass up the chance to take him into her mouth? With a final quick kiss, Amber lowered to her knees, coming conveniently face to face with his erection; its musky scent filled her senses even before she tilted it and engulfed the tip in her mouth-- oh. Amber couldn’t resist, lapping his precome, sucking his head, bobbing her head to the side to run her lips over his entire length; had to force herself to stop playing as if he were her own fuck toy, here solely for her own whims. Amber cast her eyes upward, purposefully running her tongue along the bottom of his shaft; knew that’d get a reaction, the sight of her showing off how much she loved his cock in her mouth. Better yet, it’d let her gauge how he was feeling.

All the while she’d been warming up the lotion, rubbing it against her fingers. As she distracted him by sucking his dick, Amber brought her right hand back to his ass, running it up and down his crack, letting him get used to her touch. It was warm there, tight; aside from his puckered flesh, the skin was smoother, softer. Gradually Amber narrowed down to his anus, circling round it, pressing more firmly. The lotion made everything slick, letting her fingers slide easily. As he yielded, her touch became stronger and stronger, her mouth still sucking slowly and obscenely at his dick. She’d have a crick in her neck before this was done, not to mention scrapes against her knees; her thighs might not be able to withstand the effort, after everything she’d put them through today. But for as long as she could stand it, Amber would give all she could to him. The sounds her mouth made echoed in her ears; everything else was him.

The bottle crashed to the floor of the shower. Foreman leaned back against the wall, tipping his head back, breathing too hard to return Amber's kiss. He couldn't keep his attention from his dick, from his ass, from what she was about to do. The nervous edge to his feelings sharpened, no matter how much he insisted to himself that it was fine. Not gonna hurt, and she likes it, she doesn't care that you like it, she likes that you like it, so shut up-- Didn't work. He braced himself against the wall and bit his lip, the fluorescent light fixture above the shower swimming in his vision until his eyes slipped closed.

Amber dropped to her knees, and Foreman couldn't help the hoarse, wanting sound that ripped from his throat. This, he knew, and his blood pounded in his cock even before her mouth closed over him. God. Just the head. Fucking teasing him. Lapping at him, no suction, just the hot exploration of her tongue, and then--swirling, sucking pressure. "Ohh, fuck. Fuck, Amber--" His voice stopped, but her name repeated over and over again in his mind, the syllables matching the insistent, eager movement of her mouth. Amber was so good, fucking talented, her mouth slipping over his length again and again, and she knew it, which only made him hotter. The sweet pulling need was so good. Pleasure exploded, heat increasing until it felt like a fever--burning, but leaving him shivering, muscles aching, mind fucking lost. Foreman touched Amber's damp hair, determined not to clutch, but it was instinct, the desire to shove his hips forward and fuck her mouth nearly overcoming him. He'd barely noticed the first teasing pushes of her finger, but as soon as his hips started moving, he felt it.

Breath seizing in his lungs, Foreman slid an inch lower, feet bracing him, knees bending just enough to give him some room to spread his legs. "Yeah--yeah, okay, yes--" Had to relax, had to be ready. The first prodding touch wasn't going to be good, but after that--he was working towards the moment it would be. The pleasure from Amber's mouth outstripped his fear, and Foreman nudged against the slippery rub of her finger. He was sensitive enough that it felt good; the teasing massage, the promise of pressure, the dull awareness that she'd push into him soon. "F-fuck." His voice sounded blaring in his ears, but it couldn't have been above a mutter. "Do it."

He was lost, far as Amber could tell. Too hard to keep looking, craning her neck; she'd trust his wordless noises to let her know if he needed more or slower or different. Eric’s flexing hips, straining forward as if impeded further progress by a leash, were a pretty good sign too. So she kept on, following her own urges to suck more cries out of him, push him so hard to forget his name. His dick seemed to grow hotter in her mouth, slick with her saliva; Amber upped the suction, tugging at his skin, swirling her tongue against his base. If only there were someone to touch her, play with her labia, draw out the feelings building up there, because yeah, she was getting wet again...

Her own left hand clenched his thigh for support, her other one continued with the penetration. Broken words and sounds of encouragement, legs spreading like it was the most natural thing in the world, his muscle relaxing-- yeah, he wanted this. Really wanted this, enough to try to ignore his fears. And Amber'd give it to him, proud and happy. (And she wouldn’t think about how much she might be motivated by her recent defeat; anal penetration was no way to show someone up or to reestablish skill; she wouldn’t read into this. He’d asked to be touched, she was only delivering.) He’d just better not mope about it afterward, she was tired of having to put up with his suffering for getting what he wanted. If they both got their rocks off, where was the problem? She’d tell him off if he tried to pull another guilt trip.

Wasn't hard at all to slip her finger index past his sphincter-- not much, just up to the first bend, enough to twist, curling into his ass, stroking softly. Worked her way in; he'd been so sensitive the last time, but he hadn't really surrendered to pleasure until his prostrate got attention. Soon, soon; she couldn't rush it. Plenty of nerves to stimulate at the tip, to make him feel good. Amber only wished she had how to talk, to tell him how hot he was, how she wanted him to come for her. The words were in her mind, and the feeling flowering in her as she squirmed, starting to become frustrated with unattended horniness; but the best she could do was to tighten her lips around his dick, bobbing her head up and down.

Grunting, Foreman twitched at the first real intrusion of Amber's fingertips. Slippery with the lotion she'd used, there wasn't any pain, but despite the insistent draw of her mouth around his cock, his attention centered on her finger as if that was all that was happening. The minute flutter of muscles alternately impeded her progress and urged her deeper, and Foreman couldn't decide which he wanted more. His abs tensed as he eased down further. The burn in his thighs from holding himself up hurt worse than her finger did. The slight penetration, going deeper with each new push, felt weirdly huge, awkward, but also satisfying--something to press against, solid and unmistakably present.

He had no idea how Amber had known--if she'd known, fuck, maybe she did this with every guy who ended up in her bed--but having her fingering him while she sucked him heightened the whole experience. More than just a blowjob. Getting sucked off was easy, he only had to lean back and let his orgasm grow until it washed over him. Amber could have him coming in five minutes, or less, the way she sucked him down so deep and still seemed able to flick her tongue across the underside just there with every bobbing stroke. But her hands, her finger--it gave him an anchor, a place to hang his thoughts, until none of this was just sex; he was involved, far more than a simple orgasm would leave him. Foreman could feel how careful she was, and he could tense up, or relax, and guide her that way. She had to know him, in order to make this work, and care, and want to take her time. The pleasure was different, too, the red flare dull at first, but growing, and deeper; more initimate.

"Uhn, more," he said, gasping a bit and looking down, aroused all over again as he watched Amber blowing him like she couldn't get enough. If you want a real good fuck, you'll have to wait til we get back home--he hadn't missed those words. Foreman had no idea what she meant, whether he should be sweating with nervous fear or nervous anticipation. He swayed a bit, starting to move against her finger instead of away. Yeah. Yeah, good. Amber was going to be so fucking smug. Foreman couldn't bring himself to care, to worry. His cock was straining, and he'd come hard, he knew, if only he got more.

"Mmmmhhhh," Amber purred, pleased. Her finger's easy glide in without had already told her as much, but it was so damn satisfying to hear Eric himself beg for more-- well, begging by his current standards of comfort. And if he was, jesus, actually asking, then she wouldn't hold back. (Later she wouldn't say I told you so. At least, not in those words. Yeah, she was right, that was reward enough, as was his reaction right now, fucking himself on her finger; didn’t need to rub it in his face. Much.)

Her index finger had stretched him out enough to add another; he took that in too, quickly, as if he’d grown impatient and was sucking in everything that came near. As for going in deeper, Eric himself did that, one of his flexes driving her fingers in further. Amber moaned, from deep inside her throat; shifted to lean more weight on her already-tired knees so that she could bring her left hand between her legs, rubbing her labia not to bring herself off but to make the pleasure spread, help take the edge off her own need. (So wet, from her previous orgasm, so full--) Let her focus on him, taking more of him into his mouth, working her jaw constantly, hardly licking now, aimed just as suction. The saltiness of his precome was everywhere, in the back of her throat, on her lips, accentuating the taste of his cock. Her index and middle finger coiled in deeper, probing, searching, massaging; didn’t take long to find that hardened elevation. There. Amber smiled for a second, winced; hurt to do so, with her mouth full. But it was still with triumph that she stroked his prostrate, gently yet firmly, absolutely convinced it’d make him forget all his hesitations, and more besides. C’mon, she thought to herself, Eric, give in. Don’t fight it.

Amber's moan vibrated around his cock. Foreman exhaled sharply, breath leaving him in explosive little bursts. Fuck, one finger felt huge, two left him clenching down tight, fear suddenly leaping into his throat again. Every fraction of an inch of movement rubbed him raw, and he didn't know--he couldn't--God--

Foreman had no idea if he cried out, wordless and sharp, or if every sound only echoed in his mind. He knew he jerked, nearly pulled his cock out of Amber's mouth with the movement. But, fuck, the feeling of Amber's fingers stroking just there, fucking Christ. On some level, he knew it was his prostate, that there were nerve endings there. All his brain would allow him to think was that he wanted it again, that deep strange pleasure, the surprising force of it. Foreman's abs tensed as he pushed for more. Amber's mouth, sucking him in, the answering twitch of her fingers, worked him into a frenzy. Not that he was bucking his hips, or even moving much, but there was a storm raging through his mind. He didn't have to move. Hands squeezing Amber's shoulders, Foreman could ease forward into the hot suction of her mouth, and then, back, there, again, shivering at the bolts of sensation. Balls tightening, cock stiff and slick; it felt timeless, like it would last forever, until with one spiking jolt, everything kicked into a higher gear.

"Fuck. I'm--Amber, you're--making me come." Garbled as the warning was, there was no way he could force out any more coherent words. All he wanted was to push through into the hot slam of sensation. Moving now. Needing to. Couldn't help it. Lightheaded, panting, Foreman drove back onto Amber's fingers one last time, and that was all it took. The stroke tipped him over the edge, a deep groan vibrated in his chest, and he came in sharp, incredible pulses of pleasure.

Victory; he'd lost it. Groaning, rocking to spark off the two distinct pleasures on either side of him, Eric gave way like a wall of sand crumbling against a wave. Amber had to stop touching herself, gripping his thigh again with her left hand; his sharp movements knocked her head back repeatedly, and if she weren't careful, she could easily fall. Wouldn't that be funny, if just before he could come, she disengaged? But Eric was still relatively restrained; Amber had been with men who were far more intense about fucking her mouth. And she was determined: digits digging into his flesh, legs locked to keep her torso up, Amber could handle a few head bangs.

Having readjusted herself to deal with his erratic, powerful thrusts, Amber smugly enjoyed the fruits of her labor. Pity she couldn’t get a good view of his face, bent as she was to keep sucking his dick-- it must've been a glorious sight, pinched and uncensored. They'd talked about cameras, maybe—but Eric probably wouldn't want evidence of his ecstasy at being ass fucked. His tremors-- she felt every one, shaking out from his hips-- would have to be reward enough, as would be his thoughtless cries. Christ, he must've forgotten that they were in a semi-public spot; this the passers-by could hear. God. Yeah. They'd know what was going on, wonder who was so lucky. Maybe those boys from the court heard, would put two and two together.

At Eric's timely warning, Amber pulled back slightly, expecting him to jerk harder-- and, yeah, he really did twitch all over the place. His dick pulsated in her mouth like one last clench before releasing all it had to offer, the come hot and bitter. Good, yeah, that's what she wanted: Amber kept on sucking with relish, remembering how much he'd loved that the other time she'd blown him; kept on stroking with her fingers, too, because no matter how shy Eric was about things up his ass, testing proved conclusively that he was wild about it. Maybe he could throw a ball better than her, but this-- sex-- Amber ruled.

As Eric's movements subsided, Amber took a deep breath through her nose; swallowed the come that had accumulate in her mouth. Sticky, it needed a strong gulp to go down; and then, whole body spent, Amber’s legs gave way, collapsing. She found herself suddenly sitting on the floor, legs splayed around Eric's and her ass against the cold and wet tile floor tile. Startled, she looked up, though she quickly tried to mask it as amusement.

Refusing to look weak, especially since no matter how amazing she'd been just now, she'd still lost that game, Amber got to knees and then her feet, barely using the wall as support. Now that the goal of getting Eric off was accomplished, the exhaustion that had been with her all along manifested itself, flooding her nerves. Too many sore muscles to name, plus a crick in her neck. And what she'd been assuming were leftover water drops was actually sweat, built up all over again from the fucking.

Throwing Eric a tired smile, Amber cranked on the shower. She could hear water hitting the space outside the box, but she was too tired to close the door. With the long break, the shower was steaming hot again. The heat ached against her worn body, but it felt good too, like a vicious massage. "Some work out, huh."

Coming seemed to last, longer than Foreman could account for. The sensation arrowed between Amber's fingers and her mouth on his cock, until one seemed to intensify the other, both of them setting off new ripples after the first jolt had passed. God, it--he couldn't believe he was getting off on this, but it was so shockingly true that he couldn't deny it. One foot slid out from under him, only an inch, but it was enough to make him fling out an arm, banging his hand against one of the glass walls of the shower. Foreman braced himself, huffing for air, the aftershocks of his orgasm reverberating in incredible shockwaves as long as Amber kept sucking him. His ass twitched around her fingers as she rubbed one last spark of pleasure out of him.

It probably wasn't very gentlemanly, but Foreman tipped his head back, eyes closed, and barely noticed when Amber stopped touching him. His body was humming, nerves brought up to fever pitch and then completely satisfied, so that he felt lazy in the best possible way. Exhausted, but so content he could barely move. His eyelids felt too heavy to open, but he managed it, returning Amber's pleased smile. He flinched under the first hot spray of the shower, but a second later it felt glorious. Amber was right--this was exactly like the endorphin high of a good workout. It was simple to transfer his weight from the shower wall into leaning on her, allowing Amber to lean back just as heavily. Arms wrapped around her, Foreman wanted to go to sleep with his head resting on her shoulder, with the hot water rushing down her back and his shoulders. "How do you do that," he muttered, too tired to even make it into a question. Kissing her throat briefly, he murmured, "So good," against her skin.

He finally straightened. Wouldn't be much of a shower without soap, and the hot water would run out on them again in no time. He stepped out long enough to grab the bar from the top of his sports bag, and brought it bag, lathering up quickly. His arms felt twice as heavy as they should, but he soaped down quickly, then handed Amber the soap and shuffled around her so that he could rinse off while she washed. His ass ached a bit--just enough that when he moved, he was reminded that Amber had had her fingers there, like the lingering ghost of the penetration. Probably should've freaked him out more, liking that, but right now he was too damn tired to care about anything except how spectacularly he'd come.

Eric had gone off in his own world, eyes closed and leaning against the shower wall. Seemed to forget even her, trilling with whatever was going on inside him. Amber watched that moment of seclusion, expression softening. It was bittersweet, knowing she'd pushed him that far, that he'd felt comfortable enough to be that selfish. She knew how hard it was for him to let go, keeping up those notions he'd drilled through his skull on how to behave and treat women. It was also a bit-- lonely. She wasn't a part of that peak, not really. No more than he was when she came. In the end, what did it matter who got you to orgasm, if the results were the same? Then again, who else would've blown and fingered him in the gym? No one else, so far.

Apparently Eric was so buzzed he didn't notice her thoughtfulness, simply snuggling her. She let his own emotions, brimming with joy, wash over her just as the water did. Fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms back around him, sinking her weight into his. Stroked the nape of his neck as he cradled his head upon her shoulder, slowly, tenderly. She wanted to sleep here and now, so badly, just enough to deal with the exhaustion. But she couldn't show it. She'd lost already, couldn't expose more vulnerabilities. Cockily, she told him, "I'm just amazing." His vague but heart-felt flattery was much appreciated; Amber knew just how hard he'd come, but she was glad that his first post-reaction was glowing. Could've just as easily closed up, like last night. Amber pressed her lips against his jaw, the hot water mingling between them.

While he stepped out, Amber tilted her head up into the spray, closing her eyes, summoning up reserves of energy. They'd eat soon, at that sandwich place. That'd do her wonders; her stomach growled its approval. Tired, in a cramped place, she kept bumping into Eric, elbow in his back, her shoulder blades against his chest. Their feet too skirted round one another as they shuffled for the prime spot beneath the shower head. The soap in her hands, Amber lathered up for a full-body wash, enough to undo the accumulated sweat. Her ponytail she left up; knowing them, they'd likely need another round at cleaning up before going to sleep, and she'd take care of her hair then. Besides, the water temperature had already drastically fallen.

Fully rinsed off, Amber picked up her lotion and forgotten condom and walked out of the box, stretching her arms over her head. She trailed water everywhere. Not that she cared, now that they were done with the room, but she quickly dug through her bag anyway for a towel, if only to keep from shivering.

Foreman took a long breath as Amber cradled his head against her shoulder. "Mm. You are." This was so damn perfect--the only thing that would make it better would be if they could walk out into her living room instead of into the gym. As satisfied as he was, remembering where they were brought a flush to his cheek. Once he'd washed, he rubbed his towel briskly over himself and started to dress. Even that small exertion pulled at muscles he barely knew he had. A workout would be more focused in its effects. Sex, now and last night, seemed to bring out aches he didn't know could happen. Reminders of how good it had been, both times, but also the vaguely uneasy sense that he was giving himself over to things that he didn't know if he should want.

Ignoring that feeling, Foreman pulled on his shorts and jeans, then paused long enough to get his shoes on so he wouldn't slip on the wet floor. After throwing his sweater on, he packed up everything else, until all he had to carry was his gym bag and his jacket. The change room key was safe in his pocket. Foreman grinned, shame and satisfaction warring for the upper hand. There was no way out of it: he'd considered having sex at the gym a possibility right from the moment they'd arrived, or he never would have asked for the private room. It had a surcharge, above his membership dues, and it wasn't always available. He could've pointed Amber at the women's change room and gone himself to the men's, but instead he'd picked here. Anything that happened--if people stared at them because they'd been too loud--he'd just have to suck up and deal. It had been his idea.

"Ready?" he asked. "I'm starving." His stomach rumbled agreement. Felt like he'd already worked off that morning's omelette, rich as it had been. No better sign that Amber had worn him out, although Foreman kept that to himself. She'd probably think he was talking about the game, which she'd lost, or else only about the sex, as if that's all he got out of being with her. He wished there was some easy way to say I had fun that wouldn't sting her pride, but for now, he settled for a warm smile as he opened the change room door and started to lead the way out.

Amber's skin was still slightly damp as she pulled on her jeans and shirt over her underwear. A glance in the mirror confirmed that her hair was fast on its way to becoming chaos itself, escaped strands plastered all over her head. That required immediate attention by undoing her ponytail, brushing rigorously to work out the knots, then tying her hair up again. Better but not perfect. Most of her face was splotchy red, except of course for her lips, which were relatively pale. Damn it. Amber allowed herself a quick frown while Eric's back was turned; on the heels of their fight, she hadn't given much thought to the after of their gym trip. No makeup, a boring plain outfit, and a pathetic hair style to go with it. The tank top and yoga pants had been a hit, but this...

It was strange to think back on the morning's fight, tingling still with afterglow but not oblivious to her day's several losses. Watching Eric pack up the last of his things, just as she was hers, bumbling and grinning all over the place as if he'd won first, second, and third place in a triathlon (and in a way he had), it almost seemed none of it had ever happened. Like he hadn't jumped from her family as if they lived in nuclear waste zone, or hadn't yelled that his mom-- and everyone he was related to-- wasn't worth his time. No wonder he didn't want to see her family, if that's how he felt about his. Amber would spend dozens of dollars not to have to see her relatives for more than a few days at a time, but she wouldn't ban them from her life either.

Surprise, surprise. Sex and games hadn't solved anything (except, temporarily, for Eric's mood). Amber wondered how long it'd be before they were bickering about that again; she herself wouldn't bring up the topic of Thanksgiving, at least, not about the possibility of them going anywhere together for it, but they wouldn't go long without delving into the subject of family once more. It seemed to pop up naturally, between them.

Zipping up her bag, Amber slung it over her shoulder and stepped over the many and large puddles. Wouldn't do to get her pristine-white sneakers dirty. Once she'd reached the door, she opened it and reached out her hand for Eric's. Wary as she was, it didn't mean she couldn't enjoy Eric's easy, sauntering jubilance while it lasted. "Let's go," she said. "If you're starving, I'm just about ready to take up human flesh." Outside, the air was less dank, the lights stronger and clearer. The two women passing by, sadly, cast them no strange looks; they must've not been around to hear their noise. Amber wanted to tease Eric about fucking in the gym, locked room or not, but that'd invite his sour mood right back, so she didn't comment on it. For now.

"Then we'd better get you fed." Foreman smirked, but didn't quite make the joke--she'd already eaten enough of him for one day. Straightening his shoulders, he braced himself to face any disapproving looks or smirks they might get walking down the hall. Amber took his hand, and although she probably didn't mean to reassure him on that score, Foreman was going to take whatever comfort he could get from it. He smiled at her, and squeezed her hand a bit, before hitching his bag higher on his shoulder and heading out.

He had to let go long enough to sign the key back over to the staff. The guy looked supremely bored, and clicked a few keys on the computer without much bothering to look at them, and that was fine by Foreman. Once that was done, he took Amber's hand again on their way out to the parking lot.

The little café he had in mind did mostly fresh sandwiches, salads, and their own coffee and pastries. It was independent, a little slower but a little less busy than the Starbucks on the corner. The parking lot was tiny, so it was usually impossible to find a parking space anywhere near it, especially on a Saturday. Foreman parked about a block away when he saw a chance opening, and climbed out, leaving his bag on the back seat. The air was fresh, but not as cold as the last couple of days, and after the sweat-stink of the gym, it felt good to breathe deeply. "Have you ever been here before?" he asked, pointing the place out. They weren't far from the hospital, and Amber had lived in the area for a while, so maybe it wouldn't be much of a surprise to her. "They do a great chicken salad."

As he'd expected, there was a line once they were inside, and Foreman felt even hungrier for the warm full smell of fresh coffee and some kind of homemade soup. He let his hand rest on Amber's hip, pulling her in so that their sides pressed together, from shoulder to hip, and concentrated on the menu board above the serving area.

Eric took her hand at once, but he was so pleased right now he'd probably follow her to hell's gates without a second thought. Might even be thinking that she was doing that, what with her making him experiment with new acts like public sex and bondage. Whatever was running through his mind, Amber squeezed his hand back and within a couple of steps they fell into a rhythm, their paces matching easily. Probably had something to do with their equal heights, but Amber was tempted to think it was because they were well-suited for one another-- though that was as solid an argument as one based on astrological signs.

On their way out of the gym (in which no one noticed them, damn it-- what was the point of fucking in public if they didn’t get credit for it?) and to the café they didn't really talk. More after-effects of their orgasms? It wasn't bad, just different. Amber didn't know how other couples did it. She'd seen plenty of silent ones at the hospital, but those were extenuating circumstances. People acted different around the sick and the dying, she knew. Wasn't a good yardstick with which to measure her own relationship. Amber was okay with observing, following; Eric knew more about couple stuff than she did. He seemed okay enough with keeping quiet, focusing on the road. And this silence certainly wasn't suffocating like the one on the way over.

Maybe she should start taking notes on proper relationship behavior, her own and other people's (who weren't in the hospital). It was how she’d learned many a thing.

Half-wondering if she should type up said notes or write them by hand, Eric interrupted her thoughts with a question. "Sure, Alexandro's," Amber said. There wasn't a café in the region that she hadn't tried over the years. She couldn't afford to eat out all the time, what with low salaries and lingering med school debts, but even at her worst she went out at least once or twice or month. Often enough she could swing a discount or a free meal, and not always because of her stunning looks. "I think I've only had their sandwiches, though."

A bell on the door chimed as they came in and a blast of heated air greeted them. Scents of coffee and onion and tomato excited Amber’s stomach all the more; if Eric presented her with his omelet now, she'd eat it up in seconds.

It was when Eric touched her hip so casually, tugging her in close, that Amber felt a pang of not belonging. They'd gone from fucking in a public shower to-- this. It was the simplest place they'd been to together. Homey, informal. Really not the kind of place she'd go to with her flings. Strangely shy, Amber let herself be pulled in, stepping with him into the line.

The bell rang again but Amber paid it no attention, too busy scoping out what other people were eating at their tables. A cream-colored soup was all over the place. No wonder, on a cold day like this soup was comforting. But she couldn't ignore the "Oh wow, Eric, is that you?" that piped up from behind them. Amber turned. A black woman with far too satisfied a smirk was eyeing her Eric like he was some kind of ride open to the public; Amber’s immediate reaction was to raise her arm, mirroring the way Eric’s had circled her waist, even if her hold was far more rigid.

This felt good. Foreman didn't think of it much beyond that. All he needed to know was that he liked having Amber next to him, the evidence of her hip bumping his proving that she was with him. It made up for the fact that they hadn't really had a chance to kiss or cuddle after having sex, or just to lie around basking in how good they were with each other. Why the hell focus on the bad memories if he could bury them again? He'd won time to think about going to Amber's parents' place for Thanksgiving. How bad could it be? He'd met his girlfriends' families before. He'd have to answer a bunch of questions over and over again, and probably rein in his temper, but for Amber's sake, he could do it. If they gave themselves an opening to duck out early, or only stay a day or two, then it would just be a matter of getting through those hours. Not torture, simply making nice. Whatever else they believed, Foreman knew most families didn't sniff at a doctor with a one-of-a-kind specialty.

Knowing the argument was coming helped him prepare for it. The next time Amber brought it up, he'd react better. And the less his family was up for discussion, the better. He'd keep the topic safe, and he wouldn't get broken up over the simple medical fact that his mom wasn't up for guests.

Foreman's bad mood had mostly vanished, as he'd known it would if he could just stop thinking about all the things in his life he couldn't control. Not that he could control Amber, either. But the fact that she was content to lean into him made him feel ten feet tall. That she'd give him a blowjob not because he hoped or asked, but because she had all the determination in the world to make him come as hard as he could--God, that left him smug and stunned at the same time, and overcome with affection.. Marcus, his mom, their Thanksgiving plans, none of that could compare with his satisfaction right now. "It's good coming here when the patient's stable," he said. "Since it's close. House usually paged me before I got home, and this way I at least got to eat."

Concentrating on the menu, he wasn't paying attention to the line behind them until he heard his name. Turning around, he suddenly felt as tongue-tied as a teenager asking a girl out on a first date. "Uh, hi," he said. For one mortifying instant, Foreman couldn't even remember her name. They'd dated. About a month. A year ago. Amber's arm circled his waist, tight as a noose. "Shanelle," he blurted, finally. "How have you been?"

Warning klaxons went off in his skull. Even if Amber hadn't tensed beside him, one more word between her and Shanelle and the whole story would probably come flooding out. Shanelle looked great--fuck, he shouldn't be noticing that--but then, she always had. She had a gym bag hooked over one shoulder: why the hell hadn't he remembered that he sometimes came here with women he'd met at the gym? Shit.

"Good," she said, grinning--and fuck, he knew that grin. She wanted to have fun with him. "How have you been?" Her gaze went to Amber, friendly on the surface, but probably it was all a prelude to teasing him.

Foreman forced a smile. He'd never liked the way she tried to force him to 'lighten up', by teasing him in public, and mocking him for trying to have a little damn dignity. Which was part of why it hadn't lasted. "Shanelle," he said, trying to cut her and Amber off from talking to each other. "This is Amber Volakis."

"Tricks of the trade?" Amber teased. Work was a good subject and she eased right into it, glad to take her mind off how bizarre it was to get a sandwich with a guy she really cared about. "I should watch out for the stable ones, since they're the real trouble-makers?"

But all her shy affection twisted into something hot and choking at the intrusion. Amber smiled as if constrained by invisible wires; moved with the flexibility of a solid iron block. Eric knew her name and was embarrassed to, sputtering out the greetings. Not a good sign. One wasn't embarrassed to know someone for no reason; Amber’s arm stretched back as if he'd intuitively stepped away. From which—or both—of them?

Shanelle was a knock-out, simply put. Strong features-- sharp jaw, curved nose with a rounded tip, short curly hair that showed off the shape of her face… more than all that, a bounciness that lit her up. And really white teeth too, her huge, playful grin revealed. Really pretty.

Amber hated her, irrationally and totally. Eric too, for asking how she was and was she one of the exes House had referred to? Amber certainly hoped so; it’d be the lesser of two evils, since Eric had said he hadn't loved any of them. Amber's hand flinched into a squeeze; she really didn't feel like holding him right now, but she didn't want to let go either.

Fortunately the introductions directed her actions. Amber snaked her arm back in front of her to shake (one-name) Shanelle's. "Dr. Amber Volakis," she expanded and wow did the bend of her lopsided grin feel unnatural, as if someone had hammered a sheet of metal into an awkward, lumpy circle.

For her part, Shanelle transferred her amusement-- what was she so pleased about anyway?-- from Eric to Amber, only now instead of checking out a likely fun time, it seemed she was about to burst out laughing. "Good to meet you," she said, shaking Amber's hand back firmly. Didn't give a title, but no last name either, so she could still be a doctor.

Enough of this. If there was shit to clear up, they’d do it now. No more stomach-coiling or questions. "So is Shanelle a former patient of yours or did you just sleep together?" Amber asked almost politely, hands clasped over her front.

Foreman couldn't get the litany of oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit out of his head. There was no way in hell this was going to end well. Even if Shanelle turned around this instant and walked right back out the door, Amber would pounce on him with questions, ones she wouldn't allow him to put off with games of basketball--or even, Foreman suspected, sudden heart failure. If he woke up under oxygen, she'd probably rip the mask off his face until he confessed every last detail.

Not like that was fucking fair. What was there to confess? That he'd had relationships before? Amber already knew that. At least this wasn't Wendy, who he'd been with for nearly half a year and been moderately serious with. He and Shanelle had never discussed moving in, or love, or even adjusting their work schedules for each other. In fact, that had been Shanelle's reason for ditching his ass--"Eric, you're never around, and I'm not interested in waking up at three in the morning just because you come home horny after a case." It had been as simple as that: "So stop showing up, 'cause I won't be answering the door." Foreman had rolled his eyes. He didn't control his hours at the hospital, especially under House, but what was he losing? A couple of relaxing nights out a week, a few nice dinners, and the sex, which was good, but it wasn't like he'd made do with his left hand before. So he'd stopped showing up.

Except now Shanelle had decided to show up herself, at the worst possible moment. Foreman could feel how taut Amber was, but he was just as tense. Their arms around each other were a parody of the genuine affection he'd been feeling only a few seconds ago. And then Amber took hers away to shake Shanelle's hand: Foreman didn't miss the emphasis on Doctor, and Shanelle didn't either. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, the way they always had when Foreman had insisted on the title in introductions; she thought he was pretentious. Explaining how hard he'd worked to be called that only made her laugh at him more.

The last thing he was expecting was Amber's matter-of-fact, nearly casually and earnestly interested question. Clearly Shanelle hadn't either, but she burst out laughing. Christ, was there no fucking way to disappear? Anything to save him from this.

"We dated," she said. "Eric, are you still showing off at that damn gym?" She turned to Amber with a conspiratorial smirk. "He is something else. I watched him a few times before I introduced myself. It was like he was just expecting me to come over, thinking I'd faint from seeing all those muscles."

"It was a month," Foreman interrupted quickly. He didn't need Amber getting any ideas, and snapping that he hadn't been showing off would probably get him laughed out of here. By both of them.

"Five weeks," Shanelle countered, just as fast.

Foreman bit back an answer, grinding his teeth. Shanelle seemed to finally get the hint, though, because she shook her head. "I just came to get some coffee," she said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Her lips twitched, like she was holding back more. "I'm glad you're doing well, though."

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