alwaysright | November 28th, 2007

November 28th, 2007 - Wednesday

Amber eyed the small mountain her bags added up to. Part of her wondered if she hadn’t overdone it; this wasn’t the apocalypse. The rest of her new better: Thanksgiving with her family? Was worse. In those suitcases were provisions for all possible disasters, including a sleeping bag and extra bed sheets. Her mom would not accuse her of forgetting anything.

The salad, though, they’d get that in Worcester itself. Amber preferred to face last-minute Wednesday lines than bring six-hour wilted lettuce from Princeton-Plainsboro.

That ought to be it, though. Time to go. They were going to have a lot of traffic as it was since House had insisted they stay Wednesday afternoon despite the fact that they had no case—and also despite the fact most of the hospital had been gone since yesterday. House couldn’t actually be that lonely and bitter, not when she knew for a fact that Wilson had invited him to a full Thanksgiving meal cooked in his very own apartment. If House wanted to stay at the hospital to impress and/or to get into the pants of Cuddy—who would be working through the holiday, according to Amber’s sources (Cameron)— he didn’t have make them all suffer with him.

Amber got her cell phone out and texted Eric: Leaving now, be ready to go. He probably knew by now she would not spare him his life if he and his own bags were not waiting for her on the curb. He was rather inconsistent about when and when not to get into a power struggle with her, but for his own good and for her punctuality, she hoped he wouldn’t make a case of it today. Throwing her cell phone back into her purse, Amber began the wonderful journey of torture, starting with getting all her damn things down a huge staircase. First thing she’d do when she got back was get in the apartment management’s face about getting a damn elevator.

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Those damn slow kisses of his. Amber didn't know how he could bear them at a time like this, when she herself was frantic for faster and deeper. Following Eric at his pace, she felt ready to burst. She tried, though. She loved that light, satisfied hum he let out when he was getting what he liked. Forgetting where they were, Amber tried to draw that sound from out of him, mouthing him slow and delicate as if she were dabbing on the final details on a masterpiece.

It was so not fucking enough, though. Her body cried to be touched, nipples and skin tingling with want. Stroking Eric, feeling him grow around her fist, being shoved harder into the bed, only increased Amber's frustration. Her breath came in short and ragged. Her senses were filled with him: his taste flooded her mouth, his scent her nose. Why couldn't he be in her now.

She grabbed the package and tore it open, nearly ripping the condom itself in the process. "Fuck," she muttered. But her nails didn't seem to have run over the latex, so it should be okay. Amber looked back into Eric's eyes and smiled, coy. This was the good part. He'd as good as signed a contract saying the rest was up to her. Hands on his pecs and leg hooking over his, Amber rolled him on to his back. She made a show of sitting and sliding onto his thighs; appreciated the view as long as she was up here. He was all tight, like a slingshot ready to let the rock fly. "You want this?" she whispered, delaying what she had been wanting so much for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

But she wouldn't put this off forever; rubbing her pussy against his thigh wouldn't do for long. Amber positioned the slick, rubbery condom over his erection and rolled downwards, working in a squeeze here and there. "Looks good on you." It did. The red was bright and exciting against his dark skin. Eric could be particular about the colors and wasn't especially happy when Amber brought in neon green and pink condoms. Good for a laugh, but not for a fucking.

He was ready and so was she. Amber let her fingers linger another moment, kneading his balls, before lifting her hips and directing his dick into her. Oh god. "Oh," she let out, her heart stopping. "Ohhhh." Fuck, damn, that felt good. Her heart started up again, galloping. "Eric..."

On his back--he should have known. Breathless, Foreman rolled when Amber pushed him, holding back his chuckle in case it would be too loud. Amber sat on top of him, as triumphant as if she'd pinned him in a wrestling match, her eyes glowing with pleasure and pride. Foreman kept his hand on his dick as she opened the condom, giving himself a few small, nudging strokes, not that he was in any danger of losing his erection. Not with Amber rubbing slickly against his thigh, and the sight of her breasts, her lithe body. "Yeah," he whispered back, his eyes taking in all of her. "Yeah, I want you." His skin was overheating, sweat trickling down his ribs, and Amber was so damn far away. Teasing him. He'd given her the choice, and the fantasy of watching Amber fuck herself on his dick like he was entirely hers, entirely there for her taking, had only grown since the time he'd haltingly asked her to tie him down. But he wanted to hold her, too; feel the rub of her breasts against his chest, warm her back by holding her in his arms. That was as much part of the desire as seeing Amber move on top of him, feeling her envelop him.

He grinned when Amber rolled the condom on, moving his hands to her thighs and massaging. "Not as good as you do," he said, his chest vibrating with silent laughter. She might have walked into that one, but it was true. Foreman would take functional, rather than colourful, condoms any day; but Amber usually supplied them, and he'd accept most things as long as they felt good for her.

He bit his lower lip and stared even harder as she straddled him. With one hand, she held him, and Foreman couldn't help the sharp sound he made when she lowered herself onto him. For a moment, their moans sounded in concert, and Foreman had to consciously draw back from saying anything more. He wanted to answer Amber--God, the way she'd said his name--but wrapped up in hot, tight pleasure or not, he still remembered where they were. Not enough to stop, not nearly enough, but he held back from all the things he wanted to say. He licked his lips, moving restlessly, his hands kneading Amber's thighs, then reaching higher to grasp her ass and pull her down on him, deeper. The sensation rocketed higher, so fucking good. He wanted more, needed it. Clenching his abs, he half-sat up, meaning to kiss her, to touch her in all the places he couldn't reach.

The second he moved, the bed gave a loud, complaining creak that could probably be heard in the next county, let alone in the living room.

"Hah hah," Amber intoned, exaggerating rolling her eyes so that he'd see. But this horny and so close to what she wanted, it'd take more than a bad joke to ruin her mood. And it was flattering. "I'm your best outfit." That brought the wonderful idea of Eric 'wearing' her in public. Now there was an enthralling image.

But not, perhaps, as enthralling as the one before her, of Eric laughing and warm and bright. Amber didn't get to see him this happy nearly often enough. If she weren't so intent on getting the condom on and propping herself, she'd have stroked his face, kissed his cheek.

And then she was sliding on to him and he was so hot and hard Amber barely kept herself from making more sounds. Eric, god, looked as torn as she, his eyes wide and mouth open, unable to let out all the moans she knew were in him. She wasn't sure she could take more and still be silent, but then it was Eric moving things forward, pulling her closer and thrusting up and Amber whimpered. Her gaze caught the flex of his abdomen, the lifting of his shoulders. Yes, that's what they needed, more: she held out her hands, ready to embrace him.

And then the bed gave a creak louder than any noise either one had so far. Jesus, anyone in the house would've heard that. But it was okay. One squeak, that was normal. It could be just someone sitting on the edge. Her bed never had been a problem before. "C'mere," Amber said softly, adamant this not ruin anything. She rocked her hips again. "See, no problem--" She came down harder than before and the bed groaned again. "Fuck," Amber spat out, running her hand through her hair. "I am not stopping," she whispered through gritted teeth. She was wet and ready and they were going to fuck.

Foreman froze in place the second the springs gave them away. Oh, Christ, no. He'd given in because he was pretty certain he could control himself, but neither of them had given a thought to a bed that had to be twenty years old. With a sharp, straining sound in his throat, Foreman leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Amber and pressing his mouth to her collarbone. God, they had to stop. He couldn't--there was always the option of sneaking to the bathroom and jacking off, but that would ruin far more than one moment with Amber. She'd be pissed off at him, both of them would be frustrated, and there was still the possibility he'd run into somebody in the hall with his dick trapped painfully inside his jeans. That wasn't going to work any better than this. Foreman shook his head silently when Amber tried to move again, and the same thing happened. "Not like this," he said tightly. There had to be a way they could keep going without advertising to the whole damn household exactly what they were doing.

Foreman kissed Amber's shoulder. She wasn't going to like his idea. The bed hadn't been a problem before they'd gotten a little more athletic. The way they'd been touching and kissing when they'd started hadn't set off any creaks. So, obviously, they just had to tone it down a little. He took a deep breath, slowly adjusting. Amber felt so good, and the temptation to give in and not care was growing with every second. Even the tiniest movement magnified the sensation, the heat and pleasure extending outwards from where their bodies met. "Amber," he said, kissing her throat and rubbing his hands up and down her back. "Lie down," he said. As long as they were gentle, not trying to test the mattress's limits, they could stop before it squeaked again. "Let me," he said, kissing her again before finishing. "I'll go slow." He twisted his hips slightly, urging her in the direction he wanted, lying down and letting him be on top.

Amber grunted with frustration. Eric's suddenly sitting up didn't make her any less turned on, his dick throbbing thickly in her. And why was he fucking kissing her collarbone if everything else about him indicated he was stopping? His sudden stillness, his paralyzed breath. He was impeding her own movements, holding her to him. They'd see how much the bed creaked when she tore away.

"How then?" Amber whispered vehemently. She couldn't believe her family was ruining even this. This was her bed, her lover. How dare they get this far in her life. How dare Eric let them. She eyed him, watching for signs of further cowardice.

But he didn't stop, not really. After that first moment he eased, his mouth kissing along her skin. Amber sighed, annoyed and confused. They'd just been getting heated up and now it was like they took several steps back. Her nerves were getting all mixed up, starting to coil back from what might be false promises. "If you don't do something soon, I will," she snapped as quietly as she could. Her hands traveled over his back, rubbing along his vertebrae and deltoids. He was hot and sweaty and fuck she wanted him. Their minuscule shifts kept him moving in her, hard as ever. He wanted her too; he couldn't hide it. If she pushed him back down-- or maybe the floor, that wouldn't make noise--

At the sound of her name, Amber gazed into Eric's eyes. He had something in mind, she could tell. Might be better than the cold, rough floor. His kiss was gentle, as were his touches. She moaned with pent-up lust. More heavy petting had better not be the full extent of his plan. She'd go crazy. "Eric," she whined, hips twitching. "Just fuck me." She didn't care how it happened anymore, just as long as she could feel his slide back and forth into her wetness. Her pussy clenched, wanting.

Not quite hearing his words, Amber went along with his flow, ending up on her back. She wrinkled her nose even as she spread her legs, surging back up into him. It was better than nothing. Plus, the bed stayed quiet, even as she rocked. Encouraged, Amber pulled Eric in for a long, deep kiss, sucking on his tongue with all that she had. Yeah, this, this-- she went faster, bucking her hips.

Creeeak. Amber choked. They had to go slow. "I don't know if I can take this," she gasped. How would she come, if they could barely move? "Eric, I need more--" Her eyes squeezed shut, overcome by a wave of desire she couldn't act on. She felt lost at sea, thrown from side to side. "Touch me."

Just fuck me. Christ, Amber knew exactly how to affect him, how to bring him to the very brink of his control. Most of the time Foreman gave in. It was so easy to let Amber take control, to let himself feel everything she wanted to do to him, to answer her every plea with more, and harder, and now. Even when they started slowly, on weekend mornings when they woke up in each other's arms, Amber would quickly overpower Foreman's lazy, indulgent instincts. And God knew he loved it. Loved every second, when he didn't have to worry about being gentle or ensuring that Amber was feeling as much, as strongly, as he was. She told him, with every movement and breath and moan, how turned on she was. How turned on he made her. It was so easy to be with her because she took control, and lose himself in his own pleasure.

"I will," he whispered. "Like this." Amber reluctantly followed his urging, spreading her legs for him as he rolled them both over. His dick slipped out, but with a slow, easy stroke, he slid back inside her. Resting his weight on his elbows, Foreman brushed Amber's hair from her forehead, pushing the damp tendrils away from her temples. He kissed her back, pouring himself into the kiss, into everything she wanted, and let her rub up against him. Amber wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers massaging at the back of his neck, and her kiss was desperate, urgent. When her body matched the pace of the kiss, writhing up, the bed gave another sharp squeak.

"Hey," Foreman said, carefully letting more of his weight rest on Amber, to slow her rocking and to push deeper inside of her. "Amber, look at me." He met her eyes and thrust again, deliberately, going as deep as he could and then pulling out nearly all the way. Amber's eyes closed briefly when she said she couldn't take it, and Foreman pushed in again, hard and strong and so slow. "You can. Just...relax. Relax." God, he hadn't asked her for this, not since he'd gotten used to following her lead, because it was always good and he didn't need to assert himself, but it felt amazing. The friction was all the more tantalizing because of how much he was holding back. His focus narrowed to each instant, each second. He started up an easy rhythm that peaked each time he met Amber fully, and ebbed with each withdrawal. "I want you," he murmured. "Mmn, want to...fuck you slow...feel you come." He wanted so much more than that, but like this, staring into her eyes with each stroke, he could only say that much. He wanted to watch her, wanted to be with her during every second of this. But he knew she wanted more. "Touch yourself," he said, chest heaving for another deep breath. "Come on, Amber honey, touch yourself for me." He dipped his head, kissing her, until his oxygen ran out and he felt light-headed on his own pleasure.

This was the worst sex ever. Amber couldn't but kiss and wrap her limbs around Eric with all her might and hold back her shuddering groans. Each one of Eric's maddeningly slow strokes only made the fire in her worse, burning hotter and hotter. She felt so much. Too much. Eric in so deep, every centimeter stretching her out even as he gently stroked her brow. The overwhelming scent of fucking and sweat and Eric. The delicious slide of their flesh, each brush taking Amber closer and closer but with no end in sight. She squeezed her eyes shut, mouth opening with a silent cry. This was torture.

Relax, hah. What a fucking a joke. How could she when she felt ready to snap. When he dragged his dick in and out of her as slow as he fucking pleased. When he said low and husky exactly what he wanted, driving her further over the edge. Fuck this, fuck him. Amber refused this molasses pace. Taking all she wanted from their kiss, sucking without abandon, Amber snuck her hand over her mons, her lips. She was so, so wet. Almost too wet to get any traction, fingers slipping clumsily over her clit. And it was hard to time her strokes with Eric's, her knuckles and his pelvis meeting at irregular moments. "Unnhh,” she grit out.

But with two fingers working her clit and her left hand pinching at her nipple, Amber sighed with relief. This would get her somewhere and soon. That at that intense way he stared at her as if enraptured. By her. Fuck, she loved it when he looked at her like that, it made all the frustration worth it.

Amber was so close, it was just a question of a few concentrated touches and then-- "E, Eric--" Oh god, oh fuck. She latched on to his mouth, taking in his air to keep from getting any louder because god she wanted to and really couldn't stop herself from doing anything at this point. It was so good, so fucking good, to feel her pussy squeezing all around his dick, and to have him in her arms, with his soft, soft pants echoing in her ears. Amazing. "Ngghhh," Amber couldn't keep back, shuddering.

God, he felt good. And there was time to feel it; to concentrate on the bright, clear hum from every nerve ending. Foreman kept kissing Amber, kept stroking inside her at the same steady rate. He felt the urge to go faster, but he also felt it for what it was, an urge that he could control. Even if Amber couldn't relax, he could. Other than his arms holding him up, and the slight burn in his shoulders from keeping himself angled perfectly above Amber, he let his body shudder and loosen up, every muscle dissolving into the feeling of heat and friction. He was in charge, and as rarely as it happened, it was all the more important to savour every second of it.

Amber clung to him even as she touched herself; her ankles were locked below his ass, but that only made it better. Foreman could feel the tension in her, could see the struggle on her face, the rapid effort of her arm as she touched herself, and he felt like he'd never seen anything more beautiful. "Yeah, Amber," he encouraged her, his voice growing hoarse with his own efforts to hold back and let her come first. "You look so good." Her kiss took him almost by surprise, and then Foreman was kissing her back just as desperately. Amber's muscles clenched down on him, over and over again, while she sucked on his tongue and moaned as quietly as she could. The combination was overwhelming. Foreman groaned softly, pushing deeper inside, so hot and slippery, tight and inescapable.

Trembling, gasping for air, he forced himself to stay at the languid, slow rock. He was close, and all he had to do was relax, let his mind and his control dissolve, while sensation took over all his perception. Holding Amber against him, as much as he could, Foreman stilled as his orgasm pulsed through him. It was quiet, like being submerged in a cool, refreshing pool, and he breathed through it, still feeling the echoes of Amber's orgasm tightened around his cock. When it was over, he felt drained and elated at once. He didn't want to move, didn't want to pull out or away, and with his eyes half-closed, he kissed Amber again, gently and gratefully.

Amber orgasm seemed to never end: the waves just kept on coming, intense and all-reaching. Damn it, she never came like this with her one-night stands. Eric seemed to follow her, his groan reverberating against her chest, his hips pushing down harder but not faster. Amber watched, breathing deep. He was consumed, taken somewhere far away. She'd done that to him. Her. Warmth and pride flooded through her.

Amber was laughing quietly by the time he pressed his lips to hers, his body giving way and lowering. Filled with the satisfaction of orgasm and smug to have given him the same pleasure, she couldn't find fault with anything, not even the sudden flip of positions during sex. She hummed into the kiss, languidly stroking Eric’s back.

They'd have to move soon. She couldn't sleep with him lying on her chest like this, but for a while longer it'd be okay. "'S'good," Amber murmured. She had to be quiet. The reasons why seemed so distant and unimportant, but anyway she didn’t feel like making much in noise, except maybe snoring.

Still. Amber stretched her arms up, her hand brushing against the headboard from her teenager years. Beyond Eric's face and shoulders she could see her old chest of drawers with that huge mirror; she knew that if she turned her head, she'd see the ancient checkered curtain covering her window. It was impossible not to remember where they were. Who was around. Frowning, Amber shifted, suddenly unsettled by just how naked and damp she was against Eric.

Taking a deep breath, Foreman let his head fall into the gap between Amber's shoulder and her neck. He could smell her sweat, and his, mixed with the sharper scent of sex. Answering Amber's soft voice, he turned just far enough to kiss her jaw, his beard scraping lightly over her skin. Good, yeah. Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings again, the cool air against his back, the details of the room that he hadn't really paid attention to since Amber had pulled him in and kissed him. He wondered absently if Kate urging them to go get settled in had really been a pass for the entire night, or if they'd been supposed to unpack, maybe change into more casual clothes, and come back down to join the family for more conversation. He hoped not. Supper had been okay, maybe better than he'd hoped, and he thought he'd made a good impression, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend the rest of his evening debating politics with Geoffrey.

When Amber shifted underneath him, Foreman pushed up immediately. He hadn't been paying attention, he'd been drifting on his own endorphins, and he'd probably been squishing her more than he'd meant to. Reaching down, he held the condom in place as he withdrew from her, making a low sound at the too-sensitive sensation in his dick. Looking around, he couldn't immediately find a place to dispose of the damn thing that wouldn't be terribly obvious. There was a little wicker basket that might've been meant for trash, but it didn't have a plastic liner, and Foreman had reservations about a condom being the only thing thrown out in the otherwise immaculate basket. He ended up wrapping the condom in a few tissues and hoping there'd be a chance to dispose of it a little more discreetly later.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he smiled down at Amber. He really didn't want to give up touching her, and if it was up to him, he'd spoon around her and fall asleep, but he doubted that relaxed attitude wouldn't fly with whatever protocol she had around staying in her parents' house. He reached out and rubbed his palm over her hip. "How're you doing?" he asked. He himself felt pretty mellow; if it had been Amber's intention to make him forget they were in the same house as most of her extended family, then she'd succeeded. Or, at the very least, he wasn't feeling as uptight as he had been. "Did you want to go back down? Maybe get a shower first?"

Eric lifting up gave her much needed breathing space, literal and figurative. Amber rolled to her side, her back to him. This pillow wasn't hers. It was too soft and fluffy. Had her mom thrown out hers or had she snuck in this newer set to impress the guest? The sheets weren't Amber’s either. Green was more her mom's taste and they weren't anywhere near as smooth as the ones Amber used in her own house.

Home but not, with her boyfriend getting rid of the evidence behind her. As if they could hide it. They hadn't made much noise but even if they'd been as silent as church mice, everyone would've suspected what they'd been up to anyway. Amber huffed. If her family was going to think like that, then it was a good thing she and Eric got in the fun of a good fucking. Anyway, it was none of her family’s business.

The mattress dipped when Eric lied down again. She felt the warmth of his body before his hand glided over her skin; his touch was as gentle and mellow as his voice. Amber found herself curving her back into him, longing for more of this touch. Her anger dissipated with his care. "Wish we weren't here," she admitted. She couldn't quite be herself, constantly wondering what her mom and brother were thinking. Everyone else she told to fuck off, but she couldn't do that with them.

"Oh god no," Amber said to Eric's first suggestion. The shower was a decent idea-- she was starting to get sticky-- but that'd mean leaving this bed and room, which she wasn't up to. "I'm staying here." To press her point, she sat up and pulled back the covers, sliding between them. She held the covers up and raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course, if you want to go running back to my mom, I won't stop you."

"Hm," Foreman answered, as neutrally as possible while still being supportive. He had a feeling that Amber was allowed to not want be home, but if he said the same thing, then Amber would want to know what the hell was wrong with her family, that he didn't want to spend time with him, that he'd just met them and already wanted to run away. He wished he knew more of what Amber was thinking. She'd worked hard to organize this trip, and she'd acted alternately fiery and nostalgic, or else bitterly dismissive about the entire thing. Foreman supposed the way Geoffrey acted, like Amber's life didn't count for as much as his, was a big part of it, but if that was the case then Amber would be more keen on avoiding her brother, and still enjoy seeing the rest of her family. Maybe she really felt like Geoffrey had won a prize that should have been hers...but Foreman couldn't suggest that, either, because Amber would never admit to have lost any race, especially one so important.

Foreman got out of the way when Amber sat up to rearrange the bedcovers. Okay, so not going down again. That amounted to admitting that they'd just fucked in Amber's parents' house. And that they couldn't scramble away from dinner fast enough, like they were still in that stage where they were desperately horny for each other. Which, Foreman thought with a grin, they had been tonight. Even if they were more even-handed the rest of the time, they still matched each other in bed, whatever the circumstances. Foreman held back a sigh when Amber continued; the way she phrased it, it sounded like he'd be the bad guy if he even so much as set foot outside the bedroom to take a piss. Well, that wasn't urgent, although no matter what Amber thought, he was going to find a moment to brush his teeth before he fell asleep. Foreman climbed in under the covers, and wrapped a strong arm around Amber's stomach, holding her pressed against him. "No," he said. "I'm fine here."

Amber's mouth curled into a smile. "Good," she replied, shifting into Eric. She'd grown used to having his chest against her, his breaths slowing and steadying as fell asleep. As often as not, she awoke on the other end of the bed with several covers kicked away. As a way to begin her night's sleep, though, it'd do. It'd do just fine. Amber closed her eyes, humming softly. "'Cause I'm staying."

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November 28th, 2007 - Wednesday

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