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alwaysright2010-07-08 01:52 am
amber_v) wrote in alwaysright2010-07-08 01:52 am
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.
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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"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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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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."
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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."
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