alwaysright | Thursday, November 29

Thursday, November 29

Foreman woke up slowly, with a dry, sour mouth and a full bladder. Squinting his eyes open, the first thing he saw was the pile of suitcases, which brought back to mind where he was. He let out a quiet grunt, slightly put out as soon as he remembered he was going to have to spend another day--another two days, possibly--tiptoeing around and carefully not taking offense at anything that was said to him. And that included from Amber. Loving her wasn't much of a defense against her abrupt, thoughtless comments, that could hurt even when she didn't have her claws out. In fact, that's when it was worse; when Foreman knew she was angry, he battened down the hatches and rode out the gale. Other times, she could catch him completely off-guard.

Better to be prepared. Foreman had been joking about the tour last night, but now he realized he wasn't sure where the bathroom was, or how the Volakises would feel about him wandering the house in his t-shirt and shorts. Taking the cautious route, he got out his toiletry bag, pulled on fresh underwear, jeans, a t-shirt, and a Lions sweater. He found the bathroom on the second try, but fortunately for him, the first door had been a linen closet. Sounds from downstairs suggested the household was already awake or would be soon, so he took a lightning-quick shower, scrubbing down and shaving a lot less carefully than he ordinarily liked. He could take off the five o'clock shadow with his usual painstakingness before dinner. Once he'd taken a long piss, washed his hands and face and slapped on some aftershave, and brushed his teeth, he felt human enough to play his good guest role.

With relief, he found that breakfast was much less of a production than Thanksgiving dinner promised to be. The turkey was already in the oven, which left him feeling obscurely guilty; Kate had clearly woken up just to prep the bird and get it started. Chris was in the kitchen. He nodded hello to Foreman and pointed at the coffee maker. "As long as you get fed, I can promise Kate she doesn't need to cook breakfast," he said.

Foreman grinned, part of him relaxing to hear it. "Just some toast would be good," he said.

Chris told him where things were, and Foreman sat down across from him. "Everything all right last night?" Chris asked.

Foreman nearly choked on his bite of toast. Chris's dry humour was in full evidence, and Foreman had to force himself to answer courteously, as if it wasn't obvious that the whole family had heard them. Christ, he was never going to live that down. The first night he'd met the family. If he didn't know that he was just as much at fault, he'd be pinning the blame squarely on Amber for coming on to him in her parents' house. "Fine," he managed. "Just great. Good sleep."

Chris nodded. "Lions fan?" he asked.

Crap. That sounded like an even more loaded question than Did you sleep with my daughter under my roof last night? "Yeah," Foreman said, and hazarded a guess, "Packers fan?"

"Whole family is," Chris asserted.

Foreman had never heard Amber have an opinion on football before, but he suspected that family loyalty won against boyfriend loyalty in a case like this. "Gonna watch the game later?"

Chris gave him a smile that somehow reminded Foreman of Amber at her most shark-like. "Of course."

There was no more chance to discuss the teams, because Leila came in with a sleepy Madeleine, rubbing her eyes and asking for her stuffed ducky, which had apparently been left behind and only discovered at this moment when only a stuffed ducky would do. Leila tried her best to distract Madeleine with fruit and cereal, but she was still sniffling when Geoffrey came downstairs. "No breakfast?" he asked. "Let me whip up some pancakes."

"Your mother doesn't want the kitchen touched," Chris said phlegmatically, but Geoffrey waved him off.

"It's no trouble. Maddy loves pancakes."

Pancakes could have been the watchword for chaos. Geoffrey started opening cupboards and pulling out ingredients; apparently, it had to be pancakes from scratch, and a mix wouldn't do. Jude arrived halfway into the production and offered to make her patented scrambled eggs, as long as they were cooking. When Kate appeared, probably hearing the noise, she took one look around her kitchen, and Foreman felt like death rays would have been a kinder fate to all the breakfasters. He wished he'd gotten out sooner, so that he couldn't possibly have been included in 'people who touched an appliance without permission,' even if he'd only presumed so far as to use the toaster and not the waffle iron Geoffrey had found in the back of a bottom cupboard and was now dusting off. They were all herded into the living room, while Kate took over the pancakes and scrambled eggs both, all the while insisting that she'd planned a big breakfast in the first place, if they'd just give her room to work.

Just as they were sitting down to piping hot eggs and syrup-drenched pancakes, a knock came at the door. "That'll be Brian," Geoffrey said. "His timing has always been terrible."

"If I'd known he was getting a taxi, I could have cooked more pancakes," Kate fretted.

"You weren't planning to cook breakfast anyway," was Chris's daring contribution, which earned him a glare as Kate pushed her chair back to greet Brian at the door.

They were back a moment later, Brian grinning around the dining room, Kate with her arms crossed behind him. "Don't mind me, keep eating," he said, stealing a bite off Madeleine's plate with her fork. "Oh, no bacon?"

"Brian, your father was going to pick you up at the airport," Kate said.

"It was easier to just get a cab." Brian pulled in a chair from the other room and pushed in at the table. "Don't worry about me, Mom, I'll just help Maddy out a bit." He grinned at her, and Madeleine looked alternately like she'd burst out in a tantrum that he was going to eat all her food, and delighted giggles that someone had noticed her.

"You'll get your own plate!" Kate said. "You might as well have mine at this rate."

"I'll do the dishes," Brian promised. "You can take it out of my hide."

Foreman wanted nothing so much as to escape, but they were crammed in around the table since the leaves had been taken out after last night's dinner. Brian reached across the table and a pile of pancakes to shake his hand. "Eric? Brian. Good to meet you. Just like Amber to bring home--" The pause was infinitesimal, but unmistakable, and Brian's smirk said he knew it-- "a Lions fan." He took another bite off Madeleine's plate, grinning at her and mussing her hair. "God, after hours on a plane, I want to do anything but sit this afternoon. Dad, do we still have that old football?"

Chris nodded. "In the garage."

"Great. Four middle-aged guys trying to relive their glory days. Right, Eric?"

Foreman didn't know whether he wanted to strangle Brian or laugh, and from some of the looks around the table, it seemed like he wasn't alone. Somehow, Brian chivvied them all through breakfast, until mid-afternoon Geoffrey finally relented and said he'd go out and play touch, not tackle, two-on-two, if it would only shut Brian up.

Brian laughed and went out to find the football and get it firmed up with a bike pump. Foreman changed into sweats, keeping his Lions sweater as a point of pride. On the one hand, he couldn't believe he was going out to play football with Amber's brothers and father, and on the other, at least it would get him out of the house and doing something he was far more comfortable with than taking sides in the Volakises' long-established pecking order.

The back yard was fenced, but big enough for their purposes. Brian tried to cajole Geoffrey into letting Maddy play center, but Geoffrey said, "Certainly not," and already looked so out of place in the oversized sweater Chris had leant him that Brian didn't insist.

"All right, me and Dad, Geoffrey and Eric," Brian announced, holding up the football. "Averaging ages is only fair."

Foreman had no idea what was fair, but he let Geoffrey tug him across to their half of the lawn. "He is always like this," Geoffrey said, his face beginning to flush in the cold air, or maybe from competitive fury. "He thinks that some year I am going to let him win."

Foreman glanced over his shoulder. Brian and Geoffrey were both tall, but Brian was rangy where Geoffrey was solid and running to fat around his middle. "Is he any good?" he asked.

"You'll be receiver," Geoffrey said. "Man defense. I hope you can run."

Oh, God. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Geoffrey's florid face looked fiercely determined, and it was only a game of back yard touch. Brian had the manic grin of someone who had provoked a duel to the death just because he found the adrenaline of pistols at dawn refreshing. As for Chris, he had the air of an overlooked criminal mastermind who knew exactly what he'd unleashed on the world, and he was proud of it. Foreman lined up with the tree they'd chosen as the fifty-yard line, and looked around for someone to save him.

Nobody did. They took defense first, Brian lining up at center and Foreman starting as defensive lineman opposite him. Foreman expected the first snap to be light and easy, but he was disabused of that notion pretty much instantly. Brian shoved past him, and was on a breakaway to catch Chris's touchdown pass before Foreman had gotten his feet back under him.

Geoffrey yanked him back into their huddle after Brian had finished dancing in triumph. "Is that all you've got?" he asked. "I didn't want to mention Amber's standards, but..."

"Hey--" Foreman didn't know what to be pissed off at first, that Geoffrey's true judgement was based on how well Foreman could help him beat his brother in a game of football, that he was judging Amber based on Foreman's abilities, or that all of this was coming out in the place of his usual affable pompousness. Foreman clenched his jaw. If they thought they were the only competitive people in this yard, he'd show them.

After that, the game was a blur. Foreman shoved when he needed to shove and danced out of the way when he had the room. Brian was fast, but he committed to a route where Foreman was maneuverable. Which worked out, because Geoffrey's arm was shit. He couldn't get a pass within three yards of Foreman, and Foreman was forced to take dives, or leaps, and once he accidentally slammed into Chris, who he'd personally decided to keep his hands off for the entire game, since the last thing he wanted was to cause Amber's father to have a heart attack. But Chris just called the tackle, and took back possession as gloatingly as either of his sons.

Somewhere in the middle of it, after about their third TD, Foreman realized he was grinning with just as much fervour as Brian and Geoffrey, and celebrating just as loudly with each successful play. Geoffrey wasn't that bad, and they were up two majors, and Foreman might be sweaty, grass stained, and gasping for another breath of daggered, icy air, and he realized they were actually bonding. When he realized it, Foreman started laughing so hard that Brian slipped around his tackle (the two of them had given up the 'touch' rule pretty early on) and ran in for the score.

They were lining up for the next play, serious as the Superbowl, when Leila came out the back door. "Geoffrey, time's up. You know you're all going to need showers, and Kate wants us to sit down at seven."

"Of course," Geoffrey said instantly, standing up out of his crouch and walking off the field with as much dignity as he could muster, considering how badly he was hiding a limp. Foreman had an instant's dismay--he probably would have kept going until he'd collapsed--but a second later, he got it. They were ahead. Brian was already starting to protest, but by listening to Leila's summons as soon as they were given, Geoffrey was being mature and responsible, and in no way rubbing it in that he'd beat his little brother at football.

Yet.

Foreman shook his head sympathetically, and reached out to shake Brian's hand, with a much bigger grin than he'd managed at breakfast. "Hey, good game," he said, and shook Chris's hand too, for good measure.

"It's the first year in a long time we've managed a real one," Brian said, the stormy look on his face slowly fading as he walked ruefully to the door. "But hey, as long as Geoff's feeling it to the bone for the next week, right?"

Foreman laughed. "I'm going to be feeling it for a week."

"You deserve it too," Brian said. "So will I, but I won't show it. That's almost as good as a win."

They headed into the house, Brian delivering one last slap to Foreman's shoulder, right where a bruise was coming up (he'd run into a tree during a victory lap; God, he hoped no one had seen that). Foreman headed up the stairs, already feeling the ache in his legs. The house smelled absolutely delicious, and he realized how starved he was. By mutual agreement, they'd decided that Chris got the first shower, and Foreman sneaked in next by dint of being a guest. For the next few minutes, though, all he wanted to do was collapse on the squeaky bed and feel every one of his complaining muscles.

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Amber spent the night tossing and turning. The pillow was wrong, the mattress sagged in the middle, and the heat was so strong it woke her up before down, stifling her breath. At least when she slept in strangers' beds-- or, more recently, Eric's-- her mom wasn't two doors down. She got up, turned the heat down, padded down to the bathroom, and lied down again. But Eric was snoring louder than he usually did (stupid soft pillows) and it took Amber a while to drift off back into sleep.

When she woke up, the morning light was strong and the house was filled with movement and voices. It took her a few moments to process, disoriented slightly. When she realized-- oh, fuck. Of all the mornings to oversleep. Why didn't Eric wake her up?! Her mom wouldn't forgive her for abandoning her like this on Thanksgiving Day.

It was tempting to stay in bed and postpone facing anyone. She couldn't even go down with Eric, since he was very absent from her bed and room. But Amber knew better than to delay; every missed minute would exponentially increase her problems. With a sigh, she sprang out of bed and got dressed. Jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt would do for now.

Amber went down the stairs just as Brian was coming up. "Brian!" she exclaimed and laughed as he tackled her in a bear-hug halfway through the staircase. She hugged him back hard.

"Hey! And here I thought you'd left your boyfriend with us and gone back to Jersey."

"I thought you'd ditched us completely!"

"Nah, I wouldn't do that." He pulled back, grinning. "That’d mean giving up my Christmas presents."

"You want more gift certificates?" Their family wasn't the most creative when it came to presents.

"If you don't want yours, I'll take 'em," Brian winked.

"You wish!"

Remarkably cheered up by the run-in, Amber went more light-hearted into the kitchen. Even before entering, the scent of pancakes and maple syrup called her; she just hoped there were some left. But what was most apparent to her as she came in was the crowd: all the women and Madeleine were in there.

Her mom turned to look over her shoulder. "Finally got up?"

"Yup," Amber said summarily, scanning the counters for leftover pancakes. "How's everything coming along?"

"My pie is ready," Aunt Jude volunteered proudly. Amber resisted grinning, knowing what her mom must have thought at that.

"The potatoes are almost done," Leila offered.

Ah, there they were, above the fridge; the rest of the counter space was filled with pans and cutting boards and ingredients. Amber picked up a cold pancake and starting munching. "And where's all the guys?" she asked.

"Guess," her mom said dryly.

Anywhere but here, was the clear answer. How very typical.

When she finished eating and gulping down a miserably frigid mug of what remained from the last batch of coffee, Amber got pulled into sauce-making duty. At some point Aunt Jude whisked Madeleine out to watch the guys play, which at least meant a hundred percent decrease in nursery rhymes.

Most of the morning's conversation had centered around the preparations and just how adorable Madeleine was (when not bawling for her damn ducky; Geoffrey should have decency to go out and buy a damn new one instead of throwing a pigskin around), but with just Amber, her mom, and Leila, things quieted. Leila turned on the radio to something between musak and jazz.

A few minutes later her mom asked, "Well, I see why you're dating that boy."

Amber choked. From anyone else it could’ve been a sweet statement. Her mom, though, with that polished tone-- Amber knew what it really meant. Her mom was stating loud and clear that she knew what they'd been up to last night and that she had an Opinion. But what did her mom expect? That she'd find an unfuckable man? That they'd keep from fucking just because of where they were? "He's a great boyfriend," Amber said with all the dignity she had.

Leila flashed Amber a smile. Had she and Geoffrey ever been caught fucking here? Not that Amber remembered. Nor did she want to know. It was probably different for him anyway, Geoffrey the golden boy.

With her mom's military precision, they finished everything they had to by four o'clock; up next was preparing the setting, but for the meanwhile they could take a break. Amber meant to sneak in a shower before the guys finished the game. On her way up, she glanced out the patio glass panes and caught the sight of Eric running around with the face-wide smile he only ever got in the middle of a game. Her brothers and dad seemed excited too. Geoffrey was crowing-- was he on Eric's side?-- and Brian was yelling, but they all burst into laughter when Eric somehow managed to smack face-first into a tree. He could perform brain surgery but didn't have the coordination to keep from running into large stationary objects?! That had to be a really good game.

In the shower, Amber mulled over what she'd just seen. Seemed like Eric was getting along better with her family than she was. Which was good, as it'd make both their lives easier, but... it wasn't what she'd expected. She'd thought they'd resist him more.

All cleaned up, Amber returned to her room and started to dry off.

Foreman paused at the top of the stairs, listening to the sounds of conversation and laughter from the living room. He was the first one to make it upstairs; the guys had stopped in the kitchen hoping to cadge bites of whatever was cooking. With a twinge of sadness, or resentment, or something that he didn't want to examine too closely, Foreman had left them to their family moment. He didn't plan to be jealous of the Volakises' family Thanksgiving; it wasn't their fault that they had the money to get everyone together from three states, and that nobody was sick, or missing, or stuck somewhere they didn't want to be. Foreman put it out of his mind. He'd had a good time playing football. There was no need to ruin that.

He opened the door to Amber's bedroom and stepped inside quietly, and a grin spread itself slowly across his face. Amber was standing in the middle of the room, her hair in a towel, her skin pink and warm from the shower. Foreman crossed the room lightly and settled his hands on her hips, tugging her ass back against his crotch. He'd brought some sweats in case he got a chance to go for a run, and they'd turned out to be a good idea for the football game, and what they meant right now was that Amber fit perfectly against him--he enjoyed her height--and his pants weren't much of a barrier between them. "Did you get a good sleep?" he asked. He'd barely seen her since this morning, after leaving her warm and blanket-wrapped in the bed. Foreman kept himself angled back, trying not to transfer his sweat or mud on to Amber's clean skin, but he tilted his head to bite Amber's shoulder, and grinned as he kissed the back of her neck. If they'd been at home, the way he was feeling now, he could probably persuade her...but they weren't, so he kept himself in check.

There'd be a long line for the bathrooms, Amber knew, so she returned to her room where no one would knock on the door demanding she hurry up. Being beautiful took time. It took her back, primping and getting ready in her old bedroom; it was basically like reliving high school. Except, Amber frowned into her mirror, that she'd aged twenty years. She still looked good, but in this room, her mind was convinced her face should be brighter, younger. The world was her oyster, damn it. There was nothing she wanted that she couldn't get.

Eric banged into the room, that huge, sloppy grin lighting his face up like neon lights against the neon sky. Amber found herself smirking in return, watching him through his reflection in the mirror. She could smell the sweat and dried grass of him even before he crossed the room and wrapped himself around her. Amber softened. Here, this. Fresh from the game, Eric brought with him life and energy-- and he was all hers.

Amber sighed, leaning into him. The bath towel around her body yielded completely, letting her feel the firmness of Eric's torso; she soaked up his overflowing energy. "I've had better," she said. The mirror stood testament to just how damn good they looked together. They were a model couple. Her grin grew sharper. She loved watching him kiss, touch her; it was almost as good as the feeling of it.

If that was what he wanted.... Amber turned her head; lifted his chin with her fingertips. She gazed into his dark, excited eyes for a second, increasing the tension. Then, with a flick of her other hand, she brushed her towel away. It fell to the ground with a soft rumple and left her entirely naked.

Foreman looked up, meeting Amber's eyes in the mirror above the dresser. Her day couldn't have sucked that badly. She was smirking softly at him, leaning back against him despite the grass stains all over his sweater. Foreman grinned back before scraping his beard over the side of her neck, then tenderly kissing the spot. He didn't know how long Chris would take in the shower, but he was pretty certain he'd lose his place in line if he lingered too long. Still, a few minutes kissing Amber was the perfect cap to a surprisingly relaxing day.

Amber turned her head, and Foreman backed off slightly. She must have her own schedule, too. Probably had to blow dry her hair, spend some time putting on make up. Foreman wouldn't mind simply lazing on the bed letting his eyes trail over her body as she got ready. He wanted to get a proper shave and double-check that his suit, hanging in its garment bag in the closet, wasn't creased. But otherwise, he wouldn't take long. He could even go downstairs early and endure some small talk before dinner.

His mind changed as soon as he saw Amber's smile. She held his chin, her thumb brushing the faint stubble on his cheek. Foreman's heart speeded up. "What?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. They hadn't been on the same page at all. Amber wanted nothing at all like taking it slow, holding back, preparing for dinner with her folks. The gleam in her eye was the predatory, anticipating look that usually meant he was going to come like a freight train sometime within the next half-hour--longer, if Amber took it into her head to make him suffer. His blood headed south in a sudden rush. The energy from the game, the already elevated rate of his pulse and breathing, was suddenly focused, sharp, and throbbing. He felt the towel fall as Amber released it, the terrycloth brushing past his hands as it crumpled to the floor. Foreman tightened his hands on Amber's hips and swallowed hard. Last night's objections had been thoroughly dealt with. Chris had heard--so probably everyone else had--but no one had made a big deal out of it, apparently. And maybe he had the worst timing in the world, but Foreman was horny.

"Are you trying to start something?" he asked, his voice embarrassingly hoarse. He pulled Amber back again, this time grinding against her ass with firm purpose. Her skin was fresh and soft under his hands. He spread one palm over her stomach, and moved the other down to massage her thigh, urging her at the same time to spread her legs. They wouldn't have much time, and the bed was out, but...oh God. Standing, Amber bent over the dresser, the mirror in front of them--fuck, he couldn't believe how hard he was already getting.

"I'll do better than try," Amber purred. The sudden, hot swell against her ass told her everything, but even without direct contact to his dick, she'd have known. She saw in the reflection how riveted Eric’s eyes were were to her body; his grasp tightened involuntary, possessively pulling her closer. Good. He wasn't going to resist her. Amber didn't know if he'd forgotten that they were in her parents' house or if it didn't matter to him anymore; she didn't really care either. As long as she got what she wanted.

She was pretty sure about what Eric himself wanted. He was all but pushing her onto the dresser, pressing her legs open. Amber could see the appeal in that, watching herself as he took her from behind. She imagined it for a moment, bent over and holding herself against the wood and Eric ramming into her hard and fast. He'd love that, seeing her gasping face even as he had a complete view of her body from behind. And Amber wouldn't lie: seeing herself giving in to pleasure would be a pleasure in and of itself. Even now it turned her on to gaze at her hardening nipples in the mirror, at her confident smirk.

But she didn't want to be fucked. Kissing Eric, feeling his breath hot against her chin and cheeks, knowing his need... it was good, but she wasn't wet for it. For now she rubbed back, enjoying the smooth touch of his cotton jersey against her bare skin. Horny or not, getting his dick to rise to attention was pure satisfaction.

Whatever his inclinations were, Amber knew he'd follow her lead. Happy like this, Eric was more malleable than putty. So she turned around slowly, kissing him deeply once they were face to face. She let it last, going at that slow pace he so favored. "I wanna suck you off," she murmured simply. No way he'd resist that.

With that, Amber sank to her knees. Eric was still mostly dressed, though that didn't matter for this particular operation. Looking up with a grin, Amber took hold of his track suit's elastic band and started to pull down. He’d thought the game had been fun; well, she’d show him.

No sooner than Foreman's body gave away just how turned on he was getting than Amber's smile turned sly. She rubbed back against him, but tauntingly, appearing to offer what she knew he wanted without committing to anything in the slightest. She wasn't going to make this easy. Foreman could glance down and see the curve of her ass nudging against the front of his pants, feel the tease and friction through cotton against his dick as Amber pretended to fuck herself back against him. Looking up into the mirror, Foreman could see the full length of her naked body, from the dark blonde pubic hair brushing against his hand to the tight pink tips of her nipples. The sight, as he rocked against Amber's thigh, was exciting him beyond measure.

She slipped around in his arms, as if to prove how impossible it was for him to hold her in any position she didn't want. Her hands wrapped up, over his shoulders and then to the back of his neck. Foreman knew he smelled, sweaty and pungent, but he could still catch a whiff of spice from Amber's favourite shampoo, rising from the damp strands of her hair. His eyes closed when she kissed him, and a slow, shaky breath worked its way out of him. He felt lightheaded, the simple give-and-take of the kiss capturing his attention and heightening his arousal. His hands kneaded Amber's ass, trying to mould her against him again, forgetting any care for her clean skin. He knew she was appeasing him with the slow, deliberate kiss; that was part of the tease.

When she pulled away, her eyes dancing with mischievous pleasure at telling him she was going down on him, Foreman's eyes widened. "Amber--" He didn't know if it was a plea, or a thank you. She lowered herself to the white bath towel that she might have dropped expressly for the purpose of cushioning her knees, and Foreman felt another surge of excitement at seeing her there. God, she knew what she could do to him. The evidence was there, in her eyes; part of her was laughing at him for being so easy, the rest taking pleasure in her ability to reduce him to a begging, weak-kneed jelly, desperately seeking more and more sensation. In her, always.

As Amber tugged down the waistband of his sweats, taking his shorts with them, she kept her gaze on his face, even as she was careful of the head of his dick. In one fluid gesture, Foreman pulled his sweater and t-shirt over his head, tossing them unthinkingly towards the bed. Whatever Amber did, he wanted to see, not have half-obscured below the folds of cloth. He was already erect, not straining, but clearly and obviously hard, and he couldn't help a deep, appreciative sound as he watched Amber release his dick from his pants. With one hand, Foreman touched Amber's cheek gently, before taking his dick in his hand and giving himself a few anticipatory strokes. Rocking forward, he could drag the head of his dick across her lips, but no more; he was, quite literally, in her hands.

The towel was soft and damp against her knees. Her wet hair sprawled in clumps over her shoulders, beads of water making their way down her spine and collarbone. Without Eric behind her, Amber felt a draft on her back. No problem. Eric would give her more than enough warmth and her own determination burned strong. Fuck them all for getting prissy over her fucking her own boyfriend. She'd fuck him all she wanted.

Eric radiated heat, still revved up from his game. Amber smelt his sweat and musk even before peeling off his track pants and boxers, making her desire him all the more. Palms sculpting over that hard, firm ass of his, Amber drew his waist towards her, kissing his smooth skin at the top of his thighs. She wouldn't give him what he wanted so easily, pointedly ignoring his thick, dark dick straightening out next to her cheek. Teasing would make the satisfaction all the sweeter, including for herself.

He grinned down at her, cocky and smug. He at least appreciated a sex. "D'you win?" Amber asked, leaning in to the touch of his hand. Being this tender just before a blow job... Eric really was one of a kind. Most men would've already been pushing their dicks into her mouth. Which had an allure of its own, but for all that it was worth, she'd chosen to be with him.

She ran her lips over the soft tangle of his pubic hairs. She’d meant to hold out for longer, but Amber couldn't resist. She kissed his balls slowly, lapping them with her tongue. Their salty, bitter taste flooded her mouth. Amber glanced upwards, needing to see just how much Eric was enjoying and suffering. Her fingertips pressed into the back of his thigh, the curve of his ass.

Heart pounding a firm, steady rhythm, Foreman forced his breathing to stay even as he watched Amber. The most beautiful thing about her had always been her determination, her confidence, and right now was no exception. It blended with his anticipation, the strong rise of desire spreading through his body. Amber's eyes closed briefly as he touched her cheek, but then she turned back to his body. Her hands massaged the back of his thighs and his ass as she lingered over kissing his hipbone, the cut of muscle at the base of his abdomen.

Foreman widened his stance, making sure his knees weren't locked and he was steady on his feet, able to take the teasing that he knew was coming. "Yeah," he answered, distracted, but the last thing he was thinking about was the football game. He doubted Amber wanted a play by play, and even less for him to mention her father and brothers while she was--oh, Christ--taking his balls into her mouth, her warm, soft tongue moving along the sensitive skin. Foreman sucked back a gulp of air, and leaned forward to take some of his weight on the dresser behind her. "Oh, fuck. Amber--"

He didn't want to hold back. Right now, the energy coursing along his nerves begged him to show her everything. Wide-eyed, Foreman stared down at her, his mouth open over his rushing breath. Amber was watching him back, her eyes dark and daring him to react. His erection brushed against her cheek, the cool touch of her wet hair a shivering contrast to the heat of her mouth. It would be easy to close his eyes, to give in to whatever she wanted to do to him.

Foreman didn't want it to be easy. Since she'd tied him down, or even earlier, when it became clear that he wasn't the one calling the shots, Foreman had been fighting between giving in--which was very, very good--or showing Amber that he didn't always just lie back and take it. He knew she liked the struggle as much, if not more, than getting what she wanted. As long as she got what she wanted in the end. Her hot stare pricked him to do more than just allow her to tease him to within an inch of his life. "Love your mouth, baby," he whispered, keeping eye contact as steadily as he could. She'd already kissed him slowly, taken his lead. He doubted she'd stay at that pace for long, no matter how much she wanted to make him ache for her. "I want you, want you to suck me slow..."

Amber shifted, seeking the best angle. Her knees ground hard even with the towel as a cushion. If she kept this up for long-- which she fully intended to-- all her thigh muscles would be crying bloody murder for the next two days. None of that was enough to even deter her. Not with Eric's delicious hardness here for the taking, throbbing perceptibly. He rocked towards her, holding back, his stream of entreaties both challenging and pleading. Amber always knew how much control he'd lost from the degree of pornography in his words: this was about a medium.

This was gonna be good.

She enclosed one of his balls with her mouth, sucking thoughtfully. He wanted it slow. That created a problem. Amber had meant to go slow. She wanted to drive him crazy with need, make him shake and shiver and yell out her name. To give him what he wanted so easily... but going fast on him would be easy on him too. There was no way she could win.

No time for thinking, though. She'd just go with what felt right, with what she herself craved. Amber looked up again as she disengaged her mouth, a sliver of spit trailing. She smiled hard and wide. "You're so fuckable." He really was. Amber kissed his pelvis again, breathing his scent in deep. God. She'd only been trying to make a point, but she was starting to get horny. She couldn't resist him any more than he could her.

What she wanted was... Amber tilted her head back and tightened her lips around his penis' head. She closed her eyes, stopping just long enough to appreciate the heat of Eric's dick, the slickness of his precome. She wanted to say his name but couldn't. It'd have to be enough to run her tongue along the base of his dick, moaning lightly. He'd enjoy that, she knew. Following her own instinct for slow and deliberate, Amber took more of him in, carefully keeping her teeth away (for now) and listening for his guaranteed approval. Her vagina grew wetter, her lips swelling.

At the back of his mind there was a ticking clock--Foreman couldn't help it. Much as he'd been completely, openly truthful about wanting Amber to draw out the blow job just as long as she wanted, the fact remained that they didn't have all the time in the world. The thought of Amber taking him to the edge and leaving him hanging there, all his senses wide open to even the tiniest movement of her mouth and tongue, was so hot that he was all but shivering in anticipation. But faster would be better--and he'd been sure that asking for slow would make Amber suck him down fast and deep, bringing his orgasm on in one irresistible wave.

Amber, though, calm and self-possessed, looked pleased and content to take her time. All but telling him she planned to enjoy him however she wanted, at the speed she'd already decided. God, she was going to drive him crazy. Foreman's breath came out in a rush when her tongue curled around his balls, so hot and only just gentle enough to let him trust her. Eyes closing, Foreman moaned, his hips arching towards her despite himself. A second later Amber had finally taken his dick into her mouth, and Foreman felt the first deep pull of suction. He bit back another groan, harsher and needier. "Oh, God, fuck." He barely heard Amber's answering moan, but even subliminally, it turned him on even more. She never did this only because she was indulging him. Even when she was indulging him, it was mutual, and knowing that she took pleasure in his pleasure made every movement that much hotter.

"Amber, oh honey." She was going slow, just like he'd asked, and in response Foreman wanted nothing more than to thrust fast and deep, every instinct pushing him to beg for more. She licked the underside of his dick, all too aware of how sensitive he was there, how good it felt. Wrapped up in his pleasure, Foreman was starting to forget the need to be quiet, although he was still biting down on his lower lip and frowning in deep, pleasureable concentration. "Mmmn, fuck, ahh, want to--" He stopped, shuddering, as Amber reached an amazing spot and focused. God, he wanted to fuck her mouth, rock into the sweet, tight suction. His knuckles tightened on the dresser, and he gasped for air with every second that passed.

Even Eric's gentlemanliness had its limits: he pushed into her, his hips twitching. Amber opened her mouth wider and spread her knees for greater stability, ready and eager. Her heart raced. He'd gone over the edge and he'd take exactly what he wanted from her. He'd fuck her mouth. But the seconds passed and he did no more than lean further into the dresser.

Amber pursed her lips, more out of frustration than intention to stimulate his cock. She'd have to up the stakes and make Eric to lose control. Him calling out her name and his assorted ridiculous endearments might have been enough a few minutes ago, but she was wet and horny and she wanted to see him give in to his lust. It’d be so fucking hot, if he’d just cooperate. But it wouldn’t be difficult to get Eric there. Even if his shudders weren't indicative enough, Amber knew from experience what unraveled him.

She drew back, lips tight and tongue swirling along the thick vein pulsating underneath his dick, til she reached his full, round head. Much as she loved how freaking long Eric was, it did mean she could never take his whole dick into her mouth. No matter. She had ways around that. Her right hand grasped the base of his dick, light at first, going back and forth. Amber quickened the pace together with her mouth's movements, working over the tip of Eric's dick with her tongue and lips, her head bobbing. Before long she was slurping, her hand a blur. Her left hand curved over his ass and shoved him towards her. Come on, Amber urged in her mind. Fuck me. Come for me.

Foreman couldn't remember the last time it had been this easy to lose control with a woman. Amber had spent the last six weeks learning his every response, every move and touch that brought him, trembling, out of his skin. There was always a moment when his desire and what felt physically possible clashed--he wanted to watch her, but his eyes closed without his permission; he wanted to hold back from shoving his dick down her throat, but her hand on his ass and the bobbing movements of her mouth tempted him to demand more. Amber knew how to make him lose it, utterly, within moments of sinking her lips down over the shaft of his cock. Her swiftly moving hand, lubricated with her own saliva, drew even more pleasure out of him, and without thinking, Foreman inched his hips forward. Short, jerking thrusts, matching Amber's strokes, pushing deeper into her mouth. He groaned, harsh and low, his shoulders tensing as the sensation mounted. Jesus, she was going to make him come so hard--

There was a knock at the door. Like a bucket of ice water had been thrown across his back, Foreman reared back with a gasp. His cock slipped out of Amber's mouth. Eyes flying open, he stared down at her, lungs heaving for breath, not even able to swallow.

"Shower's yours, Eric," Geoffrey's voice came from behind the door. "And tell Amber to stop skulking and hurry it up, Mom's looking for her."

Foreman hauled his voice under control, clearing his throat. "You go ahead," he said, trying to calm his heartbeat down so that it wouldn't show in his words. "I'll be just--ah, another few minutes."

There was a considering pause, and then Geoffrey said, "To the victors go the spoils," before his footsteps retreated down the hall.

Amber jolted at the knock, her jaw snapping instinctively. Interruptions hadn't been on her mind, focused as she'd been in getting Eric off. Luckily, experiences with discreetly sliding in needles and keeping cool when caught fucking in public had improved Amber's reactions. She kept the biting down to a minimum, barely touching Eric's dick with her teeth. It shouldn’t more than heighten the pleasure.

Unfortunately, her good mood was not so easily recovered. Amber scowled at the sound of Geoffrey's voice, pulling her head back. He did always know just how to ruin the fun. Whatever it was, she'd deal with it. Her mouth was sore, though, and by the time she could've spoken, Eric had already answered and sent him on his way.

Her mom was looking for her. That could mean anything from the turkey had been burnt to a crisp and needed a last-minute replacement to her mom wanting to evaluate Amber's hair before dinner. Whatever it was, Amber doubted it was urgent. The whole point of blowing Eric was to prove she did what she wanted, when she wanted.

So she took a deep breath and shook her head, as if that'd free her from her ill feelings. "Where were we?" Amber made her voice a purr, smiling up at Eric. He looked annoyed, but he couldn’t be too upset, with his hardness still very present. Her hands returned to stroking his thighs. He was flaring hotter than ever, the outline of his legs tight with his strained muscles. "Ah, yes, taking the spoils." With no further delay Amber took his dick in her mouth again, more determined than ever to satisfy Eric. He was slick from her saliva and his spread precome, tasting both like his usual scent and herself. She shaped her lips to grip his hardness good and tight and went back to bobbing her head up and down his length with furious drive. Amber didn't care if each and every single one of her family members came and knocked on her door: she'd gotten Eric hard and there was no way she'd give in to defeat.

Foreman grunted sharply when Amber's teeth grazed his dick, his hips jerking back protectively. Christ, he was lucky she hadn't clamped down, because a trip to the ER on Thanksgiving was about his estimation of what Hell would be like. Explaining an injury like that to a harassed, run-off-his-feet ER doc would be the equivalent of getting his story spread around to every nurse and orderly within minutes, snickered at between cases, and probably recalled as an 'I remember this one time...' for years into the future. Not to mention, telling Amber's family exactly where and why they were going would probably be the humiliation that sealed their disapproval of him. Foreman couldn't be sure that wasn't what Amber wanted, in the end; her competitiveness, and occasional flashes of resentment directed at her family, might mean that she'd be glad if they got caught.

Amber didn't say anything, though, until Geoffrey was gone, so Foreman relaxed--as much as he could. There was no way she'd want her brother walking in on them, he knew that; he'd just worried that she'd snap at Geoffrey, which would show they were in here together, and give away pretty much exactly why Foreman wanted to wait for his shower.

"Does that door even lock--?" he started to ask, but Amber interrupted him. He barely had time to respond before Amber cocked an eyebrow at him and took his erection in her mouth again. Foreman's eyes widened, his breath spilling out in a rush. The brief interruption had left him aching, and Amber's sudden, deep suction made the sensation all the more intense. She sucked him in, her hand stroking him, squeezing on the upstroke and then taking in more of his cock with her mouth on the downstroke. Her hand on his ass had been urging him forward, and this time, Foreman went. He couldn't help it, he was drawn into the pleasure, the sight of Amber's red, swollen lips against his cock, shiny and slick, the loud, rhythmic sounds, all melding with the pleasure of her swirling tongue. He couldn't last, and after they'd already been interrupted once, he didn't want to. He was already groaning, babbling out how good she was making him feel, and in some distant part of his mind he realized he should warn her he was on the edge. "Fuck, nngh, Amber--I'm gonna--" His words dissolved as Amber brought him to the height, heat and pleasure expanding from his cock to the rest of his body, and then he was shivering, making tiny, needy thrusts, his orgasm running through him fast and hard.

Eric groaned so low Amber could only feel the vibrations through his skin. If her mouth weren't so thoroughly filled with dick, she'd have smiled because fuck yeah Eric was crumbling, finally. He thrust hard once, twice, over and over, and Amber took him in, following his motions with her head. She braced her thighs and held on firm to his ass. The warm, sweaty taste in her mouth strengthened. Even without him telling her, Amber knew. Soon--

An entirely different taste flooded her, salty and bitter. Touchdown. Feeling as smug as Eric looked when he'd come in high on his victory in the backyard, Amber sucked all the harder. She wanted him to feel this all night long. She wanted the pleasure to ring within Eric throughout the meal, marking him more clearly than any tattoo ever could. Then he wouldn't forget just how damn good she could make him. He'd know he was hers. All hers.

As Eric came, Amber caressed his buttocks, her strokes slowing down as he reached the end of his orgasm. When she was certain he was done, she carefully slid his softening dick from her mouth, her hands sliding down his legs. "Like that?" she asked, smirking. Of course he did.

Amber stood up, slightly wobbly. In the heat of the moment she'd forgotten the reality of joints and they mutely reminded her of their existence as she got up. Though her own arousal, buzzing her lightly like a first glass of wine, did soften everything. Still grinning wide, Amber wrapped her arms around Eric. Glowing and sated was a fantastic look on him. A sheen of sweat covered even his face. It was a relief to hold him after kneeling in the cold for all that time. Without thinking Amber closed her eyes and kissed him deep.

God. God. Foreman's eyes closed, his finger scrabbled on the edge of the dresser, and his knees shook as he forced himself to stay on his feet. He couldn't think, couldn't even move except to arch forward, letting Amber suck and stroke him through his orgasm. Trembling with aftershocks, with the clear and present memory of pleasure in his skin and muscles, Foreman opened his eyes slowly. Every nerve ending tingled. He could feel the brush of his eyelashes against his cheeks, the slide of breath in his throat. "Yeah," he said. He smiled lazily, certain that anything he said would only build up Amber's ego, but hell, he'd done more than like it, he'd practically come undone under the tight heat of her lips. "C'mere."

Amber's skin had cooled, from standing naked with her hair still damp. Foreman could feel the warmth of his heartbeat in his skin, and he wrapped his arms around her, absorbing the chill from her, rubbing his hands down her back to heat her with friction. He'd forgotten any concern about keeping his sweat off her; he wanted to rub himself all over her, smell himself on her hours later. Wanted to touch her for the sheer, absorbing gratification of having her close, thanking her wordlessly for what she'd done. "Must be trying to kill me," he murmured, his tender smile teasing her. "So good."

When Amber kissed him, Foreman answered with just as much need. Even though he'd come, the urge to enjoy her and share his sense of luxury and satisfaction was still strong. This time he wanted to give what Amber liked, and if she'd learned him down to the last detail, then he'd done the same, and he encouraged her, with lips and tongue, to demand more. He cupped her ass and pulled her against him, wanting her close. Geoffrey could use up all the damn hot water in the house, because Foreman was right where he wanted to be.

Eric's enthusiastic appreciation came through loud and clear in his eager kisses. It was easy to give in, leaning back against the dresser and running her hands all over his strong, slick back. "Yeah," Amber murmured, grinning. "A corpse is exactly what I needed to complete this Thanksgiving."

Blowing Eric wasn't even supposed to have happened. And once she'd started, she'd meant to make a quick deal out of it, more gesture than pleasure. A ‘fuck you’ to everyone downstairs by fucking Eric. Pretty generous, Amber thought. But he'd already lost his turn in the shower line-- an event that wouldn't go unnoticed by her mom-- and she was covered in his and her sweat. Her hair must also be a tremendous mess. What was supposed to be a secret, symbolic act would now be the equivalent of front page news.

Might as well make the most of it.

"So," Amber asked around kisses, rocking her hips against Eric. She felt soft. Pliable. She covered his hand with her own; pulled it towards her waist. He might be all spent but she had a few ideas about how he could help her with this strong, strumming arousal. "You planning on gloating, or you gonna return the favor?"

Foreman chuckled softly at her joke, but it did serve to remind him that they couldn't dawdle forever, much as he might like to. Times like this, he'd give anything just to stay with her, holding her, but it wasn't the first time they'd fucked on someone else's schedule. Taking a few extra minutes before driving to work was a satisfying fuck you to House, although Amber didn't let him get away with that very often. Other times, when they'd gone home thinking they'd have plenty of time to relax, they'd been paged back to the hospital at the most inconvenient moment when their patient's condition deteriorated. When he'd been hard, aroused, so close to his orgasm he couldn't think, he hadn't cared about all the people waiting on them. Now, as he relaxed, it felt a bit more urgent.

Not so urgent that he wanted to give up the kisses that were slowly bringing him down from the plateau he'd reached, completely sated. He massaged Amber's ass, tasted her kisses and responded to them in complete contentment. He pulled back with a grin when Amber asked for more. "I don't know," he said. "Gloating's a tempting option."

Foreman didn't let his guard down easily. Even with a lot of women he dated, and a lot of friends, for that matter, he kept up his serious demeanour. It wasn't really worth it to play and joke, even in private, because he knew he'd be uncomfortable with keeping up the same level of intimacy in public. And too often people had told him to lighten up, as if his seriousness was just a sham, or a facade, when really, it was how he felt most himself. That didn't mean he hadn't found a few people who could take him on his own terms, joke with him when he felt like it and not try to break through his no-nonsense exterior when he'd rather stay thoughtful. Even when he teased, he didn't let it last too long, outside a deliberate prank--the kind he usually only indulged in to prove a point. Letting his grin soften, Foreman kissed Amber again, with deep intensity, and when she rolled her hips against him the next time, he pulled her close against his hipbone, letting her feel the friction and pressure. He'd like to have avoided more stares when they went downstairs, but she was right; it was only fair that he give her something in exchange. "What do you want?" he murmured against her ear, soft, sincere, and determined.

Amber closed her eyes and released a soundless moan. Eric pressing his hot, hard thigh against her was the closest to fulfillment she'd gotten since coming on to him. She rubbed back, opening her legs further to let her vagina feel all the more. It was like heaven, taking Eric in through kisses, running her hands down his spine. She was spreading her wetness all over him-- a fact that made her smirk very, very smugly.

High on desire, the lightest touches felt incredible. Just the whisper against her ear made her gasp. Amber pulled Eric in for a deep, meaningful kiss, seeking his tongue with hers. Her leg rose, trying to hook behind his ass. She wasn't quite successful, still somewhat wobbly from minutes of kneeling. No matter. "Fuck me with your fingers," Amber demanded.

She leaned back against the dresser on one elbow, intensely gazing into Eric's eyes. All thoughts of her family had flown from her head. What mattered now was that she was horny and wrapped around her boyfriend, who seemed to be grinning his face off at the opportunity to give her satisfaction. Her nipples ached for touch, so Amber pinched them with her free hand.

Foreman kissed Amber with single-minded determination. It wasn't only fairness that drove him. Her eagerness communicated itself easily, and there was always an undercurrent of challenge that made him want to do everything in his power to bring her pleasure. Amber's kisses deepened, and Foreman tasted her tongue, the inside of her bottom lip. His hands were busy on her body, stroking soft warm skin, pausing to rub the muscles where tension accumulated. Amber's soft gasps and light, quick breathing raised a shiver of anticipation for him, even though physically he was more than satisfied. There was something deeply satisfying about drawing sounds out of her, seeing her eyebrows raise and lips part as she responded to his touch.

He grinned when Amber leaned back against the dresser. Considering she'd sucked him off instead of letting him fuck her when he'd first offered, he didn't know what had changed, but Amber's desire was clear in her eyes, and the lithe position of her body as she reached up to squeeze her nipple. Foreman ran a palm up her stomach to her breast and took over, pinching her nipple just short of painful, knowing she liked the stronger sensation when she was building up to her orgasm. His gaze travelled down her body, marvelling over again at the length of her legs, the curve of her hips and breasts. Foreman settled himself between her legs, allowing the dresser and his body to support her, so that she was only lightly poised on her toes. It would keep her dependent on him for her balance, and Foreman liked that occasional sense of control, slight though it was.

With one hand, he massaged her breast, trapping her nipple between his fingers where he could roll it over and over again. With the other, he found her inner thigh, and worked his way up. It wasn't long before he could feel the damp heat between her legs, and his smile widened despite himself. She was so wet, he didn't even hesitate before sliding one finger inside her. The were ticking away, and at this stage, Amber wouldn't brook any hesitation. He fucked her slowly but firmly, watching her eyes for the sign that he should add another finger, and speed his pace. That wouldn't take long. She was tight and so hot against his hand, and Foreman thrust in firmly, his hips unconsciously echoing the movement of his hand. His thumb rested lightly on Amber's clit, circling softly, since she was often too sensitive there for the stronger touch he used to fuck her, stronger and faster as she opened easily to him.

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Thursday, November 29

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