rivers_bend

Title: Who do you want to be today?
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Chase/Foreman (Foreman/Chase? You decide)
Rating: Adult (SC)
Costume: Not my OTP, single POV, Original Character, no canon to be seen anywhere. (bits of me still visible? It’s still House, and it’s still smut…)
A/N: In the song lyric theme, the title is from Oingo Boingo’s Who do you want to be?

Thanks, applause, and bowing down to karaokegal who not only performed her usual beta duties, but also came up with the idea for this crazy costume party, causing me to write Chase/Foreman which is just too damn fun.
Thanks also to skyblue_reverie who helped me figure out what Foreman was thinking and how to get that across without taking you into his head.



When Chase first met Rene Codrescu he thought he was an ass. Born French-Canadian, he attended an English boarding school and, thanks to a mother who worked for the UN, had lived all over the world by the time he came to Australia for medical school. Well educated, handsome in an effortless and casual way, and with a quick sense of humor, he exuded a distinct air of snobbishness that was an affront to Chase’s seminary sensibilities.

The powers that control the universe were determined that Chase get over his initial impressions, and the young men were thrown together repeatedly; as lab partners, seat mates, and co-presenters of group projects. By the time six months passed, Chase had started to become aware that Codrescu’s seeming sense of superiority was in fact a carefully constructed façade; built as a defense against his native shyness, a trait compounded by changing schools and homes so often. They became friends, and even, their first year as interns -- before Rene moved to the US, housemates.

They’d kept in touch over the years, and once Chase had emigrated as well, saw each other as their schedules allowed. Two years ago Rene had gotten married and moved to rural Tennessee to practice medicine amongst the farmers. Chase hadn’t seen him since the wedding. He was looking forward to spending the weekend with his friend, who was coming to New Jersey after a conference in New York.

Friday night came, and Chase and Foreman were working late. Chase phoned Codrescu and asked him if they could meet at the hospital. It would give him a chance to show off his workplace, and Foreman might take pity on him and say he could leave when he saw Chase had a friend visiting. He gave Rene directions to the diagnostics department. When he saw Codrescu walking down the hall he went out to meet him. They did the handshake/one armed hug thing.

“Come in and meet my colleague.” Chase opened the door to the diagnostics room.

“That’s never Eric Foreman!” Rene stopped in the doorway, causing Chase to bump into his back.

Foreman looked up from the file he was combing for clues. “Rene? Damn, Codrescu, what are you doing here?”

Chase pushed Rene forward so he could get into the room and stare back and forth between the two men. “You two know each other?”

“Hey, the last time I saw Eric here, he was sneaking off behind some rocks with a surfer.” Rene turned to Foreman. “Was that Biedermayer’s barbecue?”

To Chase’s surprise, Foreman looked flustered. “I think it was Nicole’s going away party. That barbecue was a different beach.”

“Did you work together in LA?” Chase tried to remember when Rene had done his rotation there.

“We did indeed. Eric was quite the—“

“So, didn’t you guys want to get going? I can handle the rest of this, Chase. Why don’t you two go and catch up?”

Rene flung an arm around Chase’s neck and ruffled the blond hair with his knuckles. “So where in this fine town are you taking me?”

Chase tried not to yelp as Rene’s bony fingers dug into his skull. Rene released him. “You’re away from the wife’s eagle eye; how about strippers? Or is honky-tonk more your thing now that you’ve taken up with a southern girl?”

Rene shoved Chase out the door. “Fuck no, man, anything but honky-tonk.”

* * * * * *

They ended up going to the Italian restaurant at the end of Chase’s street when Rene mentioned he hadn’t eaten since lunch and Chase realized he’d only had a lollipop and three filched potato chips since breakfast. They sat at a booth and ordered a bottle of wine and a pizza. Just as the waitress turned to leave, Chase added a plate of fried calamari to the order.

Rene raised a speculative eyebrow. “Does that Doctor House of yours not give you a lunch break?”

“I sense I’m going to need something to soak up the alcohol. I remember what it’s like going out with you, mate.”

“So. Give me the scoop. How long have you been working with Eric?”

“Foreman? I don’t know. A couple of years. How long did you work with him?”

“Eight months or so. I didn’t realize he’d left LA.”

“It’s hard to imagine Foreman on a beach sneaking off with some bikini clad surfer babe.” Chase took a sip of the wine the waitress had poured for him. “Ooh, Chiara, that’s good. Can we get another bottle when the pizza comes out?” The waitress nodded.

“A man after my own heart.” Rene sipped from his own glass. “Bikini clad? The dude was definitely not wearing a bikini.”

“I didn’t mean Foreman, I meant the surfer girl.”

Rene looked at Chase for a minute as though wondering if he were kidding. “There was no girl. The surfer was a guy. Wait. You think Eric’s straight?”

Chase opened his mouth, managed to say absolutely nothing and then shut it. Rene laughed. Chase tried again. “But… He, I mean, he definitely was doing the drug rep. She looked pretty female to me. I never thought about it. I just assumed…” Chase drank down the rest of his wine in one swallow.

“Oh, he’ll do women too, he’s not all that picky. He had quite a reputation around the hospital. There was one party… Well, people were calling him Eric f-o-u-r men for a while after that.” Rene poured Chase another glass of wine. “Oh man, if you could see your face!”

“He’s never. He doesn’t, but…” Chase found himself at a loss for words again. “As far as I know, that once or twice with the drug rep is the only date Forman’s had in two years.”

“Well, maybe it was the California sunshine that did something to him. Or maybe he’s learned to be more discreet. But the Eric Foreman I knew never said ‘no’ to anybody.”

Chase hoped the blush he felt creeping up his neck would be attributed to the wine.

* * * * * *

Chase was in the shower the next morning by the time he remembered he had his ex housemate sleeping on his couch. As he peered bleary-eyed into the shaving mirror, he noticed that his lips, and yes, his tongue, were still stained purple. He took a moment to damn Italian wine-makers, his friend, and Chiara, the waitress who’d brought a third bottle without his even noticing. He wasn’t quite sure how he and Rene had made it back to his apartment.

Codrescu looked disgustingly chipper, standing at Chase’s stove scrambling eggs. There was toast in the toaster, coffee in the coffee maker, a news paper, good god, today’s news paper, open on the table, and ’golden oldies’ on the radio. “Gooooood Morniiiing, Auuuuustraaaaaaaaalia!” Chase had forgotten about Rene’s truly horrible Robin Williams impressions.

Chase poured himself a cup of coffee and started to butter the toast. He hoped if he ignored the impression it might go away. “Sleep well?”

“I slept like a log, thanks. How about you?”

“I slept like someone who drank the best part of two bottles of red wine. Kind of corpse-like. Where did that third bottle come from anyway?”

“I think that waitress was trying to get you drunk.”

“That waitress is married to the owner’s son. Her husband’s six foot four, has eyelashes you could plough a field with, hair straight out of a shampoo ad-“

“And the girl knows you’d far rather do her husband than her?” Rene heaped eggs onto Chase’s plate, grabbing a piece of buttered toast to go with his own eggs. “Eat up young man. It’s good for what ails you. I forgot how cute you get when you blush.”

The two men spent the rest of the morning catching up on each other’s lives. They talked in a desultory manner about things they might do with their afternoon and ended up eating bowls of cereal and watching television instead of doing any of them. At about five o’clock, Rene made a face Chase recognized from old as his ‘I’ve just suddenly come up with a brilliant plan’ face. “I know what let’s do! Let’s invite Eric out for dinner tonight.” His words were just a little too bright to be convincingly spontaneous.

“If you want to see him, yeah, I guess we could do that.” Chase wasn’t sure how he felt about this turn of events.

“Phone him up then.”

“I don’t know his phone number.”

“You’ve worked with him for two years and you don’t know his phone number?”

“Well, it’s not like I ring the guy. We don’t exactly have much in common.” This got the trademark Codrescu lip-twitch/eyebrow raise in response. “Ok, ok. It’s not like I knew we had anything in common.”

“Give me your phone.”

Chase leaned over to where his jacket hung abandoned on a chair, and dug through the pockets. “Let me just…” Rene grabbed it out of his hands. He scrolled through the contacts until he got to the ‘F’s.

“I suppose this Foreman, Eric is some other man?”

Chase didn’t look away. “I forgot I had it.”

“Sure you did.” Rene poured on the charm and somehow persuaded Foreman to meet them at the same Italian restaurant for supper that night.

Chase and Codrescu got there first, and had started a bottle of wine when Rene’s phone rang. He looked at the display. “The wife. Just a moment.” The conversation was brief and ended with words that made Chase very nervous. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My mother-in-law’s been admitted to the hospital. I need to get on the next flight.” Just then Foreman walked in. Rene waved him over to their table. “Eric, hi. I may have to skip dinner. Sit down. I need to phone the airline. Have a glass of wine.”

Chase couldn’t help but notice that Foreman was wearing jeans. Black jeans, but still, denim. His Henley shirt had the sleeves pushed up, revealing strong forearms. Chase quickly looked at the table. He didn’t need to be thinking about Eric’s forearms. Foreman’s forearms. He’s called Foreman. “Hi,” Chase managed, speaking to the button on the padded bench over Foreman’s shoulder.

“Hi yourself. What’s up with Codrescu?”

Chase took a deep breath and absolutely did not think about Foreman and a surfer behind some rocks on a beach three thousand miles away. “Wife’s mother’s in hospital. Don’t know why.” Brilliant. Losing the ability to speak in complete sentences. Very cool.

Rene came back to the table. “There’s a flight in three hours. I’ve got the rental car. Why don’t you guys have dinner anyway. If I can borrow your keys, Robert, I’ll just pop back and pack and drop them off on my way out of town?”

Chase and Foreman both protested at once.

“No, that’s fine, I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chase should go with you.”

Rene put both hands out, halting their attempts to stand. “Don’t be silly. I’ll be five minutes packing, I need to return the rental car to the airport anyway. You two boys enjoy a nice meal. Talk. Have fun.”

Chase wondered if he looked as nervous as Foreman looked horrified at the thought. Sometimes he thought Foreman might like him marginally more than he liked Cameron, but generally he thought Foreman didn’t think much of any of his colleagues. Neither of them moved, and Chase thought they at least had one thing in common. Neither of them could stand up to Rene. Chase fumbled his house keys into Codrescu’s outstretched palm.

“Wonderful to see you again, Robert. I’m back out this way next summer, we must get together again. I’d tell you to visit next time you’re in Tennessee, but let’s face it, what are the chances you’ll be in Tennessee any time soon?” Rene turned to Foreman and laid a hand on his wrist. “And Eric, what a wonderful surprise to run into you. I thought you were still in LA. We really must see each other next time I’m out here.” With a nod to both of them, Rene was gone.

Chiara arrived as Codrescu left, sparing Chase the somewhat stunned silence that had settled after Rene’s parting words. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous; he spent almost all his waking hours with Foreman after all. “Just you two now?”

Again, they spoke over each other, Chase saying, “Yes” as Foreman said, “I was just leaving.”

Chiara shook her head. “No, you stay. I will bring you a pizza like you have never had before. It is the best, Robert, yes?”

Chase looked at Foreman. “It is the best pizza you’ve ever had. Unless you prefer something else? Let’s just eat. I’m starving.”

Foreman relented. “Pizza’s good.” Turning to Chiara he said, “Have you got beer?”

“I will bring you a Pironi. Robert, you will have more of that wine?”

“This bottle’s still full. No more thanks.” Chase was determined to not go home in the same state as the night before.

Chiara headed back towards the kitchen. A young man appeared a moment later with a bottle of Pironi for Foreman. Foreman raised his bottle in a toast. “To mad Canadians.” Chase tapped the bottle’s neck with his glass.

“What time did you finish up last night?”

“I gave up at eleven or so. I found a few more links, but nothing that I think will prove very useful.”

“Maybe Cameron’s found something today.”

That topic seemed to have run its course and silence settled between them again. Chase realized how much of the time they spent together was spent basically ignoring each other. He’d been attracted to Foreman when the other man first came to work for House, but had assumed Foreman was straight. He’d also found him quite aloof, which put him off. Since Rene’s revelation the night before however, Chase found his thoughts returning to those first few weeks of somewhat obsessively wondering what Foreman looked like under those suits of his. He sneaked another peek at the forearms resting naked on the table.

Foreman broke the silence. “Do you live around here?”

“Just up the street. Five minutes stumble. It’s convenient. They even deliver if I’m too lazy to make the walk.” Chase didn’t know why he’d mentioned being lazy. That was not the impression he wanted to give Foreman. Then he wondered why he was trying to make any kind of impression at all. They were colleagues, they got along just about well enough to work together. This was not a date.

“Must be nice. It’s all offices near my place. No place to eat, drink, hang out.” He looked around. “There was a place like this near the neighbourhood where I grew up. Family kind of place. Closed when I was fifteen or so. Fourteen maybe.”

Chase figured this was the most personal information he’d heard from Foreman in two years. Beyond House’s regular jibes about Foreman being a car thief, his pre-medschool past was a mystery.

“We had nothing like this. Or if we did, I never went.”

Chiara came over then with the pizza and another beer for Foreman. She winked at Chase as she deposited the food on the table. “You need more wine, you let me know.”

“I think this will be plenty. Thank you, Chiara.”

Foreman watched appreciatively as she walked away. “On a first name basis with the waitress?”

“You should see her husband.” Chase spoke without thinking and blushed flame bright when Foreman shot him a quelling look. Way to avoid the elephant in the room, Robert. Nice going.

“Why would I want to see her husband?” Foreman’s fist clenched on his beer bottle betrayed the calm he managed with his tone of voice.

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Because he’s absolutely gorgeous.” Chase risked a look at Foreman’s face.

“Damn that Codrescu,” Foreman muttered. “He’s been talking about California hasn’t he?”

“And why shouldn’t I? What do you have to be ashamed of ?” Neither man had noticed Rene return.

Chase jumped when Rene dropped his keys on the table. He tried to cover his nerves with conversation. “You all ready to go? Did you get your shower gel out of the tub?” Could that have sounded any gayer? Why am I talking about shower gel?

“I left it for you. Mango and passion fruit suits you much better than it does me I think. It was my secret Santa gift from the hospital this year. I never much liked it. Must get going. Wonderful to see you both. Have a good night boys.” Rene winked lasciviously at both of them and was off.

Chase and Foreman stared after him until he was out of sight. Foreman broke the silence left behind. “Mango and passion fruit?” Foreman chuckled and shook his head. His grip on his beer bottle relaxed and he leaned back in his seat.

“Shut up. I didn’t buy it. It does smell good though.” Chase allowed a grin to break out across his face. Foreman smiled back.

Awkwardness averted by the exchange, the men dug in to the pizza.

“Wow,” Foreman said with his mouth full. He chewed and swallowed before he continued. “This is really good.”

“Told you so.”

They didn’t speak for several minutes as they ate, but the silence now was comfortable. After his second piece of pizza Foreman started another beer. After a few sips he started laughing. “That Codrescu is a real piece of work. Do you think his mother in law is really sick, or do you think this is an elaborate set-up?”

Chase choked on his sip of wine. “What do you mean?” He coughed again, less violently this time.

“Well, here we are. Two years of working together, I didn’t know you were gay. Though I have to say, I wondered. And, maybe, occasionally hoped. It’s all that shiny hair.” Foreman winked. Chase wasn’t sure what to do with the wink so he pretended it hadn’t happened. “Rene comes to town, suddenly you know I sleep with men, you clue me in that you do too, and we’re alone together, eating dinner in a restaurant on a Saturday night like this is some kind of blind date.”

“You think, he… Date? You’d call this a date?” Chase hoped the squeaking he heard in his own voice was mostly his imagination.

“There’s food, there’s candles, there’s alcohol. You’re cute, and I’ve always liked mango and passion fruit.” Foreman picked up Chase’s hand and smelled the inside of his wrist. “I’ve seen you looking, you obviously have a thing for my arms… Let’s call it a date.”

“A getting to know you date?”

“I think we already know each other pretty well. Don’t you? We might even call this a third date. Your apartment is just up the road, isn’t it?”

Chase had absolutely no idea what to say.

Foreman carried on eating as though he hadn’t just said he was planning on taking Chase home and enacting the third date tradition. Chase drained his glass, filling it afterwards with the remains of the bottle of wine. Foreman put the last piece of pizza on Chase’s plate.

* * * * * *

On the walk home, Chase was repeatedly tempted to drop slightly behind Foreman to see if his ass looked as good in jeans as it did in trousers. Mostly because he suspected that it would look even better. Since Foreman didn’t know where they were going however, he felt like he was expected to lead the way. These thoughts meant that every time Foreman slowed a bit he could feel the other man’s gaze burning into his own backside.

He finally got his look when he opened his front door and could usher Foreman inside ahead of him. He’d been right. The jeans were perfect.

Foreman paused to look around the living room. As he headed for the sofa he turned to look at Chase, who was still standing in the doorway, and was embarrassed to be caught staring. “Do you have any coffee?”

Chase shut the door behind himself. “Sure.” It felt strange to have Foreman here. Like he’d brought a stranger home. A stranger whose coffee habits were as familiar to him as his own. A stranger whose posture and sprawl he knew intimately, though they were completely out of context on his sofa. He hurried into the kitchen in an effort to break the illusion of colliding realities.

He took his time making the coffee, and when Chase returned to the living room, Foreman was leafing through a book of photographs of Australia that had been sitting untouched on the coffee table since he moved in three years ago. Forman pointed to a picture. “You’ve got some strange animals in this country of yours. What’s this?”

Chase put the cups down on the table and leaned over the book to see what Foreman was pointing at. He caught a glimpse of a small furry animal with stripes and a pointed nose before Foreman pulled him forward with a hand on the back of his neck. Somehow the book was gone when he landed half in Foreman’s lap, lips captured in a kiss that left no room for argument.

When he flung his hand out for balance he managed to find a grip on Foreman’s shoulder and not hit him in the face, a fact for which he was momentarily grateful. Then Foreman used a hand on Chase’s hip to settle him less precariously. The strong fingers cupping his ass drove any extraneous thoughts right out of his mind. Foreman kissed like he disagreed, with an intensity of purpose that prior to today had often irritated Chase. He was not irritated now. Chase pulled away long enough to gasp a breath in before returning to kiss with his own intensity.

Without breaking their kiss, Foreman tipped Chase back onto the couch. His spine found the sharp edge of the book; Foreman had apparently just shoved it aside. Chase wriggled in discomfort until Foreman pushed the book onto the floor. Foreman kissed slowly and deliberately as though he was trying to read something in Chase’s responses. He smelled of tomato sauce and the diagnostics conference room. Chase knew he hadn’t worked that day and that made him wonder if in fact it was the conference room that smelled of Foreman. And if, his smell association being what it was, he was going to get as hard as he was at that moment the next time he walked in the room and smelled this smell.

Both men were half on and half off the sofa. Just as Chase was starting to feel like this whole kissing thing was really a very good idea, Foreman lifted himself off of Chase’s chest, sitting up. “This is ok with you I take it.” It was not remotely a question.

Chase struggled to sit up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He was confused. “The kissing or the stopping?”

“The kissing.” Foreman smiled knowingly and Chase was dismayed that he’d been so easily read. Obviously, it had been a long time since he’d done this. “I was just thinking that you probably have a bed around here somewhere. Your sofa is kind of small for where I see this going.”

Chase reached for one of the abandoned cups of coffee and took a swig. “My bed’s in the bedroom.” Oh, genius. That wasn’t at all obvious. Well done.

Foreman picked up the other cup of coffee and drank half of it in one swallow. Setting it back down, he stood, dragging Chase up by his arm. “Which way?”

Chase got as far as his bedroom door before realizing that he needed to stop in the bathroom. He’d drunk nearly a whole bottle of wine, and though it was probably partly nerves, it felt like the entire thing was desperate to get out again. He pointed Foreman in the direction of the bed and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Looking at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands revealed flushed cheeks, hair already tangled by Foreman’s fingers, and a look of panic about the eyes. He splashed his face, took a couple of deep breaths, and headed back to the bedroom. He made it as far as the doorway, where he stopped dead, lungs frozen, unable to think, or in fact, do anything but stare.

Foreman had removed his shirt and unbuttoned his fly. He was reclined against Chase’s headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, feet bare, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, little finger just teasing underneath the waist of his purple briefs. Chase was sure that the last thing he would ever be able to do was take off his clothes in front of someone who looked like Eric Foreman.

Foreman seemed to think it should be the first thing he did. “You’re wearing too many clothes. I think you should take them off and come over here.”

Chase was surprised to discover his fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt while his mind was still considering the matter. They clearly knew something about what he wanted that he didn’t. His feet were in on the secret too, because they were walking towards the bed as he pushed his shirt off his shoulders. He couldn’t read Foreman’s expression but it didn’t seem to be disgust so he kept walking. When he reached the edge of the bed, Foreman reached out and undid his pants, pushing them down over his hips. Chase wanted to stop him, but his hands only made it as far as Foreman’s wrists where they rested in a manner that could be construed as helping him to remove Chase’s clothes, by someone who didn’t know better.

As his pants dropped to the floor Chase realized that he still had his socks and shoes on with no graceful way to remove them. His shoes needed to be untied, but there was a puddle of fabric obscuring the laces. Meanwhile, Foreman, eyes intent on Chase’s gaze, had moved his hand lower and started rubbing his erection through the fabric of his briefs. The sight was mesmerizing. Chase was pretty certain that his own fingers weren’t going to work even if he could find his feet. The man looked like a porn star.

Chase sat on the edge of the bed, back to Foreman, in the hopes that if he couldn’t see that hand he might be able to get his shoes off with minimal difficulty. His hopes were dashed when Foreman’s fingers began to sketch designs on his spine. “Could you just, um, not do that for a second while I get my shoes off?” Foreman flattened his palm against the small of Chase’s back, but he showed no inclination to remove his hand completely. Chase figured that was the best he was going to get and quickly bent down to deal with the offending laces. Shoes, socks and clothing dispensed with, he leaned back into the hand that was now moving lower to caress his ass.

“C’mere.” Foreman reached out and pulled Chase up the bed into his arms. Chase took advantage of his proximity to Foreman’s chest to rub his hands over the smooth skin as Foreman kissed his way along Chase’s jaw and down his neck.

Foreman’s jeans were rough against his legs and cock as Chase pressed closer into his colleague’s side. Emboldened by the moans vibrating against his neck wherever Foreman had his mouth, Chase pushed jeans and underwear out of the way of his now actively questing hands. Foreman tried to wriggle out of his clothes and leave teeth marks on Chase’s shoulder at the same time, but in the end had to focus on peeling the tight denim off his thighs.

Once they were both naked, Foreman lay on his back and pulled Chase on top of him. He intertwined their fingers and raised his hands over his head. They were palm to palm, elbow to elbow, chest to chest. Chase was acutely aware of the heat of Foreman’s cock alongside his own. He felt as though he were lying on a man-shaped raft, held afloat, somehow safe. He knew that to an observer it would look as though he were holding Foreman down. In fact, Foreman was holding him up.

Forman was rocking his hips maddeningly slowly, making Chase groan and whine into Foreman’s neck. Chase wanted to move against the broader man, to rub and slide, but with even his legs and feet balanced on top of Foreman’s he had no leverage. He took revenge with his teeth, biting wherever he could reach, at flesh that felt polished under his lips and tongue.

With a loud groan that could have been “Chase” or “yes” or some non-word, Foreman freed his hands and gripped Chase’s hair. He pulled Chase off his neck and down into a kiss that started with mouths open and tongues battling. Chase’s face felt raw with beard burn, his lips felt bruised, but he cupped the back of Foreman’s head with both hands and tried to pull himself deeper. He wished for gravity to increase, to bear him down, bring him into closer contact with Foreman’s skin.

As Chase’s hands were busy pulling Foreman closer, Foreman’s were freed up to caress and explore Chase’s body. He stroked sweat-slick skin, causing Chase to shiver. In a practiced motion he moved his legs and shifted Chase’s hips so that Chase suddenly found he could move and thrust. They swallowed each other’s whimpers and moans as the friction made them frantic with need.

Without warning, Foreman tipped them over onto their sides. This broke their kiss and they both lay panting, looking at each other. Foreman was grinning which made Chase follow suit. He traced Chase’s lips with a finger. Chase reached out with his tongue and drew it into his mouth.

“I watch you with those pens, you know. Sometimes it drives me crazy.” Foreman’s breathing was heavy and his words came out in fits and starts. Chase wrapped his tongue around the digit, pulling it further towards his throat. Foreman gasped. “Do you suck cock that well?”

Chase pulled off Foreman’s finger and looked down their bodies. He knew he had nowhere near as much experience as Foreman, but he did love giving head. With blowjobs, enthusiasm was more than half the battle. He moved down, pushing Foreman onto his back as he went. He took a moment to admire his intended target. Chase was relieved that Foreman had not suggested fucking. It had been far too long to start with something that big.

Using hands as well as tongue, lips, suction and heat, Chase soon had Foreman bucking underneath him. As he got into his stride he felt Foreman’s hands in his hair, trying to pull him away. He reluctantly stopped what he was doing and looked up.

“I want—“ Foreman took a minute to catch his breath. “I want you to fuck me. Don’t make me come.”

Chase crawled back up so they were face to face. “You want me to fuck you?”

Foreman kissed him, then looked him in the eye and said, “I want you to fuck me hard and make me come with your cock deep inside me.”

“I… Oh.” Chase felt his stomach try to turn itself inside out at the words. He’d been expecting a hand job, a hummer if he was really lucky. To fuck Foreman was beyond anything he’d ever allowed himself to contemplate. He mentally sorted through the contents of the bedside drawer and sent up a prayer that there were condoms in there somewhere. And lube. Please let there be lube

Foreman started to look a little worried. “Chase?”

“Sorry. Just hoping that drawer has something more useful than a few old magazines and a box of tissues.”

Foreman laughed. “I’ve got a condom in my wallet if not. Though I thought you boy scout types were always prepared.”

Chase rolled over and opened the drawer. There was a whole box of condoms and a half full bottle of Probe. He felt like Christmas had come early. Pulling the required items out, he showed them to Foreman, who smiled and held out his hand.

Foreman tore open the condom wrapper and beckoned Chase forward with a crooked finger. He slid his fingers into the hair at the back of Chase’s neck and kissed him. Lips burning with the heat from Foreman’s mouth on his, Chase was distracted, and jumped when he felt the cold press of latex against the heat of his cock. Foreman didn’t even pause, sheathing Chase’s erection without need to look at what he was doing. Chase had no idea if the practiced fingers made him feel more or less reassured. The slide of Foreman’s hand as he ensured there were no air bubbles made Chase squeak.

Pulling back, Foreman kissed the tip of Chase’s nose and traced one eyebrow with the tip of his tongue, making Chase laugh. Smiling in response, Foreman took Chase’s wrist in his hand. “You’re right handed for everything?” Chase nodded. Foreman squirted a palm-full of lube into Chase’s hand, and spread it carefully over Chase’s fingers, stroking and teasing them. “It’s been a while since I did this, go slow.”

Chase was prepared to go however Foreman wanted. When both men had one hand slick with lube, Foreman guided Chase’s hand to his cock. “I want you to feel how hard you make me.” The lube made the stroke almost frictionless. The sensation was delicious. “Lower. Feel my balls.” Chase palmed the soft skin, his fingers stroking lower still. Foreman pressed against his fingers, using his own slick hand on his cock.

Foreman was all muscle, strong, and somehow unbreakable feeling. Chase stroked slowly, spreading lube and teasing at the secret puckered skin under the pads of his fingers. Foreman slowed his strokes to an almost imperceptible rhythm. “Go in. Put it in.” He sounded like he’d just run a mile. Chase slid his forefinger inside the welcoming heat. It went more easily than he’d expected. “More,” Foreman was demanding now. “Another finger. Do it.” Chase pushed a second finger in along side the first and Foreman moaned.

Two strokes, and Chase felt Foreman opening around him. Without waiting to be asked, he added a third finger. Watching Foreman’s face, Chase felt breathless and powerful and desperate to have his cock sheathed in this hot slickness. At the same time, he was reluctant to curtail the pleasure his fingers were experiencing. He curled his fingers upwards and felt the change in texture that meant he’d found Foreman’s prostate. Moving from the wrist, Chase rocked his hand against the spot.

Foreman clamped his thighs around Chase’s arm, arresting his movements. “Fuck me now before I come and it’s too late,” Foreman growled. Chase nodded. Foreman tilted his hips up, freeing Chase’s hand, and put a pillow under his ass. He hooked a leg around Chase’s waist, tipping him forwards onto Foreman’s chest.

As he shifted, Chase’s cock was sliding in the crack of Foreman’s ass. He could feel Foreman’s knuckles grazing his stomach. He thought he could probably come just from this, but he wanted to feel that slick tight heat again. Pale gaze never wavering from Foreman’s dark one, Chase knelt up again and found the right angle to re-carve the channel so recently opened by his fingers. Foreman lifted towards him and he slid forwards with no need for pause or retreat.

He moved slowly in and out a few times, marvelling at the sensations, and then Foreman pushed back hard as he rocked forwards, and he took the hint. Propping himself on his hands, he began to ram forwards, pulling nearly all the way out on each stroke. Foreman pulled his legs back, giving him more room. Shifting so he could hold one of Foreman’s legs for him, he said, “Touch yourself.”

Foreman didn’t have to be asked twice. Chase focused on the sturdy fingers sliding on Foreman’s cock. He had a sudden image of them sliding a spinal needle between someone’s vertebrae, placing the tip by feel, positioning the vial to gather CSF for the lab. He nearly came.

Foreman opened his eyes, which had drifted shut when he’d put his hand on his cock. Watching Chase, he began to talk. Demanding, begging, swearing, he pushed Chase beyond rhythm into chaos. Chase hadn’t even realized that Foreman had come too until he collapsed forwards and felt the evidence slippery between them.

* * * * * *

The phone ringing woke Chase up. It was dark. His room smelled of sex. There was a very heavy hand on his stomach. The phone didn’t stop. There was something distinctly not dream like about the whole thing. Fumbling on the bedside table he picked up the receiver.

“’Lo?” The caller was lucky to get a single coherent syllable. He hoped it wasn’t House.

“So,” the caller said. “Did he fuck you seven ways from Sunday?”

“Rene? Piss off.” Chase looked at the clock. “It’s five in the morning!”

“Some of us have rounds and mother-in-laws to visit. I had to know.”

Foreman started mumbling and rubbing Chase’s torso in an extremely distracting fashion.

Chase tried to concentrate on the conversation. “He, I… How is she anyway?”

“She broke her arm and her ankle. Golfing. God knows how. But that’s not why I called.”

Foreman nudged Chase’s shoulder with his forehead. “’S’at Codrescu?” Chase nodded. Foreman stopped tracing delicious circles around Chase’s nipples and reached for the phone. “Codrescu? He fucked me into a puddle. Now leave us alone. We’re busy.” He thumbed the disconnect button and tossed the phone towards the cradle. It hit the mattress and slid onto the floor.

The next thing Chase knew he was enfolded in the four limbs of one Dr. Eric Foreman. Neurologist, dark horse, secret slut, and really really good kisser.