Categories > TV > House
Author's Note: Many warm feelings towards the wonderful Roga and the lovely HousePiglet for the kind beta reads.
Chase followed the tilt of House's head out of the lab and into an abandoned office, leaving Cameron to rerun her testing and Foreman to pack up his briefcase and leave.
House stayed in the open door, forcing Chase's side against his front
"Can I help you?" Chase asked as he squeezed by. His tone was light, artificially so. He'd grown comfortable with their arrangement. The power shifts. The subtle back and forth. It was like a chess game.
Chase leaned against the desk as the door swung shut. "You don't worry that people with figure out what we're up to?"
"No." House said. "Do you?" His voice, low and demanding, seeped with mock concern. "Do you spend a lot of time worrying about what other people think?" As he spoke he advanced upon Chase, pinning him against the desk. "Those have been bugging me all day."
"What?"
"These," House said, rubbing his hand against Chase's thigh. "Those jeans. These are come-fuck-me-jeans."
"Are they?" Chase tried, and failed, to fight back a wide grin.
"Of course they are," House said, laying his cane on the table. "Don't pretend you don't know."
Ten minutes later, he had Chase bent over the desk and begging.
These encounters always seemed to end in Chase begging.
"Please, House...please, God...oh, God, yes, yes, oh please."
"Yes?" House asked, though Chase couldn't tell which name he'd answered to.
"Yes," Chase agreed, letting his head fall onto the desktop, his cheek sticking to the wood as his body moved back and forth.
"Yes, what?" House asked, adding an extra hard little thrust just to get things moving along. Sweat dripped down the pale skin of Chase's back.
"Yes, God, yes, please. Oh, House."
"You know, if you can't concentrate properly," House teased through gritted teeth, "Maybe I should just stop."
Chase felt the cold decals of House's t-shirt against his skin as he was yanked upward. His head lolled back onto House's shoulder.
"No, just, God, please, make me come."
And then there was a mess all over someone's nice wooden desktop and House's low gasp into his ear.
They stayed together a moment, taking deep breaths and feeling their hearts slow from hummingbird speed. House collapsed into a strategically placed office and Chase had to smile, feeling perversely flattered by how set up these 'spontaneous' sex acts were. He grabbed a wad of tissues out of the box on the desktop and quickly disposed of any evidence of their illicit tryst.
House casually picked Chase's jeans off the floor and pulled out the boxer shorts, throwing them to Chase. Chase gratefully pulled on his underwear and extended his hand for his blue jeans.
They didn't arrive.
"House, those are mine."
"Yep." House smiled. It took a little fumbling to get his leg into the pant leg, but he managed as he always did.
Chase didn't get it. "House, those are my jeans, you have the wrong ones."
"Do I?" House tossed him a ball of denim. He caught it offhandedly.
"House, those will be too short.
"Possibly." House stood, buttoning the fly. The jeans weren't too short because they didn't sit on his waist. Instead the waistband clung decadently to his narrow hips, giving him the extra few inches he needed to look presentable. He picked his belt off the floor and threaded it through the loops.
Chase rolled his eyes, deciding the best course of action was, as usual, to humor House. He sat on the desk and shoved his feet into the jeans, then stood.
"See," Chase said, "They don't fit. You're too skinny." He pulled on his dress shirt, now wrinkled from it's time balled at the base of the desk.
House held out his hand and Chase automatically passed him the cane. "It's not my fault you've been downing to many Guinness."
"Guinness is Irish. You mean Fosters. And besides, it's not beer. It's bones. These don't fit." Chase tugged the side of the fly together.
"Should have worn a long t-shirt then."
"Why?" Chase managed before House surged forward and covered his mouth with a strong, silencing kiss.
"Because I want them," House said as he walked away, smirking. The door opened and shut. Chase was alone.
He leaned back on the desk and tugged at the jeans. They didn't fit. Of course they didn't fit. This was a game or a test or God knows what. House had planned this since this morning.
Success. By holding his breath he managed to do the button, but the zipper was a lost cause. He hoped his shirt tails would cover an indiscretions as he walked quickly towards the nearest elevator.
A nurse was inside, smiling and happy to be off duty. She gave him brief, flirty eye contact as he slid onboard.
Chase tried to smile and grimaced. The nurse's grin flickered.
"Floor?" She asked, her polished fingernails hovering over the buttons.
"Lobby."
She obliged, her eyes traveling from the panel to the floor. She giggled.
Chase glanced at his feet. Three inches of trousers covered his tennis shoes.
He rolled his eyes. The elevator dinged and the door slid open. The last shred of gentlemanly rearing he had stopped Chase from shoving the nurse out of the way and running for the door. Instead he waited impatiently for her to leave before he stepped out.
He got about halfway across the lobby, before his cloth covered heels slid out from under him. He fell hard on the tiled floor, his legs tangling underneath him.
"Chase?" Cameron asked, approaching him from the side. "Are you okay?" She extended a delicate hand in assistance. Chase ignored it, clambering to his feet.
"M'fine," Chase mumbled.
A lab coat was draped over Cameron's arm. "This is yours," She said, handing it to him, "you left it in the lab.
Chase pulled it on frantically. "Thanks."
"What's going on?" Cameron asked, her eyebrows raised.
"Huh?"
"Why's House riding you so hard?"
Chase thanked his oft-forgotten God he'd left his keys to jangle in his lab coat, as opposed to tucking them snugly into his now purloined jeans. He withdrew them and spun them casually on one finger.
"No reason," He said, "Just doesn't like me. You know that. Goodnight."
He started to go.
"Chase. Wait!"
Chase tensed, but plastered a smile on and turned back to Cameron.
Cameron squatted to retrieve something from where Chase tumbled. She handed it to him cheerfully. "You dropped your tie."
"Thanks." Chase accepted the bit of fabric and jammed it into his pocket. A quick turn and a slippery run got him outside. Only when the door shut behind him did he allow himself a sigh of relief.
Paranoia, of course. Who would notice a lone doctor leaving a hospital at three a.m. in a pair of ill fitting trousers?
Well, House would.
But surely that was the point.
Chase followed the tilt of House's head out of the lab and into an abandoned office, leaving Cameron to rerun her testing and Foreman to pack up his briefcase and leave.
House stayed in the open door, forcing Chase's side against his front
"Can I help you?" Chase asked as he squeezed by. His tone was light, artificially so. He'd grown comfortable with their arrangement. The power shifts. The subtle back and forth. It was like a chess game.
Chase leaned against the desk as the door swung shut. "You don't worry that people with figure out what we're up to?"
"No." House said. "Do you?" His voice, low and demanding, seeped with mock concern. "Do you spend a lot of time worrying about what other people think?" As he spoke he advanced upon Chase, pinning him against the desk. "Those have been bugging me all day."
"What?"
"These," House said, rubbing his hand against Chase's thigh. "Those jeans. These are come-fuck-me-jeans."
"Are they?" Chase tried, and failed, to fight back a wide grin.
"Of course they are," House said, laying his cane on the table. "Don't pretend you don't know."
Ten minutes later, he had Chase bent over the desk and begging.
These encounters always seemed to end in Chase begging.
"Please, House...please, God...oh, God, yes, yes, oh please."
"Yes?" House asked, though Chase couldn't tell which name he'd answered to.
"Yes," Chase agreed, letting his head fall onto the desktop, his cheek sticking to the wood as his body moved back and forth.
"Yes, what?" House asked, adding an extra hard little thrust just to get things moving along. Sweat dripped down the pale skin of Chase's back.
"Yes, God, yes, please. Oh, House."
"You know, if you can't concentrate properly," House teased through gritted teeth, "Maybe I should just stop."
Chase felt the cold decals of House's t-shirt against his skin as he was yanked upward. His head lolled back onto House's shoulder.
"No, just, God, please, make me come."
And then there was a mess all over someone's nice wooden desktop and House's low gasp into his ear.
They stayed together a moment, taking deep breaths and feeling their hearts slow from hummingbird speed. House collapsed into a strategically placed office and Chase had to smile, feeling perversely flattered by how set up these 'spontaneous' sex acts were. He grabbed a wad of tissues out of the box on the desktop and quickly disposed of any evidence of their illicit tryst.
House casually picked Chase's jeans off the floor and pulled out the boxer shorts, throwing them to Chase. Chase gratefully pulled on his underwear and extended his hand for his blue jeans.
They didn't arrive.
"House, those are mine."
"Yep." House smiled. It took a little fumbling to get his leg into the pant leg, but he managed as he always did.
Chase didn't get it. "House, those are my jeans, you have the wrong ones."
"Do I?" House tossed him a ball of denim. He caught it offhandedly.
"House, those will be too short.
"Possibly." House stood, buttoning the fly. The jeans weren't too short because they didn't sit on his waist. Instead the waistband clung decadently to his narrow hips, giving him the extra few inches he needed to look presentable. He picked his belt off the floor and threaded it through the loops.
Chase rolled his eyes, deciding the best course of action was, as usual, to humor House. He sat on the desk and shoved his feet into the jeans, then stood.
"See," Chase said, "They don't fit. You're too skinny." He pulled on his dress shirt, now wrinkled from it's time balled at the base of the desk.
House held out his hand and Chase automatically passed him the cane. "It's not my fault you've been downing to many Guinness."
"Guinness is Irish. You mean Fosters. And besides, it's not beer. It's bones. These don't fit." Chase tugged the side of the fly together.
"Should have worn a long t-shirt then."
"Why?" Chase managed before House surged forward and covered his mouth with a strong, silencing kiss.
"Because I want them," House said as he walked away, smirking. The door opened and shut. Chase was alone.
He leaned back on the desk and tugged at the jeans. They didn't fit. Of course they didn't fit. This was a game or a test or God knows what. House had planned this since this morning.
Success. By holding his breath he managed to do the button, but the zipper was a lost cause. He hoped his shirt tails would cover an indiscretions as he walked quickly towards the nearest elevator.
A nurse was inside, smiling and happy to be off duty. She gave him brief, flirty eye contact as he slid onboard.
Chase tried to smile and grimaced. The nurse's grin flickered.
"Floor?" She asked, her polished fingernails hovering over the buttons.
"Lobby."
She obliged, her eyes traveling from the panel to the floor. She giggled.
Chase glanced at his feet. Three inches of trousers covered his tennis shoes.
He rolled his eyes. The elevator dinged and the door slid open. The last shred of gentlemanly rearing he had stopped Chase from shoving the nurse out of the way and running for the door. Instead he waited impatiently for her to leave before he stepped out.
He got about halfway across the lobby, before his cloth covered heels slid out from under him. He fell hard on the tiled floor, his legs tangling underneath him.
"Chase?" Cameron asked, approaching him from the side. "Are you okay?" She extended a delicate hand in assistance. Chase ignored it, clambering to his feet.
"M'fine," Chase mumbled.
A lab coat was draped over Cameron's arm. "This is yours," She said, handing it to him, "you left it in the lab.
Chase pulled it on frantically. "Thanks."
"What's going on?" Cameron asked, her eyebrows raised.
"Huh?"
"Why's House riding you so hard?"
Chase thanked his oft-forgotten God he'd left his keys to jangle in his lab coat, as opposed to tucking them snugly into his now purloined jeans. He withdrew them and spun them casually on one finger.
"No reason," He said, "Just doesn't like me. You know that. Goodnight."
He started to go.
"Chase. Wait!"
Chase tensed, but plastered a smile on and turned back to Cameron.
Cameron squatted to retrieve something from where Chase tumbled. She handed it to him cheerfully. "You dropped your tie."
"Thanks." Chase accepted the bit of fabric and jammed it into his pocket. A quick turn and a slippery run got him outside. Only when the door shut behind him did he allow himself a sigh of relief.
Paranoia, of course. Who would notice a lone doctor leaving a hospital at three a.m. in a pair of ill fitting trousers?
Well, House would.
But surely that was the point.
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