He’s glad he took a moment, just paused and took a deep breath. He needs it, the opportunity to steel himself against how unspeakably perfect Chase is right now, a near endless stream of truly obscene sounds and fruitless squirming against the tight black ropes. He’s going to replay this in his mind when he’s alone, he’s sure, all the soft, overwhelmed whining and shaky whimpers and the sight of all that bare and mottled colored skin. House rubs his hand over Chase’s hip without thinking about it, a gentle, soothing gesture, before he catches him again by the hip and moves him back again. He’s the only one with any control, setting the pace, literally taking Chase, and he’s acutely aware of the power inequality of the situation. He knows that Chase wouldn’t be any less willing if he untied him first, any less adamant about this, but right now? Right now, if he were untied, he’d be a puddle on the floor, too overstimulated and in no shape to be fucked. Even as he fights against them, strains to make it easier for House to fuck him, House can tell that these knots are the only things holding him together.
Slowly, so slowly, he sinks inside him, until the hot skin of his ass is pressed against his hips, and he can feel how Chase reacts to that, too, tensing, whimpering… it makes it more intense for the both of them. For House, just the reality of it, the awareness of how much Chase can take and how much he’s willing to give to get what he needs, and for Chase… he can only begin to imagine. The sensation, the overstimulation, the headspace…
He won’t be able to touch him if he wanted to. The way Chase is tied, there’s no easy reach around to cup or grope him as he fucks him, but he’s got a feeling that won’t make much difference in Chase’s enjoyment of this, in how fast he’s going to get off. Maybe it’s actually better. He doesn’t know, he can only think about how perfect he feels and sounds and how he’s reacting. He’s still for as long as he can be, needing to breathe again, but soon it’s clear that Chase is so far gone, so keyed up that giving him time to adjust is only considerate for so long. Then, he’s anxious, needy, desperate for more, so House gives it to him. Pulls back, pushes Chase away, hands on his hips, and then draws him back again. Slow at first, and then faster. The first time their bodies come together with a wet clap of skin against skin actually pulls a shudder from House, and a hard, low groan. So he does it again.
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Slowly, so slowly, he sinks inside him, until the hot skin of his ass is pressed against his hips, and he can feel how Chase reacts to that, too, tensing, whimpering… it makes it more intense for the both of them. For House, just the reality of it, the awareness of how much Chase can take and how much he’s willing to give to get what he needs, and for Chase… he can only begin to imagine. The sensation, the overstimulation, the headspace…
He won’t be able to touch him if he wanted to. The way Chase is tied, there’s no easy reach around to cup or grope him as he fucks him, but he’s got a feeling that won’t make much difference in Chase’s enjoyment of this, in how fast he’s going to get off. Maybe it’s actually better. He doesn’t know, he can only think about how perfect he feels and sounds and how he’s reacting. He’s still for as long as he can be, needing to breathe again, but soon it’s clear that Chase is so far gone, so keyed up that giving him time to adjust is only considerate for so long. Then, he’s anxious, needy, desperate for more, so House gives it to him. Pulls back, pushes Chase away, hands on his hips, and then draws him back again. Slow at first, and then faster. The first time their bodies come together with a wet clap of skin against skin actually pulls a shudder from House, and a hard, low groan. So he does it again.