Chase is awkward, his cheeks flushed, because that hadn't been supposed to happen, but it had, and now he's left here standing in the aftermath. He tries to straighten his shoulders and brush it off, because House had already known, hadn't he? That night all those years ago when House had cornered him, tossing sharp, cutting insults and Chase had clutched to them like praise until he'd been back against the wall and House had been too close and he'd pushed too far, and House has always known.
"Yes," he agrees, soft and breathless. And maybe it doesn't quite answer what House said, but it answers the implied question, the way that he's pushing, asking him that question with his eyes. The answer should be no. He should say no for all the reasons that he hadn't scrolled through his cell phone and called one of his old partners, or swung by that club that he liked. Although knowing House had been following him, he's suddenly very glad he didn't. He'd say that House is safer, that with House it's less likely to be sexual, but he's not sure that he believes that.
He swallows, and he slips from his stool at the bar in order to press back into House's personal space. He catches a hand in his shirt, and his hands don't push, but his body, the proximity does. He wants this. He's not sure if it's enough and he swallows, bites his bottom lip softly.
"I want you to hurt me, please," he says softly. It seems important, that he says you, doesn't try to depersonalize it. But doing so makes him feel like he's back against the wall, waiting with a racing heart and parted lips. Waiting for House to lean in and say something ugly.
no subject
"Yes," he agrees, soft and breathless. And maybe it doesn't quite answer what House said, but it answers the implied question, the way that he's pushing, asking him that question with his eyes. The answer should be no. He should say no for all the reasons that he hadn't scrolled through his cell phone and called one of his old partners, or swung by that club that he liked. Although knowing House had been following him, he's suddenly very glad he didn't. He'd say that House is safer, that with House it's less likely to be sexual, but he's not sure that he believes that.
He swallows, and he slips from his stool at the bar in order to press back into House's personal space. He catches a hand in his shirt, and his hands don't push, but his body, the proximity does. He wants this. He's not sure if it's enough and he swallows, bites his bottom lip softly.
"I want you to hurt me, please," he says softly. It seems important, that he says you, doesn't try to depersonalize it. But doing so makes him feel like he's back against the wall, waiting with a racing heart and parted lips. Waiting for House to lean in and say something ugly.