He knows how much House likes solving his puzzles, he knows how much he likes power. But Chase likes giving power away, and he likes that glow that he gets about him, that look in his blue eyes when he sees the pattern, how things fall together. He shouldn't have said please, in an objective, dealing-with-House sense, but he's on the edge of that place where he can't help it. Please is substituted for titles like Sir and Professor, depending on the particular kink.
House smiles, and Chase knows that he's in trouble. But that's what he wants. He wants this dangerous, wants someone who isn't going to lecture him about safe sane and consensual or judge him for him inability to have a safe word. At least like this, tonight, right now. Looking into House's eyes, he thinks the other man already knows that. It's ridiculous, the feeling that surges in him when House says since you asked so nicely. It's ridiculous, because Chase knows there's an invisible clause there.
There's an if or a however; something trailing with contingencies. But Chase can't bring himself to worry too much, not with House's eyes on him, stripping him with the heat of his gaze and he swallows hard, wide-eyed, softer than he's allowed himself to be around House in at least three years, maybe longer. He pulls Chase's hand from his shirt, but briefly tightens his fingers around his wrist like an echo of restraint. He knows, in a vague sort of way, that House covered his tab, but it's hardly a concern.
House doesn't need that look to make Chase follow, but it commands obedience, and Chase likes that. He likes how House seems so easily to step into this, like he knows exactly what Chase is offering and asking, and Chase quietly thinks that maybe he does. It's not like it's much of a stretch.
The autumn night is warm for New Jersey, the days just starting to cool, and it makes how flushed Chase is more obvious. He suspects it's less about the alcohol and more about House. There are a half dozen questions he wants to ask, but he doesn't. He's quiet, soft. This had always been part of who he was, but never the entirety.
no subject
He knows how much House likes solving his puzzles, he knows how much he likes power. But Chase likes giving power away, and he likes that glow that he gets about him, that look in his blue eyes when he sees the pattern, how things fall together. He shouldn't have said please, in an objective, dealing-with-House sense, but he's on the edge of that place where he can't help it. Please is substituted for titles like Sir and Professor, depending on the particular kink.
House smiles, and Chase knows that he's in trouble. But that's what he wants. He wants this dangerous, wants someone who isn't going to lecture him about safe sane and consensual or judge him for him inability to have a safe word. At least like this, tonight, right now. Looking into House's eyes, he thinks the other man already knows that. It's ridiculous, the feeling that surges in him when House says since you asked so nicely. It's ridiculous, because Chase knows there's an invisible clause there.
There's an if or a however; something trailing with contingencies. But Chase can't bring himself to worry too much, not with House's eyes on him, stripping him with the heat of his gaze and he swallows hard, wide-eyed, softer than he's allowed himself to be around House in at least three years, maybe longer. He pulls Chase's hand from his shirt, but briefly tightens his fingers around his wrist like an echo of restraint. He knows, in a vague sort of way, that House covered his tab, but it's hardly a concern.
House doesn't need that look to make Chase follow, but it commands obedience, and Chase likes that. He likes how House seems so easily to step into this, like he knows exactly what Chase is offering and asking, and Chase quietly thinks that maybe he does. It's not like it's much of a stretch.
The autumn night is warm for New Jersey, the days just starting to cool, and it makes how flushed Chase is more obvious. He suspects it's less about the alcohol and more about House. There are a half dozen questions he wants to ask, but he doesn't. He's quiet, soft. This had always been part of who he was, but never the entirety.