Chase grins at the reproach, and he lifts an eyebrow. "You going to punish me for having terrible taste in restraints?" That's a tease too, of course, because he doesn't. He has more than a few sets, nice ones in leather and velvet and metal, lined and hard leather, some that lock, some that don't. The pleather pieces of crap in the bag had just been for security. Because he needs the restraints, to be held down and captive. And even as sure as he was that House would have something, he needed to make sure.
He likes how House looks at him, his blue eyes on his pale skin as if House wants to devour him, and he likes that. It's different than Allison, different from how she wants to be adored, to be in control without controlling, and while she regularly strips his clothes fast and insistent, she's never looked at him like this. Never watched his body like he was something valuable, something worth holding on to. It's one of the many little things that Chase has tried not to notice.
And then House takes off his shirt and Chase can't help the way he looks, intent and that flicker of lust in his eyes. House is handsome, even if he doesn't see it in himself, Chase does. He always has. Those blue eyes, the line of his jaw, how he holds himself, the strength in his arms and his chest, how the limp doesn't diminish the weight of his presence. He's not the sun. He's too sharp and too cold, but it doesn't stop Chase from being caught in orbit.
He starts to move at the gesture, but he'd been staring, and it takes him a little too long, until he says it, voice sharp, and Chase moves until he's standing in front of him. His arms at his side, but well within reach for House. His head is slightly bowed, and he hasn't said it, but he's offering him everything. No safe words, and whatever House wants to take from him.
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He likes how House looks at him, his blue eyes on his pale skin as if House wants to devour him, and he likes that. It's different than Allison, different from how she wants to be adored, to be in control without controlling, and while she regularly strips his clothes fast and insistent, she's never looked at him like this. Never watched his body like he was something valuable, something worth holding on to. It's one of the many little things that Chase has tried not to notice.
And then House takes off his shirt and Chase can't help the way he looks, intent and that flicker of lust in his eyes. House is handsome, even if he doesn't see it in himself, Chase does. He always has. Those blue eyes, the line of his jaw, how he holds himself, the strength in his arms and his chest, how the limp doesn't diminish the weight of his presence. He's not the sun. He's too sharp and too cold, but it doesn't stop Chase from being caught in orbit.
He starts to move at the gesture, but he'd been staring, and it takes him a little too long, until he says it, voice sharp, and Chase moves until he's standing in front of him. His arms at his side, but well within reach for House. His head is slightly bowed, and he hasn't said it, but he's offering him everything. No safe words, and whatever House wants to take from him.