Chase is easy and obedient as House works with the rope, working it into a harness that fits snug against his skin. Not too biting, and not too loose. One of the things that annoys him on occasion is people who tie too loose, admittedly usually out of a sense of concern, but Chase needs to feel it tight. Firm against his skin, being wrapped up and held in the knots that House made. He could feel them through the line. Slow, and then hard, and it keyed him up with this sense of anticipation and then caught his breath all at once.
It was slow, the way that Chase came unraveled. And he did. The more securely the ropes bit into his skin, the more that his walls came down. Chase has always had walls, things he didn't talk about, even when he first started here. This is the only way he knows to let someone take him apart, to be defenseless. He knows it's risky, dangerous around someone like House who always sees too much to begin with, but it's far too late to worry about details like that. Objectively, he knew in the bar that this was a bad decision. He just couldn't help making it.
He lets House move his body as he needs to, and relishes every small touch. Fingertips that pull at his elbow, and the way palms sometimes brush skin as he makes the knots. He can't quite help the murmur when he can just relax into the rope instead of having to hold his hands in place, the knots of the rope taking it instead. His eyes are already dilated, the blues darkening because he wants this. He needs this. He hadn't exaggerated. This was integral to who he was, even if it's been about two years since he's allowed himself to have it, and it shows. His need is a tight, tangible thing.
Chase's breath stutters on his lips as House draws the rope down between his legs, helping to frame the curve of the cheeks of his ass, and then black cord makes a contrast against the blond curls around his cock. Rope attaches to the girdle of rope at his waist, and he shivers, flexes his body a little, just to lean into it a little and then relaxes. It's hard to ignore the fact, but Chase tries, because his cock is already showing interest, despite that spoken insistence that this not be sexual.
But House just claps him on the ass, and Chase doesn't flinch so much as lean into the contact. He hadn't considered it at first, not even when they'd been talking about shibari. He'd assumed he was just looking at ropework, maybe being anchored to the bed while House used the toys he'd bought on his pale ass. He's watching him again, watching as he makes a variation on a classic suspension knot, and he knows. His gaze flicks upward and catches on the hook mounted there. Oh.
There's surprise, but there's also acceptance. This isn't too far, not even approaching it. Chase actually likes shibari suspension, honestly. Skin hooks not so much, but he loves this. Usually there is more than just one person around, and the fact that it's just him and just House gives a different feeling to it, a different energy to the scene. There's a kind of intimacy, a vulnerability. His eyelashes flutter and he looks down toward the floor even as his heart races.
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It was slow, the way that Chase came unraveled. And he did. The more securely the ropes bit into his skin, the more that his walls came down. Chase has always had walls, things he didn't talk about, even when he first started here. This is the only way he knows to let someone take him apart, to be defenseless. He knows it's risky, dangerous around someone like House who always sees too much to begin with, but it's far too late to worry about details like that. Objectively, he knew in the bar that this was a bad decision. He just couldn't help making it.
He lets House move his body as he needs to, and relishes every small touch. Fingertips that pull at his elbow, and the way palms sometimes brush skin as he makes the knots. He can't quite help the murmur when he can just relax into the rope instead of having to hold his hands in place, the knots of the rope taking it instead. His eyes are already dilated, the blues darkening because he wants this. He needs this. He hadn't exaggerated. This was integral to who he was, even if it's been about two years since he's allowed himself to have it, and it shows. His need is a tight, tangible thing.
Chase's breath stutters on his lips as House draws the rope down between his legs, helping to frame the curve of the cheeks of his ass, and then black cord makes a contrast against the blond curls around his cock. Rope attaches to the girdle of rope at his waist, and he shivers, flexes his body a little, just to lean into it a little and then relaxes. It's hard to ignore the fact, but Chase tries, because his cock is already showing interest, despite that spoken insistence that this not be sexual.
But House just claps him on the ass, and Chase doesn't flinch so much as lean into the contact. He hadn't considered it at first, not even when they'd been talking about shibari. He'd assumed he was just looking at ropework, maybe being anchored to the bed while House used the toys he'd bought on his pale ass. He's watching him again, watching as he makes a variation on a classic suspension knot, and he knows. His gaze flicks upward and catches on the hook mounted there. Oh.
There's surprise, but there's also acceptance. This isn't too far, not even approaching it. Chase actually likes shibari suspension, honestly. Skin hooks not so much, but he loves this. Usually there is more than just one person around, and the fact that it's just him and just House gives a different feeling to it, a different energy to the scene. There's a kind of intimacy, a vulnerability. His eyelashes flutter and he looks down toward the floor even as his heart races.