Chase watches softly, looking through blond lashes as House uses his cane to put the ring with the suspension knot onto the hook mounted into his ceiling. He watches as he tests the knot, making sure that it will hold. He likes how good House is at this and how careful. Chase likes being hurt, needs to be hurt, but it's not a reckless thing. He wants to be hurt intentionally, not through mistakes or mishaps. He's all for avoiding the ER, and not having to explain this to anyone else. At least not yet.
He shivers at the touch of House's fingers, the way they brush along bare skin framed in the dark color of the ropes that contrast so nicely against his lily-pale skin. House tugs at the ropes that bind his chest and Chase moves softly, backing up obediently. He stands easily, letting the other man wrap rope around his thigh. He tries to not lean into the touch on his shoulder too much, even though he wants to. But he also doesn't want to make tying him up any harder for House.
He lifts his leg, and House runs it through the ring, pulling it up a little higher than he could quite manage to hold in place. There's a soft sound, that's almost a whine and almost a moan at the simple fact of having House's teeshirt brush against his skin as he works. His entire body is like a live wire, he's on edge, aching, even if he's trying not to admit to it. For Chase, bondage has never in his life not been about sex, and his body knows that even if he's trying to convince it otherwise. It's why he bought the lube, not even really thinking about it.
House's hands are gentle, but strong, confidant. It's a rare mix and Chase finds himself craving it. He needs this, needs him, needs this to be more than once, ridiculous and fucked up as the very thought of it is, but this is too good. It's too much of what he needs. And then comes the moment of trust, when House lifts his other leg up, and his weight is on the ropes, on House's knots, and it's the only thing keeping him from the floor. It catches his breath and he shivers, letting House work until he can lean into the ropes and the way they hold him steady, hold him still. The ropes strip down his walls, but it also makes it feel okay. The knots feel like some strange sense of security. House is taking one of his ankles and starting to tie it to his thigh when the words come out, soft and timid and honest--
"Thank you." They haven't even started, and House is already everything he's always needed. He's known that for years, even if he never understood it, really.
no subject
He shivers at the touch of House's fingers, the way they brush along bare skin framed in the dark color of the ropes that contrast so nicely against his lily-pale skin. House tugs at the ropes that bind his chest and Chase moves softly, backing up obediently. He stands easily, letting the other man wrap rope around his thigh. He tries to not lean into the touch on his shoulder too much, even though he wants to. But he also doesn't want to make tying him up any harder for House.
He lifts his leg, and House runs it through the ring, pulling it up a little higher than he could quite manage to hold in place. There's a soft sound, that's almost a whine and almost a moan at the simple fact of having House's teeshirt brush against his skin as he works. His entire body is like a live wire, he's on edge, aching, even if he's trying not to admit to it. For Chase, bondage has never in his life not been about sex, and his body knows that even if he's trying to convince it otherwise. It's why he bought the lube, not even really thinking about it.
House's hands are gentle, but strong, confidant. It's a rare mix and Chase finds himself craving it. He needs this, needs him, needs this to be more than once, ridiculous and fucked up as the very thought of it is, but this is too good. It's too much of what he needs. And then comes the moment of trust, when House lifts his other leg up, and his weight is on the ropes, on House's knots, and it's the only thing keeping him from the floor. It catches his breath and he shivers, letting House work until he can lean into the ropes and the way they hold him steady, hold him still. The ropes strip down his walls, but it also makes it feel okay. The knots feel like some strange sense of security. House is taking one of his ankles and starting to tie it to his thigh when the words come out, soft and timid and honest--
"Thank you." They haven't even started, and House is already everything he's always needed. He's known that for years, even if he never understood it, really.