"Y-yes," Chase answers, helpless, like he doesn't know how not to react, how to not bend to the rasp of House's voice against his ear. He shakes at the feel of it, the heat, and he can hear that smile. His breath stutters, a sharp whine as his hand rubs up between his legs, against his hard cock, the man's other hand still tight on his hips, making it so his ass rocked back into him. He should stop this, say no, but he can't manage it. Brett has tried to grope him, get him into the mood, get him into sex, but it's never been like this, never taken him apart so all he can do is ache for it.

Chase flushes, and he betrays it in how he drops his head to the side slightly. There's a tremor that runs through him when House says he's either a virgin or a slut. And when he says he can't be a virgin, Chase honestly wants to sell it, make him believe it, but the truth is that he's as bad at it as he was at selling Odile's seduction and guile. There's something about how he moves, reacts, that says inexperienced more than greedy.

"You say slut like it's a bad thing," he murmurs, moaning hot and helpless as his hips start to jerk toward House's hand over his cock.