Chase whimpers when House pulls back. His pupils dilated and his eyelids heavy and the way he looks at him is wanton, almost pleading, because he wants this, he wants more. He doesn't really know what he's doing, he just knows that he doesn't want to stop. It takes a little for the first statement to register, and by the time that it does, House is trailing fingers through the stray strands of blond hair, and Chase is leaning into the touch with a soft smile, tinged with an awkward kind of eagerness. He doesn't really know how to say. He wants to protest, but instead he nods slowly, leaning in and brushing another sweet kiss briefly against House's lips.

"Okay," he breathes, hot and murmured almost against the man's lips. "I want you," he says, as if it's something that even still needs to be said at this point. But he wants to say it, wants House to hear it, hear that he means it. And maybe that was the difference. That when House looked at him, he believed that he wanted him. With Brett, it had been almost less specific. He wanted someone. This was better, even if it was new and strange and different, and maybe not really a thing at all.

Chase was going to spare him the talk about how he wanted more than just sex, because they both knew that. It's been said, maybe not in specific, but well enough. And maybe he's a little scared that like before it would give House an excuse to try and stop. "Let me get some clothes on," he says softly, nuzzling a little into his jaw before starting to move away.