Chase grins, beaming with warmth as House kisses him on the cheek. Chase doesn't want just anyone. He couldn't articulate it, explain it, which was why he'd been so weird and quiet the past several days, but he wanted House. He hadn't wanted Brett, he wanted this, wanted him. There was just something about him. A sharpness in his eyes, a rhythm in how he moved, the wit of his sharp tongue. Chase had actually had a bit of a crush on House for a while. Then they'd danced together... how do you come back from that?

Chase slowly, carefully, climbs down so that he's standing on the floor. His toe shoes come off, then his tights, and there's a wicked smile over his shoulder as he stands there for a moment mostly naked. Then he's moving over to his bag, and his underwear are every bit as risque as they had been the last time, except this time they're black. Low on his hips, edged in lace, and high and tight against his ass, and he's a little stiff, a soft whine as he pulls them on, the black lace a sharp contrast against the deep pink-red color of his skin. Then it's skinny jeans, and his black converse, and he's putting everything else in his bag.

His main concern here, is getting out fast. He just wants to be at House's apartment, wants to be naked again and feel House's hands on him. He wants him to fuck him, even if the thought still makes him a little jittery with that mix of nerves and anticipation.