It sparks a noise halfway between a moan and a whimper as House gropes at his ass through his tight jeans, but Chase still leans into the touch, into the contact, even as it burns. It sends a thrill through him, he feels almost light headed, high on the feeling of it, of having House touching him, wanting him like this. He kisses him with a sort of passionate abandon, like he's giving everything he has, falling into it.

When the kiss breaks, Chase steals a soft kiss at the end of that statement about the couch, and there's a wicked glint in his eyes, a warmth that makes them seem to sparkle in the dim light as he presses off against the floor and lets both of his legs wrap around House's waist as his hands cling to his shoulders.

"Why don't you show me your bedroom," Chase suggests softly, and then he steals another kiss. There's intent there. He wants House, wants him to fuck him, and he wants to share the bed with him, and maybe he's hoping for too much, but he can't help it.