Chase is fucking adorable - not that he's prepared to admit that to him. It's fairly obvious, anyway, with the way he's looking at him, the way he's acting with him. He's not like this, and truthfully this should be a red flag, because things are only good for so long before they turn bad, because nothing lasts. He's not thinking about that now, though, not with Chase laying beneath him, squirming to help get out of his clothes. While he's still kneeling over him, his hands fall to his waist, undoing the button and zipper and he's tugging them down his hips as he shifts beneath him.

"Do you, really?" he asks as he brings one of Chase's long legs up and tugs his jeans down, the other leg brought up with the first so he can free him of his jeans, tossing them off somewhere behind them, and he hadn't taken the liberty of stealing his underwear at the same time, because he wants to see them on him again. He wants to see him laid out on his bed in that lacy slip of black.

"I'd never have guessed..." he murmurs, hands sliding up Chase's smooth calves and thighs, brushing past his lace clad hips as he lets his legs go, and moves back over him, leaning down to steal another kiss and let Chase's hands roam as they please.