House ficlet: An Idea (Chase/House, R)
Remember that half an hour when I thought House would be my new fandom? Well, from the depths of the 'back burner' folder, here's a story I apparently wrote and never posted for the Porn Battle. Porn Battle V, that is (January 2008), for the prompt hidden.
Title: An Idea
Pairing: Chase/House
Rating: R
Summary: PWP. Chase shows up at House's door drunk after a hospital benefit. AU, established relationship. 1400 words.
An Idea
Chase showed up at 11:30, hair mussed from the wind, cheeks pink from the cold, but no coat on. He didn't need one. He was always incredibly warm, especially when he had been drinking, and he had been tonight if his very open smile was any indication.
He stood there with his hands tucked into his back pockets, and it almost looked like a pose designed for seduction. Except Chase didn't seduce. He wasn't very good at it, and he didn't have to, anyway; normally, he just had to show up. The fact that he showed up tonight wearing a really nice black suit, slacks sitting perfectly low on his hips and coat cut just for narrow shoulders like his, was enough to make House already feel a little too warm himself, despite the chilly air swirling into his apartment making his bare feet cold.
"You know," House said, leaning into the doorframe and blatantly ogling him, "that fucking suit is almost enough to make me wish I'd gone to that fucking dinner."
Chase grinned, a slow, honest one, and said, "And your filthy mouth is almost enough to make me wish I hadn't."
"Almost?"
"Free bar."
House nodded and pushed himself off the doorframe, leaving the door open for Chase to follow him into the apartment.
Rather than lie back down on the couch, he stood and watched Chase shrug out of his coat and lay it gingerly over the back of a chair.
"How pissed was Cuddy?" House asked.
"As much as she needed to be for show. She didn't look at all surprised that I came alone."
"As if she actually wanted the we're-here-we're-queer contingent there soliciting donors."
Chase chuckled softly in reply, his hands going to his tie, a cool green, and pulling the knot loose but not taking it off. Then he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, and House suddenly found his attention riveted to the man's neck. House could see a t-shirt resting there under the dark gray dress shirt, and while that was puzzling, it wasn't the most interesting thing, really. It was that he was ridiculously clean-shaven, even the light stubble that usually trailed down over his adam's apple by the end of a long shift at the hospital. Clearly, he had shaved that evening, just for the party, and while House missed that stubble and the possibility of the burn of it against his skin, he also enjoyed the novelty of it, tried to imagine the way it might feel while Chase was nuzzling his cheek against his stomach, teasing him a little before he sucked his cock.
Chase looked good, polished and clean and shining but slightly disheveled. It suited him. Bright and strong and put-together, with a hint of mischief and outright obstinacy making him run a hand over his head, smoothing down the flyaway strands before he shook his fingers through it and purposefully displaced it a bit.
Chase leaned back against the counter on his elbows, his movements just a bit more fluid than normal owing to him being slightly tipsy. House's eyes followed the long line of his body from his neck down through his hips and legs. He would like to say he was always in control of himself around Chase, and he could be when it suited him, but he was feeling good and Chase was tipsy enough not to put too much stock in his actions, whether or not he was being appropriately commanding, so he made the decision to let go a little. He crossed the space between them in three steps and leaned his whole body into Chase's, and he found himself quickly enveloped in a pair of eager arms.
House buried his face in the crook of Chase's neck, rubbed his jaw over that ridiculously soft skin just to see him squirm. Chase let his head fall back, giggling to himself, which might've annoyed House if he wasn't suddenly ravenous to get Chase out of his clothes. He continued to kiss and nip at his neck, tasting the cologne there as much as smelling it, but even that was pleasant, as his fingers began to work at the buttons on Chase's shirt.
Somehow, Chase managed to get him to lift his head enough that he could capture his lips with his, although he was doing more with his tongue than his lips. Not that House minded. His fingers were still working at Chase's buttons. By the time he was over halfway done, somewhere long about the middle of Chase's stomach, he slid his hands up under the sides of the shirt and started pushing it off his shoulders. Chase squirmed and finally decided to help with the buttons, and as their hands tangled up between their bodies, House tore his mouth away from the kiss, ready to either grouse at Chase or else laugh at how uncoordinated they were, but he stopped, one palm flat against Chase's stomach and the other now tracing over the lettering on the t-shirt he was wearing under his dress shirt.
House's old, faded black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, to be exact, the one with the nearly-gone gold lettering. He thought maybe he stopped breathing for a second.
"When did…?" House muttered.
"A couple of weeks ago. You haven't missed it?"
House shook his head. "And I never, ever want it back." Chase smirked and raised an eyebrow at him, but House just grabbed him by both sides of the neck and shook his own head as he said, "I have to ask, because it's just possible you're that willfully modest or else actually clueless: do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"
"An idea," he said, face lighting up in a grin. "Yeah."
"Smug little bastard," House murmured, but his hands were smoothing over Chase's chest, undoing those last buttons.
Part of him wanted to rip the shirt right off him and part of him wanted him to never take it off, but undoubtedly the biggest part of him was rather disproportionately turned on by knowing Chase had been wearing the shirt all night to do anything but stand there, slack jawed, and grope him. And seeing Chase standing there wearing the shirt wasn't the hottest thing. It was that Chase had thought ahead, knowing what kind of effect it might have on him. And he'd been in some annoying ballroom all night, being the dutiful employee but meanwhile rubbing at his collar and feeling House's worn cotton and polyester sliding against his skin, thinking about what he'd get when he went to his apartment later.
Chase said between kisses, "You might check below the belt, too."
House dragged him backward until he could sit down on the arm of the couch and steady himself as he pulled Chase toward him and tugged at his belt. When he opened Chase's fly, his voice went deep as he growled out, "You son of a bitch."
Chase immediately stuttered out, "I never meant to take them. I put them on by accident one morning."
"Hey," he said, his head snapping up. "I know my tone is hard to read, and I usually don't translate for you, but I'll make an exception this time: by 'you son of a bitch' I mean 'you are so about to be blown right here in the living room.'"
Chase's body relaxed again, right before it began to contract with need, his hips shifting toward House's hand as it closed around him through the material.
Chase forced back a whimper as he added, "I didn't wash them, either."
House let himself growl again as he pulled the waistband down on that pair of his own faded green boxers, the elastic that sat so snugly against Chase's waist now settling below his balls. He grabbed him by the hips and brought him closer until he could close his lips around Chase's cock, sucking in the head and smiling around it to hear Chase let out a guttural groan. It wouldn't take long; it never did take him long to make Chase come unglued, especially when Chase came for this, for him, for something only he could give him.
~
Title: An Idea
Pairing: Chase/House
Rating: R
Summary: PWP. Chase shows up at House's door drunk after a hospital benefit. AU, established relationship. 1400 words.
An Idea
Chase showed up at 11:30, hair mussed from the wind, cheeks pink from the cold, but no coat on. He didn't need one. He was always incredibly warm, especially when he had been drinking, and he had been tonight if his very open smile was any indication.
He stood there with his hands tucked into his back pockets, and it almost looked like a pose designed for seduction. Except Chase didn't seduce. He wasn't very good at it, and he didn't have to, anyway; normally, he just had to show up. The fact that he showed up tonight wearing a really nice black suit, slacks sitting perfectly low on his hips and coat cut just for narrow shoulders like his, was enough to make House already feel a little too warm himself, despite the chilly air swirling into his apartment making his bare feet cold.
"You know," House said, leaning into the doorframe and blatantly ogling him, "that fucking suit is almost enough to make me wish I'd gone to that fucking dinner."
Chase grinned, a slow, honest one, and said, "And your filthy mouth is almost enough to make me wish I hadn't."
"Almost?"
"Free bar."
House nodded and pushed himself off the doorframe, leaving the door open for Chase to follow him into the apartment.
Rather than lie back down on the couch, he stood and watched Chase shrug out of his coat and lay it gingerly over the back of a chair.
"How pissed was Cuddy?" House asked.
"As much as she needed to be for show. She didn't look at all surprised that I came alone."
"As if she actually wanted the we're-here-we're-queer contingent there soliciting donors."
Chase chuckled softly in reply, his hands going to his tie, a cool green, and pulling the knot loose but not taking it off. Then he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, and House suddenly found his attention riveted to the man's neck. House could see a t-shirt resting there under the dark gray dress shirt, and while that was puzzling, it wasn't the most interesting thing, really. It was that he was ridiculously clean-shaven, even the light stubble that usually trailed down over his adam's apple by the end of a long shift at the hospital. Clearly, he had shaved that evening, just for the party, and while House missed that stubble and the possibility of the burn of it against his skin, he also enjoyed the novelty of it, tried to imagine the way it might feel while Chase was nuzzling his cheek against his stomach, teasing him a little before he sucked his cock.
Chase looked good, polished and clean and shining but slightly disheveled. It suited him. Bright and strong and put-together, with a hint of mischief and outright obstinacy making him run a hand over his head, smoothing down the flyaway strands before he shook his fingers through it and purposefully displaced it a bit.
Chase leaned back against the counter on his elbows, his movements just a bit more fluid than normal owing to him being slightly tipsy. House's eyes followed the long line of his body from his neck down through his hips and legs. He would like to say he was always in control of himself around Chase, and he could be when it suited him, but he was feeling good and Chase was tipsy enough not to put too much stock in his actions, whether or not he was being appropriately commanding, so he made the decision to let go a little. He crossed the space between them in three steps and leaned his whole body into Chase's, and he found himself quickly enveloped in a pair of eager arms.
House buried his face in the crook of Chase's neck, rubbed his jaw over that ridiculously soft skin just to see him squirm. Chase let his head fall back, giggling to himself, which might've annoyed House if he wasn't suddenly ravenous to get Chase out of his clothes. He continued to kiss and nip at his neck, tasting the cologne there as much as smelling it, but even that was pleasant, as his fingers began to work at the buttons on Chase's shirt.
Somehow, Chase managed to get him to lift his head enough that he could capture his lips with his, although he was doing more with his tongue than his lips. Not that House minded. His fingers were still working at Chase's buttons. By the time he was over halfway done, somewhere long about the middle of Chase's stomach, he slid his hands up under the sides of the shirt and started pushing it off his shoulders. Chase squirmed and finally decided to help with the buttons, and as their hands tangled up between their bodies, House tore his mouth away from the kiss, ready to either grouse at Chase or else laugh at how uncoordinated they were, but he stopped, one palm flat against Chase's stomach and the other now tracing over the lettering on the t-shirt he was wearing under his dress shirt.
House's old, faded black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, to be exact, the one with the nearly-gone gold lettering. He thought maybe he stopped breathing for a second.
"When did…?" House muttered.
"A couple of weeks ago. You haven't missed it?"
House shook his head. "And I never, ever want it back." Chase smirked and raised an eyebrow at him, but House just grabbed him by both sides of the neck and shook his own head as he said, "I have to ask, because it's just possible you're that willfully modest or else actually clueless: do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?"
"An idea," he said, face lighting up in a grin. "Yeah."
"Smug little bastard," House murmured, but his hands were smoothing over Chase's chest, undoing those last buttons.
Part of him wanted to rip the shirt right off him and part of him wanted him to never take it off, but undoubtedly the biggest part of him was rather disproportionately turned on by knowing Chase had been wearing the shirt all night to do anything but stand there, slack jawed, and grope him. And seeing Chase standing there wearing the shirt wasn't the hottest thing. It was that Chase had thought ahead, knowing what kind of effect it might have on him. And he'd been in some annoying ballroom all night, being the dutiful employee but meanwhile rubbing at his collar and feeling House's worn cotton and polyester sliding against his skin, thinking about what he'd get when he went to his apartment later.
Chase said between kisses, "You might check below the belt, too."
House dragged him backward until he could sit down on the arm of the couch and steady himself as he pulled Chase toward him and tugged at his belt. When he opened Chase's fly, his voice went deep as he growled out, "You son of a bitch."
Chase immediately stuttered out, "I never meant to take them. I put them on by accident one morning."
"Hey," he said, his head snapping up. "I know my tone is hard to read, and I usually don't translate for you, but I'll make an exception this time: by 'you son of a bitch' I mean 'you are so about to be blown right here in the living room.'"
Chase's body relaxed again, right before it began to contract with need, his hips shifting toward House's hand as it closed around him through the material.
Chase forced back a whimper as he added, "I didn't wash them, either."
House let himself growl again as he pulled the waistband down on that pair of his own faded green boxers, the elastic that sat so snugly against Chase's waist now settling below his balls. He grabbed him by the hips and brought him closer until he could close his lips around Chase's cock, sucking in the head and smiling around it to hear Chase let out a guttural groan. It wouldn't take long; it never did take him long to make Chase come unglued, especially when Chase came for this, for him, for something only he could give him.
~