The corridors of the hospital were blessedly deserted as doctor Chase walked briskly toward the Diagnostic Medicine lounge, his belongings and the solid mirage of his bed.
A couple of corners, a nurse’s desk...
He lifted his eyes just in time to rush and catch House stumbling and nearly fall flat on his face.
The moment he was sure the other was acceptably stable, he stepped back.
- What happened? -, he asked, hands on his hips, annoyed at the interruption toward his rest.
It was useless. House stayed quiet, back against the wall for support and eyes closed, tight. A clear sign of his exhaustion. Then a whispered, - I slipped. Damn wet floor.-
Chase snorted. His boss despised help of any form, but it was obvious he needed it.
House sighed and waited motionless, until he was sure Chase had gone. He needed a few more moments and he was sure he would be fine.
He was diverted from the contemplation of his misery by the sound of wheels on the floor. He opened his eyes and glared hatefully at...
A red fluffy chair with armrests and five wheels.
- Are you nuts? -, he asked in disbelief.
Chase remained silent for a moment and glared. – Yes, I am and you can’t stand on your own. Now sit. - And there was a tired edge in his voice that matched that in House’s.
No one was around, so there was no point in arguing without witnesses that could embarrass Chase.
That was the thought that appeased House’s inner voice as he took his seat and let his duckling wheel him to his office.
Chase stopped just outside the door and remained still and watchful as House, with narrowed eyes, limped inside and sat carefully, but heavily on his armchair.
He left the red fluffy thing just around the corner and went back to check on House.
- Do you need anything? – His voice was low, a whisper, intended not to break the stillness in the air, and not to startle the other doctor.
- Side cabinet. Black label. – House said without even opening his eyes.
Chase went and retrieved a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a glass. He poured a drink and offered it to House. He drained it in one gulp and nearly choked, but survived. Chase glared, took back the bottle and left to get his things and finally go home. But to his irritation he could not forget House’s pain.
He silently opened the office door and waited. House was breathing ruggedly, drained of any energy.
- Come on, - House turned his head towards him, - I’ll drive you home. -
The silent handing of car keys and the slow walk to the lift didn’t scare Chase in the least. No way.
House sat with his eyes closed, listening to the engine purr under Chase drive. It was fluid, soft and got him relaxed in no time. Not even Wilson was able to drive his ‘Vette like that. It didn’t even surprise him that the boy knew where he lived without ever being there, but it pleased him. Both thoughts made him smile, even if he didn’t know why.
Chase parked the car where instructed and got out. He looked around and then sighed exasperated.
- Don’t tell me you don’t have a lift... -
House leant on the car for support and to catch his breath and glared irritably.
- Of course I have a lift, you moron. -
Chase lifted his eyes heavenward. Once he found the lift, he pressed the call button and waited for his boss.
They made the trip in complete silence, House with his back against the wall, Chase with his hands in his pockets, both without questioning why Chase was still there.
At the apartment’s door, House fumbled with the keys, hands trembling with exhaustion. Slowly, Chase took them from his fingers and ushered them inside.
House was breathing heavily, eyes shut, surely ashamed of his clear display of need in front of one of his ducklings, Chase thought bitterly. He took off his jacket and put it with his bag on the sofa. He waited for a word, a gesture from the other man and when it didn’t come, he broke the silence.
- You better head for bed. -
The words registered in House’s brain as he opened his eyes and regarded his leather couch with longing. But Chase, heaven helped him, was right. No point in doing double work to go to bed afterwards. So he limped down the corridor and into his bedroom, closely followed. He turned around, definitely too fast, only to get caught and steadied again. He gritted his teeth and growled: - What the hell are you still doing here? –
Chase didn’t loose his calm and simply said, sarcasm dripping from his lips: - Wouldn’t want you to trip and fall flat on your face and maybe break your neck. My life would be sooo boring then. Don’t you think? -
Then he proceeded to strip him of the jacket, make him sit on the bed to take off shoes and socks, and before ending with the cane broken in half on his head, he stepped back and went in the bathroom instead. When he emerged, he had a bottle in hand and a wicked gleam in his eyes.
- What do you think you’re doing? – House asked angry.
The Vicodin was taking a hell of a long time to do its magic and that threw his sunny personality out of the window.
He eyed Chase, then the bottle, then the smirk and tried to sit on the bed, stand and eventually making him join his personality on the concrete, four floors down.
Chase had other ideas.
He left the bottle of lotion on the bedside table, kneeled on the bed, straddled House’s right thigh and got his tie out of the way. He pushed a shocked doctor down on the bed, took back the bottle, poured a generous amount of lotion on his hands and begun his massage.
Instantly House closed his eyes and fisted his hands in the sheets.
Chase followed the web of scars and soft skin, feeling the muscle twitch and tremble, and finally relax, against its will, he was sure.
His patient was completely still, breathing rugged, trying to resist the effect his hands were having.
At the beginning, pain flared along the leg, pooling in his stomach, making him nauseous. Then, as the movements took on a regular pattern, the lotion and the warmth that radiated from Chase’s hands eased all discomfort, leaving House exhausted and strangely wired. With it came back his walls and he tried to push Chase away, from his scars, his flaws, the desire awakened by those intimate touches and that care.
But Chase wouldn’t have none of it.
He took the wrists, firmly bound them with his tie and tied the cloth to the headboard.
House remained thunderstruck for a moment, then got a little wild.
- Let me go this instant, you idiot! –
He shouted and glared, while Chase smirked. The moment those damn fingers traced his thigh again, he shut up and moaned, blushing from shame and need.
- It seems to me you have a slight problem and it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry. Let me help. -
House glared from half closed eyes and watched, with a mixture of fear and anticipation as Chase took hold of the waistband of his boxers and slid them down, freeing his erection.
The boy smiled, slow and easy, and took the first bite. House nearly screamed.
- Perfect size... tastes good too. -
Chase voice and breath caressed his cock and made him even more hard, while his hands kept up those maddening touches on his damaged thigh. He licked and sucked, taking the task at heart and giving all his attention to the hard cock in his mouth.
House forced himself to be silent in order to show how contrary he was to all that was happening. But then again those hands started to trace his skin, delicately, softly, still warm and pleasantly oily from the lotion. They skimmed his navel and caressed his traitorous muscles. Chase shifted upwards and deep throated him to give his fingers the chance to reach House’s nipples under his shirt.
A moan escaped, he could no longer control himself and grabbed tie and slat of the headboard trying to regain a measure of equilibrium. Then Chase stopped.
House instantly opened his eyes, on his lips were ready angry and hateful words, while he tried to rein in his tears at feeling used. Chase movements prevented him from uttering them.
His duckling, lips swollen from the blow job and eyes bright, got off the bed and started undressing, leaving House speechless and even more aroused as clothes disappeared and skin was revealed, smooth and golden. But as he was naked, Chase regarded his boss with a frown. He disappeared in the bathroom for a few seconds and came out with a winning smile and a pair of beard scissors.
House waited to know what the hell he was going to do with them until Chase took hold of the hem of his shirt and cut.
- Hey, stop it! – And his voice didn’t shook with lust as he said that, no sir. Thank you, sir.
Chase smiled, angelically.
Shirt out of the way, the boy could go back to the main event. Again he congratulated himself for the lotion, very useful.
He poured some on his fingers and kept his eyes firmly on House while he stretched himself.
House trembled and tried to free his hands. The need to touch his boy was overwhelming, but he couldn’t so he growled: - Chase, untie me. –
The boy had the nerve to smirk and shake his head. After a particular twist of his fingers, he threw his head back and arched, moaning House’s name.
- Greg... -
House swore. Then stilled as Chase begun to slide down and take him inside. Both had to close their eyes and try to go slow.
As he sat on Greg’s thigh, Chase let his arms fall at his sides and reached again for those scars and skin that were so soft. His boss twitched and used his good leg to push up a bit, pulling a sob from him and effectively getting him started.
Their movements were a bit clumsy at first, then they found a rhythm and Chase couldn’t keep silent anymore. He moaned and rested his hands on Greg’s chest.
House was restless, a set of uncoordinated movements that went against the smooth flow of their bodies together, but that tried to get his hands free, get more inside his boy, taste him. A fever was possessing him and he arched toward Chase gritting his teeth. His duckling seemed to understand his need and, even if he didn’t untie him, he bent down and licked his nipples, getting a moan in reward.
It seemed every part of Chase was trying to caress House: his thighs were moving alongside his, his innermost place was hot and tight around him, his fingertips skimmed his hips, his tongue, lips, teeth were biting and sucking his nipples.
Too much, it was too much and not enough, but before he could moan his displeasure, his boy’s lips reached his and everything coalesced and exploded. His heart skipped a beat as he tried to remember how to breathe.
Chase sobbed quietly and Greg opened his eyes in time to see him reach his climax and come in his hand with a whispered: - Greg... –
He slumped forward, supporting his weight on his left arm and brought his right hand, wet with his come, above House’s open mouth to let several drops fall on his tongue. House swallowed and his hips jerked half heartedly. Chase dried the rest on the remains of House’s shirt and collapsed on him, freeing his hands at the last moment.
Greg arms went stiffly around his duckling.
- Robert... – The name was just a sigh, but said everything he needed to tell him. He rolled and covered them both, keeping his boy snuggled against his side and breathed in his scent.
He was relaxed, pleasantly sleepy and his leg was warm and silent for a change. A hand slipped slowly down the back of his thigh and he smiled, content.