May. 5th, 2006 06:00 pm
Title: Ante Up
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lovely_ambitionTitle: Ante Up
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing: House/Chase
Prompt: Spade
Word Count: 1000
Rating: R
Author's Notes: House invites Chase over for poker and the stakes are quickly raised, even though everyone else has gone home.
The poker chips were spilled on the table amongst five hands of cards, their faces on display to the whole world. Chase had three beer bottles in each hand, handing each off to House in the kitchen. "You knew you'd trounce me," Chase accused. He'd brought $80 with him. He was leaving with nothing.
"Your crappy poker face is your own business," House said passively.
Chase wandered back out to the living room, fidgeting with his tie. Next time, he'd at least go home and change. He began piling the chips into neat and even stacks, some subconscious need to be OCD flaring up. He glanced over his shoulder to see House standing -- lurking, really -- in the doorway.
"Where was Wilson?" Chase asked curiously.
"His girlfriend's," House said derisively. "Probably having sex."
Too bad, Chase thought. Could use some of that here.
Chase packed the chips away in their case, sliding off his suit jacket and draping it over one of the chairs, the material of his shirt stretching across his back as he cleaned up. Another glance back showed House just standing there, just watching. Chase turned back around, hearing the wooden floor creak with movement and his cheeks flushed slightly as he realized what that meant. House was moving closer and Chase's mind was still stuck on sex. He didn't dare look back at House, just leaned forward over the edge of the table to collect the cards.
The hand tugging at the waistband of his trousers was a bit of a surprise. Chase's breath caught in his throat as warm fingers slowly crept up under his untucked shirt, tracing up the path of his spine. Chase unconsciously leaned a bit forward against the edge of the table, his growing arousal rubbing against the piece of furniture.
And then there was House's other hand, clasping him firmly by the hip and reaching forward, stroking Chase's cock through the fabric without hesitation. Chase moaned at that, unable to help it. He could feel House's warm breath against his skin, creating small damp spots against his ear. He could smell the faint waft of beer on his breath. "Turn," House ordered and Chase did, shirt disheveled and his eyes half-lidded.
With barely an encouraging touch, Chase eased himself atop the table – facing House -- hands settling on the material as he leaned backwards, then forward, fingers working his trousers open, letting them fall down around his hipbones. He must have looked wanton and when House leaned forward to kiss him (one hand on the table for support), Chase sighted the mirror over House's shoulder. About-to-be-well-fucked would be the proper term for how he looked.
House gripped the table with both hands, forfeiting the cane to the ground and kicking it slightly out of the way.
Chase could easily see where this was going and slowly eased off his own trousers -- watching them become a puddle of fabric on the floor -- and he tossed his tie off behind him, managing to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but not succeeding in getting it off. His hands then turned to House, getting his jeans loosened.
House met Chase's eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Chase agreed, his voice thick. His fingers rested atop House's and together they pushed Chase's boxers down, gliding over warm skin and sending shivers down Chase's spine.
Chase watched their reflections, eyes on House's back as he bent over, digging out a condom from the pocket of his jeans and pressing it firmly into Chase's palm, a very clear sign of what Chase was expected to do. Chase never took his eyes off of House as he ripped open the wrapper, sliding House's jeans and boxers off completely and sliding the condom onto House's cock, parting his own thighs wider, his erection jutting upwards, but he didn't touch it. Not yet. No lube, but then, working for House was a pain; why shouldn’t sleeping with him be any less painful?
House seemed to approve, because he leaned in, dragging his teeth against Chase's neck and growled a quiet, "Good."
Chase let out a cry of a moan at that, thighs parting like the Red Sea and he watched the mirror as House slowly slid in, clasping the edge of the table with both hands to keep himself vertical. Chase wrapped an arm around House's hips to help, to hitch him closer. Chase’s other arm remained on the table, nearly slipping on discarded cards. He was leaning back slightly, panting hard as House rested just inside him; his hips arched into the air, the mirror reflecting himself utterly open for House.
"House," Chase choked out desperately. "Please."
"Finally, he begs," House said dryly, pushing in. Chase couldn't tell if he'd done this before or if, in fact, House really was just good at everything. Chase faltered slightly at the contact after so much wanting and let out a shaky sound, hissing House's name.
The sex was clumsy, quick, and rough, but it worked.
House climaxed first, kissing Chase so hard that his whole body had to first absorb the force before he could even think about pushing back. Chase began stroking himself then, when House was too distracted with kissing him. Just one minute at his heightened state of arousal was all it took and he collapsed back on the table with a sharp sigh of content, his climax rushing through his body.
House eased out slowly with a sharp exhalation, grasping the table hard while he picked up his cane and limped into the kitchen, fumbling to do up his pants as he did. He threw a cloth at Chase while turning on the tap.
"You had a flush," House called out to him, telling Chase one of the hands that had laid beneath them on the table. "Definitely not straight."
Chase couldn't help but grin at that, redressing lazily and throwing the cloth into the laundry when he was through cleaning up. "See you tomorrow," he said, voice heavy with sated desires.
He let himself out, affording just one last glance back to the upturned cards on the table, the Jester seemingly sharing Chase’s bemusement over the whole evening.
THE END
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing: House/Chase
Prompt: Spade
Word Count: 1000
Rating: R
Author's Notes: House invites Chase over for poker and the stakes are quickly raised, even though everyone else has gone home.
The poker chips were spilled on the table amongst five hands of cards, their faces on display to the whole world. Chase had three beer bottles in each hand, handing each off to House in the kitchen. "You knew you'd trounce me," Chase accused. He'd brought $80 with him. He was leaving with nothing.
"Your crappy poker face is your own business," House said passively.
Chase wandered back out to the living room, fidgeting with his tie. Next time, he'd at least go home and change. He began piling the chips into neat and even stacks, some subconscious need to be OCD flaring up. He glanced over his shoulder to see House standing -- lurking, really -- in the doorway.
"Where was Wilson?" Chase asked curiously.
"His girlfriend's," House said derisively. "Probably having sex."
Too bad, Chase thought. Could use some of that here.
Chase packed the chips away in their case, sliding off his suit jacket and draping it over one of the chairs, the material of his shirt stretching across his back as he cleaned up. Another glance back showed House just standing there, just watching. Chase turned back around, hearing the wooden floor creak with movement and his cheeks flushed slightly as he realized what that meant. House was moving closer and Chase's mind was still stuck on sex. He didn't dare look back at House, just leaned forward over the edge of the table to collect the cards.
The hand tugging at the waistband of his trousers was a bit of a surprise. Chase's breath caught in his throat as warm fingers slowly crept up under his untucked shirt, tracing up the path of his spine. Chase unconsciously leaned a bit forward against the edge of the table, his growing arousal rubbing against the piece of furniture.
And then there was House's other hand, clasping him firmly by the hip and reaching forward, stroking Chase's cock through the fabric without hesitation. Chase moaned at that, unable to help it. He could feel House's warm breath against his skin, creating small damp spots against his ear. He could smell the faint waft of beer on his breath. "Turn," House ordered and Chase did, shirt disheveled and his eyes half-lidded.
With barely an encouraging touch, Chase eased himself atop the table – facing House -- hands settling on the material as he leaned backwards, then forward, fingers working his trousers open, letting them fall down around his hipbones. He must have looked wanton and when House leaned forward to kiss him (one hand on the table for support), Chase sighted the mirror over House's shoulder. About-to-be-well-fucked would be the proper term for how he looked.
House gripped the table with both hands, forfeiting the cane to the ground and kicking it slightly out of the way.
Chase could easily see where this was going and slowly eased off his own trousers -- watching them become a puddle of fabric on the floor -- and he tossed his tie off behind him, managing to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but not succeeding in getting it off. His hands then turned to House, getting his jeans loosened.
House met Chase's eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Chase agreed, his voice thick. His fingers rested atop House's and together they pushed Chase's boxers down, gliding over warm skin and sending shivers down Chase's spine.
Chase watched their reflections, eyes on House's back as he bent over, digging out a condom from the pocket of his jeans and pressing it firmly into Chase's palm, a very clear sign of what Chase was expected to do. Chase never took his eyes off of House as he ripped open the wrapper, sliding House's jeans and boxers off completely and sliding the condom onto House's cock, parting his own thighs wider, his erection jutting upwards, but he didn't touch it. Not yet. No lube, but then, working for House was a pain; why shouldn’t sleeping with him be any less painful?
House seemed to approve, because he leaned in, dragging his teeth against Chase's neck and growled a quiet, "Good."
Chase let out a cry of a moan at that, thighs parting like the Red Sea and he watched the mirror as House slowly slid in, clasping the edge of the table with both hands to keep himself vertical. Chase wrapped an arm around House's hips to help, to hitch him closer. Chase’s other arm remained on the table, nearly slipping on discarded cards. He was leaning back slightly, panting hard as House rested just inside him; his hips arched into the air, the mirror reflecting himself utterly open for House.
"House," Chase choked out desperately. "Please."
"Finally, he begs," House said dryly, pushing in. Chase couldn't tell if he'd done this before or if, in fact, House really was just good at everything. Chase faltered slightly at the contact after so much wanting and let out a shaky sound, hissing House's name.
The sex was clumsy, quick, and rough, but it worked.
House climaxed first, kissing Chase so hard that his whole body had to first absorb the force before he could even think about pushing back. Chase began stroking himself then, when House was too distracted with kissing him. Just one minute at his heightened state of arousal was all it took and he collapsed back on the table with a sharp sigh of content, his climax rushing through his body.
House eased out slowly with a sharp exhalation, grasping the table hard while he picked up his cane and limped into the kitchen, fumbling to do up his pants as he did. He threw a cloth at Chase while turning on the tap.
"You had a flush," House called out to him, telling Chase one of the hands that had laid beneath them on the table. "Definitely not straight."
Chase couldn't help but grin at that, redressing lazily and throwing the cloth into the laundry when he was through cleaning up. "See you tomorrow," he said, voice heavy with sated desires.
He let himself out, affording just one last glance back to the upturned cards on the table, the Jester seemingly sharing Chase’s bemusement over the whole evening.
THE END
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