Payback's a Bitch
Author: starhawk2005
Summary: PWP. Chase wants House to forgive him for his betrayal during the Reign of Vogler.
Disclaimer: Don't own either of these very pretty boys. Durn.
Author's Notes: Spoilery for Season One of House, particularly the Vogler arc.
House leaned back into his couch cushions, watching The O.C. on his TiVo and listening to the rain fall outside. He winced, stretching out his bad leg and propping it on the coffee table. It wasn't quite time yet to enlist the help of his good pal Vicodin.
A sudden knock at the door startled him. What now? he groused to himself. Wilson, in need of a place to stay, because Julie had finally thrown his ass the Hell out? Cameron, come to extort another date out of him?
Another knock sounded. He muted the TV, and groaned under his breath as he grabbed his cane and shoved himself to his feet.
When he looked out the peephole, however, he got a surprise. It wasn't Wilson or Cameron; instead, it was a certain turncoat wombat, looking both dampened by rain and fairly determined.
House debated for a moment whether or not to just pretend he wasn't home. Let Goldilocks stand in the rain until he got bored. Or washed away.
But he decided this would probably be more entertaining than even the O.C.. So he opened the door, putting on his best 'Angry Face', hamming up the irritation he already felt. "What?" he asked brusquely, glaring sharply at the other man.
"House. Can we talk?" Chase looked nervous. Oh yes, much more entertaining, House thought, restraining an evil grin.
"Aren't we talking now?" House asked, harsh and low.
Chase rolled his eyes. "Talk inside, House."
"I'm kind of busy," House snarled at him, secretly enjoying watching Aussie-Boy squirm. Hey, the little shit deserved it. Maybe he'd even catch a nice cold into the bargain, standing out there in the rain. "Pressing appointment with my T.V. I don't like to keep her waiting."
"I…won't take much of your time." Chase pressed, starting to look anxious and desperate.
House let him wait for several long moments, eventually snapping: "Fine. Come in."
He backed up, and started to hobble back into his den area, without waiting to see what Chase would do. It didn't take long, before he heard the door closing behind him.
When he reached his couch, House turned to face his visitor, leaning back against the armrest. "So. To what do I owe the bother of your visit?" he started, glaring at the other man.
Chase, busy dripping rainwater all over the floor, got this very determined look on his face, and House had to fight to keep from laughing outright at him. "What do I have to do, to get our working relationship back to what it was, before the whole business with Vogler? To get you to trust me again?"
"What?" House asked mockingly. "I thought you enjoyed being tormented, little masochist that you are. I thought my little verbal barbs were 'floating your boat'. 'Getting your juices flowing'. 'Putting some starch in your stiffy'." He ran his gaze over the other man's body, slow and lecherous, trying to make him even more uncomfortable, if he could. Just for kicks. But Chase was too intent on his purpose to be bothered by that. In fact, Aussie-Doc was starting to look rather annoyed. House decided he'd have to fix that, soon. "Boy, was I wrong about you." House finished, his tone contemptuous.
"No. I don't enjoy being humiliated in front of the other staff members." Chase shot back. Oh yes, let the revels commence, House thought delightedly to himself.
"No? That's too bad. And here I had all my little repartee between us planned out for months. All those pearls of wisdom and wit, and all for nothing." House stared disdainfully at the other doctor.
Chase, now clearly more annoyed than nervous, was obviously trying to get back to the matter that had brought him here in the first place. "What do I have to do, to fix things between us?" And he licked his lips.
It was nothing more than a nervous gesture, surely, but that tiny little sign set off a whole powderkeg of evil ideas in House's mind. 'What do I have to do', huh? he thought. I wonder. "I don't know. What are you willing to do?" House glared, trying to intimidate.
"Anything you want." Chase replied, not meeting his gaze.
There. Chase had licked his lips again, by God. Interesting. "Anything?"
Wombat-Boy was looking very determinedly at the floor. "Yeah."
House paused, considering. And drawing out the agony of waiting, at least on Chase's end. How far could he push his most floppy-haired Duckling? How much 'payback' could be demanded, before Mr. Wombat cried foul, and turned tail and ran? Only one way to find out. Besides, House knew himself to be a master at pushing people. He could do this in his sleep.
"Very well, Chase. You do what I say, and once you leave here, we'll 'wipe the whiteboard clean'. Start over. But you have to do everything that I say, right now." He resisted the urge to chuckle evilly, keeping his voice low and harsh. But also amused.
Chase glanced quickly up from the floor at him, and then back down. "Fine. Tell me what you want."
"Right now, I want to see what your clothes look like on my floor. All of them." Now House did allow himself to laugh softly, low and evil and pleased.
Blondie just stood there. Shocked, and yet…he also looked like he wasn't all that surprised.
"Hurry up. I've always wanted to know if you were a 'bottle blond' or not."
Chase started, slowly, to remove his jacket. "Looking at the colour of my pubic hair isn't going to tell you-"
"Shut up." Harsh and cold, with a dash of mockery.
House stood there, shifting his weight from cane to good leg and back again, slowly ogling Chase from head to toe as the younger man shed his pink (Ugh) dress shirt, the undershirt underneath, and, far more slowly and reluctantly, his khaki-coloured trousers.
Not bad, not bad at all, he thought, feeling himself stir in his jeans already. Good muscle tone. Bet his milkshake brings all the girls and boys to the yard. And yet, his visitor was proving a little more hard-headed than House wanted. "I said all of your clothes. That includes socks and briefs. Or do I need to say that in a British accent, so that you'll understand?" he added sardonically.
He watched amused as the other man's mouth hardened, but the offending articles of clothing were soon on the floor. "Why, Dr. Chase," House mocked him, staring at the other man's cock. "I do believe you are getting turned-on by this little strip-tease. How gratifying." And he let himself laugh again. Although he was definitely getting turned-on, too.
Those pouty lips tightened even further. Lovely, he thought. Wisely, Chase said nothing else, just glared out from under rain-darkened bangs, his gaze falling in the general vicinity of House's chest.
House sat on the arm-rest of the couch, motioning Chase towards him with the cane. "Get over here. Now." His tone back to all-business.
He expected him to balk. Or to pick up his clothes, dress, and leave. But instead Chase lowered his eyes and walked right up to House, semi-hard erection bobbing interestingly in front of him as he moved, and stopping barely a foot in front of him. Definitely a submissive, House diagnosed him. He ran his eyes slowly down Chase's body once again, noting the pale skin of his chest and belly, the play of firm muscles, the girlishly pink nipples, the fine blond hairs on his chest and legs, darker hairs standing sentry around his half-hard cock. Inspecting him, examining him. Like a specimen.
"On your knees." he commanded, waiting to see how the young doctor would react.
Chase hesitated for a moment, and House decided to give him some incentive. He twirled his cane in his hand with practiced ease, and then reached around his visitor and popped him – mildly, for the moment- across the buttocks with the shaft.
It wasn't hard enough to hurt – and House hadn't intended it to hurt - just something to spur Chase on, to remind him who was in charge here. But Aussie-Doc jumped as if House had given him electro-shock therapy, and then got hurriedly down on his knees on the floor.
"What-" Chase started to ask him, a blush starting to spread becomingly over his face and neck. "What did you want me to-"
"Shut up," House said, harsh and rough. "There are much better uses for that pretty mouth of yours. Undo my fly and get to work. Now." And then he gave Chase another pop across the ass, harder than before.
House watched, laughing inwardly at Chase's reaction to the cane-smack, and then leered openly while he fumbled with his jeans fastenings. Pretty clumsy for an intensivist, he remarked in amusement to himself. To kill time waiting for Pretty-Boy to meet Mr. One-Eyed-Trouser-Snake, House said conversationally, "There's a classic movie where the boss says to his turncoat of an employee, 'You can always trust a man who sucks your cock'. But damned if I can remember the name…" Like he barely noticed or cared that Chase was about to service him. Just to twist the knife a bit. Although the insistent throbbing in his crotch region gave lie to that.
Chase didn't look up at him, just finally got his fly open, and started to push the fabric of his briefs out of the way.
"Fantastic movie. What was its name?" House mused aloud, as he reached out and entangled his hands in soft, rain-damp blond hair. He pulled Chase's head forward, until he could feel soft lips and a day's worth of stubble brushing against his hard-on. Much better than watching the O.C., he sighed to himself.
He had to swallow back a groan as Chase opened his mouth, hot tongue starting to stroke the length of the underside of House's cock. Oh yes, just what the doctor – Me – ordered. He made Chase lick him all over, enjoying the feel of hot breaths pulsing against his skin, the tickle of the stubble, even of the other man's hands braced against his still jean-clad legs. It had been a while since he'd had anyone touch him there (his own hand most certainly did not count), and the current situation added quite a bit of spice to the experience. Still, he played at being unmoved, bored, otherwise occupied."The name, the name of that movie," he mused aloud, calm and detached. "Oh yes, how could I forget? 'Team America, World Police'."
Chase didn't react, just kept doing what he was doing to House's cock. Licking in long strokes here, short circular strokes there, circling the head of House's cock one moment, and then moving down to slide over his sensitive balls another moment. He kept at it until House decided it was time to move things along. "You're boring me," he lied, mocking and cold once again. "Is that the best you can do?" Yet another quick light cane-strike delivered across very well-shaped buttocks, and he tightened his fingers uncomfortably in Chase's hair. "Prove to me that you know your way around 'Down Under'."
Ah, now we're talking, House thought, feeling the heat and wetness of Chase's mouth engulf the end of his cock. And then the suction started, Pretty-Boy's mouth moving in slow strokes along House's length, and House used the hand on the other man's head to force him to adopt whatever depth and rhythm he wanted. "You're very good at this, Robbie," House ridiculed him, "One would think you've done this before. Did you offer this service to Vogler, too?"
Chase wisely still didn't answer, just moved his mouth faster, increasing the suction, moving his tongue subtly along the underside of House's cock with each backward stroke. And finally House couldn't keep back his groans and gasps and pants, couldn't order his thoughts enough to torment his prey any further. There was only pressure and pleasure building behind his balls, sparks going off in his vision, fires starting to ignite inside his mind…and all of it offset by an insistent pulse of pain from his thigh. Until he gave in and released into Chase's mouth, some distant part of his mind noticing that the other man barely missed a beat, sucking him dry.
House let himself sag, but only a little. He released his grip on Chase's hair, watching as the younger man got back to his feet. House leered and looked him up and down once again, noticing that the wombat was now fully erect. And from the look on his face, Chase obviously expected him to return the favour. Yeah, right.
"Turn around." House ordered him bluntly, noting with amusement that Aussie-Boy obeyed without hesitation, this time. A quick learner, but then again, Chase always had been.
House struck Chase a final time across his ass, the hardest strike yet. Still not intended to hurt. Only to goad, to drive. And it worked, with Chase practically jumping out of his skin, this time. "Get your clothes back on," House said harshly, letting amusement colour his voice once more. "We're done."
Chase actually had the gall to glare back over his shoulder angrily at him, but House was the master at that sort of thing – had practiced it for far longer - and Chase only managed to wage the battle for a few moments, before dropping his eyes and going back to the untidy pile of clothing, getting dressed once again.
House sat there in silence, letting the tension build, until the other doctor was fully clothed. "Now get out", House said, cold and disinterested once more. "You kept your part of the bargain, so I'll keep mine. I'll stop tormenting you in front of the other doctors and staff. Although," he tilted his head and sneered at the other man, realizing the loophole, "when they're not around, all bets are off."
Chase shot one last look at him, an intriguing mixture of gratitude and anger, and then let himself back out into the rain.
After the door slammed behind him, House reached into his pocket for his Vicodin. Yep. Much more entertaining than the O.C.