(What do you mean there's no House today? It's still House Day, and I haven't posted a Chase!wank yet, so here it is.)
Title: Going Under
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: House/Chase (Mentions of House/Wilson, Chase/Cameron)
Notes/Warnings: Takes place after Wilson's Heart, includes spoilers for 4th season. Sorry, UK.
Possible dub-con issues, although in a fantasy context. Thanks to hllangel for going on this part of the long, strange trip with me.
Summary: What Chase can and can't do with hypnosis.
Cameron couldn’t sleep.
Chase couldn’t help her anymore than he could figure out why after nearly a year as an actual couple they still hadn’t moved past addressing each other the way they did when they were House’s minions, lackeys or whatever other demeaning term he’d felt like using on any given day.
He watched her turn and turn again, trying to find a comfortable position, which he suspected would be impossible.
“You should go. Make sure he’s all right. Be there when he wakes up.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Cameron got up and dressed quickly, as though she’d been mentally planning the route to the dresser and closet before she’d even put on a nightgown and gotten into bed. Chase didn’t blame her, wasn’t the least bit surprised. He’d always known that he was a second choice for what she really wanted, and accepted it. The question was whether or not she knew the same thing about him, down to the first choice. Sometimes he thought she might. His jealous outburst about the possibility that she had slept with House would have shown itself for the confession it really was if she wanted to see it, but apparently she didn’t. After all, they’d both been inculcated with the one great truth about the human condition: everybody lies. Mutual deception suited them.
Within minutes, she had her bag and keys. He got up to kiss her good-bye, catching only a piece of her cheek and restraining himself from sending his love. House didn’t want Chase’s love any more than he wanted Cameron’s. There was only one person whose love he seemed to care about, and in some kind of cosmic joke he might have lost that, if only temporarily.
In the past, Chase had seethed over the primacy of Wilson’s place in House’s life and currently had the uncomfortable knowledge that he’d nudged Wilson toward Amber the night she was fired, putting the slightest bit of guilt for the current tragedy squarely in his troubled Catholic conscience.
Not enough guilt to keep him from taking advantage of an empty bed and the recent memory of being able to effectively hypnotize House, though. His training had emphasized that hypnosis couldn’t make anyone do anything they didn’t want to, so the House in his fantasy was only suggestible to those things that had been lurking in his own subconscious. Chase had nearly three years of suggestive remarks as evidence that House might return some of his less than professional feelings.
The House in his head was fully recovered from the bus accident, the heart attack and the shock treatment. A healthy House was a contradiction in terms, but a least he was dealing with the model he’d first encountered five years earlier, already crippled and dependent on pain pills, but still vibrant and intense, unable to disengage from any mystery. The one who’d looked at him the first day, told him he needed a barber and a tailor and sent him down to the clinic with the sole intent of pissing off Brenda.
That was the House he’d managed to fall in love with, and that was the House he wanted to hypnotize into his arms, his bed, and with all the luck in the world, his arse.
His cock was swollen against his hand as he spoke softly to the subject, picking up from the last time he’d been physically close to House: the day he’d conned them all into believing he had cancer and therefore had no choice but to allow Chase to hug him. All part of the ruse, to be sure, but actual contact. And a joke that didn’t have to be a joke about Chase not starting anything he couldn’t finish.
“Kiss me,” he said softly, using the same voice that had sent House back to the bar in his mind. House looked suspicious, skeptical, and fully capable of telling him to take his act to Las Vegas, until Chase added, “if you want to.” That did the trick, and somehow his awkward embrace of a clearly uncomfortable House transmuted into House letting his Id out to play with Chase’s neurosis, and the two of them ending up a hard-core lip-lock that was everything Chase had been dreaming of literally and metaphorically for longer than he wanted to admit. House’s hands where at the back of his head, pulling him closer. The kiss was just on the edge of rough, with feelings pouring out that had gone unexpressed for too long. And if that was just the kiss…
Cameron would be gone for hours, he had all the time in the world with his House, the one who would do whatever he asked, because he’d wanted to all along, including the thing Chase had mentally shouted in both anger and lust more times than he wanted to admit, “Suck my cock.”
Oh it was glorious. House might have been conflicted, but Chase doubted he was inexperienced. Where he’d been practicing was none of Chase’s business or interest for the time being. Other people could go commiserate over lost loves; this was about him and House having moved to a convenient bed where House could prop up on one elbow while showing Chase exactly how well he could obey a simple command.
God, what a mouth! As talented when applied to his cock as when House was just using it to attack and belittle. The heat and wet were making Chase crazy as he used some lubricant to replicate what he could of the sensation. Since House was a fantasy he could go on and on, but Chase was only human and they’d all been under so much stress the past 48 hours. He still needed the final push, the thing he’d wanted most of all, the one that made him feel the weight of sin and need.
“Fuck me,” he said, and because House was maintaining control, even under hypnosis, just because he was House and needed to see Chase beg, he added, “Please.”
He turned over in the bed and used one slick finger to push inside himself. His depraved mind created a well-endowed House, completely unaffected by pain or pills, fully capable of doing what he knew the real House wouldn’t. Even so, it was House pulling him to his knees, spreading him wide and fucking him deep and hard. His own voice was replaced by House’s voice, growling endearments that sounded like obscenities or vice-versa.
Chase could feel House’s cock inside him as he rubbed frantically against the mattress, muffling his sounds in a pillow that smelled of Cameron, and imagining a lover better than any he’d ever had. Hypnosis was a powerful tool indeed, taking Chase over the edge and leaving him exhausted but full of hope, even if that was the greatest illusion of all.
Someone was in the room and sleep paralysis was making it impossible for him to move or talk, which turned out to be lucky because the first word to come to his mind was “House,” and it most certainly wasn’t House getting into bed with him, and either not noticing or not mentioning that he was naked from the waist down.
Cameron had come in and stripped down to a t-shirt and panties, without bothering to put on a night-gown, which was unlike her and not a good sign. Neither were the clothes on the floor rather than in the hamper.
“Is he ok?” Chase managed to put the words together as he felt Cameron find a comfortable place in his embrace, and sensed the weight of sorrow she’d brought back from the hospital.
“He’s awake. They think he’ll be okay. Okay for him anyway.”
He knew her too well. If this was the night they confronted the truth, then it was a good a time as any.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Cuddy was there.”
“Of course she was. She runs the damn hospital.”
“I mean in his room. Sitting next to him.” Her voice started to break. “Holding his hand.”
He held her close as the tears started.
“I’m sorry, Cameron. I’m so sorry.”
He really was too. For both of them.