Work Text:
Not coming into work this morning never even crossed Chase’s mind. Maybe it should’ve, but one day of penance to House sounded vastly preferable to however many more days House would have decided to make him do grunt work for.
Pushing open the conference room door he finds the rest of the team there already, House included. He must really be looking forward to Chase’s punishment, if he’s here this early. It means he cares an awful lot more than he's letting on. That thought sends a shiver of something down Chase’s spine.
Neither Allison or Eric look up as he enters, though House is staring expectantly at him. That'll make it easier to begin on his part, although he’s sure it won’t take either doctor long to notice.
He drapes his lab coat over the chair he usually sits in and approaches House, his face heating. House smirks at him, but doesn’t say anything. Chase is grateful that he’s decided not to bring the attention of the other fellows to them just yet. He goes to his knees in front of House, and Eric glances up in his periphery. He doesn’t get to see his reaction, but his judgemental sigh is loud enough as Chase braces himself on all fours and lets his head hang.
House levers his bad leg up and rests it on Chase’s back, soon joined by the other one. The heel of his good leg digs into the soft bit beside Chase’s spine, but he doesn’t adjust. Something in his chest loosens. He’s finally on his way to earning forgiveness, from House at least. House is the only one who’s wrath Chase actually minds, anyway. His disapproval is oppressive even when he’s not actively tormenting someone, and it makes Chase’s stomach churn.
Allison gasps, and Chase is glad he’s not facing her. Her reaction will be the worst.
“House! You can’t make him do that!”
“I think you’ll find that I can make him do whatever I want. This is his punishment, since Cuddy won’t lend me her hairbrush,” House drawls. Chase’s face heats further at the thought, and he wants to press his thighs together. He doesn’t. He stays still like a good footstool.
“This is wildly inappropriate. I’m going to Cuddy unless you stop this. It’s too far, even for you House,” Allison protests. Chase tenses. He doesn’t want House to stop. The prospect of returning to his oppressive disapproval and punishing grunt work makes him want to be sick. He doesn’t want to be prevented from atoning. Returning to meaningless research and paperwork will not satisfy House, and even if it does it won’t help with the guilt.
House sighs loudly and probably makes a face at her. “Okay, Mom, I guess Chase will just have to go back to grunt work then. For weeks, probably.”
Chase works hard to suppress a whine at that. He thinks he manages. Maybe he doesn’t. House removes his good leg from Chase’s back, the loss of the warm limb leaving a cold patch behind.
“No! Cameron, it’s fine. It’s only for the day,” he protests, his voice sounding a bit high to his own ears. He needs this to earn forgiveness. House doesn’t remove his other leg, at least.
“This is insane. This is an abuse of power! Foreman, you can’t be fine with this.”
Eric hums. He sounds bored. “What does it matter? Pretty much everything House does is an abuse of power. If Chase wants to grovel for forgiveness instead of working for it, that's his prerogative.”
Allison makes a frustrated sound. “The walls are glass. Someone will glance in and report you, and then we'll all be in trouble.”
“Drop it, Cameron. The table blocks him from view, leave him to humiliate himself if he likes,” Foreman says, his voice dripping with contempt.
Allison doesn’t argue further. House’s good leg returns to land heavily on his shoulders, and Chase relaxes. House isn’t going to take away his penance. His heel isn't digging into Chase’s back anymore, but that's not something for Chase to worry about either way.
He barely pays any mind to Eric’s words. He knows they’re both still mad at him for his betrayal of House. Their anger doesn’t matter to him as long as he has the chance to earn House’s forgiveness.
Allison begins to talk about a new case, but he doesn’t listen. He just closes his eyes and breathes evenly, concentrating on being good and staying still for House. He doubts House would welcome his input at this point anyway. Good footrests don’t talk.
He drifts, startling when something prods his thigh. He hears a hard smack, cane on bone he realizes, and blinks his eyes open. Eric is clutching his shin, swearing. House’s bad leg shifts, and he worries his flinch jostled the injury.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Shut up,” House tells him. “You’re not the one who kicked a disabled man’s footrest.”
House’s casual dismissal sends heat through him. Being referred to as a footstool, as though that’s all he is, is unbelievably arousing. It means he must be doing good with his penance. His muscles are beginning to ache slightly, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to hurt House. He wants to be good.
His legs are so warm on Chase’s back. Chase lets himself drift again, basking in the knowledge that he’s pleasing House. He barely even notices when, some time later, the other fellows get up and leave.
He does notice when first the good leg then the bad one leave his back. Apprehension jerks through him, but the House’s hand lands on the back of his neck and squeezes.
“Water break.”
Chase shifts, knees protesting, and sits back on his heels to gaze up at House.
“Come on, my little traitor, stand up,” House says, and Chase flinches. He had thought he was on his way to forgiveness, but apparently not. House is still displeased with him, clearly.
Chase shifts back onto all fours, hanging his head as bile rises up his throat. He has to do better. He will. He'll earn forgiveness, even if he has to stay on his knees for days.
“Easy, Chase. You're doing good, c’mon. Up you get,” House insists, poking at him with his cane.
Chase rises back up on his knees, even if he feels that he should still be supporting House’s feet instead. He doesn’t make eye contact, instinctively feels that he shouldn't meet House’s eyes while he's still being punished.
House gets to his feet, reaching a hand down. “Stand up, there's a good boy.”
Chase complies, flushing at the praise. He's not sure he deserves it, his punishment isn’t over, but it warms his chest regardless.
When he rises his half hard cock immediately makes itself known, pressing against the seam of his slacks. He hopes House doesn’t notice. He wishes he had his lab coat to cover the evidence.
House either doesn't notice or doesn't care, turning and limping over to the kitchenette and pouring himself a coffee. Chase follows obediently behind him.
“Have some water or something, can't have my footstool falling over. Wouldn't be good for the leg,” House orders.
Chase obeys quietly.
“Does my footstool need to use the facilities before the other ducklings come back?”
“No, House.” Chase replies. He almost feels like he should be using a title, but none of the common ones seem to fit. House would only make fun of him, anyways.
“Alright. Back down you go, be good.”
Chase sinks to his knees and settles on all fours, House's feet immediately landing on his back. The familiar sound of one of his soaps starts up and House ignores him completely.
The other fellows return just as the ending music plays over the tinny speakers.
“While Chase was on his knees kissing your ass, we got the results back. It isn’t sarcoidosis,” Eric announces, sitting in his usual chair right next to Chase. He hopes Eric can't see the way his face goes red.
House clicks his tongue mockingly. “Slut shaming, Doctor Foreman? So disappointing.”
“I didn't call him a slut but yeah, I'm slut shaming him,” Eric says. “If he would do his job instead of getting on his knees to avoid punishment I wouldn't have a problem.”
Embarrassment courses through Chase. His coworkers are never going to let him live this down. It shouldn't make him hard.
“How about you focus on your job instead of Chase's? Sluts are what make the world turn, anyhow. Important profession.”
Eric scoffs. “Whatever. I think we should do an MRI.”
“Do it then,” House says, turning his soap back on.
Chase’s knees begin to ache and he focuses on the heat of House's legs on his back. He has to be still, behave, be good.
He maintains his stillness for what feels like quite some time, but eventually he shifts, trying to ease the ache in his knees and back.
“Be good,” House warns, and he stills again. He can’t ignore the ache of his joints any more, unable to let himself drift like he had been before. That's fine, though. It just means he's doing a good job, taking his punishment.
The conference room door opens to admit the other fellows again. “Patient is going to make a full recovery,” Allison announces.
“I'm jumping for joy. Now get out. Case is over,” House orders, and they both leave.
House removes his legs. “Come here.”
Chase sits back on his knees and shuffles over to House’s feet.
“No, idiot. Come up here.”
Chase looks dubiously up at him. “I don't want to hurt your leg, House.”
“You don't worry about my leg. I worry about my leg. Come. Here.”
Chase rises, tentatively straddling him. He doesn’t dare put weight down.
“Shift your weight, come on,” House directs, moving Chase's hips until he's settled with his weight resting on House’s good leg.
“Forgive me?” Chase asks, barely biting back the instinctual Father, for I have sinned. He hasn't been to confessional since med school.
House reaches up to pat him condescendingly on the cheek. “Don’t worry, you're back to being my favourite little duckling again.”
Then his hand sweeps down his neck and chest, brushing a nipple, and unbuttons Chase's pants. Chase’s breath catches, and he moans when House pulls his flushed cock out. His hand is surprisingly warm on his hard cock.
“Good boy,” House mutters, spitting on his hand and wrapping it around Chase’s cock. He strokes Chase slowly, watching his face as he moans and bucks into his hand, unable to control himself now that he's finally getting some stimulation to his cock.
House's other hand lands on the back of his neck and Chase obeys the pressure, tilting forward to tuck his face into House’s neck.
House huffs out a small laugh, the hand on his cock tightening. “You're such an easy little slut.”
Chase moans and bucks into his fist, gripping the arm rests tighter. House is so good with his hands.
House’s hand releases his neck, finding one of his hands. “God, you're such a Catholic. You can touch me, you know.”
Chase laughs a little, letting go of the chair to push a hand under House’s shirt against his soft tummy. He’s very warm, heat seeping into Chase at every point of contact between them. House’s muscles tense at the contact. His hands must be cold, and he wonders if he should stop.
“Good boy,” House says, picking up the pace, and Chase moans into his neck. Heat builds in his gut and his thrusts quicken.
“Please, can I– please let me cum, House,” he begs, trying to hold back. Good boys don't cum without permission, he knows that much, at least, from his brief relationship with Caroline the banker.
“What a well trained little whore you are,” House crows. Chase can practically hear his grin.
“Please,” Chase pants. “Please House. I need to cum.”
House slows his hand, humming thoughtfully. “I think I want a kiss first.”
Chase nearly sobs as his orgasm recedes, trying to chase it even as House’s grip loosens and his thrusts become ineffectual.
He kisses clumsily at House’s stubbled jaw, then presses their lips together. It's not much of a kiss on Chase’s part, he mostly just pants into his boss's mouth, but House takes control and turns it into a proper kiss. He deepens it, turning it searing as he expertly licks into Chase’s mouth.
When he eventually pulls away Chase whines, trying to keep contact. House’s hand speeds up and Chase forgets everything except finally getting to cum.
“Please,” he pants, muscles tightening as he tries to hold back his orgasm.
“Cum then, slut,” House says, and his grin has a bit of a mean edge to it. Chase does, sobbing as he finally lets go.
House strokes him through it, mercifully stopping before he pushes Chase into overstimulation. Chase just sits there, panting, his head on House’s shoulder. House’s stubble scratches against the side of his face whenever Chase comes into contact with his jaw.
Eventually House shifts and tells him gruffly to sit up, so Chase does. As he shifts in House’s lap he can feel the older man's erection against his thigh.
“Clean up your mess, pretty boy,” House says, raising a hand covered in Chase’s cum towards his face. Chase doesn't even think about it before leaning forward to lick his long fingers clean, although the taste of his own cum does make him wonder what House would taste like.
He shifts deliberately against House’s erection, taking two of House’s fingers into his mouth and laving his tongue against them as he stares at his boss.
“What? Little whores have to use their words if they want something,” House says mockingly, pressing down on Chase’s tongue and making him fight his gag reflex. He knows how to do that, at least.
When House pulls his fingers out of Chase’s mouth Chase says, “Can I suck you off?”
House nods, so Chase carefully slides off of his lap to kneel between his legs. He glances up at House and finds him staring back at him expectantly, so Chase takes the tab of House's zipper between his teeth and pulls it down slowly.
House inhales sharply. “Fancy little slut. Where did you learn that trick?”
Chase shrugs, mouthing at House's cock through his boxers. He can see red lines across the older man's stomach, he must have scratched him at some point. Maybe as he tried not to cum.
“Get on with it, we don't have all day my little kangaroo,” House prompts, pulling his cock out.
Chase licks a stripe from base to tip, making House swear under his breath. He's pretty big, especially since it's been a while since Chase has put this particular skill set to use. Chase is determined to take him all the way, though.
He licks the tip of House's cock, precum already starting to leak from it, then takes the head into his mouth. He just waits for a moment, teasing with his tongue until House starts to get impatient. Then he slowly takes him deeper, pausing as House's cock threatens the back of his throat.
Chase inhales, then presses further until his lips meet the base of House's cock and the head presses into his throat. He has to make an effort to suppress his gag reflex, but after a moment he gets it under control.
He swallows once, twice, around the head of House’s cock before he has to pull back. The constriction makes House moan, a hand landing on Chase’s head.
Chase gently sucks on the head of House’s cock, rubbing his tongue against the frenulum and humming lightly. Then he presses forward again, finding it easier to take House into his throat the second time.
He swallows around House’s cock, and House grunts. “Fuck, you should be charging for this.”
He holds still as House reaches down to press his fingers against the slight bulge his cock is causing at the beginning of Chase's throat, basking in the appreciative sound House makes.
When House pulls back Chase swallows again, humming as he looks up at him. He slowly pulls back and licks the head of House’s cock.
“You can fuck my face, if you want,” Chase offers, his voice gravelly.
House groans. “You are going to be the death of me, duckling. Who knew your accent could be hot after you've had your throat stuffed with cock?”
Chase’s face colours at the lukewarm praise, and he puts his mouth back on House’s cock for lack of a better response, sucking on the head.
“Ready?” House asks, lacing his fingers through Chase's hair. Chase hums and he moans, pushing Chase down on his cock. He starts slowly, rocking his hips up to meet Chase’s face as he pushes his head down. Chase grabs his good thigh, and wraps his other hand around the leg of the chair.
House speeds up quickly, fucking his face with enthusiam. Chase takes breaths where he can and tries not to gag when House bullies his cock down Chase's throat, his eyes watering. When he can he hums around House’s cock, and is almost always rewarded with House’s hand tightening in his hair and the taste of precome on his tongue.
House's thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, and Chase does gag this time. He gets it under control, taking the next thrust more gracefully and relaxing his throat even as tears begin to leak from his eyes.
House thrusts his hips once more, the hand on his head forcing him down on House’s cock as he begins to cum. Chase finds his nose pressed against House's pelvis, House's cock thrust as deep down his throat as he can get it. Chase swallows repeatedly around the intrusion to stop himself from gagging, drawing out House’s climax. He shouldn't actually be able to taste House’s cum, pressed as far down his throat as he is, but the first little bit had landed on his tongue before House had forced his head down and the taste lingers.
House doesn’t draw his head away as his cock softens in Chase’s throat, so Chase breathes carefully and doesn't move. He is content to hold House’s softening cock in his throat until House makes him move.
To his surprise, House makes no move to kick him out. Instead the man gently scratches his slender fingers through Chase’s hair as they sit there, tears drying on Chase’s face.
Chase doesn't move until House’s cock has softened fully. He's still a rather impressive size soft, but just small enough that he doesn't rest comfortably in Chase’s throat and instead insistently tickles his gag reflex. Chase pulls off of him instead of continuing to fight the urge to gag.
“Good job, my little brumby,” House says, pulling his hand back from Chase's hair to tuck himself away. “Definitely my favourite duckling after that performance.”
“You want a repeat performance just let me know, boss,” Chase replies, hauling himself to his feet. He's a bit unsteady, but not too bad considering how long he's been kneeling for.
He straightens his clothes and heads for the door.
“You know, the curtains were open. Did you like the thought that anyone could've seen you acting like a cock hungry slut as they went by? In fact, I'm pretty sure Wilson saw us on the way to take a piss,” House calls after him. Heat rushes to Chase's face. He can't tell if House is serious or not, but there is no way he's going to be able to look Wilson in the face for the foreseeable future