Hangman

PART TWO
Chase is cold, and tired, and very, very, *irrevocably* naked. He feels something uncomfortable digging into his back and he can’t help but notice that his hands are tied. His breath comes raggedly in his chest, and he’s fairly certain his ribcage is covered in teeth marks. Maybe it’s sick, finding pleasure in this much pain, but right at this moment he just doesn’t care. Chase makes up his mind that he should attempt to struggle to disguise the fact that he’s getting some kind of perverse pleasure from this situation. He wriggles his hips and tugs at his hands, but nothing seems to give. He has, however, discovered that he’s being held in place by four leather bonds stretching out his limbs to their full extent.
“Let me go.” He says quietly, accent incredibly thick, lips trembling from arousal and anxiety. Feeling he ought to make more of a show of indignation, he says again: “Let me go or I’ll-”
Chase cuts himself off as he hears the sharp tap against the floor. He doesn’t know if this is the worst or best sound he could hear in this position. He hears the sound stop and closes his eyes, waiting for the onslaught.
“Or you’ll *what*?” The question is posed mockingly. “You’re not exactly in a great position to be bargaining here.” Chase flushes miserably, but he can’t get himself free. “Though,” the voice continues, “I don’t think you really want to go, do you?” Chase tries to ignore the question and the effect the silky voice is having on him. “What are you going to do? Run to Cuddy?” He can’t see the smile, because the room is shadowy, but he can hear it in every syllable. “Do you really think it still counts as sexual harassment if you want it?”
Chase realises he isn’t really breathing. “Who are you?” he whispers. He knows the answer but doesn’t want to believe that it’s real.
“Tut tut Chase.” The voice snickers. “I always thought you were better than that.”
Chase shuts his eyes and manages to ask:
“Where am I?”
“Supply closet three, second floor, Princeton/Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, New Jersey, America, the Earth, the Solar System, the univ-”
“Ok, ok, I get the picture.” Chase snarls. Then pauses. “I’m still in the hospital?”
“Why do you think I asked you to come in early?” Oh, and he wants to punch that voice, punch the smugness out of it and attack it with its own cane and then kiss it helplessly.
“Did you drug my coffee?” he questions, feeling slightly angry, although less angry than the situation technically demands.
“You have to make your own fun around here.”
“Yes, but- isn’t that torturing clinic patients and watching General Hospital, not-”
“Tying up pretty, young, blonde Australian wombats with semi-permanent hard-ons?”
Oh Good God. Chase, attempting to hold on to the last, tattered remains of his dignity, asks the one niggling question in his mind.
“Why?” he spits between gritted teeth.
“Oh, well, that’s for me to know, and you to attempt to work out over the next two hours.”
And then the door slams shut.
*
At some point later (Chase has not idea when- he’s very, *very* naked, and his wrist watch could be *anywhere*) the door opens again.
“House, please,” he begs- except that the person in the doorway isn’t House.
Chase cranes his neck, attempting to see who the person standing in the doorway is. He squints from the sudden exposure to the hospital’s bright lights, and wants to shield his eyes with his hand. Except that he *can’t*.
The door shuts again and Chase blinks in confusion at the person in front of him. Chase stares and the person stares back, equal embarrassment passing between the two of them. The person coughs.
“House said he’d done something interesting with you, but somehow I didn’t visualise Paganistic sexual acts.” Chase lets his head flop back onto the bench as he feels the other man step closer to him.
“Why is he doing this to me Wilson?” Chase croaks, his cheeks reddening as the other doctor scans his body, automatically checking for injuries, “I don’t understand.”
Wilson nods sympathetically, and busies himself with the left cuff on Chase’s arm, trying to ignore the fact the other doctor is now crying.
Chase sniffs pathetically as Wilson heaves a sigh of frustration.
“He must have locked it with a key or something.” Wilson admits, his puppy-dog eyes oozing defeat.
“That’s because *he* knew you would try to do the honourable thing,” a voice from the doorway says. Chase feels irritation course through him at the smug tone in House’s voice.
“Goddamn you House, let me go!” Chase struggles violently against his bonds. House smirks at him and then gives them a sharp tug.
“Not too bad for a cripple.” Chase feels his tears trickle down his cheeks, and he wants to flick them away to hide his weakness. “But don’t worry! If you ever live this down you can go on Oprah! “’My crippled boss tied me up and fucked me!’” House leans on his stick and surveys the blonde man before him. “Though I don’t think it counts if you consent to it.”
Wilson is starting to look both embarrassed and confused. Chase closes his eyes.
“Let me go.” He orders. This is another one of House’s games, and he can’t bring himself to play it. He won’t fuck here, not now, not with Wilson there looking helpless and worried and with a slightly disturbingly attractive crease of confusion between his eyebrows. “I don’t want to do this.”
“What makes you think you have a choice?” House asks. Wilson coughs uncomfortably.
“House-” he says warningly. For a second Chase thinks he’s saved. Until he remembers that House doesn’t fucking listen to anyone, not even Wilson.
“What, you really think I’m going to rape him?” snarls House, turning to Wilson.
“I don’t know *what* to think most of the time.” Responds Wilson. “And today, I come in here to find a tearful Chase tied up and tied up naked, and you acting like some kind of- just what the fuck am I *supposed* to think?”
The two men glare at each other. Chase swallows hard.
“Wilson, this has nothing to do with you.” He whispers. “You can go. It’s ok.”
“I can’t just-”
“Please.” Chase says. “Just go.” Wilson, still looking back over his shoulder in a concerned way that makes Chase feel slightly better, leaves. House turns back to Chase with a slight smile on his face.
“Let me go or I’ll scream ‘rape’” Warns Chase. “You know I will. And this situation looks bad. Really bad.”
“What, all that shit with Vogler wasn’t enough?” snarls House. “You want to ruin me this badly?”
Chase doesn’t reply. He can’t.
“You want to get out?” asks House. “Fine, here are the keys.” He holds up two silver keys and places them in the V of Chase’s thighs. “Take them.”
The door slams shut behind him. Chase starts to cry again.
*