Ketamine Dreams

EDIT: I am SO sorry for anyone that got spoiled or was confused by my error regarding the seasons! *headwall* I accidentally put it was at the beginning of season two, not three (thank you so much Aragon for noticing and telling me that!) It's now fixed, but I just wanted to apologize. I'm sorry for being a moron, :[

WARNING: Set around the first couple of episodes of Season Three, with spoilers for those episodes.

Don’t own, just write.

KETAMINE DREAMS

House pinned Chase to the glass wall with a wicked smirk as he reached around him and grabbed the crotch of his dark blue jeans. “Miss me?”

The blonde just groaned and pushed his erection into House’s palm, steadying himself by placing his palms on the cool glass. Ever since the ketamine treatment and the brief therapy for his leg, House had been insatiable. Not only was he taking every stair he could, every jump, every run, every moment enjoying life without his cane, but he was also taking the time to fuck Chase into oblivion at every moment that presented itself. To have Chase rub against him without worrying about the pressure on his leg, to be able to straddle him and not care about the weight on his injury, to be able to pin him to the wall without being in pain... it was so much more than House had ever thought.

“Fuck,” Chase gasped, his breath fogging the glass as House ground the heel of his hand into the blonde’s hardness. It was House’s first night back after his two months of healing and rediscovering himself. Fucking Chase was awesome anywhere, but being able to do it at the PPTH was simply thrilling.

“You know we’re at work,” he husked into the other’s pale ear, pressing his own crotch into the beautiful curve of Chase’s ass. “Well, after-hours, but still work.” The hospital was dark and almost entirely empty, especially up on their floor. House had made Chase stay behind as Cameron and Foreman went home, then had teased him mercilessly for almost two hours of every kind of foreplay imaginable while everyone else left for the night. Finally, when the lights went out and all sounds other than Chase’s gasping breath had stopped, he pinned him to the wall that overlooked the hall and started to thoroughly molest him.

“Fuck,” he just repeated, almost whining. “House.” Chase was extremely on-edge after all the foreplay earlier. The diagnostician had growled out every arousing verbal command and insinuation he could think of, then had touched Chase in places that could make the blonde hornier than a teenager within moments, then had started to kiss and lick and bite and suck at every patch of pale skin he could find without getting Chase naked. The blue and white sweater-vest he had been wearing earlier, along with his blue tie, were long gone. The white dress shirt he’d worn underneath it was now unbuttoned and was hanging in a wrinkled mess around his elbows. His blonde hair was a complete mess (a sight House loved) and his belt was gone, but his jeans weren’t unbuttoned.

House, himself, was fully dressed. But that would soon change. “If you’re going to speak,” he growled into the pale ear again, “might as well say something useful.” He used the hand that wasn’t busy fondling Chase’s rock-hard erection to cup the blonde’s ass.

The Aussie moaned in appreciation and pressed his sweaty forehead against the glass as he pushed his backside more into House.

“A little greedy, aren’t we?” the diagnostician murmured, slapping that perfectly sculpted ass and making Chase jump a little. He so wanted to continue, but he was so wound up he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t fuck Chase into next Thursday as soon as possible. He quickly pulled at the button to his own jeans and yanked down the zipper, pushing them and his briefs down to hang low around his hips and ass.

As he deftly undid the button on Chase’s jeans, he stuck his other fingers into his pocket and brought out a small bottle of lube and a condom. As he pushed the blonde’s jeans and boxers down to his knees, earning another breathy gasp from Chase as his erection was finally freed, he stuck the condom in his mouth and opened the bottle of lube, squeezing some on his fingers. After setting the small orange bottle as well as the condom on a conveniently-placed shelf, he pressed the pad of his index finger against Chase’s puckered hole, making the other go completely still.

“Relax, baby,” House breathed, then gently slid one slick finger into his lover.

The blonde shuddered at the initial intrusion, but had done this many, many times before and easily relaxed under House’s murmured assurances and long fingers. When the diagnostician felt like Chase was comfortable enough, he inserted a second finger, which Chase took very well. House scissored and twisted his fingers, earning gasps and small whimpers from the Aussie until House hooked his fingers just right, finding the other’s prostrate with a brush that made Chase jolt and let out a loud cry.

“Found it,” he grinned wickedly, absolutely needing Chase to make that sound again.

For the next torturous five minutes Chase moaned and wept and bucked and screamed and begged against the frustratingly-light touches against his prostrate. Every time House touched him he felt like he was going to explode from the passion, then House would wean him away from that blinding release by backing away and continuing to stretch him. Then when Chase had finally settle down, House would brush against him again, and the whole process would repeat.

“House! God, House,” the blonde groaned, his accent wonderfully thick and muddled.

“Right here,” the older man grinned, looking like a cat that ate the canary.

“God just- just fuck me already!”

“Already? That’s awful quick.”

“Two hours,” Chase sobbed, digging his nails uselessly into the glass he was pinned against. “Please, please fuck me!”

“Well you did ask rather nicely. And you’ve been very, very good the last month. At my beck and call whenever I needed some release... or a blowjob with your pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock. Or when I just wanted to touch your sexy ass and you let me fondle you without complaining. Stroking your rock-hard dick with my long fingers, playing with your balls-”

“House!” Chase yelled, tears streaming down his face. “I swear to God I’m going to throw you to the ground and straddle you and fuck myself on your dick if you don’t do it yourself right now!”

“Tsk,” House chided, sliding his fingers out of Chase and grabbing the condom from the shelf, tearing off the top with his teeth and rolling it on his own weeping erection. “You didn’t have to resort to threats. Especially if you’re too far gone to actually carry them out.”

Chase opened his mouth to reply (or to beg, which would have been even better) but House cut him off by sliding into Chase in one, long movement, reducing the blonde to moans and gasps. After he had relaxed, House smirked and braced one arm against the glass, right above Chase’s hand, and wrapped the other around the blonde’s waist.

“Better be ready, blondie,” he growled, rocking back before sliding back in again. Chase shuddered and groaned and tried to push back into him more and it was so sexy and nice that House just had to give the man what he wanted. He rocked out, then in again, then again, each time picking up pace as well as force. In no time House had both hands gripping Chase’s hips as he slammed into him over and over, making the Aussie yell half-formed words and random recognitions to a higher entity he wasn’t sure existed. The vocal exhortations escalated into screams when House changed his angle slightly upwards and started to hit Chase’s prostrate. Within five of those hard, hungry thrusts, he was arching his spine and throwing back his head and coming all glass. House’s breath hitched as the tightness around his dick almost became unbearable. Two more strokes, and he was coming as well, riding out his orgasm with long and solid thrusts.

The diagnostician fell on Chase’s warm, sweaty back, half of the blonde’s shirt bunched up under his stomach. House inhaled the musky aroma of sweat and sex, a shiver rolling down his spine at the heady scent of it. He could feel Chase panting beneath him, mirroring his own heavy breathing. With more effort than it should have taken, House braced himself and pulled away, slowly sliding out of Chase with a shiver and a hiss from the blonde. Grimacing a little, he peeled off the condom and tossed it into the trash before tucking himself back inside his underwear and pulling them and his pants up. Chase pushed himself off the wall with a swallow, pulling his shirt back over his shoulders and bending over to yank his pants back up.

“Ready for round two already?” House leered, zipping his pants and buttoning them again.

Chase shot him a scowl, his cheeks still flushed and his blonde hair tousled like he’d been through a hurricane. He straightened, pulling his pants up with him, and fastened them as well. “More like round twenty-something,” he replied, accent thick and voice hoarse. He cleared his throat a little before speaking again. “You’re insatiable; I think that ketamine fixed more than one limb.”

House smiled in amusement. “I haven’t heard you complaining. Screaming a lot, but not complaining.”

The blonde ran his hands through his hair (which didn’t work that well) and buttoned up his shirt, though it was wrinkled to hell. “If this keeps up I dunno how long my ass is gonna hold out.”

“You’re young; you can take it. I have the utmost confidence in you.” He caught himself looking for his cane out of habit. It was funny how that fluctuated- sometimes he would wake up leaping out of bed and sometimes he would take it very gingerly before remembering that there was no crippling pain waiting for him. At one point he found himself waiting for an elevator before he realized he didn’t have to; as soon as it opened he turned and jogged for the stairs, then took them two at a time. He would also find himself reaching for his vicodin throughout the day, even though he didn’t need it. He almost took one or two just for fun, before remembering that he should give his liver a break while he could. Especially because Cuddy and Wilson were always warning him that the ketamine could wear off and he would be back to the way he was.

Cases were interesting and kept him distracted, his video games and TV shows were entertaining, using his leg as an extra excuse to be nasty to everyone he could was funny, and popping one too many vicodin to be painless and high was pleasing... but he would give them all up for the use of his leg back. He had forgotten this freedom, hadn’t realized just how much his pain and disability held him back. Just in case the ketamine did wear off, he had to get as much done as he possibly could; running for miles, skateboarding, jumping down too many steps, (difficult sex positions), taking on easy cases because he didn’t need the difficult ones as distractions, he had to get everything he could out of the way before- if- the ketamine wore off. But also, the things he could do with Chase that he couldn’t before, like the long foreplay, Chase straddling him, bending him over a table or pounding him into a wall- all those things that his leg held him back from doing before. Even if he had done those things, the pain either during or after wasn’t much of a trade. He loved touching Chase, being with him in ways he couldn’t before.

He didn’t want all of this to end.

Chase walked across the room, interrupting House’s musings, and grabbed his sweater-vest, pulling it on. Instead of redoing his dark blue tie, he stuffed that in his pocket. He glanced back at the diagnostician, raising his eyebrows at the stare. Instead of looking away, House gestured him over. Confused, the blonde stepped forward obediently, and was surprised when House raised his arm.

Was he going to hug him?

Instead, the diagnostician ran a hand through Chase’s hair, mussing it up even more and drawing a sound of protest from the other. While he raised his hands to fix his hair again, House clapped him on the ass, making the Aussie jump, and turned, heading for the door.

“C’mon blondie. Time to go home.”

Scowling a little, Chase bent over and grabbed his bag, throwing it on and beating the other out the door. House smiled mockingly and let him through the door first, pausing to cast one last glance into his dark office. He frowned vaguely and touched his leg as an echo of his chronic pain came back, hoping against all reason that it wasn’t the treatment wearing off.

Then Chase called his name and stole the diagnostician’s attention again. He let go of the door, turned, and followed the other to the stairs as the glass slowly closed behind him.

As they left the PPTH, House smirked and almost choked from trying not to laugh. The sound drew a confused look from Chase, who turned to look back at him. “You alright?”

“You do realize we left ‘evidence’ behind,” he smirked. He had just realized that not only were their fingerprints and sweat all over the glass, but so was the load Chase had so gratefully shot.

The look of mortification and horror from the blonde when he finally figured out what House was talking about was priceless.