Work Text:
House stops him at the door with his cane and says, “Not you. Sit down.”
Chase is used to being singled out, but as he watches Cameron and Foreman scurry off to run tests, what he’s longing for is the nearest bathroom.
“I need to use the restroom. I’ll come back,” he bargains, and to his horror, House presses his cane into Chase’s chest and walks him away from the door, closing and locking it behind him.
“What are you doing?” He knows it’s a stupid question, but he’s already freaking out a little, and House has that look in his eyes that says he’s scheming.
“If you had to go potty so bad, why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Chase opens and closes his mouth. He’s had to go since he got to the office, but he was pretty sure he could wait until they’d been assigned their tasks and shooed away. House was normally more than happy to get his fellows out of his sight in the morning anyway.
But it wasn’t until the end of their differential that the need to piss became urgent, and even still, Chase is pretty sure he doesn’t look like he has to pee. He’s not a little kid bouncing on his toes and holding his crotch or anything. But House is right; he needs to go, and soon.
“We were doing a DDX, I thought it could wait,” he explains, trying to keep his voice from faltering. The end of House’s cane is still piercing his sternum, and it’s really distracting, and he really does need to pee. “Why does it matter?”
House smirks and drops his cane finally, but he doesn’t budge from his spot blocking the door.
Chase walks to the door leading to House’s office, but of course it’s locked, and House looks like he’s holding back laughter when Chase gawks at him.
“You are such a little shit,” Chase says, exasperated. “Move!”
“Why should I? You said it yourself, you’re a big boy, you can hold it.”
Chase tactfully takes a seat at the table and flips open the patient file as if he is nonplussed, ignoring House. He’s hoping, really hoping, that his indifference will bore House just enough to make him give up, because his abdomen is starting to hurt a little, and he isn’t exactly an expert on holding his piss for prolonged periods of time.
Unfortunately, this has the exact opposite effect, and House drags a chair over by the door with the handle of his cane to take a seat right in front of it.
Chase’s heart starts racing now, because this is getting too real, too messed up. If House doesn’t move, eventually he’s going to be at real risk of pissing himself.
“This isn’t funny, House,” he says, trying his best to sound firm.
“What’s your heart rate, one-twenty?” House asks casually, crossing his ankles as he stretches his legs out in front of him, cane laying across his lap.
Chase stands and House watches amusedly as he attempts to physically lift the chair and drag him out of the way. It utterly fails before he can even get a good grip on the thing.
“What the– Are your bones made of lead?” Chase pants, stepping back. Then he sees that House has gripped the door handle with one hand and the bookshelf against the glass wall with the other.
“Probably not the best plan,” he says.
“...Why?” Chase asks warily.
“If your abdominal muscles contract, it’ll push on your internal organs, including your bladder. You probably shouldn’t suck in your stomach, either.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Chase grumbles, pacing a bit as he frantically searches for some kind of bargaining chip.
“I could really use a cup of coffee,” House says idly, twirling his cane. “Or a big glass of water.”
“Shut up.”
“Do you pee in the ocean when you surf?”
“House.”
“I’ve always wanted to take a piss while standing under a waterfall.”
“House, please!”
Chase is shaking and red and honestly a little scared. Not just of the impending humiliation of pissing himself at work–which is starting to look like a foregone conclusion–but of House himself, sadistically smiling, clearly enjoying torturing him.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” House drawls.
“Really?”
“No.”
Chase rubs his hands vigorously down his face with a groan. He can’t think properly like this, the urge is too present, too intense, and it’s only getting worse with every agonizing second that passes without relief.
“What do you want?” he pleads, no longer able to control the humiliating desperation in his voice. “What do I have to do?”
House looks at him quietly for a few seconds, and Chase is very close to giving up and sticking his cock out the window, civilians in the parking lot be damned, when House finally uncrosses his legs and hangs his cane on the door handle behind him. “Well, since you’re offering,” he says, and then he reaches for his belt.
Chase’s jaw falls open.
“Shut the blinds unless you want the whole hospital to see,” House snaps, and Chase’s body moves without his permission.
As he tugs the first set of blinds closed, his hands are shaking. He’s wracking his brain for another option, some way out of this that doesn’t lead to them being caught, or him walking with his lab coat tied around his waist as he goes to find a pair of scrubs to change into.
Chase pauses after closing the last set of blinds, spins around in place and scans the outer office.
“You took my lab coat?”
House’s pleased smirk confirms it.
“You planned this?” Chase’s voice cracks from the height it reaches. “What the fuck?”
House neatly undoes his belt and pulls it off. “Is that the sound of rain, or is there a leaky pipe somewhere?”
Chase whimpers and his dick pulses, his bladder throbbing in his abdomen. He clutches his junk painfully hard, closing his eyes at the small scrap of relief it supplies for one, tranquil moment.
When he hears House’s zipper, his eyes fly open.
“You’re fucking sick,” Chase growls, but even he knows he’s going to get on his knees any second, and all it takes is the sight of House’s half-hard cock being pulled out of his boxers to bring him there.
He grunts in pain as he drops down. House slides forward just enough to get comfortable and give Chase access. Chase holds on to the arms of the chair, trembling, squeezing his thighs together repeatedly. It’s not enough. He’s getting closer and closer to the edge, to spilling over, and then House’s hand is on his cheek, guiding him down.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath as he grasps House’s sides, wringing his hands in his button-up. He has to make this the best god damned blow job the world has ever seen, has to make House come before he can take it too far.
So he begins by swallowing him whole without warning, but that’s as far as he got in his head into planning, and he comes back up and just hovers around the tip, licking and sucking and letting his teeth scrape gently.
House keens, lightly grabbing handfuls of Chase’s hair and cursing under his breath.
Chase sinks down slowly this time, trying to get House as deep into his throat as possible, gagging as the head hits the back of his throat.
His dick is rock hard and aching and he’s so full, fit to burst, and he has to take his hand away when he thinks he might leak into his pants. He squeezes the base of his cock tight, but he can’t reach around it far enough through his slacks, so he starts to work at his belt clumsily.
The end of House’s cane presses against Chase’s abdomen and he whines and sputters and begs, leaning back and away but House doesn’t let up.
“Hands behind your back,” House says, reaching out to guide Chase’s head down between his legs until he’s doubled over with his forehead pressed against the seat of the chair. Chase is shaking so violently it jostles his bladder and sends searing pain from his abdomen to the base of his cock.
Then House leans over him, wraps his belt around Chase’s wrists, tugging out the buckle to connect it to the holes on the end.
Chase squirms and writhes and tries to shimmy himself free. The movement, the way his own belt buckle digs mercilessly into his tender abdomen–tears wet his eyes and he can’t even feel embarrassed about it because he’s reached the threshold, the maximum amount of shame he can withstand.
Finally, House lets him sit up. Chase sighs and gasps and shivers. House shifts forward again, giving him no time to enjoy the small break. When Chase leans down, House slaps his cock across Chase’s mouth, then down onto his tongue. Chase groans and rolls his hips and sucks hard on his tip, hoping it hurts, and from the hiss of shock it sounds like it did.
Then the cane is back, but this time it’s pressing hard on his cock, twisting, and Chase’s vision blurs with a storm’s worth of tears, moaning and writhing and then sobbing.
“Be gentle,” House admonishes, like he’s talking to a dog, and Chase feels arousal spike sharp and warm alongside the aching pain in his gut.
When the cane lifts away, he pulls off of House’s dick and rests his forehead on his thigh while he heaves and cries, his hips jerking erratically for more contact, anything to distract him from how badly he needs to piss.
“House, please,” he blubbers, kissing the side of House’s dick and down to his balls, the inside crease of his thigh, then back again. “Please, please, please.”
“You just have to make me come,” House says soothingly, petting Chase’s head.
Once he’s calmed down a bit, he feels ready to try again, or more accurately he has to try again. Whether he’s ready or not is irrelevant to his distended bladder.
House moans as Chase takes him into his mouth again. Chase sucks lightly while he laps at the underside of his cock with his tongue, flicking the tip, making House jolt underneath him.
Chase knows that House likes to hear him, so despite his fears of being caught, he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures.
The noises come naturally to him, and it feels sort of cathartic to let them flow. Hearing himself make such wanton sounds makes himself harder, too, which he knows will prevent him from urinating, at least temporarily.
He bobs his head up and down, sucking hard and breathing violently through his nose, and then he moans extravagantly before taking him as deep as he can possibly go, his nose squishing against House’s belly and his whole body tensing as he fights his gag reflex.
And then he swallows, and it’s tight and wrong to have something that big and hard so deep inside him. He feels like he’s going to come just from that alone, and then he thinks he is coming, feels his cock throb and twitch in his pants, and his lap is suddenly so hot and warm, and then House sucks in a sharp breath, one of his hands returning to Chase’s hair to tug sharply. With one more constricting swallow from Chase, his cock pulses against his tongue, semen shooting directly into his throat.
Chase swallows and swallows and thinks he might pass out from lack of air, but House pushes him up and off as soon as he’s finished, panting heavily, looking into Chase’s eyes like he’s never seen anything quite like Chase.
Chase shivers under his gaze, wriggling against the belt around his arms.
“You’re a mess,” House says tiredly, stroking Chase’s bright red cheek. “There’s a change of clothes in my office.”
Chase looks at him and tilts his head. Then the sharp smell of his own urine hits his nose, and he looks down and gasps and flushes all over again.
“Good job,” House praises, an afterthought, and he tucks himself away before pulling Chase back down to the chair to remove the belt.
“Thanks,” Chase slurs, and he can do little else.