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Mars in Denim

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"Differential diagnosis," House said, idly twirling his cane as he stared Chase down. "Twenty-nine year old male, oddly thorough knowledge of the Princeton BDSM scene, clearly a complete failure at being dominant."

Chase rolled his eyes; he just didn't have the patience for this right now. "Like I've already said, I was dating this woman-"


Chase was unprepared for the question. "Couple of years ago?"

"Except you haven't been in Princeton for a couple of years, and you said you'd seen Annette out at S&M clubs. So either Annette learned to fake an American accent really quickly, or you're still going."

Chase swallowed hard. "I'm not gay."

"New symptom: unprovoked defensiveness." He scribbled it on an imaginary whiteboard. "I never said you were gay. Didn't even imply it." His cane made a menacingly loud thump as he brought it back down to the floor. "But I think if I said that I wanted you to be my slave, you wouldn't be able to walk out of here."

The words seemed to skip Chase's ears entirely and run straight for his cock. "You- you can't say that to me."

"Why not?"

"I could tell Cuddy about," he stumbled, "all of this."

House snorted. "I've done a lot worse things to you than this, and you haven't breathed a word to anyone since Vogler left."

"This is beyond the-"

"Shut up," he ordered; Chase's mouth snapped shut almost involuntarily. House smirked at him, spreading his legs in invitation. "Crawl."

"But, sir-" he bit his lip, hating himself a little for letting it slip. "Anybody could walk by." He realized how pathetic the statement sounded. It was practically midnight; the place was deserted. It was just the last plea of a drowning man.

"Your choice," House said, leaning back and passing his cane from hand to hand. "It's not like anybody's forcing you." He shrugged. "Not yet, anyway."

Resisting the urge to look out into the hallway, Chase very slowly sank to his knees. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he crawled across the room, settling himself between House's legs. It took a long moment before Chase could bring himself to look up at his face; he shuddered, when he did, at the way House looked down at him, staring hard enough that Chase thought he might be able to feel it on his skin.

Smirking at him, House pressed his foot to Chase's chest, shoving him back hard enough to send him sprawling on the floor. "Now close the blinds."

"Yes, sir," Chase breathed.