@smutceptember2025 24: flexible + teasing (annoying)
Your Lip Around Your Head
robert chase×gregory house ♡ autofellatio ♡ facial ♡ office sex ♡ pwp ♡ and a patient dying in the background ♡ 1,526 words ♡ ao3
It’s just an offhand comment, really, the type he’s come to expect from House. Why ask your employee to remain on topic when you can ask if he’s finished sucking himself off already, right. Even so, Chase can’t stop himself from huffing not nearly under his breath, with an expression equal parts annoyed and suggestive.
He knows House. And on some level he knows that’s enough to spike his curiosity. It’s the end of the day after all, and after a halfbaked plan to control the patient’s reticulocytosis overnight, he’s not surprised his coworkers are dismissed before him. House says nothing, just limps in a circle around him appraisingly, before he comes to stop in front of him.
‘I don’t believe you can do it.’
‘Sure you do.’
‘You know me, Manson, I need to see it to believe it.’
Not surprising, but something else. Impressing? Honest? Inviting? Not likely. And still, enough to have Chase rolling his neck and reaching for his own belt. He’s not feeling brave, per se, but at least he’s feeling daring.
‘Exhibitionist too?’
House moves to close the blinds, and he fights the impulse to blush when he realises they’ve been open this far. ‘There’s no one here.’
‘So do you want them open? I’m sure I could get you a janitor or two to watch.’
‘Prick.’
There’s a moment where neither moves, simply holding each other’s stare like checking no one’s backing out. Chase tells himself not to flinch. Then, he opens his fly to push trousers and pants down his thighs as House locks the door.
To his credit, House says nothing about the way he’s already half hard, just eyes him not without jeer. Chase knows it’s sort of pathetic. He also knows he’s big; it’s half the reason he tried this at all, and he’s encouraged by the faint approval he can see under the mockery in his boss’ face before he’s looking down at himself again. He unbuttons his shirt, and then there’s nothing stopping him. He climbs onto House’s desk, psyching himself so he doesn’t freak out now.
‘I chart there, you know.’
‘You don’t chart anywhere.’
He focuses on the vaguely approving noise that gets him to hold onto the back of his thighs as he arches his back, his stomach as concave as possible. He allows himself a look at House, try to parse what he thinks of all this and what he wants him to think of it, not linger at all on whether the arousal he thinks he sees is really there or just a trick of his mind. He’s about to watch him blow himself, of course there’s got to be arousal of some sort. Right? He wraps a fist around himself, effectively wanking to his boss, and then he drops his face to get his lips around his cock.
He’s harder than he expected, and this feels better than he remembers. Not being able to see House is slightly threatening, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It feels, as usual, more like giving head than getting it, but that’s never discouraged him. He hears House step closer, and then he hears his zipper. When he makes to look up, a hand holds his head in place, lips brushing his own glans.
‘I stand corrected. Please, never stop sucking yourself off.’ House presses him down, making him suck himself in a slow, nervewracking rhythm. ‘You could contribute so much if you did this, during differentials, rather than suggest beta-2 agonists for a child who came in with DKA.’
Chase has to push him away at this. ‘I was right about the hypoxemia.’
‘You were right about the hypoxia, you’re yet to be proven right about the hypoxemia. Now get back to what you do best.’
Chase doesn’t think he’s got a good reason to refuse, so he does. His thoughts linger only a moment on their patient before House’s hand slides down his head to brush a thumb over the nape of his neck, almost intimate. House is jerking off, which suggests he prefers watching him than having him blow him. Or he doesn’t know if he’d accept. He doesn’t know if he’d accept.
‘Can you do it upside down or is that verbot in Australia?’
He flushes, speaking right over his dick, tries to shrug it off with a bluff. ‘There’s actually an extra for that.’
‘Yeah, I’ll bet.’
He tries to go deeper on himself, and his stomach does a flip when House pushes him back, effectively rolling him onto the top of his thoracic spine, upturning the world around him. He moans around his erection, the sound turning into a yelp when House tugs at his bollocks.
‘Something like that?’
House’s voice is gruff, and it makes the muscles in his abdomen feel all weird, tensing when they’re compressed as the position requires. He’s used to his teasing, but there’s something about being unable to talk back because he’s got his own cock on the way. He sucks himself faster, and tastes his own precum as the hand playing with his sack presses on his perineum harder than would be gentle.
‘That’s what I thought.’ House thumbs over his hole, and he kicks out in alarm or anticipation. ‘Hold still, you look like a beetle.’
Whatever House wants to do, he better do it quickly because he’s close. The guilty sort of pleasure that cringes up his spine when a glob of spit lands on his hole is so overbearing his chest feels tight, and when House smears it across his entrance he knows it won’t take much more. The phone rings. He shakes his head, confused and longing, and House is frowning down at his phone.
‘Hou-’
House pushes his thighs down, shutting him up with his own dick, and rocks them idly as he picks up with a grin he can only call shiteating.
‘What?’
‘You cannot load the patient with methylxanthines and call that treatment, we’re talking about a seven year old with related comorbidities, not a seventy year old with COPD.’
Cuddy’s voice is strained, but hearing her becomes harder as House talks her down from yelling, defending his own hypoxemia theory he’d just disparaged. It’s a bit daunting, trying to piece together the argument of his hypothesis when he can’t even defend it. House doesn’t make it better, pushing a finger inside him with only saliva to ease the way. Chase hums around himself as it starts pressing against his walls stubbornly. He needs to be quiet, he’s not really an exhibitionist.
‘We’re balancing out the effects on the heart. It’s as safe as we’re gonna get, and if she improves with it that explains the blood count.’
As good as that sounds for a defense, Chase exhales in relief when his boss pockets his phone. When he turns to give him his full attention again, any semblance of restraint he’d regained during the call goes out the window. House looks hungry as he shoves another finger in him, moves them to target his prostate as he pulls on his own erection like he knows Chase is about to come. With the muffled sounds he’s letting out around his cock at the rough fingering he’s getting, he figures he’s got to.
‘You liked that, right? I should have passed her to you so you can tell her yourself. Bet you sound good when you’re trying not to choke on your own cock.’ Chase is brought up by the quasicompliment. ‘Just like the slut you like to pretend you’re not.’
He whines around his cock as he comes, the vibrations making him shiver through it as he clamps down on House’s fingers that continue pressing on his prostate until he thinks he’ll pass out from it.
‘Don’t swallow.'
He vaguely registers that through the pleasure, and the cum swirls around his mouth when he’s pulled upright again. He opens his mouth, guessing what House wants, and he’s rewarded with a hand on his hair pulling him forward. House’s cock is just there, and instead of letting him suck it, he just holds him in place as he masturbates until his own cum is joined by his boss’ in his mouth. It’s not like Chase expected him to aim, and the idle ropes landing on his face are just as degrading, and as good, as he expected. He feels like crying, or maybe laughing. Maybe he just needs to sleep, this case has been taking it out of him.
House’s hand on his chin is almost more delicate than he can take, as he clicks his mouth closed, and Chase swallows without a word. When he pulls his lower jaw down again, he sticks his tongue out as if to show he’s swallowed it all, and House gives him a small, strange smile taking a long moment to take him in. Chase feels his scalp prickle under the attention, and he’s saved from doing something stupid by their pagers going on. House frowns, gets a wipe from god knows where and throws it on his face.
‘Clean up, we’ve got to go.’
