Blond hair.

He liked it between his fingers. Liked the feel of scalp. Liked to pull and hear that little gasp.

He liked to pull until those hips slid against his and mouths met, open and rough and desperate. He liked the feel of a warm hand sliding into his back pocket, liked the taste and the smell; something peppered over the overwhelming hospital scent of antibacterial soap.

But mostly, he liked getting caught.

"House!"

An indignant yell, voice pitched high. Chase's flush and the way Chase pressed his body against House to hide his open fly.

This was it.