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There are many things anyone who spends any small amount of time with Chase will learn about him. He’s egotistical, he’s arrogant, he’s always got the answer. He has the most annoying voicemail on earth.
There are smaller things you can learn, the more time you spend with him. He enjoys history documentaries, likes picking apart every mistake. He can play chess blindfolded. He taps his fingers on his thigh when he’s anxious. He used to wear ear plugs to sleep, but stopped once Douglas kidnapped them for the second time and never got back into the habit. He never accepts food or drink from new people without giving it a quick scan. He always has a bracelet on to play with.
One thing that you can learn pretty quickly, though, is that Chase takes his reading time very seriously.
Not in the way that he needs complete privacy, needs industrial ear plugs to be able to concentrate. He can read at near Bree’s speed, after all, but chooses not to when given the opportunity.
With how busy he always is, whether it be with training, or fixing an invention of Douglas or Donald’s, or preparing mission plans and reports, he finds his reading time to be very soothing.
Of course, while he is completely fine with people meandering around him while he reads, even speaking to him on occasion, he doesn’t want anyone leaning on or even really touching him, nor trying to hold a full-blown conversation.
Kaz was the first, and so far only, member of the Elite Force to break this rule, after Bree had mentioned it before Oliver could try to rope Chase into a debate about something or other.
Kaz, Oliver, and Bree had been spread throughout the couch, yelling over each other while playing Mario Kart. While Chase, tucked into the corner of the couch, had visibly been annoyed at their even turning on the game, it seemed he’d effectively tuned them out within a few minutes.
Until Kaz had crashed into him sideways in some attempt to make his character turn further.
Bree had paused the game, looking over at her brother with no small amount of worry for her new pyrokinetic friend.
Chase, however, simply used his molecular kinesis to shove Kaz back to his initial spot, then took a breath and headed upstairs silently. If anyone noticed the red on the back of his neck, it went unsaid.
Kaz and Bree shared a look, the latter squinting slightly at him and then towards the stairs, where they could all hear that Chase’s door didn’t even slam shut.
Oliver hummed from his spot, then turned back to the TV. “Maybe you were just overreacting, Bree. Seemed fine to me.”
The bionic girl had just hummed and unpaused the game, and the three went immediately back to their screaming match.
As it turns out, Chase hadn’t overreacted to Kaz interrupting his reading time because he’d apparently enjoyed the touch; to some extent, anyway, if the fact that he and Kaz had gotten together not even two months later was any indication at all.
Nevertheless, Kaz still tries not to bother his boyfriend(!) while he’s reading, except an occasional passing kiss on the head that Chase certainly doesn’t mind.
There are times, though, where Kaz is needy, and these times always seem to coincide with the days Chase feels the need to curl up on a couch with a new novel or article or whatever it is that keeps him entertained while Kaz is so horny he can hardly even think straight.
He tries. He really does. He knows Chase likes his reading time, knows he can just wait until his freaky little genius is done with what he’s doing before pouncing on him. But goddamn, he wants to ravage his boyfriend now.
They’re in their shared room now, Chase reading a small but thick paperback, sat up against the wall on Kaz’s bed. Kaz lays facedown on Oliver’s bed, staring at the wall and sporting a major hard-on.
He’s sure Chase knows his predicament; even without looking at him, Chase can hear the beats of his heart, can sense the pattern of his breathing. Can probably even smell the arousal that has to be emanating off of Kaz like cologne.
He swallows at the thought, feeling his dick twitch.
(can Chase hear even that?)
Kaz looks over at Chase, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence in the least.
Chase is wearing a pajama tank top on this warm spring day, the fabric grey with a blue stripe going across the chest. The lack of sleeves gives Kaz the perfect view of Chase’s muscles, relaxed but still undeniably there. The thought of those arms pinning him down makes Kaz shudder. His legs are stretched out in front of him on the bed, covered with jeans that cuff at the bottom. Kaz is able to get a glimpse of tan skin between the bottom of his pants and the top of his sock, and he’s embarrassed by how much it turns him on.
Chase licks his finger and turns the page, seemingly unaware of Kaz’s observations.
The mere sight of that stupid tongue flicking out of Chase’s mouth is what finally breaks him. Kaz sits up, holding back a hiss at his jeans rubbing against him, and strides over to Chase.
The brunette glances up at him briefly, giving him the quickest once-over he’s probably ever gotten before looking back down at the book, still not acknowledging him.
Emboldened by not being dismissed, Kaz kneels forward onto the bed, settling himself on Chase’s knees carefully.
There is no movement from the other party.
After kicking off his slippers, Kaz shuffles forward a bit more to his thighs, the sound of their jeans rubbing against finally catching Chase’s attention.
When the genius looks back up at Kaz, though, he just looks away innocently, as if his whole body weight being on his boyfriend’s legs is a completely normal thing to be happening right now.
Kaz figures that with Chase being the smartest man in the world and all, he’ll catch on to what he’s hinting at. That he’ll put the book to the side and let Kaz ride him into oblivion, then go right back to reading as if it hadn’t even happened.
(Kaz has seen it happen. it’s almost scary how fast he recovers from their shorter trysts.)
Instead, Chase hums, like he’s… amused, almost. He doesn’t smile—doesn’t change his expression at all, really—just licks his finger and flips the page again, like he has absolutely no plan to even give Kaz the time of day.
Kaz pouts, shuffling forward one more time to settle squarely on Chase’s hips. The book is pushed a little closer to Chase’s face, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just blinking to adjust his vision and still ignoring Kaz.
“Chasey…” he whines, hands shifting to grasp at his boyfriend’s firm waist. He steadies himself, accidentally moving against Chase’s crotch.
Finally, finally, he feels him twitch under him. But still, still!, Chase doesn’t look at him. His breathing hardly even changes.
Kaz pants at the small amount of stimulation he’s receiving, just feeling the closeness of his boyfriend, feeling how easy it would be to rip the book out of his big stupid hands and kiss him and feel his arms wrap around his waist, feel him pull him closer and pull his shirt over his head and and and
He ruts forward with intention, gasping at the friction.
Chase swallows.
He does it again, slowly. Feels Chase harden a bit more under the attention.
An evil grin splits Kaz’s face.
With slow, steady movements, he starts to grind against Chase. Small, whining breaths occasionally escape him, but otherwise the room is quiet outside of the sound of denim rubbing against itself and the occasional turn of a page.
One of Kaz’s hands maneuvers away from Chase’s waist to grasp desperately at his shoulder, his head falling forward with the exertion of just staying quiet.
The book is lifted into the air with Chase’s molecular kinesis so he can see without Kaz’s head in the way of the words on the page. Now unoccupied with the book, his hands absentmindedly shift to Kaz’s thighs, but don’t control or stop his movements in any way.
Chase ignores himself hardening rapidly under the ministrations of his boyfriend, stubbornly trying to not let himself be distracted by Kaz’s antics.
Trying not to be distracted by the friction of their dicks rubbing together through their jeans, speed increasing by the second. By the sound of his boyfriend’s soft moans, originating from that beautifully pink, glistening mouth mere inches from his own. By the blood rushing to his dick, the sound of the blood rushing to Kaz’s dick, Kaz’s quick heartbeat pounding in his ears.
He realizes he’s just staring at the page, not even reading anymore.
With a muttered curse, the book falls to the ground and one hand comes up to the scruff of Kaz’s neck. His head is forced forward, and finally Chase kisses him.
The kiss is hot and messy, more teeth and tongue than anything else. Kaz finally stops holding back the sounds that pour from his mouth, letting them spill into his boyfriend’s. Chase tastes like apples and salt.
Chase starts rutting against Kaz’s movements, fingers trembling against Kaz’s thigh. The hand at Kaz’s neck stays firmly planted there even as Kaz comes up for air, hardly taking two breaths before moving down to plant sloppy kisses at Chase’s neck, eyes lidded and whines still pouring out of him.
Chase’s fingers curl around the hair at the nape of Kaz’s neck, panting against his shoulder as he feels himself getting closer to finishing.
Kaz bites a hickey into the space where his shoulder and neck meet, licking at the bruise soothingly as Chase groans, eyes rolling back slightly. His movements start to falter, so Chase finally lets go of his head to settle both hands on his hips, helping them move in tandem with his own thrusts.
“Chase, Chase, Chase,” Kaz pleads, jaw going slack with pleasure and his fingers grasping at the fabric at the back Chase’s tank top.
“Yeah. Yeah. C’mon, just for me. Go ahead,” Chase’s rough voice breaks through the haze of his mind, and Kaz almost has a fraction of mind to be embarrassed by how loud he moans as he comes in his pants, feeling the rapidly growing wet spot in the crotch on his jeans.
The sticky feeling of Kaz’s climax, the knowledge that they didn’t have to remove any clothes at all in order for his boyfriend to get off, sends Chase over the edge too, a broken whine escaping his lips as he slows their thrusts to a stop, never letting go of Kaz’s hips as they pant against each other, neither party moving for a few minutes.
Eventually, the haze starts to lift from their minds, leaving them crowded together, sensitive, and sticky. Kaz lifts his head from Chase’s shoulder/neck, a sly grin splitting his face.
“You should start doing that more often instead of reading,” he quips, breathing finally evening out.
“Or,” Chase swallows and starts to squirm at the feeling of stickiness against his sensitive skin, “I give you your fill for the next few days now, and you let me read in peace tomorrow.”
Kaz is already unbuckling his boyfriend’s belt before he can finish speaking.