Chase is a brat because he can't help it, because it's always there around the edges, even if it's typically tempered with that sunny smile and that playful glint in his eyes. It's not defensive, not trying to stop this, push House away without knowing how. It's just how he is, more with House than with most other people because somehow it feels safer with House than it does with almost anyone else. He can push further because he doesn't think there's some boundary he can't come back from. With Brett he was always conscious of that, of not pushing too far.

He cries out, hard and sharp at the unexpected impact that's even harder, hard enough to take his breath away, to make him squirm a little when the second one impacts against the other cheek of his ass. It feels like punishment, and that brings an awkward smile to his mouth. And then there's that demand, and it hangs in the air for a long moment, Chase just blinking as he wraps his head around it. When he's finally nodding, he's wide-eyed, his face down as he reaches for the hem of his tights. He drags them down, catching the thick top of his dance belt in his fingers too, dragging them both down to the tops of his thighs.

It's more than House asked for, because under the sudden quiet, Chase is still pushing, even as he reveals the pink cheeks over House's lap.