He carries on spanking him. Sometimes they're harder, just to watch Chase jerk in his lap, feel the way he moves and squirms against his thighs, hear the sounds he makes as he takes everything House dishes out. He's moving a lot the darker pink his ass gets, the warmer it is to the touch, heat practically radiating off his skin, but that flutter of flirtation seems to have died down a bit. For a little while, House just gets lost in watching, but as the silence stretches on he's getting lost in thought, back on what he's noticed these past few days and the way that this silence is different than before. It's like there's more that the boy wants to say but he doesn't know how or can't figure out where to start. Or maybe that's House projecting, because he's not sure if he wants to try to pick up the flirting or touch on something real. Not that the flirting isn't.

He stops, hand coming to lay gently on one hot cheek, and he's just rubbing slowly, aware that it's probably not making it better really, but he just wants to touch and feel the heat on his skin and feel him squirm. And really, any excuse to fondle that perfect swell of his ass. When he speaks, it's quiet, almost musing, like he knows but he's still giving Chase the opportunity to tell him and elaborate on it.

"When did you start sleeping in the studio?"