Chase isn't quiet, not that House likely finds that surprising. He doesn't have that sense of learned shame about his reactions, he just lets them happen. Whining and squirming and crying out at each impact, so he's writhing in House's lap so that it's impossible for the older man not to feel the rub of Chase's erection against his thigh. House is spanking him so that Chase flinches and cries out at every impact, and the blond is none the less, getting hard over it.

He whines a little when House puts a hand on one of his cheeks, the pressure of it, how his fingers rub at the heated skin is somehow almost worse, and the sound that he makes is almost a whimper, even as he leans into the contact a little. It burns more like this, but the feeling of House touching him is hotter, and he can't resist inviting him to touch more, so he leans into it. He wants House's hands everywhere, even if somehow that still feels wrong, even if there's no longer a neat reason to put to it. He just wants him too much.

There's that shocked inhale, that pause where it's clear that Chase is processing the fact that House knows, resisting the urge to counter by asking how long he's known, how he knew. "Since that night we danced together," he admits softly. There's a pause, like he's about to leave it there, but then he doesn't. "I... I thought I could stay with Brett, you know, just a couple days while I figured things out, and then he broke up with me and I just didn't have anywhere else to go," he answers softly, his voice quiet and small. He's a little self-conscious, a little awkward; more about this than about being naked from waist to thigh and hard from being spanked like the prelude in some straight porno.