"Good." He values creativity, unpredictability, and he approves that Dean took that risk.
Pink and grey beads...
He lets his hand trace up Dean's body. His skin is soft, clear, though the way he moves speaks of a life well-lived. A contradiction. Tonight, now, this is Thrawn's canvas. Fingertips like the brush of wind, like the shivery sensation of surface tension on a pool of water.
"I don't bind you, this time," he says, his tone light with the promise of future times, if Dean impresses him -- "because you take this step willingly. You give your control to me. Prove yourself worth it, and perhaps I'll let you release it entirely."
This is a strategy, of course. Convince a human that they made a choice themselves, and they are far more likely to decide that way in the future. Make that choice important, pleasurable, and profitable, and you have already made a leash.
Speaking of --
He has the chain of the leash pool on Dean's breastbone. "Don't let this fall," he advised. If Dean thrashes too badly, moves too much, it will.
He slides on a glove, takes a proffered sample of lubricant, and reaches between Dean's legs. Smears it over that tight ring of muscle, wondering idly how much a human body can take. He is very interested in this species, the one that resembles his so much.
no subject
Pink and grey beads...
He lets his hand trace up Dean's body. His skin is soft, clear, though the way he moves speaks of a life well-lived. A contradiction. Tonight, now, this is Thrawn's canvas. Fingertips like the brush of wind, like the shivery sensation of surface tension on a pool of water.
"I don't bind you, this time," he says, his tone light with the promise of future times, if Dean impresses him -- "because you take this step willingly. You give your control to me. Prove yourself worth it, and perhaps I'll let you release it entirely."
This is a strategy, of course. Convince a human that they made a choice themselves, and they are far more likely to decide that way in the future. Make that choice important, pleasurable, and profitable, and you have already made a leash.
Speaking of --
He has the chain of the leash pool on Dean's breastbone. "Don't let this fall," he advised. If Dean thrashes too badly, moves too much, it will.
He slides on a glove, takes a proffered sample of lubricant, and reaches between Dean's legs. Smears it over that tight ring of muscle, wondering idly how much a human body can take. He is very interested in this species, the one that resembles his so much.