Toreth couldn't hold back a chuckle at the question, simply because it was fucking outrageous. Mild cuddling? If any of his men heard that, even posed as an interrogative, he'd never hear the end of it.
"Quite the contrary. This marine enjoys continuing the violence into the wee hours of the morning, if asked nicely for it, and is utterly unapologetic about the fact." He was half-joking, but his tone lent a certain degree of ambiguity to the words, making it sound rather matter-of-fact.
Toreth looked lazy, almost bored as he spoke. In truth, he was having a hard time believing that the earlier question hadn't gotten a rise out of the man. Warrick had thrown the question back at him, after a rather effortless and intriguing reply. Rough enough to be entirely too much to someone's taste, was it? Toreth could imagine that: the stubborn civilian requiring a bit of shoving around and threatening before he complied with anything, moaning denials and putting up a serious fight as he was held down upon the floor or up against a wall. Twisting and writhing, not wanting to be touched and groped and eventually fucked by a 'killer', but liking it all the same despite his fancy fucking morals.
Definitely intriguing.
He tried again, determined to ruffle feathers. Determined to make that cool mask break.
"Given your preferences, now I'm incredibly surprised you don't make a habit of fucking government-sanctioned killers. We're fairly good at following the rules given to us, you know. Operating within safe boundaries. We're good at giving commands, too. For example..." He hesitated for only half a second. Unprofessional to do this on duty, but he wasn't planning on taking it too far, so it couldn't hurt that much, could it? Not unless the civilian here went crying to his CO about sexual harassment or some other bullshit.
Toreth leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice hardened, and whatever conversational tone he had going disappeared completely. His tone was dark and dangerous, and unmistakably a command.
no subject
"Quite the contrary. This marine enjoys continuing the violence into the wee hours of the morning, if asked nicely for it, and is utterly unapologetic about the fact." He was half-joking, but his tone lent a certain degree of ambiguity to the words, making it sound rather matter-of-fact.
Toreth looked lazy, almost bored as he spoke. In truth, he was having a hard time believing that the earlier question hadn't gotten a rise out of the man. Warrick had thrown the question back at him, after a rather effortless and intriguing reply. Rough enough to be entirely too much to someone's taste, was it? Toreth could imagine that: the stubborn civilian requiring a bit of shoving around and threatening before he complied with anything, moaning denials and putting up a serious fight as he was held down upon the floor or up against a wall. Twisting and writhing, not wanting to be touched and groped and eventually fucked by a 'killer', but liking it all the same despite his fancy fucking morals.
Definitely intriguing.
He tried again, determined to ruffle feathers. Determined to make that cool mask break.
"Given your preferences, now I'm incredibly surprised you don't make a habit of fucking government-sanctioned killers. We're fairly good at following the rules given to us, you know. Operating within safe boundaries. We're good at giving commands, too. For example..." He hesitated for only half a second. Unprofessional to do this on duty, but he wasn't planning on taking it too far, so it couldn't hurt that much, could it? Not unless the civilian here went crying to his CO about sexual harassment or some other bullshit.
Toreth leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His voice hardened, and whatever conversational tone he had going disappeared completely. His tone was dark and dangerous, and unmistakably a command.
"Get down on your fucking knees, doctor."