Enjoy it. Keeler intends to, and he'd been nearly lost in the sensation of Encke's mouth until the scrape of his teeth came into play. It begs a gasp, the staggered drag of bone against flesh, and the sensation is just unpleasant enough to keep him on edge despite the accompanying thrill of Encke's tongue. He calls the shots, Encke promised; but the notion of speaking such a filthy directive--

Because Keeler knows how to suck cock. Distantly, faintly, he remembers how it's done; echoes of a hard length in his mouth, cradled against his tongue, the bitter-salt taste of cum in the back of his throat. Flush-faced and debauched, on his knees, a plea in his eyes, tears spilling over when he took the head too deep. He remembers the trial-and-error of what felt best, of lovers gently guiding him away, No baby, like this, compassionate lessons in depravity.

"Encke," Keeler smiles down at him, with a slow brush of his thumb over the fighter's cheekbone. "Open your mouth a little wider, and tuck your teeth behind your lips, like this--" A brief pause for demonstration, Keeler pursing his lips slightly. "And then they won't won't scrape."

Unless he wants them to -- to keep Keeler on his guard -- which is a distinct possibility that hasn't occurred to Keeler.

"I can show you," a shy suggestion beneath timid eyes. "If you like."