That, as far as Keeler is concerned, should be explanation enough. You're dealing with him. You're dealing with the prodigal son of the navigators, the cream of the bloodstained, war-mongering crop. You're dealing with the alpha of the omegas. You're dealing with a man who can take apart a fragile mind just as easily as he disassembles a maintenance bot, and that in and of itself should be terrifying. But Encke doesn't seem to have a healthy respect for anything, far less the inherent strength of the man in his arms. A healthy respect would require him to recognize the inherent danger with which he's fallen to bed, and he's unwilling to give Keeler even the most doubtful of benefits.
But it's fine. As far as Keeler's concerned, he can go on believing his navigator's helpless. It'll make his moment of realization that much more keen.
"Did I bruise you?" Keeler mocks a pout, faux empathy, and leans down over Encke's shoulder to kiss away the lingering wetness from his own mouth. "I'm sorry, baby. Maybe you should be more careful where you bare your throat."
Keeler's hands stray once more, smoothing across Encke's chest, tracing his muscles in a manner almost pious. It doesn't occur to him that statement could be taken metaphorically. He's not about to break Encke's mind, though perhaps he's doing a fine enough job of that without even trying.
no subject
That, as far as Keeler is concerned, should be explanation enough. You're dealing with him. You're dealing with the prodigal son of the navigators, the cream of the bloodstained, war-mongering crop. You're dealing with the alpha of the omegas. You're dealing with a man who can take apart a fragile mind just as easily as he disassembles a maintenance bot, and that in and of itself should be terrifying. But Encke doesn't seem to have a healthy respect for anything, far less the inherent strength of the man in his arms. A healthy respect would require him to recognize the inherent danger with which he's fallen to bed, and he's unwilling to give Keeler even the most doubtful of benefits.
But it's fine. As far as Keeler's concerned, he can go on believing his navigator's helpless. It'll make his moment of realization that much more keen.
"Did I bruise you?" Keeler mocks a pout, faux empathy, and leans down over Encke's shoulder to kiss away the lingering wetness from his own mouth. "I'm sorry, baby. Maybe you should be more careful where you bare your throat."
Keeler's hands stray once more, smoothing across Encke's chest, tracing his muscles in a manner almost pious. It doesn't occur to him that statement could be taken metaphorically. He's not about to break Encke's mind, though perhaps he's doing a fine enough job of that without even trying.