"Not who's attached to it?" He offers the question almost mildly, not about to judge what a guy needs to do to get his rocks off, but also wanting to needle a little bit at that haughty response.

Gaze still lowered to the action going on halfway into the wall and what he can see of the sub behind it, he rubs his hand in a circle over the kid's lower back, liking the way he's pushing back against it, then dips down a little lower, a couple of fingertips finding the waistband of those already loosened pants and sliding underneath. His free hand drifts to his own belt, working the buckle. A hint or an offer, though he doesn't move otherwise.

"Line on your throat means you could be there whether you want to be or not, right?" He continues, as if they're just talking about it over a drink.

He's picked up on that much so far at least, the way the submissives are treated like second class citizens while Dominants get to do whatever they want. It's a strange feeling to be on the latter side of things; he's become used to being feared and hated for who and what he is. He's still figuring out how much he's willing to tolerate either way, and this whole setup is a good opportunity to explore how far his own boundaries will stretch.