He can feel that shudder through the other man, the clear interest in the picture Chris was painting. It was certainly one he was interested in...but that wasn't the point.

Chris's fingers turn tight in Hawke's hair and pull back, his other hand gripping his chin as before so Hawke had little other choice than to look up at him. With the added bonus of straining that collar across his adam's apple...how lovely a strain in the leather it made.

"That's not how this works, lovely...I gave you words...now you use them. Tell me what you want."

There's some part of him, the quieter part, that wonders if it's an act or if Hawke truly expected Chris to just make use of him without any lines drawn first. It was something to watch.