That taunt, the bits of impatience running through Diego, was what Noah had been listening for. At Diego's positive reaction, something in Noah seemed to shift. He moved up off the mob boss long enough to flip him onto his front and sit on the small of his back with no babying at all. Hand still gripping the tie at his throat, Noah set the knife aside long enough to wrench Diego's arms behind him and twist them high until the length of the tie could make it around his wrists and be pulled into a strong-enough knot to hold him there. It was some measure of control for Diego himself; if he wanted to, he could choke himself out for as long as he could stay conscious for it. On the other hand, if he kept the pressure off his neck, his arms would kill him for the stretch and pressure of doing so. Either way would be good for a pain-sucking whore like Diego. When he was like this, anyway. Noah wasn't the type to be kind where he could mix it with cruelty instead.
After that was done, Noah pressed Diego's head to the ground and traced the knife behind his ear just enough to cut thin, strong lines as far down to his hairline. All hidden, but sharp and exact. The pain would be delayed, yet in his current position open to the air, it would sting and serve as a reminder. "You didn't say please, dickhead," Noah said. "Instead, you're gonna tell me how much you like this. How much you want me to do more."
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After that was done, Noah pressed Diego's head to the ground and traced the knife behind his ear just enough to cut thin, strong lines as far down to his hairline. All hidden, but sharp and exact. The pain would be delayed, yet in his current position open to the air, it would sting and serve as a reminder. "You didn't say please, dickhead," Noah said. "Instead, you're gonna tell me how much you like this. How much you want me to do more."