His hands, dropping down to his belt, stop short, and he smirks, letting them fall to his sides. "Mm, is that so?" He purrs, a low rumble of sound. "I've always been the type to be a little more hands on, with my...purchases." He watches Monty squirm, watches the way they touch themselves idly through their panties, the bulge of their little cock stretching the cheap, lacy material, already visibly damp. "I want your hands up above your head, Monty," he says, off-handed but with clear authority in his tone, "and keep them there until I say otherwise." It was skirting the boundaries of these first meetings, to be sure, but he feels a deep and significant surety, settling deep in his core, lending a pleasant frisson of heat even to the eye contact between them, without any physical touch.