It was almost an agreement between them, the sort of silent understanding that they both accepted. Her was her loyal Captain, and in public he treated her with respect and honor (mostly). In private, however, he was a man and she was a woman, and she loved the deliciously dirty things he pushed her to do.
With a moan at his words, Morgana almost instantly began to brush her hands down over his chest, hooking her fingers over his belts. A low gasped slipped free at his whisper and she murmured back, "Is that a threat? Or a promise." Either way, she might be tempted to give into her weak knees, if her imagination proved enticing enough.
Toying with his belt only long enough to border on disobedience, Morgana began to undo his belts, slowly working her fingers through the leather and pulling them off.