It was difficult to concentrate when another shiver shook his bones, the chilled crawl of goosebumps, and he jerked a bit - with a hiss, a rumble of sound vibrating in his dark, shadowy throat. "What do I like, let's see..." Killian hummed thoughtfully, gods, how to even narrow it down?
"I like it a bit rough. Out of the blue. In the morning - " Or the afternoon, or the evening, but there was something about fucking in the morning that was especially nice; it beat any other type of wake-up call. "Tied up, held down, blindfolded, toys or no toys though I draw the line at ones made of camel shit - it all tickles my fancy."
Honestly, he just really liked the blessed art of fornication. And what wasn't to like?