When Master Ryan pushed him back until he was stopped by the door, Atticus groaned, a brief, pleased sound, though Master Ryan had no need for such encouragement. His legs were forced apart, making him lean back against the door and weakening his position. The door behind him made evading impossible, the knee so close to such a sensitive area fighting was just as unfeasible. Atticus wanted to do neither, but having no option but to submit made him all the more eager.<br/><br/>He heard the patter of buttons as the roving hand slid between both their bodies, then moaned as the hand slid down into is breeches and grasped his cock, the squeeze making his hips buck against that hand twice before he could wrestle some self-control back. He was very much out of practice, acting like a teenager getting his first fumble. He wanted to explain, apologise and beg, beg for more but his mouth was far, far too busy feasting on Master Ryan’s, so he could be ashamed of himself later. For now, every moment felt too good to waste even one.<br/>