The dark, eternal depths of those eyes, the wild heat of them made Atticus’ stomach twist with desire, even after the thorough seeing-to Master Ryan had just given him. His body couldn’t respond to it, though, too soon after climax.<br/><br/>The soft brush of fingertips, the edges of the scars catching Master Ryan’s skin and tugging them, just a little. None but the doctor and himself had touched those scars before. He wondered how the Master saw them. What made his voice so quiet, so hesitant.<br/><br/><em>Ugly,</em>hissed a dark thought in the back of his mind. He didn’t listen to it.<br/><br/>Or he tried not to. He was not insecure, nor vain. He looked how he looked and couldn’t change it. But when Master Ryan withdrew his hand and moved away, Atticus felt a lurch inside him. He wanted to grab Master Ryan’s wrist, pull him back, ask – demand – what he had been about to say.<br/><br/>He clenched his teeth. He was not a child. He must have embarrassed the Master. He should have put it in writing, or dressed first at least… something to have made it more bearable. What was the decorum for such a situation? He hadn’t been schooled in being honestly grateful. “May I have another, please sir, thank-you, sir,” he snarled at himself when the door was shut between him and Ryan.<br/><br/>He put the eye patch back on, then went to the pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Slowly, he pulled them on again, bending stiffly. He stroked the threads on his shirt where the buttons belonged, and he stooped again, picking up the couple he saw, then retrieved his belt from the bed, threading it through his sword sheath before putting that on, too. He had tucked in his shirt so it didn’t gape and flap, though a long V of skin showed from throat to the dark stripe of hair that started just bellow his bellybutton and led the eyes down.<br/><br/>He had used the towel Master Ryan had wiped over them both with again, but knew the sooner he could bathe, the better, the slow trickle of Master Ryan’s seed an odd counterpoint of how withdrawn he was acting now.<br/><br/>He went to the door and stared at it a moment. Things weren’t going to change now, were they?<br/><br/>Were they?<br/><br/><em>Stop thinking</em>, he told himself.<em>You’re no good at it</em>. He opened the door and walked in, gaze down at his gloves, tugging at one a little as if he’d twisted it wrong while putting them on. A coward’s trick.<br/><br/>“Do you need me all day, sir?” Atticus asked after a moment, still not looking up, trying to give Master Ryan a little more of the distance he seemed to want. “Zara wanted me for an hour or so, should either of us not be busy.”<br/>