"So impatient, Louis...," he mumbled against the man's skin, finally reaching his neck. A purr escaped him. There was something about Atticus' scent, indeed. His physical strength perhaps, his health, masculinity, maybe. It wasn't that Ryan really contemplated it, but he did notice it ; the closer he got -and he was pretty damn close now- the harder it was to remain detached.<br/>He could feel his blood burn.<br/><br/>"Such a shame you gave up your old profession..," he said while actually sitting back up, looking down at him, long black mane slowly being lifted from him "I'm sure you could still bring in a very pretty penny..."<br/>Again he reached, but this time around his back, tips of his fingers stroking the back of Atticus' growing frustration from the base to the tip, pressing it into the silk of his pants while he, for seconds, just looked at him.<br/>"And that growling of yours.. Very becoming.."<br/><br/>Licking his lips, tilting his head, his eyes wandered to the open drawer again, then back at the man beneath him.<br/>"Curious..?" he purred, then leaned in enough to fish something from the drawer, something he hid in his hand, smile turning quite wicked again.<br/>"I think.. you might either enjoy this or.. make you recall a past all too recent," he said, turning his hand to lay the object he had taken from the drawer unto the man's chest, only then revealing it to be a small, razor sharp knife.<br/><br/>"Do you trust me, Louis..?"