Atticus blinked as Master Ryan moved back up his body with predatory grace, smooth, unblemished skin sliding over his scar-ridden flesh. It felt unbelievably good, and he couldn’t help but rise a little, pressing himself more firmly to Master Ryan’s body for an instant before falling back. But that was all right, because then the man was moving the knife away and settling over him, trapping his cock between their bellies, and speaking soothing words right against his ear.<br/><br/>Being called ‘boy’ made Atticus smile briefly, then he shut his eyes, his cock twitching at the calm murmur asking him such wicked, delightful questions. He stifled a moan and said in a rasping voice, “Just some oil... I want to feel you.” He didn’t know if the use of opium was something Master Ryan permitted, nothing in the house smelled like it, but it was one aid Atticus had been glad to leave behind, the sweet smoke making it too easy not to notice or care how far a client went. He swallowed and opened his eyes, lifting his head and rubbing his cheek against Master Ryan’s. “I want to know how much I’m going to ache.” He caught the Master’s soft lobe with his lips and bit into it, not breaking skin but slightly harder than was playful.<br/>