That smell..<br/><br/>He really, really should have had him bathe before.. this.<br/><br/>Though.<br/>He hadn't really been able to predict this to have happen, now had he?<br/><br/>So polite his words were. So fitting the soft moan.<br/><br/>So.<br/>Distracting.<br/>His.<br/>Scent.<br/><br/>Ryan was a man who liked complete and utter control, and not 'just' control over others.<br/>Control, discipline.<br/>Self-control.<br/><br/>Would it really take this little to break his self-control?<br/><br/>The hand on Atticus wandered, seemingly idle, from his cheek along his throat and into his neck, grabbed a full fist of his hair and tugged his head back.<br/><br/>He blamed, still, the man's scent. Sweat. Salt. Skin.<br/>Those strong muscles. His ability to wield a sword in the manner he did.<br/>He did, briefly, think back. How he had been treated. Rough. Like Ryan was doing right now.<br/>He didn't care.<br/><br/>Pressing against him, tugging him closer with his free hand that took a firm grip somewhere on the man's back, he didn't just kiss; he devoured, leaving no room for any type of protest when he forcefully, maybe too forcefully, invaded and claimed the other man's mouth.