When he felt Master Ryan’s grip tighten, the blunt, smooth head of his sex press against his ring, that low animal sound, Atticus’ mind went blank, no thoughts or memories intruding on the sensations or the blur of emotion. Anticipation, lust, need, all shaded with a under-shadow of fear, bringing them to brilliance.<br/><br/>Then – the Master pressed, driving forwards and in with a bright and sudden ache that made Atticus jerk with the intensity, a tense groan dragging from his chest. Master Ryan slid deeper without pause while Atticus gasped and clenched his teeth, trying to relax so the man might enter him smoothly, but after such a long period without any lover or even self-given pleasure, it was agony. He struggled briefly, hands twisting against the leather, head twisting against the hand in his hair, caught leg kicking out, making his hiss and freeze as the movement made Master Ryan move inside him.<br/><br/>When the hand slid from his hair to catch his other knee and the invasion paused, Atticus drew breath, grateful for the moment’s reprieve – and taken quite by surprise when the man pressed his legs up and slid his remaining length in all at once. Atticus cried out, his whole body tensing and making it worse. He had never felt so stretched, or so deeply impaled before. He twisted his head back and forth and drew another breath, only to have it tugged out of him again by another sound of pain.<br/>