Atticus' eyes widened. But, was this fear, or not?<br/>Ryan made certain he kept his face emotionless until he replied to his question of trust. Only then did a smile draw itself, and it was warm, nearly soft.<br/><br/>"Good," was all he said, standing up, having no trouble to keep balanced on the bed in this manner, repositioning so his feet were between Atticus' thighs, then slid out of the black silk that still clung to him, exposing not but long, pale legs, his half hardened manhood, but also the tattoo -probably Chinese in origin- that coiled around the full of his left leg, tip of the tail resting on his foot, head inclined over his hipbone, mouth opened and breathing inked fire to his loins.<br/><br/>He only kept stood for a moment in this manner, giving the man below him some time to look as he hardly ever showed anyone his tattoo, hardly ever shed clothing like this, coils of reds, blacks and green accentuating a seemingly frigid beauty rather then disturb it.<br/><br/>"Like what you see?" he asked, teasingly, lowering again, now between his thighs, almost as if he deliberately distorted the view Atticus had of him.<br/><br/>Hands found their way between thighs, pushing them apart, gaze going back to the knife on the man's chest to see if it didn't accidentally move.<br/>"Careful with your breathing, Louis..," he murmured, back of his hand stroking his balls to see how he'd respond, if he'd move too much and cut himself.