Conflicting emotions warred for dominance. He had never reacted well to Isaac's tears, and he wanted to comfort the slave, to hold him tight and reassure him that everything would be alright, that he was forgiven.
But he was pissed, too. There was something, dark and possessive, that made his stomach clench from the images Isaac's words sparked. He could picture it, so clearly, the wanton way that Isaac could move when he was aroused. When he wanted it.
Arms crossed over his chest, defensively, as he peered down at his distressed slave.