His eyes flutter closed, hands soft on his neck. He knows there's marks and is positive there will be bruises. But it felt so nice after the rough treatment, and he's beginning to realize why. He anticipates the pain and associates it not with Liam being cruel, but about it being necessary. He focuses on the soft touches and the rare glimpses of kindness.

After all, it's Mike that fucks up. Liam is just trying to teach him.

The jacket is snug, and he winces as he tries to move once the clasps are all fully done up and double checked. It's difficult, to say the least, and it's also hard to disguise his squirming as anything but uncomfortable. He grunts, barely audible, while Liam talks.

"Three-strike rule," He echoes, to show he understands. He closes his eyes a second time when he feels that hot breath right over his ear, and shifts as the tone goes straight to his cock.

He doesn't want this, he tells himself. And yet here he is, still with erection and waiting on every word. "Understood--sir."

Sir. End everything with sir. He has to remember that, for real. He shifts again, leaning slightly to the left, trying to see if there's any way his shoulder can be a little more comfortable. There's not.