It's agony. He can't keep it straight but every touch Liam does to him burns on his skin through the canvas, and Mike is tyring his best to contrl his breathing. To not squirm. He's gotten so much reinforcement from the other--the hand on his shoulders, squeezing. The gentle touches as that voice was in his ear, letting his eyes close and allowing him to fantasize as he ran his hands down Mike's body. He visibly shivers when the hand moves over the top of his thigh, but he keeps it together. He only barely lets out a keening noise as Liam brushes over him and gets almost close to his cock.

It's not better the second time. He's uncomfortable, visibly so, but he exhales loudly through his mouth, as if bracing himself. He is, in a way, because he has no idea what Liam's going to do next.

Moan, apparently--maybe Liam actually didn't, but Mike heard a moan. Mike heard a moan that meant he was doing something to please Liam, which was good. It meant more praise and kind treatment, and a flicker of a smile almost reaches his face.

"It's--it's stiff," he remarks, but it's a comment meant for himself and himself only. It's not a complaint, only an observation, and he tries to straighten up, only to have the confining fabric tug him back over into a half slump.

"What next, sir?" He asks, and that is to Liam as he tries in vain to get situated and comfortable.