"That's what a like to hear," Liam said, in that same purr of approval he'd used before. "You've learned so well, haven't you, Mike?" Fingers of one hand slid across one cheek, smearing those small beads into faint streaks that criss-crossed the red marks.

He leaned down, a strangely graceful move for someone so violent, hot breath falling across the other cheek, over those angry marks. "Twelve. Just three more to go. If you keep doing so well, you just might get..." his hand dipped down, dragging the pad of a finger gently along the underside of Mike's cock, "...a reward." The finger traced the opposite direction as his tongue flicked out, dragging it over those fine red beads.

He could have just gotten it over with. Given the last three blows and let Mike be done with it. But this wasn't about the strikes, it was about the space between them. Letting the anticipation build each time. Strategic and slow.