Yes. Yes, Mike wants to say, but he can't, he can only answer questions. He can't say it like this, even though he wants to--those hands wrap around his throat and he knows Liam can feel his pulse pick up, quickening with both anticipation and the need to force himself to breathe.

His eyes flicker closed, just for a moment, and his hips arch up, needy, rock hard against what ever of Liam he can find. He hates the name, he fucking hates the name but those hands are dangerously close to cutting off his air supply and he's never been more turned on in his entire fucking life. Even the welts on his ass pale in comparison to this, and he wonders if this is his reward. If this is what Liam knows he loves.

He didn't realize he loved it until Tim, he thinks. Does Liam know? Liam knows fucking everything.

"Yes, sir," he manages, voice low, because that's the only thing he can say in an attempt to coax him to press harder.