His heart stutters in his chest, and the slight amount of panic is easy to see flash across his face--but he's at that stage where he's drained, and it's a miracle he's even putting up a fight. He's honestly not sure if he can take it anymore--Mike can fight through a lot of things, but Liam had always been his particular brand of intense.

And he got it wrong.

Mike bites at his own lip--tries to, but Liam's hand is in the way--and after a brief moment he screws his eyes shut, pained, trying to think of something--anything--to say.

He doesn't want to come. He needs to--but Liam is teaching him an extremely valuable lesson. That anything he wants is irrelevant. All that matters is what Liam wants, and if he doesn't do it, he'll be punished.

Mike is fairly certain he's going to start crying again, though this time most likely just from the constant duress of stress and a number of other things. All of them inflicted by Liam. He's bound by the jacket, unable to move, and he lets out a shaky breath. Liam's hands are warm and calloused and cruel. He breathes through his nose, trying his best to nod.

What he wants is irrelevant. But lord, does he just want to be touched. He just wants to come, and have Liam do it.