Liam took his time, fastening and adjusting the first belt. He gave Mike more than enough chances to struggle, to fight, to try to break free. To even just argue. But he didn't move, he didn't even flinch. Breath, it seemed, was the motivator all along. Really, he should have seen it sooner. It wasn't the choking after all. It wasn't the sex, or the pain, or the need. It was just the air in his lungs.

He moved on to the other leg. If he'd tried this before, at the warehouse, he might have lost some teeth. Mike had been quite a force, needing to be strapped down, drugged up, or left in withdrawal until he was too weak to fight. But now, he didn't even need to be told to sit still. He just obeyed. For now.

As he tugged the second belt to make sure it was secure, he said "You've been so impressively good I think you've earned a little something..." His hands slid over the insides of Mike's thighs, up onto his canvas clad stomach. "...something I'm sure you think you need..." He settled back, hands falling away from Mike as he reached into his own pocket. From it he pulled something Mike likely knew well: a glass hitter. He held it up so Mike could see, toying with it between his slender fingers. "Do you think you've earned it?"