At one point, Liam glances over his shoulder, staring right at Mike, one eyebrow raised. He is aware of everything Mike is doing and not doing, everything he must be feeling. And he wants Mike to know that fact. There's nothing he can hide anymore. Not in this room.

Eventually, he turns back to his work with the pill. If Mike's paying close enough attention he might even hear the faint sound of powder falling against glass. He takes his time with this, as well. Getting as much of the powder into the hitter, getting it settled. Making it just right.

Finally, he moves back to the bed. Still without a word, he reclaims his spot, climbing onto the bed, straddling Mike's stomach. Only this time he was a few inches further back, making sure his jeans rubbed right up against Mike's cock, seeming almost careless. He didn't even look at the junkie beneath him as he held the hitter.

He didn't make a habit of dipping into his own product. It wasn't even a treat here and there. If he let himself get foggy, he'd lose his edge. But sometimes, he had to be sure what he was selling was worth his price tag. Or on the very rare occasions he felt he'd reached a point he could relax or celebrate. Having Mike in such a state was definitely both. So he didn't hesitate as he applied his lighter to the glass, far more focused on it than on Mike.