It is hard, it makes him bend his elbows at an awkward angle and he winces, trying to balance his weight. He wonders how Mike knows, who Mike has done this with before, who's done it to him, and does it matter?

He curls his fingers in the sheets and opens his eyes, looking back at Mike warily, evaluating. Looking at the way that Mike was looking at him.

No. It didn't matter. And it probably hadn't for a very long time.