He feels the look, through everything else, the pain, the pleasure, the shame that's not quite shame. He feels that look, and knows that he's submitting, letting this wash over him, but it's still him that's in control. He couldn't stop it when ever he wanted.

Which he doesn't, not even now, scrambling down onto his knees, so hard he's aching, so naked that he's forgotten how to blush. He closes his eyes and opens them, looking up at Mike, still fully clothed, perfect. Cold now, but he knew the other side enough to keep any fears locked firmly away.