He catches the deeper slide, feels himself hit the back of Hobbes's throat, hears the hitch in his breath, the soft sound close to a gag. When he looks down he catches Hobbes's eyes, sees the tears welling there. The apologetic look.

It doesn't belong there. That's exactly what he'd wanted. When Hobbes slips back into the shallower rhythm Mike's hand tightens on the back of his head and pushes him deeper, forcing him into the new pattern.

"Take it," he says, close to a growl. "I know you can."