It's all Tom can do to watch him, yearning and leaning forward, watching him. He's all too aware how hard he is, the ache the longing has become. He looks up at Mike and his fingers, how his lips move, and makes a soft, whimpering noise. A plea. He wants something, anything. To be touched like Mike had just been touching him. To come.

He leaned forward without exactly moving, trying to get close as he could.