As gentle as Hank's touch on those weighs are, it's definitely not very gentle, making the wolf whine and shiver with the jolts of sensation that are more pain than pleasure, but still utterly fascinating. He pants into their kisses, and lets out a whimpering, strained moan as Hank asks him the question about the mirrors.

He decides not to try to correct Hank about him making a pretty picture or not.

"The mirrors--"

Fuck, he'd forgotten about them for a moment. He catches himself in one of them, and if Hank's other hand is still anywhere near his chest, the way his heartbeat races is no joke.

"It--- it might feel so good that I may die??!" he complains, not that he believes in the idea of dying from pleasure in the first place.

But with the way his head is tilted, he's definitely still noticing himself in the many mirrors.

That isn't to say he doesn't notice Hank's arousal against his hip. He does. Hesitantly at first, he reaches out to brush against that length against his body, curious and increasingly wanting.

"B-besides, there really isn't much to see...."