"Hm," Spock hums, somehow making the small noise sound disappointed. "Unimaginative," he explains, not quite 'tsking' his lover, but making it clear all the same that he would, were he a different person. "You already requested the rope. Therefore it is redundant to use your opportunity now to reiterate a wish already granted." There is a whisper of something moving against fabric, behind Jim. Then the tease of a rough rope against the sensitive skin on the inside of his arms. Spock's hand leaves his groin and his presence shifts behind Jim, letting his fingertips trail after the abrasive material. Soothing as he rubs raw.

"In a normal situation, I would not allow you another opportunity," he explains, the words humid as he speaks them quietly against the shell of Jim's ear. "However, I understand that your evening has had little in the way of thought and much in the way of instinctual servicing of animal needs."

The rope shifts, tying around one wrist tight and then releasing, again. Not starting, then. Not yet. Spock can draw this part of the evening out for hours, if he wished to. And part of him does. His lips kiss the back of Jim's neck, inching his hand around his side, under his shirt. Exploring up his abdominal muscles and then down to the open Y of his pants. Cupping him once more, squeezing, and then journeying upwards and away once more.

"I ask once more. Do you have any requests, Jim? What do you want? This is your final opportunity."