The sound Jim lets out is a mix between a surprised gasp and a pleased mewl, his eyes rolling back just as his eyelids fall closed, his head tipping back. His Adam's apple moves just barely, pressed up against Spock's palm, and he can almost feel how little air passes through his throat right now, with how tight Spock's hold is on it.

"Yes," he practically moans out, knees shifting on the floor, his cock straining the fabric of his pants and making them gradually more uncomfortable. He keeps curling and uncurling his hands into fists to stop himself from moving them, from brushing his fingertips against the back of Spock's hand or palm his own bulge through his trousers. God knows he could use that relief right now.

"I didn't— keep count," his lips dry and the words are soft and whispered, as Jim tries to talk slow and calmly so that Spock won't see a reason to loosen his hold on his neck. "Kept thinking... about you crowding me into some corner. Just— just grabbing me by the throat. You were so calm. I just... wanted to make you angry again. Fuck," he breathes out a strained, drawn-out groan, his hips shifting and rolling into the air and towards nothing else at all.