“Ni–shaaa…” He draws his knees up and spreads his legs a little wider, but it doesn’t occur to him to touch himself just yet. He feels like he needs her permission. He can feel the edges of his vision blur and his heart pound where she’s clenching his throat. His panting only makes her grip rougher. She could probably kill him if she was so inclined, just keep squeezing until he can no longer breathe, and he slips into sweet death at her hands. He won’t lie about the fact it’s one hell of a turn on for him. He’s sobering up and now painfully hard in his trousers, and he fumbles one-handed with the loop of his belt before he can finally slide a hand down the front of his pants.