One, two, three, and more, and more. The skin was hot, burning, pain and pleasure mounting simultaneously and rebounding off of each other. "Jim," He breathed at the ninth, twisting his body again in a half-hearted attempt to change the angle to flesh that wasn't already sore. "Jim--" Spock forced out again on the twelfth, his breathing quicker, shallower, gripping tight at the material of Jim's trousers, something to hang on to while he took in the heat and flare of each smack.