Sam wasn't going to just lie there and take more pressure. It would crush his throat as surely as it would any humans, and he'd have to draw away in order to deal with the injury. So when Eliot went in to crush him, Sam responded, threw up his arm in a wide, defiant swipe.

Telekinetic force, powerful psionic powers, beyond any demon. Sam threw him physically away from his body, with enough force to knock him back into the wall, to be jarring, perhaps even knock the wind out of him too.

And when he'd achieved that, Sam rubbed at his injured throat, and slowly pulled himself up to his feet, tilting his head snakeishly toward Eliot, and lifting his hand again. He crushed it, like he was tightening his hand around an invisible throat just in front of him, but it was Eliot whose throat was crushed, who was lifted physically by the force of it.

"I don't think you understand. It isn't a choice. You're not meant to enjoy it, but you are meant to prefer it."