Mitch goes so still for just a moment. The boy trusts him --believes him. It's amazing. It makes J feel warm inside...and powerful. He could tear Mitch apart and roll happily in the remains and Mitch might let him if he just kept his calm and said the right things. It's for that very reason that he could never do it...but he wants to.

Then Mitch's teeth find his hand --soft meat between thumb and forefinger-- and dig in. There's so little resistance before canines break skin. J's hands have never done serious manual labor; the surface toughened only by harsh chemicals and dryness and not by work. He's surprised by it and it shakes him, but the cry he lets out is the same mix of shock and pleasure as when Mitch's teeth would close on him the night before. He bites his own lower lip and and sits up straight suddenly, jerking his hand away and rocking back where he straddles Mitch's hips.
"Owch. That wasn't nice."
Though, he looks as though it really was. He likes the little bit of red on Mitch's lips. It's got him distracted for the moment as he licks over the stitches around his own mouth.