A moment's distracted enjoyment of his position and suddenly J has large, strong hands closed on his throat. Mitch is sitting up with just a few inches between them and the heat off of him is amazing. He's a furnace fired by rage and it makes J smile. His own face is starting to go red, the way he's being choked, but he just smiles serenely at his friend.

For a couple beats --time counted out in the loud thrum of his heart pounding in his eardrums-- J just smiles and considers burying his knife in Mitch's gut. He considers feeling the boy's blood spilling out over his hand until he's released or blacks out. It would be good, but it would end the game. He struggles to swallow under the press of Mitch's hand and holds up his own hands for the boy to see. He drops the knife to the bed and gives up on this for now. The heat and lack of air makes his eyes water.
"Y...nngk....you win."