But it isn't. It's the farthest thing from the end of it. He's still furious, still wanting so badly, so badly he can feel it in his fingertips, dug into J's skin, and on the tip of his tongue, to hurt the blond, even if he likes it, even if he doesn't fight back. He sneaks into his bed, tries to cut his mouth open, and -- no. You win isn't nearly enough. He wants his pound of flesh. He wants to make it clear that this is the last time this happens.
Mitch lets one hand drop, the other still wrapped loosely around J's neck... and then rears back and punches him square in the jaw. And then both hands are off of the blond, and he's pulling himself out from under J as he reaches for that knife, teeth bared in a snarl.
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But it isn't. It's the farthest thing from the end of it. He's still furious, still wanting so badly, so badly he can feel it in his fingertips, dug into J's skin, and on the tip of his tongue, to hurt the blond, even if he likes it, even if he doesn't fight back. He sneaks into his bed, tries to cut his mouth open, and -- no. You win isn't nearly enough. He wants his pound of flesh. He wants to make it clear that this is the last time this happens.
Mitch lets one hand drop, the other still wrapped loosely around J's neck... and then rears back and punches him square in the jaw. And then both hands are off of the blond, and he's pulling himself out from under J as he reaches for that knife, teeth bared in a snarl.