J is enjoying this. He's more than enjoying this. So passive -- just briefly struggling, stopping before Mitch can even do anything about it -- and that focus on Mitch, the keen attention the blond is paying. If this is what it takes to get through to him... if this is what it takes...

"And you'd let me, wouldn't you?" he asks him, in that same inflection. He saw J's reaction. Saw that it got him to listen, and that's reason enough to keep using it, even if it hurts his throat.

He switches his grip, knife in the right hand and J's left wrist held down. He holds up the knife, letting the long, thin blade brush over J's skin without breaking it. Brushing the back of his hand... up his arm... the side of his neck. To rest against his carotid artery, the flat of the blade flush against his skin. Through the steel, J can feel Mitch's hand shaking.

"Why?" Quieter. Softer. Just a little.