Maybe one day Mitch can tell J how he feels, but now is not the time. Being called beautiful... It would be too painful and too funny and too strange. He's still learning how to let himself be touched without lashing out..or planning to. There's that cut on Mitch's cheek and J enjoys focusing on it. That and the intensity in the boy's eyes. It scares him --just a little-- and that's where the thrill comes from.

It's a slow transition in activity and he's grateful for it. There's still the burn of the fresh cut to his chest and the wet warmth of his blood between them as Mitch lowers down close. Mitch's lips feel so soft and so much wetter than his own --pulled taught with the stitches and drying from it-- but soon that moisture is being shared. Mitch's tongue runs between his lips and J parts them for it...then bites, smiling. It's quick and sharp, then he licks back. He moves his hands up to set his nails into Mitch's lower back and drag them up to the shoulders.