Swallowing is suddenly difficult. There’s a giant lump in my throat that I don’t understand. I should only be feeling fury, frustration, and the desire to wring this puta’s neck. Maybe some sympathy for Velle, since I understand the confusion he’s feeling.
That is… if he also has a complicated history with el diablo…?
“That was a long time ago,” Velle grunts. “You were different then. We both were.”
They’re standing awfully close… but not touching. At least, not that I can see.
Just holding intense eye contact that seems to be conveying a lot of that mysterious history I’m desperate for details on right now.
“Mm. And I seem to remember you becoming disenchanted.” Ivory’s head tilts. “Why was that again?”
Velle leans up against the shelf, shifting some of the books. I can’t tell if he’s simply relaxing his posture, or if he’s attempting to back away.
To get some space between him and his boss.
“Because it changed. You and I both know why…”
Another scoff-like noise puffs from The Ivory’s lips, sloped into an annoyed grimace.“Whyare you over here, Jonathan? I didn’t call you down. You came on your own, and yet now you’re pulling this indecisive act, as if the rabid animal has had a sudden, miraculous change of heart. It’s utter nonsense—”
“So what?” Velle breathes. “Like you’re the only one who can be hot-and-cold…”
“Jonathan…” The Ivory’s tone is becoming noticeably edgier. I’m familiar enough to pick up on it.
Velle should too, but he seems like tonight is different, and he’s hellbent on speaking his mind.
“You call me down here all the time when it behooves you,sir.” He’s wound up. I can hear it in his tone, see it in his stiffness.
The way he’s pushing back feels like something he doesn’t do all the time… But it would appear that The Ivory is allowing it to happen, despite how clearly irritated he is.
It’s as fascinating as it is unsettling…
“I do, because Iownyou,” The Ivory growls, barely an inch separating their faces.Why does it feel like I’m being stabbed in the chest with a dull blade??“Now, in recognition of that, why don’t you give up this little show for independence we both know you don’t reallywantand get down to the real reason you’re here? Because wealsoknow it’s not to argue.”
Velle has gone still. I can’t see his eyes from here, but based on the side of his face, I think he’s struggling to hold on to his hostility because he thinks he has to. Still, I recognize that look… Desperate to let go of your control because it’s so damn heavy, it’s weighing you down, while being terrified that when you do, you’ll never be able to get it back.
I think The Ivory is seeing the same thing I am, because his expression softens a bit. He reaches out, brushing his fingers along the angle of Velle’s sharp jaw. A tender touch I can feel myself, though I really wish I couldn’t.
“It is sohardto be you, isn’t it, my pet?” His voice has gone smooth, cunning once more. “I’m not unsympathetic to your plight, cariño. You know that. But if you’re going to keep showing up over here, wound up and looking for someone to lash out at, I will have to insist on muzzling you.”
His gentle grazing of Velle’s jaw turns rough, and he grabs him hard by the mouth. Glaring, eyes dark and sinister, he hisses, “When I say heel, youheel, dog. Do you understand?”
Velle rumbles, nodding fast. His words muffled by The Ivory’s hand covering his mouth.
Placated by his obedience, he releases Velle, murmuring, “Good boy.” Turning, he saunters across the room, calling as he goes, “Come.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Velle scampers after him, stopping when Ivory stops and spins to face him.
“Down,” he grunts.
Velle drops to his knees.
The Ivory strokes fingers calmly through Velle’s hair. “Goodboy… eres un perro bueno.”
I’m… fucking floored.
Here I’ve been wondering if The Ivory and Velle are screwing. If their elaborate history has ever included them getting it on—it would certainly contribute to the palpable tension and bred hatred.
But what I’m witnessing right now… I don’t think that was ever it.
