[Good, he hopes so. Maybe in a moment, it will become abundantly clear that the fires of Elliot's jealousy have been stoked. Maybe Sesa will feel it in the hands that hold the Vouivre down, in the nails that press into his shoulders when he steals another kiss, less crushing and suffocating than that of earlier, but no less passionate. No less possessive, as Elliot's tongue plunges into Sesa's mouth for nothing more than a teasing, quick taste before he backs up.]
You know, you remember, who you belong to, then.
[It's not phrased like a question. It's a statement, an assurance.]
no subject
You know, you remember, who you belong to, then.
[It's not phrased like a question. It's a statement, an assurance.]