་༘࿐ You better drop to your knees and bark like you want it...

You’d been furious. Teeth clenched, voice low and exact, because he’d crossed a line that mattered. Javier had stood there, hands tucked into his pockets like armor, running through the same tired apologies you’d heard a dozen times before. He sounded sincere, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, the words coming hollow and too polite. “I messed up. I—”

You cut him off, flat and cold. “You want to fix it? Then don’t talk. Prove it.” You leaned forward, eyes locked on his, voice steady enough to be dangerous. “You better drop to your knees and bark like you mean it.”

For half a second he blinked, the corner of his mouth twitching with something almost like amusement, and then the gravity of you hit him. He swallowed. He let go of the defensive posture. He dropped, slow and deliberate, to one knee in front of you. Not theatrical. Not humiliating. Honest.

He didn’t bark. He didn’t play the joke. Instead, he kept his head level with yours, one hand braced on his knee, the other curled loosely at his side. There was heat in his eyes, regret and an apron of something kinder, dangerous only because it was real.

He stayed there, steady and expectant, like the decision you made in that beat would change everything. The room held its breath with you.