[It feels him relax, just enough, and it purrs, moves in closer to touch at his lips with two unnaturally smooth, soft fingers.]
Mm, that's it, little one...
[Another tendril slithers up over its shoulder -- it's thicker, this one, dripping that violet fluid slowly from the tip -- and it pets at it absently with one hand, as if encouraging it in closer.]
You'll be much ｂｅｔｔｅｒ this way...
[The tendril creeps closer, rubbing up against Mizael's chin and smearing oil over the surface, and Mist slips its hands underneath and gently guides it up to press against Mizael's lips.
(the liquid that begins to drip into his mouth is thin and slippery and leaves a slow heat blooming wherever it touches, on lips or chin or tongue where it tastes like fog and dusk)]
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Mm, that's it, little one...
[Another tendril slithers up over its shoulder -- it's thicker, this one, dripping that violet fluid slowly from the tip -- and it pets at it absently with one hand, as if encouraging it in closer.]
You'll be much ｂｅｔｔｅｒ this way...
[The tendril creeps closer, rubbing up against Mizael's chin and smearing oil over the surface, and Mist slips its hands underneath and gently guides it up to press against Mizael's lips.
(the liquid that begins to drip into his mouth is thin and slippery and leaves a slow heat blooming wherever it touches, on lips or chin or tongue where it tastes like fog and dusk)]
Oh, and won't you be a pretty ｐｅｔ?