Ｐｅｒｆｅｃｔ．

[The tendril against Shingetsu stops, for a moment, quivers, and then

shoves inside all at once, gushing oil from the tip in a sudden swell so that it drips out already even with the tightness of a human body that was so new.

(its face splits in a grin and it laughs, high and sharp and discordant, because it has won already and it will be so ｂｅａｕｔｉｆｕｌ to claim the boy completely, to warp his body and tie it completely to his mind so there is no running from it)]