[It pulls him in by his hair, and it's sustaining that noise, now, that melodious croon, it doesn't need to breathe so it's constant, harmonies shifting and swelling as it gets closer, as it starts to thrust the tendril into his mouth (without moving its hips, somehow).

(its legs drip and melt together, it can barely keep up the form of its body)

(the part of the pool that's coalesced and sticking around him pushes further into him, starts to spurt into his ass again)

The harmonies speak, in a strange way, they say yes, you are good, you are wanted, you have pleased me.

(he pleases it)

(he pleases it and so it will please him)

It swells inside him, gives him back what he lost, fills him up.]