[Well. If this is what its pet desires, it will give generously~.

It slips up again so it can cradle IV's head in its hands, croon to him, calm him.

(calm him just enough)

(just enough that this will be easier, but of course he won't be calm once it's in, will he?)

Another tendril just as thick slides up alongside the first, dripping, and begins to push into him, slowly, steadily. And as it does Black Mist strokes IV's hair, croons to him softly.]

Such a good pet. Such a good boy.