[It's there for him, of course, when he begins to come down. It floats up to cradle his head in his lap, strokes his cheek and speaks to him in a voice dripping with adoration.]

You've done so ｗｅｌｌ, pet...you've made me so ｐｒｏｕｄ...

[Its touches are rhythmic, soothing, a simple pattern to bring him to rest.

(in the background, V squirms, moans as a tendril probes at his ass and another slips into his mouth, nearly sobs with relief)]

Would you like to sleep, pet?

I can make him ready.