The air left him not with desperation but with delight—a surrender so complete it bordered on sacrament. Alex's lungs burned, screamed, rejoiced as that tentacle tongue slithered past his teeth, past his gag reflex, down into the hollow of his throat where it pulsed - >
half - dead visage 、 the splinters of wood worming its way under his pallid skin —- the new unholy growth that stemmed from back oh he was simply a work of art . her forever muse +