King Elk Forest born under a bad sign

Please what?

Killua shivers beneath the man's tongue, caring not that the nameless is severely unknown. His pleasure outweighs the broad margin of danger, and he casts his instincts aside to bathe in the lavish attention he is being dealt. He wants nothing more, craves nothing else. A despondent and vile mother can do such things to a very needy, clingy child. His back arches, pressing deeper into the man's touch, and his body vibrates as a growl peels from his throat. He doesn't answer because he does not know how; his mind does not tell him exactly what he wants, just that he wants it, and that it is imperative he receives it. Satisfaction would come only when he has been given enough pleasure, enough pain, enough attention -- and it is impossible to gauge just how much that is before he gets it.

All the black-footed fiend knows, is that this gentle affection is not enough! He recoils slowly so that his gaze -- widening with mania -- might meet amethyst eyes imploringly. I can't put into words what I want— But it is you, it is you, it is you! Here, there, everywhere! You, you, please!