A thrum moves through her as Mizu feels Vergil's tail first at her back and continuing around her. With his hand still lightly on hers, with his other hand still supporting her back, with her still in his lap, it gives her more of Vergil. More touch and connection and him. An ocean to the smallness of men. She teases herself the way she imagines Vergil would have, if she had not rushed him. His fingers instead of hers. Mizu hungers for more, wanted more and faster, yet she's wound up here all the same.

Already, small grunts and labored breathing escapes her. It's what she needed—to be loved and to be wanted despite everything terrible about her and what she'll do to him. It amazes her, and each time he speaks, each stroke of pleasure, drives away other thoughts so he holds her body and mind. Mizu kisses Vergil back instinctively, but she hungers for his words. So close, she can hardly see him now, but she pretends how she feels him fills the scene in her mind. His body warm and close, holding her, around her, touching her. His clothes a pale stand-in for Vergil but enough to bring him more to life.

"You are the reason I stay in bed," Mizu says, words harder. "You and your... many tricks." Mizu says it affectionately. Vergil has no job that needs doing, and Folkmore does not force it. Yet she's a person of habit, early to rise. Here he goes adding another one, for a morning when she's slept in his clothes and wakes smelling him. The bed would be cold, unless she slept in his spot. So she imagines doing so, going to bed alone, and waking with him curled around her, somehow still on the same side of the bed as her. A fantasy within a fantasy and a pleasant one at that.

Her legs kick a little as she imagines it further. "I tangle my legs in the sheets, like you're holding them."