Izaya recoils at Psyche's pecking, Delic's bite, everything. It hurts a lot more now, it feels more now. The slightest brush of a fingertip, a tongue, the sheets and he can't help but flinch. He's scared. He doesn't know what's happening to him, even though he can feel it. The way those fingers curl around him sweetly, kindly, gently. It makes him sick. He ignores the host's plotting even though he knows the other brunet will more than happily comply. All he can do is muster a barely audible plea.

"S-stop it, please..."

Or maybe not. Maybe they should just get their disgusting gratification out of the way.