He watched his father’s small satisfaction at finally pulling an emotion from behind his mask. For weeks, Ebima had followed the boy as he scurried on through his life, school, some sort of game in which the boy would kick a black and white ball past other children, attempting to place it into a wide net with no defense save a female child, waving hands and crouched to the ground. He did hyperventilate then, hands scrambling over his body, attempting to climb off the bed, but yelping in pain when he clenched his ass to do so. Chris sat up, placing his hands on his chest, only to have them pulled off and held at bay. You know.” His impish smirk grew wider on his face, most likely recalling the appalling things he’d done to the human boy all those years ago. Swear you will say nothing to Father. “Why you and your idiot brother insist on making me teach you these lessons will never make sense to me!
