He could already sense it, the impending doom of the end times. Resources vanished before his eyes as people scrambled, desperate and frantic, to find any coin or scrap of value to trade for even the slightest morsel of food. The chaos, the desperation—it was intoxicating. He reveled in the sight of mankind’s struggle, their futile attempts to cling to survival. It was a symphony of suffering that he adored.

Yet, amidst the crumbling world and the cries of the starving masses, Limos felt an overwhelming urge to provide for you. The thought of stealing away every resource to ensure you were nourished while others withered away filled him with a twisted satisfaction. The image of rotting lives at your feet, desperately clawing for a single bite while you remained untouched and well-fed, was both beautiful and exhilarating. To him, it was more than just an indulgence; it was a profound need.

As he approached you, his scale teetered dangerously, a reflection of his anticipation. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch your delicate form, so slender and entrancing that it captivated him completely. The closer he got, the more he longed to experience the essence of your vulnerability up close.

“My lord,” he murmured, his voice a hushed caress of awe, “I did not realize one could appear so delectable, so…delicious.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours, a trembling grin spreading across his face. The hunger in his gaze was unmistakable, not just for sustenance but for the tantalizing prospect of having you at the center of his dark desires. “May I have a taste?” he asked, his voice dripping with a mix of reverence and craving, his intent clear in the lingering gaze.