The air ripples—not with sound, but with sensation. The golden haze deepens, thickens, drapes itself like satin across the skin, and then Frey is there. As always, they are naked and unapologetic, striding from the mist like a living ode to pleasure. Their body shifts with the moment, adorned with only the glint of mischief in their eye and the weight of a thousand unspoken yeses curling at the corner of their smile. They pause beside the shrine, tilting their head as they survey the offerings left by King’s End’s more adventurous faithful.
A hum slips from their throat, low and deeply amused. "Well." Brows bounce, playful and approving. "I leave for five minutes and suddenly it’s the harvest festival of debauchery." They trail a hand along the silken bondage that wraps the shrine, fingers brushing lovingly over knots tied with reverence and irreverence both. "But then, you do always know how to please."
At the mention of the Family, they lift a shoulder in an elegant shrug, unbothered as always. "Things work out the way they’re meant to," they say breezily, as if divine omniscience were no more weighty than choosing a wine. Then, with no warning, they bend to pluck one of the more impressively sculpted dildos from the grass, turning it over in their hand with idle curiosity. It bends, slightly, under the pressure of their fingers—just once—and Sunjata will feel it immediately. The squeeze is ghostlike and unmistakably intimate, dragging across his cock with the kind of knowing touch that no god should wield so casually.
Frey doesn’t look at him right away. They examine the toy a moment longer before glancing up, lips curving in wicked delight. "Well done you, though." They draw closer, until their voice is silk against his ear. "Making enemies scream and friends moan? That’s a very special kind of rain, grey eyes." A pause, breathless and intentional. "You always did have a talent for making everyone around you wet."
Sunjata has completed his quest!
A hum slips from their throat, low and deeply amused. "Well." Brows bounce, playful and approving. "I leave for five minutes and suddenly it’s the harvest festival of debauchery." They trail a hand along the silken bondage that wraps the shrine, fingers brushing lovingly over knots tied with reverence and irreverence both. "But then, you do always know how to please."
At the mention of the Family, they lift a shoulder in an elegant shrug, unbothered as always. "Things work out the way they’re meant to," they say breezily, as if divine omniscience were no more weighty than choosing a wine. Then, with no warning, they bend to pluck one of the more impressively sculpted dildos from the grass, turning it over in their hand with idle curiosity. It bends, slightly, under the pressure of their fingers—just once—and Sunjata will feel it immediately. The squeeze is ghostlike and unmistakably intimate, dragging across his cock with the kind of knowing touch that no god should wield so casually.
Frey doesn’t look at him right away. They examine the toy a moment longer before glancing up, lips curving in wicked delight. "Well done you, though." They draw closer, until their voice is silk against his ear. "Making enemies scream and friends moan? That’s a very special kind of rain, grey eyes." A pause, breathless and intentional. "You always did have a talent for making everyone around you wet."
Sunjata has completed his quest!
