Frey watches the tension in Sunjata's mouth as it shifts, as something guarded and tight slowly gives way beneath their touch, and the smile that follows is not singular in its intent; it curves with a quiet hunger that lingers in the spaces between moments, greedy in the way of something that already anticipates his return, already imagines the nights he will reach for them. Yet threaded through it, just as clearly, is something softer, something patient and knowing, a tenderness that doesn’t demand, only waits. Their thumb lingers a moment longer against his lip before their hand lifts away, though not far, not fully, as if they’ve no real intention of giving up the contact entirely.
At his question, one brow arches, slow and deliberate, and then they laugh; low, warm, a sound that curls easily into the space between them. "Mm. No," Frey says, the word rolling out with easy amusement as their hand comes back to pat his cheek, light and approving. "That’s not too much to ask at all." There’s a flick of their wrist, casual as breath, and from nothing at all two small vials appear, hovering for only a heartbeat before settling within easy reach. The liquid inside them shifts constantly, colours bleeding into one another like oil on water, never quite settling, never quite still.
"These will get you suitably fucked up.." Their smile tilts, faintly wicked at the edges. "But keep you just shy of losing yourself entirely. No blacking out. No dull, heavy drop at the end of it. Just the fun parts." Their shoulders lift in a small, almost feline shrug, unconcerned, indulgent. "And if you decide you’d rather not rely on little gifts like these," Frey adds, tone turning idly thoughtful, though their gaze remains fixed on him, "if you'd like the ability to recreate this feeling in yourself or in others, all you have to do is ask."
At his question, one brow arches, slow and deliberate, and then they laugh; low, warm, a sound that curls easily into the space between them. "Mm. No," Frey says, the word rolling out with easy amusement as their hand comes back to pat his cheek, light and approving. "That’s not too much to ask at all." There’s a flick of their wrist, casual as breath, and from nothing at all two small vials appear, hovering for only a heartbeat before settling within easy reach. The liquid inside them shifts constantly, colours bleeding into one another like oil on water, never quite settling, never quite still.
"These will get you suitably fucked up.." Their smile tilts, faintly wicked at the edges. "But keep you just shy of losing yourself entirely. No blacking out. No dull, heavy drop at the end of it. Just the fun parts." Their shoulders lift in a small, almost feline shrug, unconcerned, indulgent. "And if you decide you’d rather not rely on little gifts like these," Frey adds, tone turning idly thoughtful, though their gaze remains fixed on him, "if you'd like the ability to recreate this feeling in yourself or in others, all you have to do is ask."
