only shooting stars break the mold

Frey Beholders beware, there are no safe words "You might be one of the winiest mortals that has bothered me for a long time." Frey said with an unhappy sigh. 'And I've dealt with Phoebe post breakup." Frey's arms tightened across their chest, the god appearing all the more impressive and alluring the longer Oliver was in their presence. 'Represent? My goals? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to hun? I represent sex. Pleasure. My goals are just that. I don't care at all about your neediness or how you live your life." As Oliver mentioned all the confusing, attraction bullshit Frey reached forward their fingers to curl them into Oliver's blonde locks. Tightening there, they'd drag the hybrid closer as their other hand would reach between his legs, pressing up against whatever fledgling erection their magic might have inspired thus far. "Go on. Tell me about all your confusing attraction woes." They whispered in a voice that sounded like sex in dark alley-ways.