Interlude with Myth

"Grape?" Frey asked with a tilt of their head. Should Caiside agree, the plumpest and most crisp, ripe, and firm purple grape he'd ever seen would float towards him, ready to be plucked. Frey nodded as the man spoke, their eyes trailing pathways across his body with unfettered appreciation. Still, his ruminating brought a sigh from their lips. Bending a knee to rest a naked foot against the bark of the tree, Frey plucked yet another string of grapes from the air and popped one into their mouth. This time though, they held it between their teeth, worrying it back and forth before plunging into the flesh. "It isn't so much that your reasons mean nothing, hun, more that it's outside of my jurisdiction." The god replied with a casual sway of their shoulders. "To serve me?" Frey asked with a skeptical hum upon their perfectly plump lips. Unlike their counterpart Safrin, this god had very little interest in the whims and appeals of mortals, much less their mewling and piety. "You prayed without mentioning a name at all. It is luck on your part and boredom on mine that brings me here, hun, but now you want to go and serve your purpose to me?" Frey laughed, and as they did, Caiside would find himself bound against the tree upon which Frey leaned. He'd be face forward, the tree somehow accommodating for his more outward-facing bits and curves, so that although he was star-fished against the bark, it wasn't altogether too uncomfortable. Had he taken the grape earlier though, he'd find himself with quite the hefty erection though. "Now." Frey said, pushing themselves elegantly off of the tree and twisting around to come up behind Caiside, out of his range of vision. "Tell me more about that grasping you want to do?"