Interlude with Myth

Indeed, Caiside would feel the feather-light dance of fingertips across the upper muscles of his back. Despite the fact that Frey was moving around the man's back, the trek of their fingers seemed to take an impossibly long time, as if the once-god's back was a mountain range for the current-god's fingers to traverse and map. Eventually though Frey did reach the other side, leaning against the side of the tree with an apple suddenly in their hand. From his vantage point Caiside would be able to see the jut of Frey's hip, the flat of their stomach, the way the juice from the apple dripped off of their chin. "Whatever you can do, huh hun?" Frey repeated, tossing the apple to the ground where it immediately seemed to break apart into a mulch that dissolved into the soil. "Desperate or just ignorant, that's always the questions with you mortals..." Now the finger that dragged across Caiside's back was teasing and taunting, dripping down his spine with luxurious slowness until it reached his sacrum. There Frey's finger gave a twist, and Caiside would feel pressure shoot through him unlike anything before as his hips were pressed further into the tree. The pressure would echo through his pelvis right into the core of him, ricocheting a sensual and pleasurable vibration outwards that would render speech and most coherent thought impossible for a few seconds. Trailing their finger away as if it were nothing, Caiside would be able to breathe again, though erotic need like this he'd likely never have experienced before, or probably ever would again. "But you aren't exactly mortal, are you hun?" Frey continued, as if their touch had been just that and nothing more, picking up the strains of the conversation where they'd left them. "No, but not not mortal either. What a tricky situation to find yourself in." So saying, Caiside would find his bindings growing even tighter around the tree.