Interlude with Myth

“Mmmm how right you are. “ Frey agreed as the bonds tightened a notch more. “Always nice to meet a man who is able to admit his flaws. But flaws aren’t interesting to me, hun. What you do with and about them however..” The deity purred, trailing off slightly. Disappearing for a moment behind him, an eternity flitting through the passing seconds, Frey’s presence suddenly filled everything. Appearing behind him, Frey contoured themselves around him like a sentient and body-shaped liquid. They filled the curve of his back, the narrowing of his waist and then flowed downwards like a cape leaving his thighs and the back of his legs to experience only a tickle of them every now and again. Arms—no, wings? Feathers? Or was it skin, like a bat had?—blocked his vision on both sides as if Frey leaned against him. Their height indiscernible based on what Caiside could feel (all of their physical properties seemed entirely fluid and yet strangely fixed at the same time), as their mouth suddenly appeared against his ear. “Always?” The god wondered, their lips gently caressing the soft cartilage of his ear, their breath like a cacophony of flowering plants. All at once, Caiside would find himself lost in the dizzying metaphysics of the gods power. He’d feel as though his body was still bound in the hug-shape that it was against the tree, but suddenly he was spinning through a dark and moist tunnel, lips and tongues and teeth and the dragging of silken rags would cover and nip and stroke his body in an incalcuble array of sensory experiences that was sure to be as dizzying as it was pleasurable. Frey’s laughter wrapped around the attuned, and though he was both still bound to the tree on earth as well as spinning through this strange tunnel of tantalizing sexual touches, he would feel his terrestrial body suddenly touched by a multitude of hands. Fingers pulled at his lips, clasping around his throat in a gentle squeeze, reaching around to pull at the muscles of his chest and then to tug across his nipples. They came around his side, frustratingly close to his manhood shoved quite-literally balls deep into the wood of the tree. They pawed and fawned, slithering between his already spread legs and reaching (somehow) around the balls of his feet as well. “Would you have been so malleable if Safrin appeared? Ludo?” Frey’s voice suddenly reappeared and the tunnel through which Caiside’s (consciousness, perhaps) floated began to spin dizzingly. Their lips were against him again, though the sensation was upon both of his ears simultaneously as the hands continued to writhe. “Are you a servant, little god? Is that what you are in this world?”