Interlude with Myth

"Is that so?" Caiside would find his lips thrust apart, the multitude of hands pulling at his teeth and tongue in a way not entirely unpleasant, if you were into that sort of thing. Suddenly he would be filled by the god. Forced to inhale as Frey's essence crashed down his throat, the attuned would find himself ravaged from the inside out. Every replicated cell was resplendent with Frey, every atom that composed him, every snippet of DNA that bespoke of who he was, was drowned in the god. "Why?" Frey's voice rang out, the harmonized low baritone and high alto of their voice echoing through this body and outwards, as if his cock was some sort of divining rod. Pleasure flashed like a lightning storm, lighting up his innermost fantasies and thoughts, the overwhelming urge to climax, to crest the wave of orgasm nearly palpable and yet unattainable. "You come here seeking an audience with anyone, wanting purpose, to serve, but not as a servant. Then as what hun? So willing to fuck and be fucked—" Caiside would feel his legs being pulled apart, the muscles and flesh of his ass being grabbed by the host of hands. "—but not to be called what you are? Then what are you, mm? What is it you want?"