Hm. ( He hums lightly, hinting at humor that has yet to grace his features until now. It's oddly pleasing seeing someone thrive under his praise, but who is playing who? Sunday's cock twitches hard against the touch, left hungry by the thumb fondling and twisting beneath the head and it almost leaves Sunday hissing. Blood blushes hotly to it, and nerves feel like live wires chasing down the pleasure. He's most sensitive there, right above the fold of his foreskin and against the slit. Sunday blushes, too. It almost shatters the peak control he has on his gaze.

The voice of a Halovian is naturally ethereal, smooth to the ears of other humans and made to draw in an audience. It's quite the possession in the shoes of leadership. And he tilts up Olivine's head, pushing him closer to his cock. )

Any priest would from my experience, but you're not like them. You probably use your mouth for many things other than preaching.

( Was that backhanded??? A little, just little toxic things, ok? Sunday feels lightheaded, feeling a spasm deep within him that stems from his Suit. He sighs, tensing his cock more with the strokes. It's not enough. He wants those kind, husky lips. His other hand grabs hold of the one stroking him, guiding himself over to them so he can lightly trace the curve of his crown across his bottom lip. )

I'd like to see you use it, Olivine. Our lives might depend on it... given our circumstances.