He intensified his attack until Melpomene was shuddering and coming apart in his hands, and then he let go, wiping his hand off on the sheets. Ares felt satisfied with that performance. He considered going back out to the party start naked, cock at half-mast, but he was distracted. The desire to write niggled at him, which was of the utmost strangeness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even held a pen.
Melpomene was beautiful, though, shining with sweat and come, her body stretched out like that, secret places all exposed. He could do it again, perhaps. Could never have enough of the Muses.