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Much Millerson (muchofamuchness) wrote in nevermore_logs,

Much had been inside two Olympian's apartments; Hermes' and Aphrodite's, and he'd been expecting Dionysus' to be on the same level of ostentatious wealth, but it wasn't. The thing his place seemed to be richest in was plants; weird looking furniture too, yes, but pots and pots bursting with thick and glossy leaves, a vine worked its way up the bannisters of the stairs - or several vines all twisted together, it was hard to tell. Dionysus himself was a surprise as well, with his bare chest and how close he was to Much when he stopped and spoke, and Much felt the sexual charge because it was such a weirdly intimate thing to say. But weird, he liked weird, and fuck he craved intimate. And sexual charges. "Do I?" he asked, too caught up in looking back with the same interest to find something clever to say.

"That's appropriate," Ariadne laughed, and stroked her hand over Much's hair (shivers!) "This is Much, he's one of the Merry Men of the deep dark forest nights, and Much, this is Dionysus." She leaned over, and kissed Dionysus just over his heart, lips on his bare skin. "Much had been pouring the wine all night. Let me open a bottle, you can catch up a little." She didn't need to ask if Dionysus wanted a glass as well - some things were givens.