"Me too," Much breathed, with a shudder of pleasure as Dionysus undressed him. Head over heels in love with pleasure, he was. Unthinkably enamored with the act of being touched and touching in return. Devoted to it. Much ran his hands down Dionysus' chest, using the V of his sheet shirt as a runway, leading straight down to his destination. "This skirt is so hot," he said, with a little laugh, though not a sustained laugh, as he ran his hand over the growing bulge beneath the skirt, too needy to laugh about it. "Should I? Can I? Here in the kitchen?" God this was fast, but - things had been fast with Orpheus, and so goddamn good. And the speed of it was hot, like maybe fucking an almost stranger was exactly what he needed?
Ariadne had barely waited with him at Diogenes, anyway. Fast was good.