That skirt was so much hotter when it was barely a belt, and Much followed, bracing his hand on the back of the chair and bending over to kiss Dionysus' mouth, ravenous and needy as his hands were, tracing down his body. The smell of him was wild, something earthy, and rich in the way the forest was rich, and there was something else there, something entirely unplaceable, and Much wanted to get lost in it.
He should have exactly what he wanted? Much couldn't think further than wanting his hand wrapped around the base of Dionysus' cock, his tongue on the warm, sensitive skin of his head. There was no hesitation, the craving to put something - anything - sexual in his mouth stronger than anything else, and Much groaned to have that craving sated.
Except it wasn't sated, at all. Dionysus' cock felt good in his mouth fuck fucking hell it wasn't enough.