That right there was one of the reasons Ariadne never bothered with designer clothes; between Dionysus and goats and winestains and all, there just wasn't a point (it was lucky, Ariadne thought briefly as she heard various buttons raining down onto the floor, that she found mending soothing, an excellent thing to do with her hands while absorbed in a podcast.)
But it was a very brief thought- this was no place for soothing thoughts, as the thrill of his action made her gasp, and Much's mouth on her breasts a moment later had her biting her lip. Much's hands were squashed in between their bodies as Dionysus held them close, but his fingers still managed to unbutton her trousers. And then, instead of pushing her trousers down, Much just slid his fingers straight between her legs. "Oh fuck," she gasped, wrapping a hand tight in Much's hair, tilting her head back to pillow on Dionysus' shoulder as she ground her hips against Much's hand.
With her hand in his hair, Much couldn't kiss her again, but holy fuck, it was the most erotic sight in front of him. Much lifted his eyes to Dionysus, hungrily drinking in the sight of him, too, as Much fingered his wife. Should this be this hot? Fuck, it was, though... it really fucking was.