Demeter's skin felt alive with the trails of Desponia's finger tips, searching. They were different hands but the actions were familiar and the taste in the air even more so. As the towel slipped over her body she felt her heart begin to pick up pace. It had been ages since they had done this and even now it was different.
She allowed Desponia to do her searching, submissive in her own rite. For the control Demeter had had over the rituals, Desponia was the one with the power in them and it was difficult not to recognize. At the kiss Demeter swallowed hard, returning it, her own hand sliding around the slender body, holding the soft skin to hers. She had the feeling that she should stop but Desponia was intoxicating and nearly impossible to deny.
It took only a moment before Demeter seemed to shift into herself, taking more control, pressing the kiss firmer. Her hand cupped the back of her daughter's small head, her other hand pressing against the small of her back.
When she eventually broke the kiss, her own lips finding the delicate curve of Desponia's neck, she whispered. "There are no worshipers here, no ritual to be performed." Demeter knew, on some level, that Desponia did not appreciate the rituals, her role or duty in them- she gave her daughter an out now. There was no one to bless, no obligations.