Fleshing touching in such a way, recognized or not, was a longed for interaction; only increased since Arion's dappling with the police officer. She may have had no interest in the man in uniform, but she felt the same things her brother did, responded and held onto those same desires. Arion had not understood them when they had occurred because of Shoshana's control or even Despoina's; he had watched and experienced from the recesses of his mind with a mild curiosity, but Despoina? She was full aware, understood the call and stirrings of their body, and the run in at the riots--it had caused the attraction once more to bubbly up.
It had not been her plan, upon finding their mother, to reenact the rituals, even begin them, but a millenia of not, her body nearly sang for it, even outside of Arion's new found lust. So she relished in the press of their breasts together, the gentle hand finding the dip in her back.
The harder kiss caused the smallest of sighs to fall from her lips and lifted just a hair on the balls of her feet to move closer into Demeter's affections. As her mother's lips dropped to the slide of her neck, Despoina had no qualms with tilting, moving, to give the room needed and her own free hand rose to trace and learn the new curve of Demeter's waist, eventually finding a home high on her ribs.
"The world needs the blessing, it can--will occur with or without worshipers." Of course if they had some it would have made things all the more poignant, but Despoina's powers hardly required direct mortal subjugation, it was what separated her from the other gods in many ways.