The press of legs gladly had her spreading them slightly, and yet at the same time, pushing Demeter back toward the opposing wall of the shower, both her hands moving to her mother's shoulders and into her wet hair. She nudged her lips once more to meet her own, gasping into her mouth quietly when the feminine hand found her ass, Despoina's hips jerking slightly as heat exploded along her nerves.
For as much as she had hated the rites, there was something almost nostalgic--and in some ways--right about their motions. No lover she had ever chosen was quite the same, quite as fulfilling as Demeter. Arion huffed a bit offended though she did not bother to quell his ridiculous [possible] jealousy issue.