[A warm heater that she'll take him up on, when he coaxes her closer. There's a clicking of mugs as her knees bump against them, shifting to half-lay on top of him, her breasts pillowing into his chest, her skin rosy and warm with the lazy affection they're sharing.

One hand under her chin, her other hand comes to stroke through his hair affectionately, brushing past his pointed ears then down to run her thumb across his bottom lip, her gaze following and lingering there.]

Would you believe that there was once fear that the gods would go to war because of me? Lord Zeus was convinced that my beauty would drive all of them to war over my hand.