With one arm trapped beneath him, and us both on our sides, I kneaded into him like massaging Hephaestus’s thigh or Eros’s wings. But this was Apollo’s insides I breached, thrusting in my fingers, while our hips continued to collide. The building heat between us made me fear that this time it might never stop, and I’d be but cinders by the end. He didn’t want to burn me though. He didn’t want to have someone else taken from him. He was possibly the unluckiest in love of all the gods, having lost everyone he ever sought or held dear.
