[He looks at the other with open adoration at the sensation of those clever fingers against his scalp. Musician’s fingers, he reminds himself. A god of music, to be precise. ]

[ He brings his hand to his mouth to laugh in his quiet, breathy way. ]

I wouldn’t call you plain at all! You’re a tad shy for someone who swept me off my feet so readily but an hour ago. Come here and kiss me.

[ He twists his hand in the other’s scarf, pulling him down to meet his lips. ]