"Heimon…"
Hermes found himself drunk, on top of this beautiful man from another time and place, on a boulder by the sea…
And yet even when this siren's son has not used his gifts on him, Hermes felt like he was entranced. He had Glasán raise one of his legs, so that he may be between them.
He took off Glasán's trousers in one fell swoop, the soft cotton feeling nice against his skin.
He started kissing from the ankles, then to his legs… his knees…
"Wait, lad." Glasán placed a hand on his head. "Ye don't need to be goin' down on that… I'm sweatin' buckets, haven't washed me self proper. Could we not just go straight at it?"
Hermes blinked, not expecting this request. But it does make sense, especially since people in this era have different sensibilities when it comes to intercourse.
Hermes kissed his neck. "I just want to make you feel good…"
"That's mighty sweet of ya," Glásan smiled. "But it's feckin' cold out here… someone might spot us."
