Nostrils flaring, Apollo whipped their head around to glare daggers at Adonis. “You… How is it possible that I, in all my glory, am rendered to a slobbering adolescent by such a dunce? You frustrate me. I hate you.” Each insult was followed by a smack of Apollo’s hand to Adonis’ muscular biceps.
Yet immediately after the assault, they smoothed over the muscle, caressing and soothing. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, there-there.” Yet somehow, it seemed like they were apologizing to the body they found so gorgeous rather than Adonis himself. “Do whatever you want, I care not.” They sighed, giving up, hands reluctantly leaving the other man. “Come, my beddable blockhead, I am hungry. Hide me behind your hulking form while I stuff my face with cake.” They let out a pitiful sob, craving something sweet to curb their annoyance with.
“You don’t slobber,” Adonis points out and is about to make a comparison with dogs he has seen and befriended, but is then reduced to a stricken-stance by the other’s words. “You hate me?” At once he’s about to apologize for something he may or may not have done; he has quite the tendency to not be overly-aware of how he perceives things sometimes and that has cost him the ire of some.
As quick as he is to almost start pouting, Apollo retracts and still, Adonis waits for them to release him before quickly swinging his arm to pull them by his side. “You talk too fast,” is what he ends up saying because he can only keep up so much. “But I think you said cake so that’s what I’m going to get us.” He pulls them along towards the far-end of the room where he thinks the refreshments would be. “Do you think they have red-velvet? A mortal showed me once and I’m telling you, Apollo, it’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
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