"Ah, my love, I could never grow tired of your humming," Apollo sighs with that loving look upon his golden gaze.

Watching you work was something he couldn't help but love. He was never grateful for any Gods besides himself, but if there were one that led you to him, he would surely build them a shrine that would show his gratitude.

"Such a tune leaving those lips..." he murmurs, lips curled into a smile as his hand props his chin.

It wouldn't matter if you came to him as a God, Goddess, mortal, nymph, or even a centaur...your souls were intertwined, and he would always be drawn to you.

"Much too enticing for any but my ears to hear," Apolls adds, eyes following every curve and contour as if painting you within his head.

You were his muse, his very reason for being anything other than a God like any other upon Mount Olympus. You made him different, made him more than a Sun God. To be yours meant being more than any of the titles that he was given in his eyes.

"How I desire to feel those lips against my own instead of watching them move without me..."