[ Koltira doesn't want this, but--at the same time--he really does. He craves warmth constantly, magic or no magic. His cold body aches for life, even as it repulses him; the tension between this yearning and this disgust is excruciating, and that pain is only amplified by the compulsion pushing him forward. He grips Percival's shoulders, none too kindly, and growls low in his throat. ]
This is not my doing.
[ And then, the kiss: cool, yes, but softer than one might expect. He kisses like he's done this before, albeit not for a while. Unsure at first, and then with more confidence--solely because he stops thinking about it, solely because he's able to silence his own shame for a few precious moments. He pulls on Percy's lower lip, just enough, and his tongue skates across the other man's teeth--but no further than that.
He draws back as soon as he feels the magic settle, satisfied by his obedience. Soon, horror will wash over him. But for now, for the last bit of those stolen seconds, he just shuts his eyes and holds on to the warmth. ]
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This is not my doing.
[ And then, the kiss: cool, yes, but softer than one might expect. He kisses like he's done this before, albeit not for a while. Unsure at first, and then with more confidence--solely because he stops thinking about it, solely because he's able to silence his own shame for a few precious moments. He pulls on Percy's lower lip, just enough, and his tongue skates across the other man's teeth--but no further than that.
He draws back as soon as he feels the magic settle, satisfied by his obedience. Soon, horror will wash over him. But for now, for the last bit of those stolen seconds, he just shuts his eyes and holds on to the warmth. ]