So, if she was understanding his dilemma correctly, he didn't need to cool off, she did. Because she was the sun, so she was burning him. Which, if she'd stopped to think about it, was what he'd been saying all along. That she glowed and was golden and she made him burn. He wasn't hitting on her; he was telling her exactly what he was experiencing.
Well that was actually a little disappointing. Because she'd actually really loved those compliments. But it turned out they weren't what she thought, and he didn't really see her in those terms. Despite her best intentions, Bast drooped just a little.
Reminding herself that she was doing something good for somebody, somebody that was probably a friend of her brother's, Bast took a deep breath and prepared to explain to him. There was a logic here that would probably help him, she just needed to phrase it correctly instead of blurting it out. She needed to feed it to him in a way that would filter through his drug haze and make sense. Bast would simply explain that if the rain cooled him down, it would also tamp down the fire of the sun, so then she wouldn't burn him any longer.
Bast opened her mouth to say just that, sort of glossing over the fact that he'd been telling her he wanted to do something. Something about a theory. She only barely registered the way he was touching her face, because she was too focused on how to help him understand. But there was no way she could miss what happened next.
With her lips already parted to speak, his own slid against hers as though that was where they were always meant to be. Despite telling herself that she'd welcome it if Thanatos was the one to make a move, part of her had never expected her, so the surprising warmth of his mouth against hers was a delicious sort of shock. After a half a heart beat of doing nothing but enjoying the way his lips moved against hers, Bast began to kiss him back. And she was not at all hesitant or reticent about the way she went about it.
One hand slid over his shoulder, reaching back far enough to barely brush her fingertips against his wing. The other hand found it's way upward until her fingers were buried in fistfuls of his hair, holding him in place as though he might pull away and take his gorgeous mouth with him. Bast wasn't about to let that happen. Not until she'd had her fill of it, and that would not be soon. She was enjoying the feel of him pressed against her, and she was loving the flavor of him. Who knew that death tasted like peaches?