Even when you factored in the absurdity of the situation, it was nigh on impossible for Loras to maintain any cool facade, or any composure at all. His breath caught in his throat, his eyelids falling the moment Renly not only reciprocated but initiated more. The moan that escaped his throat was unmistakably needy as if he'd waited years for just one touch.
Lips parted, almost obedient, and he noted with startling clarity that this was the same but different. Renly was cleaner, he tasted sweeter, but he kissed with the same fervor that sent fresh waves of desire through Loras' body. Without even being aware of it, Loras rolled his body instinctively against Renly's, seeking more, careless fingers slipping underneath the hem of Renly's shirt, finding warm skin and gripping, possessive...want, need, take: Loras' mortis operandi.