There are some things that Kurt's body knows how to do better than his mind or heart. How to leap and catch a trapeze as it swings towards him, for instance; how to transfer a sword from hand to tail and use it to meet an opponent's attack. How to disappear in a cloud of roiling smoke and a snap of rapidly displaced air. In all cases, it is a matter of trust, of giving himself up to that breath-stopping instinct. His life has depended on and been saved by that trust many times. But there are smaller moments, too, quieter moments, when he allows the animal that drives him to take over, though they are often no less giddy than falling from the height of the big top.

As Wrench's hands span and grip beneath his legs, Kurt allows himself to be lifted up, folding around the taller man with arms and ankles crossed behind him and tail sliding around his leg. He kisses and licks his way up the side of Wrench's neck, tasting salt sweat as the points of his fangs graze over his skin.

He's not surprised to end up in the bedroom again. Being dropped into the rumpled blankets twinges his newly wrapped injuries, but he ignores the pain in order to tug Wrench closer with loops of his tail and outstretched hand, eager to leave no room for hurt and regret between them.