There's a languid, indulgent pleasure in being wanted. Kurt looks down his body at Wrench and sees it in his expression, his heart still vibrating from the sight of his hands shaping the words. The intensity of it is both surprising and not, feeling more like something that has been waiting between them since the sunny afternoon on the park bench, when Wrench's knees had bumped his and they had first ventured together into a consideration of second chances. And as much as Wrench wants him, he finds himself echoing it, his body savouring the sweep of the other man's hands, drinking in the sight of the muscles moving along his shoulders and the red tips of his ears.

Kurt's breath hitches in his chest as fabric slides down his hips, helped by a loop of his tail and kicked off onto the floor. He shudders, his head falling back against the bed as Wrench slides his hand around him, rolling his hips to push himself up into that smooth warm palm. The kisses in the fur of his belly are islands of heat, not unlike earlier pain, but far sweeter.

"Ah, Bitte," he sighs as Wrench strokes him, unable to stop himself moving with each motion, his knees rising up so he can set his feet against the waistband of Wrench's jeans. His tail follows, looping around Wrench's thigh and sliding up between his legs, pressing against him there.