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In lieu of a verbal response, Sascha smiles as broadly as he can, upper lip twitching slightly as he drops his fangs. Avery’s eyes widen. Then he takes a step closer to study the inside of Sascha’s mouth, which is so odd Sascha can’t help but laugh.

“I’m supposed to just…dothat?”

“It’s one of the first things shifter younglings learn oncetheir adult teeth come in. Dropping fangs and growing claws.” He demonstrates that, too, holding a hand up so Avery can see how his blunt fingernails lengthen, the center of the keratin stretching further, forming a deadly point.

“Christ,” Avery says. He takes Sascha’s hand, stroking his palm, then prodding at the newly grown claws. “It doesn’t happen like this with me. Everything just kinda takes over at once, and it’s awful from start to finish.”

“Does it hurt?”

Avery’s gaze drops, long curls flopping over his forehead to obscure his expression. “Yeah, it does. It hurts a lot.”

I wish I could stop it from hurting you, Sascha doesn’t say. “Okay. Let’s start with your teeth. Try to feel the flesh around your canines, how it’s holding the bones inside. Then visualize… Think of flexing and relaxing a muscle. You clench to feel where your fangs are, then you let them slip out naturally.”

Screwing up his face, Avery appears to concentrate overly hard, before scowling. “I don’t know how to feel myteeth. You can’t feel teeth.”

“You aren’t trying to feel your teeth, just the gums around your canines.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Avery says flatly.

Sascha almost frowns, but resists. This will take time, and getting frustrated with Avery for being discouraged won’t help. “Let’s try something else, then. Something you’ll like better.” Before he can second-guess himself, Sascha bends to take Avery’s mouth.

Their lips catch, pressure increasing when Avery lifts his chin and pushes onto the balls of his feet to even his height with Sascha’s bent posture. He laughs against Avery’s skin, smile growing when Avery chuckles as well.

Sascha eases his tongue between Avery’s lips and is met with hungry enthusiasm. Too much, almost—the kind of eagernessthat leaves Sascha’s mouth wet and gasping, breath mingling with Avery’s. He almost forgets what he means to do until Avery smothers a tiny moan. Brought back to the present, Sascha takes Avery’s jaw, encouraging his mouth to hang open. He redirects, tongue withdrawing enough for him to curl the tip around the point of Avery’s left canine. His tongue grazes the roof of Avery’s mouth, worrying the skin behind his would-be fang.

Before Sascha can move to the other side, Avery fists the front of Sascha’s shirt, holding him in place so he feels the low rumble that rises in Avery’s throat. The unexpected sound has him hardening on the spot, flexing his hips to press himself against Avery’s belly. They’ve trapped each other in an embrace neither man wants to escape, Avery rocking forward to pin Sascha’s erection as Sascha chases that growl as deep into Avery’s mouth as he can reach.

On the back of his tongue, Sascha feels something shift. They celebrate with twin moans as Avery’s fangs ease out of his gums, descending perfectly. Sascha licks them again.

“Did I do it right?” Avery asks, his own tongue probing at the extended points.

“Perfectly,” Sascha purrs, nuzzling Avery’s throat. “Claws, now. You’re doing great.”

“I don’t even know how toimaginethat.”

Sascha nips the skin under his ear. “I could lick those, too.”

Avery shudders. “Probably not the best idea, though it sounds like it’d be a nice attempt.”

“Doing my best here.” Reluctantly, Sascha clears his throat and gives Avery some space. From the look on Avery’s face, he likes the distance just as much as Sascha—which is not at all. “When I extend my claws, I flex my fingers and… push, I guess. Like, from inside. And it’s a bit itchy, waiting for them to start growing. I feel like my fingers are going to explode, but when my nails finally start growing, it’s… peaceful. Like I’mbecoming something I’m supposed to be. I guess it’s a type of adrenaline rush.”

“Sounds pretty idealistic,” Avery mutters. “I’d kill for anything about my transformation to feel peaceful.”

“Dropping your fangs wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Ugh.” Crossing his arms, Avery balls in on himself, holding the pose for several seconds before relaxing with a sigh. “Okay. So I start by flexing my hands and just push? How do you know what to push?”

Sascha shrugs, unable to generate better words but smiling regardless. “I know you’ll figure it out.”

Scowling, Avery first sticks his tongue out at Sascha, then spreads his fingers and studies the back, then the front. He thumbs the knuckles of his left hand, frowning at them. One by one, he bends each finger, tendons popping out as he flexes the way Sascha told him. He repeats it a few times, then his brow furrows. “Are my hands supposed to feel hot?”

“I… I don’t know,” Sascha admits. “I learned this when I was still toddling.”

“Right.” Avery wiggles his fingers, still looking displeased. “Maybe I should just try something el—” Suddenly, he goes rigid, both hands curling so severely it looks painful. His arms begin to shake. Concerned, Sascha reaches for Avery, hoping to soothe what he assumes to be a cramp resulting from pushing too hard. Except Avery gasps and jerks, putting space between himself and Sascha.

Sascha takes a step back, hands raised in an open, non-threatening gesture. Despite talking about his own shifts, Sascha has asked few questions about Avery’s own transformation. What he does know is that crowding any panicking person is usually a bad idea.

“Are you okay?”