As the old wolf settled next to him and said something, Khadgar had already begun to shift enough to at least figure out how to approach moving to sit close enough to abate his need for it. He moved one of his hands to rest against a shoulder and heaved himself up to partially rest in the Worgen's lap.

Yes, perfect, he thought finally burrowing exactly how he had wanted to initially. He rested his face against the other's chest and took in slow deep breaths. The warmth the male radiated had him sighing his pleasure. It almost felt like forgiveness in a way and he supposed it was Genn he needed it from. The only one who could actually give it to him in any case.

Khadgar fisted his hand in white fur and realized belatedly that he was actually shaking more than he had been simply from the cold. His eyes squeezed shut only tighter and took in a deep, quivering breath. He had thought he was over that, the wet eyes, anger mixing in the pit of his stomach with sorrow and regret and making his whole being want to lash out at that woman.

He would give her death to Genn, he decided that a few weeks prior. He deserved that much against the Banshee who took everything she could and always walked away laughing. No, Khadgar wanted to make her feel fear, look over her shoulder and realize she was cornered. There would be no way out for her. Undercity would burn. His vengeance would not be swift, but it would be be brutal.

The Archmage couldn't trust his own voice right in that moment, knowing it would tremble. Medivh would be so ashamed of him. He nuzzled the chest he pressed himself against, using that solid warmth to drive the voice that sounded like Medivh out of his head and center himself.