Shinjirou hadn't read him wrong. Irvin's tail wags slightly when he's stroked and kissed, then harder when Shinjirou drops into position of his own accord. He's still not entirely settled; his fur bristles and his muscles are tense with barely-restrained energy, but he seems calmer now that he has a familiar routine to dedicate himself to.

His claws click against the wooden flooring as he pads to stand behind Shinjirou. This time, there's no show of dominance, no proprietorial behaviour. A low growl is the only warning Shinjirou gets before Irvin mounts him, rutting forward as soon as he has a firm hold.