Logan's POV
If I could stay here forever, I would.
It's heaven between Noah's thighs and I'm a sinner finding out that this is salvation. A lost soul at the gates, weak and lacking and thirsty for a taste of the divine.
And Noah is a generous god.
He gives and gives, shuddering over my mouth, his body tight with need, pulsing against my tongue like his pleasure is an offering I'm meant to take. My reward for worship.
Salvation has never tasted so fucking good.
His thighs frame my face, clenching around me with each flick of my tongue. I've always loved how thick they are, how indulgently fuzzy the hairs there make him feel. The vice he has around my head muffles all sound, still I strain to hear his moaning.
And I don't just take the praise he gives — I devour it. I soak in it. It fuels me.
"Y-Yes, Logan! Right there, baby!"
I growl into his skin, the sound swallowed up by the heat of him, and I can barely breathe but I don't care.
I want to drown in him.
