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Logan slides his arms from his black Kevlar suit with a long, tired sigh. He's grateful the mission was a success despite a few rough moments. The suit hangs from his svelte hips as he stretches his arms over his head, easing the stiffness.
He feels your eyes ghosting over him, ensuring he's okay, but something else is hidden in your stare. He can sense the change and confirms his suspicions with a look over his shoulder.
You're no longer heated from the mission; now it's hunger and need fanning the flames.
Logan casually runs a hand through his rich brown locks and turns to face you. Your gaze travels up his legs to the sturdiness of his torso before landing on his armpit, watching with intrigue as he deliberately shows it off. If you won't take the first step, he's more than willing.
He's taunting you much like the bead of sweat dripping down his bicep. The moment the thatch of dark hair catches the salty brine, you lick your lips, no doubt wishing you could've caught it instead.
"Look'it how dumb you already are," Logan muses, raising his free arm and curling a hand around your neck. He tugs until you're pressed against his chest. A dewy layer of sweat coats his pecs and belly as he slides his hold to the back of your neck. "You haven't even gotten a whiff yet."
You try to crane closer to this pit, but his grip is unforgiving. "You think you deserve this?" His eyes narrow down at you. It's all you can do but nod and whisper a soft, wanting "Yes."
His lips twist into a grin. "C'mon, show me how much you like it then," he states, roughly shoving your head into his sweaty pit.
Your nose smooshes into the wet curve of his armpit. The musk suffocates your senses. Logan reeks of smoke and earth and excursion. His smell makes you lightheaded, overloaded, and strung out.
All blood rushes south, making your core throb and pulse as it's still tucked away, untouched in your panties. Logan holds you there, not letting you move an inch-- like you would ever want to.
"Go on, honey, eat up. Know you want to."
You wantonly moan as you press your tongue brazenly against the dark, wet, wiry hairs that litter his underarms. Your cunt clenches around nothing at his smell and taste. You'd bury yourself inside him if you could.
"You like cleanin' me up, huh? Gettin' your face all dirty."
He groans when he feels your mound shift against his suited thigh. You've never been so turned on. You can't stop yourself as you begin grinding your cunt on him. The drag feels heavenly on your swollen clit as you ease the ache with long, steady grinds. The burning flames grow higher and higher as you trace the edges of his underarm and wash the hairs from top to bottom, soaking them in your saliva and leaving your mark both on his pit and his thigh.
"Look'it you humpin' my leg." He grits, looking you over with fraught perversion. After a moment, he yanks your head away from his pit, spilling a sullen whimper from your lips as your hips stop their grinding as well. "Bet you're soaked. Say it."
The bottom half of your face is damp and shiny. "I'm soaked." You mewl pathetically as your arousal drips onto his Kevlar suit from the gusset of your panties. You dopily move for his armpit, but his brute grip stills you in your tracks.
Logan clicks his tongue and pins you with a devilish stare, slowly shaking his head from side to side. His tone dips to the deepest depths, tinged with sour ridicule. "I know you can do better than that."
Your belly flips—every nerve in your body burns white hot; you want to collapse in on yourself from the humiliation despite your panties sticking to you like glue.
All you want is to come with your face buried in his musk.
"Say, ‘I'm soaked from suckin' on your pit.’" He repeats mockingly.
You swallow down the lump in your throat. "I'm soaked from suckin' on your pit." You parrot sheepishly.
He laughs, flashing his pearly sharp teeth. "No point in savin' your modesty, bub," he harshly muses and shoves you back into his pit.
Your muffled moans fall on deaf ears as he smothers you with his armpit. Cunt clenching and mouth agape, you hungrily suck on the hairy patch of skin and begin your possessed grind. His hair tickles your lips with every graze as his intense musk invades your tastebuds.
"That'sa good girl." He praises, softly petting the crown of your head. The soft praise and endearing touch combined with his heady aroma make the searing flame in your belly that much brighter.
You crassly teethe the wiry strands and give a notable tug, earning a gravelly hiss from the adamantium-infused mutant. He retaliates by roughly pressing his fingers into the tender column of your neck and yanking you from his armpit once more, halting your impending bliss.
Logan meets your ravenous gaze with an amused, quirked brow.
"You think you're real cute, don't you?" He chides as you flutter your lashes and lick your glossy lips.
A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest, lips pulling into his classic snarl. "Open." He lowers his arm and swats your cheek. As soon as your lips part, a hot wad of spit lands square on your tongue, making your cheeks flame.
He shoves your face back into his pit and flexes his thigh muscles at the same time. "Those hips better not stop movin'." He threatens, voice low, forcing you to swallow his spittle and begin the frustrating grind again. "You're gonna be drenched from end to end when I'm through with you."