The Cajun sits there on the console, writhing under the assault of Logan's tongue. The tight throat, flicking tongue, soft lips.. Remy's ability to form coherent sentences quickly decays.
Occasional syllables of french and english pour from his mouth, but its mostly growls and purrs and moans. His hand digs into the tangled mess of Logan's hair; his long legs wrap around the feral's body.
It was a ridiculous sight to an outside observer. They were fucking in the middle of a limb-strewn slaughterhouse.
But to Remy, there were no thoughts of that. It was Logan; no need to conceal what he really thought or felt.
And all he felt was utter relief. Hank, Logan, bot' alive... no' dead..
He quickly slid off the console, down onto the floor and quickly freed Logan's throbbing, thick manhood from its confinement. He twisted under the feral and swallowed Logan's shaft as Logan hungrily devoured his.