Sawyer feels lost in this, in how easily the other pushes in, how easily his hips move inside of him. It doesn't hurt. It more than doesn't hurt. Each movement is full of pleasure. His hips arch up into those slow rolls, instinctively begging for more.

His head drops back and he looks up at Bishop, lips parted as he moans again. He knows part of it is the instincts, part of it is that his body is aching to be claimed by his mate but he knows it's more than that.