Kurt doesn't need to wait for lightning to be able to watch the dip and curve of Logan's shoulders as he settles between his legs. His night vision casts the room in shades of grey and gold from the glow of firelight coming in through the door; he studies with renewed appreciation the shape of Logan's hands on his thighs. Then Logan lowers his mouth onto him and all thought of visual appreciation becomes secondary to the wave of sensation, the hot wet heat on him, the faintest touch of pointed teeth.

Unable as ever to stay still under such attention, he grabs fistfuls of the sheets and curls forward, moaning and rapidly cursing in German as Logan takes him deeper, then arching his back, helpless, as Logan's hand slides down and pushes into him. Instinctively he pushes his thighs further apart, eager to be pinned between fingers and mouth, crossing his ankles behind Logan's shoulders. Logan is as relentless as his codename and holds him there until Kurt is writhing in the sheets, trying to rock his hips but not quite able to get what he's seeking, waves of heat and pleasure shuddering through his body.

When Logan pulls back he's almost at the edge of losing it, only the desire to make things last for as long as he can holding him back. He opens his eyes and looks up Logan, the man's leaning weight bringing his knees almost back to his chest, his mind spinning and dazed, washed clean of the ability to do anything except croak out: "ja, bitte, Logan."

He moans again and sighs as Logan slides into him, shameless and careless, not wanting for anything besides more of this moment. Though, perhaps, not too much at once.

"Slowly," he breathes, somewhere between a request and a command as he reaches up to run his hands through Logan's hair, holding the back of his neck.