That doesn’t make sense that Sawyers body would produce that. Not this Sawyer. But when he sits back and licks the slick off of his finger, considering the beautiful display in front of him - he doesn’t care about how. Or why.

In the end he’s his, anyway. Wolf. Human. Whatever.

Bishop smirks softly as that thought settles in his brain, a pleased rumble starting to vibrate in his chest. The next few seconds are taken up by him reaching to flip Sawyer over onto his stomach, tugging his hips up just enough for a pillow to slide beneath them.

“Say it again,” he hums, using both hands to spread the others cheeks apart and sliding his tongue through to slick his body somehow miraculously created on its own.