Burr doesn't mean to make any noise, when Laurens' pulls that nipple into his mouth, but just like last time, he doesn't expect the sudden relief in pressure to feel so good, the sucking while pulls all the blood to the surface, easing soreness and replacing it with a pleasant tingling, goosefleshed skin.

A sharp inhale, a shakey exhale, small, hitching noises of pleasure, leaning forward a bit more, pushing his breast against Laurens' mouth. Too long, and too many days of irregular feeding, a fussy Theo, to not feel this pain.

"That feels good," Burr breathes, low, silky. He wraps his hands around the back of Laurens' neck, lets his eyes fall closed. "You're much more gentle than Theo is,"--Theo, who is sleeping, laying wrapped in blankets in the small woven basket the women had been able to share.

Here, in Laurens' lap, he can feel the evidence of any arousal, and though he does not mean to sink down fully, his lingering soreness means it is easier than propping himself on his knees. He can feel the stirring, as much as Laurens' must try to urge it away, the steady thickening, and Burr doesn't say anything, allows him this small dignity, as Laurens sucks and works at his breast.