"I want to be with you, my first heat--" his second heat ever, his first with Hamilton. "I don't want to share you with anyone, but I am not ignorant to the impracticality of it. I don't--" a swallow, his face warm. "I don't know my cycle. When it might come. It is still irregular, likely, and it has been so long since the last, that the next could fall anytime, within the next few months, and I would not want to restrain my own career or yours over something we will have for the rest of our lives together."

But, well, there's the practically of the matter--Burr laying by himself, alone, torture, while he waits for that heat to pass. Sweating it out, in a camp or headquarters full of alphas. Too long into the heat and he might jump anyone who wandered too close to his door or tent. And much more likely they would jump him, and they would not be gentle, either. He had heard stories.

He should have suppressant, should be on them, though they are awful for ones health, and probably not good for nursing. And getting a reliable supply in wartime would be nearly impossible, at best. And legally dubious.

"I worry what might happen, if you are not there, and I find myself alone in a camp full of alphas," with no other to quickly ease him through the heat, or to drive others away with their scent. But more than that, he had wanted Laurens for none of those reasons, while Hamilton was away, simply because he was pretty and kind and Burr was there and could sense his want. Yet how easily to ask? And what would Burr think, if Hamilton went to another omega? Beside himself, with hurt and jealousy. Yet Laurens was in some way a part of their family, not an outsider, not just another.