Burr whines, when Hamilton pulls away, grinds back against the sheets though there is nothing to force deeper into him, nothing to grant relief. Yet his complaints quickly turns to moans as Hamilton pushes three fingers into him, and soon Burr's legs are trembling, pushed wide, as he grinds back against those jolts of pleasure, eyes closed and head turning against the sheets, mouth open.
A sight, and he can tell Hamilton is watching, whispering filthy things into his ear. His fingers, yes, his hand, Burr would take it all, would open his body eagerly, for anything Hamilton would give him.
His cock is leaking against his stomach, when Hamilton instructs him to turn over, and Burr does so eagerly, going to his knees with his face down against the sheets, pushing his ass out and wiggling it, presenting himself.
What would Hamilton give him, if he asked? His fingers, his tongue? Burr wants all of it, yet the thought of any delay to receiving the inches of his warm length is detestable, so he reaches back with one hand, spreads himself, on display.
"Alexander," he says, in that slow, deep way, that makes him shiver. "I need you."
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A sight, and he can tell Hamilton is watching, whispering filthy things into his ear. His fingers, yes, his hand, Burr would take it all, would open his body eagerly, for anything Hamilton would give him.
His cock is leaking against his stomach, when Hamilton instructs him to turn over, and Burr does so eagerly, going to his knees with his face down against the sheets, pushing his ass out and wiggling it, presenting himself.
What would Hamilton give him, if he asked? His fingers, his tongue? Burr wants all of it, yet the thought of any delay to receiving the inches of his warm length is detestable, so he reaches back with one hand, spreads himself, on display.
"Alexander," he says, in that slow, deep way, that makes him shiver. "I need you."