If only he could capture this in an image -- if only he could have it magically caught on a painting, so the whole world could see how rapturously beautiful Burr is when he needs. There, just there, with the light cast over his flushed cheek and his eyes wet, his hand back and pulling himself open, the red shine of his wetness.
"What an image you make," but he cannot hold himself back. Hamilton is no passive admirer.
He presses the tip of his cock to Burr's hole, and guides Burr's fingertips to touch him, warm skin over his rigid, swollen length. "How hard I am for you," he says. "Oh, Aaron, however you need, I know I need you a thousand times more. Relax, be easy, as much as you can."
Guided by the touch of Burr's soft fingertips, he bears down; Burr's body does not want to yield, but the slickness and the stretching have done their work, and he sinks inside. It is breathlessly tight, muscle spasming around him. "There, there -- I'm within you." Stroking up his thighs. "Do you feel?" He guides Aaron's fingertips to touch the stretched ring of muscle, to feel Hamilton sinking further and further and further.
He must -- he must give Burr a moment to adjust. He has to, there has never been such an intrusion into Burr's body. Oh, but it is difficult. His hand clenches on Burr's hip.
"You're perfect. You're wonderful, you're filthy, a whore for me. I'll give you all the fucking you need. Weeks without -- you must be starving for it."
He settles his knees between Burr's legs, lifts his hips a bit. Withdraws, and snaps his hips in, harshly, seeking that little sensitive place in Burr. He fucks with deep, hard, thorough thrusts, conquering thrusts, like he owns every inch within Burr that he's managed to touch.
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"What an image you make," but he cannot hold himself back. Hamilton is no passive admirer.
He presses the tip of his cock to Burr's hole, and guides Burr's fingertips to touch him, warm skin over his rigid, swollen length. "How hard I am for you," he says. "Oh, Aaron, however you need, I know I need you a thousand times more. Relax, be easy, as much as you can."
Guided by the touch of Burr's soft fingertips, he bears down; Burr's body does not want to yield, but the slickness and the stretching have done their work, and he sinks inside. It is breathlessly tight, muscle spasming around him. "There, there -- I'm within you." Stroking up his thighs. "Do you feel?" He guides Aaron's fingertips to touch the stretched ring of muscle, to feel Hamilton sinking further and further and further.
He must -- he must give Burr a moment to adjust. He has to, there has never been such an intrusion into Burr's body. Oh, but it is difficult. His hand clenches on Burr's hip.
"You're perfect. You're wonderful, you're filthy, a whore for me. I'll give you all the fucking you need. Weeks without -- you must be starving for it."
He settles his knees between Burr's legs, lifts his hips a bit. Withdraws, and snaps his hips in, harshly, seeking that little sensitive place in Burr. He fucks with deep, hard, thorough thrusts, conquering thrusts, like he owns every inch within Burr that he's managed to touch.