"Oh, Aaron, Aaron," pulling the gag from his mouth, fumbling to untie his hands, just nuzzling into the sweet affection, the almost-frantic grooming, the overflowing and adoring sentiment. He lets Aaron twist into the same position that Hamilton used to fuck him when he was heavy with child, on his side, upper leg bent and lower leg straddled by Hamilton, a perfect angle into his body. Room enough for Aaron to turn and lick.

Hamilton's purr rises in his chest, a feeling beyond words as his mate clings to him with hands and body and with the sweet clench inside of him.

And when this rush of affection fades into the aching contentment of being knotted to Burr, lovely, perfect Burr, Hamilton doesn't let Burr on top of him or next to him, as he usually does. He covers Burr with his body, presses him into the mattress, holding off enough of his weight not to crush him but covers him protectively and possessively, tucking blankets around them both. He hasn't ever done this before, but it feels right, in light of Burr's instinctive and tender affections. Purring, purring; nuzzles and little bites to his neck near his gland.