"I can feel you." Hand moves up, grasps at Burr's back. "I feel you like it's your whole body. You're all around me. You're so warm," just soft words, whispered words. Only between the two of them, dispersing to quiet in the cold air. "I belong in you, I should fuck you all the time." The words aren't exactly meant to titillate -- what's pouring out of Hamilton is a purified longing, an unmanageably intense desire to mingle himself and Burr over and over and over again. He wants Burr close, he wants Burr to melt into him. He wants there to be no space between. Burr's willingness wraps around him the way the cloak does, and provides greater protection against the winter's suffering.

"You're mine," he whispers, and he lifts his head and catches Burr's mouth in a kiss. "You're mine."