It hurts, it hurts, he cannot take it, and yet he cannot say no, pressed here between their bodies, mouth covered, riding a rising wave of pleasure. He is jerking, trying to ease the punches, crying out, muffled, but it feels so good, so tight, and there is no more space inside him, yet Laurnes is forcing his knot in, and Burr is crying, jerking, defiled.

He can feel Laurens come, he is sure, and he is so full he cannot move, can hardly breathe, and he is clenching, yet it seems impossible to come, no space for him to clench down. He is crying, and the sounds are muffled still by Hamilton's palm, and he is begging, for all that he quakes, for all that he doesn't know what he needs.

So full, deliciously full, and his cock is leaking against his stomach, more slick running down to stain Hamilton's breeches, as if that could in anyway ease the throbbing intrustion of Laurens. Two knots. Two alphas, and they smell so good, so wonderful, and he wiggles for all it hurts him, those places inside him offered no mercy, compressed.

He whines, because he cannot speak, reaches out with trembling hands, grabbing at Hamilton, at Laurens.