amrev_intrigues | (no subject)

Winter's cold; he hasn't been warm in days, not properly, even under blankets with Burr and Laurens both.

Oh, Laurens, Laurens; what would they have done without him? When Alexander is too exhausted from his duties to help with nursing the child, Laurens sometimes takes a turn helping soothe Burr back to sleep -- he's awakened to find Burr's hips swaying, his head twisted back against Laurens, mouth fallen open, whimpering in that particular, perfect way he does when he's being fingered in just the right way, rolled over and palmed at Burr's cock, sleepily, tucking his face against his mate's throat and feeling down to where Laurens' hand is between Burr's legs. (Once, memorably, he even ducked under the blanket, parted his lips, and took Burr into his mouth, loosened his jaw, closed his eyes, and let Burr takes his pleasure from his throat, while he was still only half-awake.)

Alexander is constantly exhausted, in the cold. He still hasn't grown fully accustomed to the cold American winters, and they drain him, make him feel pallid and frozen and small. So he has not been as attentive a mate and father as he was before, and he feels his failure in it keenly. He should be able to force himself through this. Burr is, as always, suffering worse and working harder, though thank goodness Theodosia doesn't need feeding every few hours anymore. So why can't Alexander help him? Why can't he be good enough?

His nightmares have become feverish and incoherent. A handful of times, they've even been so severe that they manifest, making him toss and turn, awaken with terrifying and mournful whines on his tongue, a sense of overwhelming loss all he can remember from the illusion.

They aren't starving, but food is thin.

He's doing well enough, he thinks, at hiding how terrible and stretched thin he feels, until Washington responds to his, "It's impossible," with a snarled, "then make it possible."

Alexander rounds on Washington, a growl rising in response, and snarls back: "Everyone else here can say it's impossible, and then I get it done. When I say it, it means no."

The alpha pheromones slam into the room like cannon-fire, and in under five seconds, both of the beta members of Washington's staff have vacated the room. Laurens watches in outright horror -- because Washington doesn't back down, and Alexander doesn't back down. "Alex," says Laurens, and Alexander just turns the growl on him, alpha-hostility.

Then, to everyone's shock, including Alexander's, Washington extends a sort of olive branch: "Go talk a walk, son."

"I'm not your son," Alexander spits, and there, right there, could have been the moment that Washington killed him. No one has any doubt -- a full head taller, broader, stronger, older.

"Talk a walk."

Alexander turns on his heel and goes.

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"Is it like you wanted?" asks Hamilton, his hands moving to Burr's hips to hold him steady. His knot has swollen almost painful, and he has shot a profusion of come into Burr, so beautiful he is, so wonderful the sensations. "Did you imagine it this way? Or did you think you'd be somewhere warm and safe, instead of being taken like a whore in the open air?"

Laurens bends him towards Hamilton, and begins to fuck him, short punching thrusts, now apparently acknowledging the hurry. Hamilton's eyes flicker closed; he can feel the motion of Laurens' cock, by the shifting tension inside Burr, through the wall of flesh that they have crushed flat between them. Burr can barely fit them, constricting, making the most beautiful noises -- too loud, though, and Hamilton catches his mouth in a kiss, and then covers it with his hand.

Laurens picks up the theme from Hamilton, and expands on it. "You're our little whore," he assures Burr, "too much of a slut to resist, right out here, in front of anyone. You show your bare arse to me, you're asking for anything I do to you."

"Come on, Laurens," says Hamilton, "come on, spill inside my husband. Knot him. He's so ready for you, he's made for this, made to hold your cock."

"Of course you are," says Laurens, "Burr, you feel incredible. Alexander--"
Laurens starts to thrust in deep and hard. It didn't take much. Of course it wouldn't, with Burr so helpless between them, leaking wet and squirming. Burr makes a high sound of almost-protest as the knot presses against his stretched hole. Hamilton flattens his hand over Burr's mouth, and Laurens pushes, pushes, and Burr's cry is caught and muffled.

The pressure of Laurens' knot is incredible. "Laurens," gasps Hamilton, and he finds Laurens pulling him into a kiss, over Burr's shoulder, crushing the smaller omega between them. An incredible, passionate kiss, as he feels Laurens' cock twitch and spill in his husband's body.

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.

Edited 2022-05-19 01:29 (UTC)

Hamilton switches his tone easily, fluently. He always works Burr up during the act, but at the end, he comforts him, reassures him, adores him. Hamilton is stroking Burr's back, purring at him, nuzzling him, holding him. "You are wonderful, how you've taken us, you're beautiful, love, my love, don't come yet, Aaron, it might hurt too much if you do, just let us work you up, let us make you feel so good."

He is kissing Laurens again, and Laurens groans, with a little, "Alex, I can feel you," and this makes another rough rush of seed come from Hamilton's cock, a twitch that he's sure that Laurens can feel. Burr grips on him, making soft and frantic noises --

"You have us, you're all right." He pets Burr's cock, very slight stimulation, and Laurens' hands are on Burr's hips, rocking him just slightly, a shifting of his weight, barely. "You have both of us. Two alpha's knots, you're so lucky, you're such a treasured omega, you deserve every last bit of pleasure, Aaron, I hope it feels so good, I hope you feel so good." He is starting to go down, unfortunately, and he wishes he could linger in this forever, but it means he can nudge Burr that last little bit over the edge.

"There, there," he murmurs, "you're perfect, come for me, Aaron. Come for both of us."

Burr shakes, feels like something inside of him is unwinding, coming apart. There is no space, and yet Hamilton suddenly is fucking up into him, and Laurens is rocking his hips, and there is a hand on his cock and sweet, sweet words. The sounds of the two of them kissing, the feeling of their cocks, jutting against each other through him.

He closes his eyes, bites down on Hamilton's palm hard, as he starts to come. Painful little stabs of pleasure as he clenches, tightening and spasming and giving out. A long one, for all there is no mercy for his body, no moment when those places aren't stimulated to the point of pain, and he is crying with it, so wonderful and painful and too much.

Tries to speak, cant.

Burr clenches so hard that Hamilton can’t withdraw, at first, enough that it hurts a bit. Not that he notices, because his whole focus is in Burr, on the tortured combination of pain and pleasure that he displays as he spasms so hard he’s actually jerking his legs up, tightening his entire body. But, finally, Hamilton can carefully withdraw, and Burr is only held and knotted by one, and Burr sags back on Laurens.

Hamilton does up his trousers, fastens his coat over the wet stain to conceal it, and, with quick fingers, begins to cover Burr as well, closing his shirt, settling the cloak over his front because the trousers truly can’t be helped yet. It takes him longer than it should because he has to pause and kiss Burr senseless, hold his face in Hamilton’s hands and almost cry again because Burr is so wonderful and because he’s so lucky to have this man, this man who is complex and loving in such bewildering ways, this man who is, admittedly, also a complete slut. And what man of Hamilton’s age wouldn’t like that?

Laurens cradles Burr close, purring. It seems actually instinctive, and Hamilton pauses, just to watch them. His stomach twists in sentiment too complicated to easily name.

Edited 2022-05-19 20:20 (UTC)

Burr is spent--exhausted. Collapses limp against Laurens when Hamilton pulls out, can do nothing but reciprocate lazily, half out of his mind, when Hamilton kisses him.

Hamilton's kisses are wonderful--a gentle balm to the places he feels carved out, pitted. Vulnerable, half-naked here in the middle of camp, where the men will soon be wandering by, after dinner. Hamilton pulls back to straighten Burr's clothes, little attentions that make him warm, but then no one is kissing him, and Laurens is purring, and warm and wonderful, so Burr twists, hisses at the pull, and kisses him. Lazy and slow and wet.

"Do you feel better now?" Burr asks as he pulls away, panting. Grabs Hamilton by the hand and holds it--just holds it. He will do more for his husband, to soothe those hurts. Gladly.

"You will go back to work, won't you" Laurens asks, and Burr whines, slumps over once more, sore and spent and tired.

Hamilton doesn't like the reminder that he didn't feel all right in the first place. There's a little twist in the pit of his chest as he recalls the uncontrollable anger.

"I still worry," he says, to Burr. Why it reassures him to have Laurens here is difficult to say, but it does. "I feel every failure so keenly." He cups Burr's jaw, in both his hands. Strokes Burr's cheekbones, with his thumbs. "I want to take care of Theo -- and you, even though you don't need it."