"Perhaps these twenty years have been only the eye of the storm," Burr says, but he does not move to leave. Follows Alexander, into that small room, where the smell of him is strongest. Yes, he is going into heat, already stronger than when Burr had first opened the door.

Hamilton turns his back to him, pale, unwrinkled flesh reaching for a bottle, and Burr steps up behind him, lays a hand on the small of his back the same as he pushes him into the cupboard before them, hands creeping lower, to the swell of his ass.

Burr has never been good at denying himself pleasures, and he has nothing to lose, now. Why not enjoy this sin, in a body as good as this--young as supple as he had been during the war, when Burr had dreamed of him, when Alexander had sent him heated glances, never to be consummated for pride and circumstance.

"Come now," Burr says, "we both know why I am here. The old Alexander wouldn't have stood for the insult, as much as he loved his little lies and self-deceptions. Are we to stand only on ceremony?" as he breathes hot in Hamilton's ear, his own length firming against his backside.

"I may be old, but I know how to pleasure. An old accusation of yours, was it not? A voluptuary, seducing young men to my cause?" and his hand creeps over hip, to the front of Hamilton's pants. Squeezes over his length, works it in his palm. "I should quite like to seduce you."