He cannot help but fuck himself on Burr's hand. He seems to home in on the pleasure spot inside Alexander like he already knew every inch of Alexander's body, and Alexander finds himself emitting punched-out whimpers, every drop of his blood gone boiling, his skin hot, oh, it's so good, it's so good --
A little thrash, as Burr speaks of having him over a crate -- breeding him like an omega -- and he wants to deny that he would have ever desired such a thing, though he is now in truth a wanton whore.
He twists his head to the side, freeing his mouth from Burr's fingers, if only for a moment:
"None," he says, in response to the question of knots, a transparent and taunting lie. "You'll be the first--" And he's lied to men before, to make them believe that he's never taken a knot, and his incessant tightness has them thinking it's true, but he isn't lying right now because Burr would believe it. He wants Burr to growl and become fierce; he wants to throw Burr's desires back in his face. He wants to provoke him, though he can barely handle what Burr is already giving him. "Old enough to be my grandfather, and you'll be defiling a sweet virgin maiden," the last words said almost on a laugh, fully of irony.
Burr silences him, on purpose, wanting to still his tongue, and Alexander bites down on his fingers, defiant and desperate both, both at the same time. Burr presses back towards his throat, and Alexander doesn't gag, takes him fluidly, hungrily, privately and quietly wishing that it was his cock instead of his fingers.
But his eyes are closing, body stretching around the fingers inside him. No, it's not fair, he can't give in like this twice in a row, but he aches for it, and Burr is relentless, like always -- his enemy, his most intimate enemy.
Alexander thrashes and fights the climax, this time. He needs it and wants it and fights it anyway, wordless cries muffled into groans by Burr's fingers, or, if Burr withdraws his fingers, by his lips pressing stubbornly together. But he ends up giving a breathless shout anyhow, can't help it, and he seizes hard around the penetrating hand, an unbelievably tight squeeze, and whimpering, whimpering as his body jerks and spasms.
He curls forward and presses his face against Burr's throat, drawing in breath after breath of alpha, still shivering, fluttering tight on every movement of Burr's fingers. It calms him, though a part of him sincerely wishes it didn't.
"All right, dirty old man," sighs Alexander. "Take me to bed." And he slides off the cabinet, pulling Burr with him towards the bed.
no subject
A little thrash, as Burr speaks of having him over a crate -- breeding him like an omega -- and he wants to deny that he would have ever desired such a thing, though he is now in truth a wanton whore.
He twists his head to the side, freeing his mouth from Burr's fingers, if only for a moment:
"None," he says, in response to the question of knots, a transparent and taunting lie. "You'll be the first--" And he's lied to men before, to make them believe that he's never taken a knot, and his incessant tightness has them thinking it's true, but he isn't lying right now because Burr would believe it. He wants Burr to growl and become fierce; he wants to throw Burr's desires back in his face. He wants to provoke him, though he can barely handle what Burr is already giving him. "Old enough to be my grandfather, and you'll be defiling a sweet virgin maiden," the last words said almost on a laugh, fully of irony.
Burr silences him, on purpose, wanting to still his tongue, and Alexander bites down on his fingers, defiant and desperate both, both at the same time. Burr presses back towards his throat, and Alexander doesn't gag, takes him fluidly, hungrily, privately and quietly wishing that it was his cock instead of his fingers.
But his eyes are closing, body stretching around the fingers inside him. No, it's not fair, he can't give in like this twice in a row, but he aches for it, and Burr is relentless, like always -- his enemy, his most intimate enemy.
Alexander thrashes and fights the climax, this time. He needs it and wants it and fights it anyway, wordless cries muffled into groans by Burr's fingers, or, if Burr withdraws his fingers, by his lips pressing stubbornly together. But he ends up giving a breathless shout anyhow, can't help it, and he seizes hard around the penetrating hand, an unbelievably tight squeeze, and whimpering, whimpering as his body jerks and spasms.
He curls forward and presses his face against Burr's throat, drawing in breath after breath of alpha, still shivering, fluttering tight on every movement of Burr's fingers. It calms him, though a part of him sincerely wishes it didn't.
"All right, dirty old man," sighs Alexander. "Take me to bed." And he slides off the cabinet, pulling Burr with him towards the bed.