"Pathetic," Burr spits, bringing his cock forward again and pulling it away, presses it lower, his other entrance. A little pressure, the head slick from Hamilton's need, nudging at his unstretched hole. "You can't even get the words out with stuttering."

"Your lips look so pretty around my name. I wonder if I shouldn't fuck you, come inside you, get you swollen with my child. You think I couldn't do it, at this age?" A laugh, as he pulls back to reposition again at Hamilton's cunt, dragging, dragging--god he feels so good, for all of Burr's teasing, his delay, he can feel it--that burning need inside him, urging him forward.

Warm, wet, begging to be fucked, and he smells so good, so--

He does it once more; pushing in and pulling back--sets a teasing rhythm like that, just barely pressing in and pulling out. Waits till Hamilton is desperate, out of his mind, and he can feel the slick flowing.

"You want it inside you, don't you?" and he pushes then a bit more, until just the head is inside. Lets Hamilton adjust, lets him try to fuck himself back, for all Burr pins him.

The muscles fluttering, squeezing him, trying to drag him inside. Thick pheromones, the smell of his slick--

Burr snaps his hips forward, suddenly, until he is buried completely, moans with it, filthy and sinful and perfect. Doesn't give Hamilton a moment to adjust, before he is setting a punishing rhythm--slapping flesh, pushing him up the bed, harder, harder--