"The thought maddened me," confesses Alexander. "I dreamed of your cock -- your lips --" The satisfaction in knowing Burr now finds himself undone inside Alexander is intense, as heady as coming on Burr's tongue. If his body is just an instrument of pleasure now, at least he knows that Burr could not resist, even though he tried. He tried to leave.
"I pulled at myself under my desk imagining my cock in your mouth -- your hot breath -- holding you on me while I knotted -- halfway down your throat. You looked at me and you always seemed to know." Jerks and twitches on Burr's fingers, fucking himself back down on those, even though it makes it worse on him, grinds that knot against what feels like the base of his cock, from the inside. "Only one thing I could do better than you, every time," his fingers weaving into Burr's hair as he bites one of Alexander's nipples, and for an instant Alexander has to hold himself back, sure that he could have come from that alone. "Did it with Washington, when you couldn't come close.
"Seducing older men." And he arches up, tightening spasmodically on Burr's knot, milking him for the fluid that Alexander imagines as a sort of balm inside him, a salve to slow the relentless desire.
But this time when he climaxes, he goes so tight on Burr that it actually does hurt, his body unwilling to loosen or let go, and it feels like he might tear himself on the sheer size of the knot still within him. The whimper that comes out of him is pathetic and wounded, and Burr's cock the knife still embedded in that wound.
Alexander is wrecked, limp, face smeared with tears and sweat and saliva, blood trailing from the flushed gland on his neck. He laughs, sad and breathless. "I like this shot better than the other."
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"I pulled at myself under my desk imagining my cock in your mouth -- your hot breath -- holding you on me while I knotted -- halfway down your throat. You looked at me and you always seemed to know." Jerks and twitches on Burr's fingers, fucking himself back down on those, even though it makes it worse on him, grinds that knot against what feels like the base of his cock, from the inside. "Only one thing I could do better than you, every time," his fingers weaving into Burr's hair as he bites one of Alexander's nipples, and for an instant Alexander has to hold himself back, sure that he could have come from that alone. "Did it with Washington, when you couldn't come close.
"Seducing older men." And he arches up, tightening spasmodically on Burr's knot, milking him for the fluid that Alexander imagines as a sort of balm inside him, a salve to slow the relentless desire.
But this time when he climaxes, he goes so tight on Burr that it actually does hurt, his body unwilling to loosen or let go, and it feels like he might tear himself on the sheer size of the knot still within him. The whimper that comes out of him is pathetic and wounded, and Burr's cock the knife still embedded in that wound.
Alexander is wrecked, limp, face smeared with tears and sweat and saliva, blood trailing from the flushed gland on his neck. He laughs, sad and breathless. "I like this shot better than the other."