He's braced for more taunts, more belittling. He can't say he doesn't deserve it, that he didn't invite every indignity visited upon him. Instead, as he starts to feel small and vulnerable, Burr switches their positions, and he melts gratefully into the position that hardly strains his cunt at all. Knees splayed to the outside of Burr's waist, and his body curled on top of Burr's, face pressed against the collar of his shirt.
Burr makes him imagine it. Closes his eyes, and when he is very still, he can feel the very slight twitches of Burr's cock as it comes inside him, comes and comes.
"Do you want it to root in me?" he asks, a murmur. "I think Benedicta wants me pregnant by you." He'd be easier to control. He'd be tied down. "She doesn't want me to go west." Doesn't think about how that's dangled his plans in front of Burr's nose. Lots of people want to go west, these days. There are opportunities in the west. Even for defiled omega sluts.
Beautiful. Is he beautiful? Does Burr find him beautiful?
"Took me clothed," sighs Alexander, without real rancor. His hand drifts down to where they're joined, and he probes, apparently feeling the knot inside him, then touching the open trousers, where he's left slick. "Someone'll have to take care of this before you go, though," and perhaps there's a little satisfaction that he's at least inconvenienced Burr in return for the power move.
He pulls his fingers away, and glances over them. Checking for blood, though Burr may not realize that. There is none, which is a relief.
Once he sees he's uninjured, just a bit sore from being so well-used, he relaxes as much as he can. He doesn't go into the ordinary light doze, the trance that most omegas experience at this time, satisfied and languorous. He is tired, so tired, but the subtle undercurrent of anxiety that permeates his entire existence won't quite fade. Especially since he's in heat. He learned early on that he could control himself in heat better than the alphas around him. Small he may be -- small enough that they were thoroughly surprised when he showed the skill of someone trained under General Washington in the war.
"You paid for the night," he mumbles, after a time, drowsy but unable to let go that last little bit, though he wants to, he longs to. "Are you going to use it?"
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Burr makes him imagine it. Closes his eyes, and when he is very still, he can feel the very slight twitches of Burr's cock as it comes inside him, comes and comes.
"Do you want it to root in me?" he asks, a murmur. "I think Benedicta wants me pregnant by you." He'd be easier to control. He'd be tied down. "She doesn't want me to go west." Doesn't think about how that's dangled his plans in front of Burr's nose. Lots of people want to go west, these days. There are opportunities in the west. Even for defiled omega sluts.
Beautiful. Is he beautiful? Does Burr find him beautiful?
"Took me clothed," sighs Alexander, without real rancor. His hand drifts down to where they're joined, and he probes, apparently feeling the knot inside him, then touching the open trousers, where he's left slick. "Someone'll have to take care of this before you go, though," and perhaps there's a little satisfaction that he's at least inconvenienced Burr in return for the power move.
He pulls his fingers away, and glances over them. Checking for blood, though Burr may not realize that. There is none, which is a relief.
Once he sees he's uninjured, just a bit sore from being so well-used, he relaxes as much as he can. He doesn't go into the ordinary light doze, the trance that most omegas experience at this time, satisfied and languorous. He is tired, so tired, but the subtle undercurrent of anxiety that permeates his entire existence won't quite fade. Especially since he's in heat. He learned early on that he could control himself in heat better than the alphas around him. Small he may be -- small enough that they were thoroughly surprised when he showed the skill of someone trained under General Washington in the war.
"You paid for the night," he mumbles, after a time, drowsy but unable to let go that last little bit, though he wants to, he longs to. "Are you going to use it?"