Yes, that is nice--the way Alexander rubs himself against Burr's body, leaving streaks on his thigh. Better, when he shivers at Burr's words, the way his eyes darken, the hand that wraps around his cock, the way he straddles Burr, above him, curves his spine.
Good enough to eat. The food has been set aside, and Burr grabs Alexander's hips. Squeezes. He can't help but watch, transfixed, as that hand moves up and down his length, trailing over the head, the slit. He wants to taste him. Wants more to watch, as Alexander works at himself, settled in Burr lap.
"You like it, when I call you pretty," he says. "When I call you a good boy?" And he swears he hears breath catch, hand speeding up. "Do you like being here, spread out for me like a work of art?" His hands creeping up, rubbing over his stomach, his chest. A bit dizzy, at being able to touch him. Knowing he could taste him, if he but bent forward.
"You're so pretty, Alexander. So perfect. Look at the way your hand moves on your cock, the rise and fall of your chest. Your cunt, dripping. Your very existence is pornographic--"
Working himself up, watching, growing hard. He can't take it--wants him in his mouth, now. Flips them with a growl and slides down the bed, so he is hovering over that cock. Alexander, watching him. Burr, watching Alexander.
He grips lightly, feels the weight of that cock in his hand. Maintains eye contact as he extends his tongue, licks over the head.
"You said you once dreamed of fucking my mouth, having me on my knees for you. Why not now? Why not do it now? Would you like to fuck my throat? I am amenable, open," and his breathing betrays his need, his want. Practically salivating at the prospect, of Hamilton holding him down, gagging him on cock.
no subject
Good enough to eat. The food has been set aside, and Burr grabs Alexander's hips. Squeezes. He can't help but watch, transfixed, as that hand moves up and down his length, trailing over the head, the slit. He wants to taste him. Wants more to watch, as Alexander works at himself, settled in Burr lap.
"You like it, when I call you pretty," he says. "When I call you a good boy?" And he swears he hears breath catch, hand speeding up. "Do you like being here, spread out for me like a work of art?" His hands creeping up, rubbing over his stomach, his chest. A bit dizzy, at being able to touch him. Knowing he could taste him, if he but bent forward.
"You're so pretty, Alexander. So perfect. Look at the way your hand moves on your cock, the rise and fall of your chest. Your cunt, dripping. Your very existence is pornographic--"
Working himself up, watching, growing hard. He can't take it--wants him in his mouth, now. Flips them with a growl and slides down the bed, so he is hovering over that cock. Alexander, watching him. Burr, watching Alexander.
He grips lightly, feels the weight of that cock in his hand. Maintains eye contact as he extends his tongue, licks over the head.
"You said you once dreamed of fucking my mouth, having me on my knees for you. Why not now? Why not do it now? Would you like to fuck my throat? I am amenable, open," and his breathing betrays his need, his want. Practically salivating at the prospect, of Hamilton holding him down, gagging him on cock.