Burr whines, as Hamilton comes--gripping hard against Hamilton's skin, as he pushes down hard, clamps against him. He is so close to coming, with Hamilton here, like this--the way he shivers and trembles and then goes liquid. The smell of him. But he doesn't. Breathes through it, as the other hand continues to work the phallus, pushing and pushing.

His hole, growing more slack with his pleasure, and the head breaches, barely, and Burr can feel it in Hamilton--the strain, the little shivers. And Hamilton's legs are trembling now, and he is breathing hard against the sheets, perhaps drooling. Burr bucks forward, seeking pleasure, his knot small enough still to slide in and out, and he can feel the pressure of the head, even through Hamilton's body. Another push, sliding a few inches further, and Hamilton whines, begins to push himself back against it, and Burr is breathless as the sight--ass swaying, stretching, stretching.

It slips in. Hamilton cries--someplace between pleasure and pain, but he is fucking himself back, and Burr is groaning, feeling each inch of pressure against where his cock is buried, and then with his free hand he is grabbing Hamilton's hip, fucking into his roughly, driving him back on the phallus, hard, against those spots of pleasure.