Burr growls, as Hamilton begs for it--his cock swelling between his legs, and he grabs Hamilton roughly by the hair, yanks him onto his stomach, and then forces his head down, hard, into the bedding.

A knee on the small of his back, and his other hand, the one not holding him down, grabs his legs and pulls them apart. "Spread," he orders, and even before Hamilton is done he is bringing his hand down, hard, over Hamilton's cunt. A jolt runs through him, from his stomach to his groin, at the sound of flesh against flesh, at the sound Hamilton makes, and he cannot stop himself from bringing his hand down again, again, again, his cock throbbing, aching, watching Hamilton grinding himself against the sheets.

"You really are a needy whore. Such a bad boy," Burr says, as he pushes one finger into his cunt. "Already wet, even as you're begging for forgiveness. You couldn't help bending over for the first cock you saw. I wonder how you go about your errands. Do you bend over shopkeepers' desks, spread your legs in alleyways?"