Burr is close, Alexander knows it, and he wishes nothing more than that Burr knot his mouth, deep in his throat, and keep him there on his knees until it’s done. He’s already imagining it, the twitch of Burr’s cock against the back of his palate, the strange and ever startling sensation of semen hitting the back of his throat in rough jets. Burr hasn’t knotted his mouth, maybe because it’s not something most omegas are even willing to contemplate — he never did that with Eliza, and certainly her mouth was on him quite often, and his on her as well. But he is no lady from a good family, no sweet wife.

He is bereft and bewildered when this chance is taken from him, surprised and a bit wounded, unsure if Burr’s actions are a rejection. “Daddy,” a breath, a whisper, unwilling to raise his voice enough to really speak but wanting to beg for it.

It isn’t, though — a rejection, that is. Once he knows that, the tension darkening his brow dissolves, and he obeys, though he winces to put his stinging skin on the hard wood floor. Twists around to let Burr have at his arms and he reaches for Burr once unbound, but then he is tied again and he makes a sound of frustration. Burr presses him back flat against the floor and the frustration turns to pain, going limp again as a fresh surge of the thrill that always accompanies pain lights him up.

Burr knows by now how flexible Alexander is, that he stretches to maintain it, that he takes some stubborn pride in the way his body accommodates those who take pleasure in it. With one leg tied to the bed, Burr can have him in any number of positions.

He wipes at his face with his bound hands, breathing, trembling. Burr only rejected him because Burr wants to have him, fuck him where he’s been so abused. It will hurt. “Please,” soft, “please.”