There is no need to prepare him more than he already is--wet, slick running down over his ass, glistening for low candlelight. A feast, and Burr should like no better than to bring him off with his mouth, again and again and again. But this isn't about Burr, and though Alex will enjoy it, it won't further that delicious pain as much as fucking will. Hard, rough. Anything, to rub his raw ass over the floorboards, make him feel each thrust acutely and painfully. Oh, he should like him to struggle more, as much as he likes him laying there and taking it. Would like him to beg him to stop. Perhaps he will, when he feels that pain.

Burr likes to torture him a bit first; drags his cock over his entrance, fucking against him, but not pushing in. Wants to ask him to beg, to ask nicely, yet Hamilton is so accommodating, the words are spilling from him mouth before he has thrust more than a handful of times. "Poor baby," Burr coos, cruel. "Daddy will take care of you," and then he lines himself up and pushes in, one hard, deep thrust that rocks Hamilton against the floor.

Raises himself, so that each thrust pushes him down down, picks up Hamilton's other leg and hikes it up, over his hip, stretching him painfully, and making all his weight rest there on the swell of his ass.