When Burr thrusts into him, Alexander shockingly -- to himself and, he imagines, to Burr -- comes immediately. Something about it is just right, and he's been straining for it for so long, pleading and fighting and Burr's cock just has to caress the right places inside him, just once, and he's completely gone. It drags a scream out of his raw throat, an uncontrollable rush of even more fluid, a series of spasms like a hook digging in somewhere behind his navel and yanking hard. At first, he thinks that he's wet himself, because that certainly hasn't happened before, but he doesn't smell urine and it didn't come from his cock -- no, his cock is spilling onto the floor, semen smearing under him.

Burr wasn't trying to make him come. Was, in fact, trying not to make him come, and Alexander was so needy for it that he got there anyway. And the instant he has the breath he's dropping his head in submission -- "Daddy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me, I'm sorry," a sob breaking out of him, and then another, as he kneels in the filthy evidence of his own pleasure.