"But not the prettiest," Burr purrs, licking a long strip up his thigh, nuzzling there between his legs. "Not the smartest whore, with the quickest mind." Swept away in Hamilton, drunk off him. The sweet, beautiful things he says. Had no one else, that the child in Hamilton is from his own seed, that they laid together once and Burr had gotten him with child. That Burr loves.

"The whore who tastes the sweetest," he says, and extends his tongue, licking up both sides of his cunt, lapping at the trail of his own, earlier spend. "not Alexander Hamilton." And when did his name begin to sound pornographic in Burr's mind?

"Who would be so eager, to spread their legs for someone old enough to be their grandfather?" Burr asks, before he sets to lapping, employing all those tricks he knows to bring him off as quickly as possible. Sucking hear the top of his slit, teasing his tongue along the entrance as his hands seek out Alexander's cock, stroking over the head.

"You deserve endless pleasure," Burr says as he pulls away, mouth wet. Panting. "Let me give it to you. Let me worship you."