A little sigh of wonder, at Hamilton's body, so eager, so willing. Feeling the little shakes of pleasure, the way he swells beneath him--gasping for air, riding that sensation. Clenches down on his fingers, and Burr purrs, purrs purrs purrs, wants to communicate down to the lowest parts of him contentment, satisfaction. Feels the wetness grow against his palm, his fingers, continuing to rock as he chases his own release, caressing and whispering sweet things.

When Burr starts to come, it is a slow, lazy thing, from watching the flutter of Hamilton's eyes, the way his chest gradually slows, and the little flush on his cheekbones fades to pink. A stab of hot pleasure, and slower waves, that make his muscles relax, difficult to hold himself up. He takes his cock in hand and those tremors sieze his lower body, rubs the head over Hamilton's fold as he spills, massaging the come in, scooping it with his fingers and pushing it into Hamilton's entrance before collapsing down beside him. Reaching lazily for the washbasin on the bedside table, the rag, to wipe them clean.

"So good," he whispers. "You are so good. Oh, if only we had been amenable to each other all those years ago. I should have liked to marry you."