Burr was telling the truth before--their first time--when he said he didn't need preparation before fucking. Thomas pushes in wonderfully and Burr melts, laying back on the table. Let himself he rocked by it, drinking in each sound--panting breath, slapping skin.

He holds his legs open, his knees, and let's Jefferson take his fill. There is something so erotic about it--being used in this way, Jefferson coming inside him and pulling out, leaving him messy. He comes quickly too, biting down against Jefferson's neck as an orgasm is tugged out of him.

"Good boy," Burr whispers, trembling, doesn't realize he has said anything at all.

He catches the cum with his own hand, and the cum running down his thigh. Maintains eye contact, as he licks it off. They have to be clean and discreet, after all. Tucks Jefferson back into his jeans, and quickly straightens his own clothing.