Oh, yes, he is being penetrated, now, with fingers -- he can feel the difference, between the false dream and the real sensation. He gasps, and finds himself bracing his weight on his knees, to arch his back and expose himself. Present himself. He can feel his nightshirt rumpled almost to his shoulders, his bare skin exposed.

Burr's words, though, make tension leak out of him. If he were alarmed, or afraid, he would be awake. But he isn't. He is needy, instead. He is raw. He is more than a little bit overwhelmed, coaxed from unconsciousness in such a way.

Burr is -- his tongue, and his fingers --

He goes pliant, adrift, not all the way awake and not really asleep anymore either, though he whines as Burr's fingers curl just so, at the damp, hot breath against his hole and the tongue that chases the fingers inside. He trembles, and his toes curl tight as Burr opens him.

He almost doesn't want Burr to breed him. This is so good; his cheeks burn, as he hears the humiliating, wet sounds of desire that Burr makes against him. A groan, barely audible, vibrates into him. Burr stokes an inferno in him, a fire, a bliss. He is so hard, he must be dripping.

"Anything," Alexander slurs, "anything, I want you, I want," and his voice breaks into another gasp of pleasure.