He isn't sure how Hamilton stands it--the painful pleasure that comes from being gripped in such a way. He's hardly fucking, but the limpness of Hamilton's body, the warmth, the sounds have him always on edge. But he wants to fuck him, hard and good. Wants him to wake sore, in the morning. Wants him to not be able to move, without some twinge to remind him how well fucked he was.

Breathing, deep breathing, before he is able to move in earnest. But when he does, he does so hard, not stopping when his balls meet skin but further, pushing his pelvis into Hamilton's, rocking them up, up, up. Oh yes, Hamilton is awake now, and not just dreaming. His legs are sliding a bit, trying to find some purchase that is impossible, pressed down as he is, and he's making those wonderful, breathless sounds, as Burr punches the air from him.

"You take it so well," Burr says, as he pushes them together rhythmically, slapping skin, the head of his cock pushing against warm flesh again and again and again. "Such a good little alpha--who knew you'd like an omega's cock so much. Spreading your legs, opening yourself for it. You want me to come inside you, don't you? You want me to seed you?"