Slut of an alpha--Laurens says, and Burr feels his dick twitch. Oh. And then, when Hamilton gives that little shiver, when his body begins to rock against Burr's, pushing both of them, with the force of Laurens' fucking. Well.

He's tired. And sleepy. And he shouldn't be hard again, shouldn't still want, yet--he does. He likes Hamilton like this. Likes him all the time, but likes especially the little fetching flush on his cheeks, the way his head is pillowed and limp and his mouth falls open and his eyes fall shut, when he is getting fucked just so. He likes the way Laurens teased him, the little humiliations, that blur the lines between alpha and omega, male and female.

Would like to make Hamilton watch, helpless, as Laurens used Burr's cunt, until he came hard--satisfied in a way Hamilton can't. Left him dripping white, seeded. And he can't get pregnant yet. Hasn't had a heat since the birth, so he isn't fertile, but--

Well. Laurens is busy. And there's something just as appealing jutting against him. His fantasy concerning Laurens is about Hamilton, at it's core. And Hamilton is here, helpless, easy to take advantage of.

Hamilton isn't hard. Not fully. But Burr is wet, and open. And he reaches between them, while Laurens continues his fucking. Wraps a hand around Hamilton's cock, caught between the tangle of legs, only just hard enough to slip inside, with the assistance of finger. A little wet sound, as the head pops in, and he wants to feel it firm up. Harden inside.

Closes his eyes and shivers, a too-loud, blissful exhale.