Burr is able to come back to himself when Hamilton pulls away. His words are sweet sentiment that make his stomach flip, and he feels the heat burning through him, turning him wild. He wants Hamilton, but he wants to that privacy, and he knows that conceding here is the quickest way to get what he wants. So he grips on, presses desperate kisses to skin before breaking apart and hurrying away, to get to the cabin before the heat really does overwhelm him.
It is cooler outdoors, which helps. Draws attention to the dampness at his collar, breeze cutting through musk. He can smell the men he passes, the alphas, and his knees tremble. He wants only to fall to the ground, to present himself to them, to let them yank down his breeches and drive into that welcoming warmth--
He needs to control himself. The sickness, which had faded into heat, returns now at his abstinence. He reaches the cabin quickly, flings the door open and shut, falls back against the wood whimpering and panting, slick running down his legs. He needs, he needs, and his hand goes there, to that pulsating soreness, feels the wetness and presses and he moans, whines.
He doesn't realize Laurens is there until he hears the choking sound, and then all at once the smell is slamming into him--alpha. And he can't help himself. He can't. He opens his eyes and sees him, the pupils blown, and he can't help himself.
They haven't talked about it. Hamilton had said, before, that if Burr needed, and Hamilton was not available, he would be amenable to allowing Laurens as a substitute. But they haven't really, discussed it. Haven't agreed on anything. Haven't brought it up with Laurens.
And Laurens certainly is not willing to cheat with Burr. Had shown such, that night in the tent, when Burr had sat on his lap, felt his hardness against him, as Laurens took a swollen nipple into his mouth and sucked.
He can't help it. He's pulsing with it, with need, so much it hurts. He's across the room, pressing Laurens back against the dresser, kisses him through protest, bends him backwards and wraps legs around his waist to grind his cunt against that length that has never been inside him. He devours, fucks with his tongue at the same time he bucks his hips, a horrible degenerate thing, whining and whimpering and making those little sounds of needs.
"He wouldn't mind--" Burr gasps out, as he grinds against him. Chokes on his own pleasure, biting high pitched sounds into his skin. "He wouldn't mind. Don't you want me? I need it, Laurens I need it, please, please, give it to me, fuck me, take me, mate me, please--" babbling, mindless, wet sounds between them, rubbing slick soaked trousers over the hard length still trapped in Laurens breeches.
And he wants Laurens cock inside him. Right now, right this instant. He doesn't want to wait. He wants to taste him, his seed on Burr's tongue. Should die, for wanting it.
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It is cooler outdoors, which helps. Draws attention to the dampness at his collar, breeze cutting through musk. He can smell the men he passes, the alphas, and his knees tremble. He wants only to fall to the ground, to present himself to them, to let them yank down his breeches and drive into that welcoming warmth--
He needs to control himself. The sickness, which had faded into heat, returns now at his abstinence. He reaches the cabin quickly, flings the door open and shut, falls back against the wood whimpering and panting, slick running down his legs. He needs, he needs, and his hand goes there, to that pulsating soreness, feels the wetness and presses and he moans, whines.
He doesn't realize Laurens is there until he hears the choking sound, and then all at once the smell is slamming into him--alpha. And he can't help himself. He can't. He opens his eyes and sees him, the pupils blown, and he can't help himself.
They haven't talked about it. Hamilton had said, before, that if Burr needed, and Hamilton was not available, he would be amenable to allowing Laurens as a substitute. But they haven't really, discussed it. Haven't agreed on anything. Haven't brought it up with Laurens.
And Laurens certainly is not willing to cheat with Burr. Had shown such, that night in the tent, when Burr had sat on his lap, felt his hardness against him, as Laurens took a swollen nipple into his mouth and sucked.
He can't help it. He's pulsing with it, with need, so much it hurts. He's across the room, pressing Laurens back against the dresser, kisses him through protest, bends him backwards and wraps legs around his waist to grind his cunt against that length that has never been inside him. He devours, fucks with his tongue at the same time he bucks his hips, a horrible degenerate thing, whining and whimpering and making those little sounds of needs.
"He wouldn't mind--" Burr gasps out, as he grinds against him. Chokes on his own pleasure, biting high pitched sounds into his skin. "He wouldn't mind. Don't you want me? I need it, Laurens I need it, please, please, give it to me, fuck me, take me, mate me, please--" babbling, mindless, wet sounds between them, rubbing slick soaked trousers over the hard length still trapped in Laurens breeches.
And he wants Laurens cock inside him. Right now, right this instant. He doesn't want to wait. He wants to taste him, his seed on Burr's tongue. Should die, for wanting it.