Private Storyline 10

[slowtoanger]

Burr isn’t sure what comes over him. What drives him to wake up in their little cabin, which is much too muggy for it being still winter, feeling warm and ill but also needy, half-hard. Like the nights when he had been pregnant, and waking to pee meant also waking Alexander to offer him some relief in other ways.

He doesn't think it's a heat--isn't familiar enough with himself, yet, to recognize it this early. But--God, he needs. And he pains. He twists in bed, and Hamilton beside him stirs, but does not wake. His stomach is twisting, and he kicks the blankets off, nearly wakes Laurens, sleeping beside them--too cold, still, to separate most nights.

He can smell Hamilton, well, despite the bath he had taken before bed. He can smell the sweat, and the salt, and the pheromones that are always present, that mean Hamilton. He whines--a little, noiseless thing, that vibrates his chest. He wants him, god, he wants him, and he doesn't want to wait. They haven't talked about this--Burr using Hamilton while he sleeps, in the same way Burr wishes Hamilton to use him.

But. Well. It would be like a surprise, wouldn't it? And Burr would not begrudge Hamilton similar things, if he woke needy. So Burr's breath stutters out of him, as the grabs the edge of the blanket and peels it slowly down Hamilton's body, revealing pale legs that glisten in the dying fire light. God, he is beautiful, here in nothing but a nightshirt, and Burr feels like he can't breathe, when he lays a hand so gently on the back of Hamilton's calves, waits to make sure he does not stir, and slides those hands carefully upward, pushing up the nightshirt, revealing bare thighs, ass.

He reaches out, strokes up and down, drinking in the sound of his skin against Hamilton's. Up, further, until his hands come to the swell of his assk, and he squeezes the flesh, works it in his hands, until he parts him, and feels himself stiffening to the point of pain, at the sight of Hamilton's entrance contracting against cold air. He can't help himself. He can't help it. He wants to taste, needs to, and so he bends down, mouth hovering over, breath puffing hot against his hole. Extends his tongue and laps, and when it meets Hamilton's flesh he shivers, bites back a little moan as he pushes his face closer--licking and lapping and sucking.

They've never done this before. Never, and it feels so filthy, is so filthy, to be tasting an alpha in this manner, and he shivers, whimpers, thrusting against the bed at the same time he takes, ravenous, from Hamilton's sleeping form.

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[non_stop]

It has taken Alexander interminably long to get everything that they need. He had to argue with the quartermaster, which he did with a sharp and lashing tongue -- was flagged down by someone else who needed orders, and he barely remembers what he said. When he gets back he can smell a hint of Burr's desperation through the door. Pushes in, already putting down the rations in his hands and kicking the door closed before he even sees --

He is brought up short. Burr is trembling and writhing, struggling against Laurens, struggling for more, Alexander immediately recognizes. Burr is wanton and fevered, sweating all over, naked, mewling, and wet, wet, so wet. When Alexander freezes it is in astonishment at it (the sounds that Burr makes, the pure and pleading sounds). Not, he is distantly surprised to find, possessiveness or anger. Why isn't he jealous?

Because there's nothing to be jealous of. He's here. They're all here. They're together. Laurens smells just as right as Burr does.

He sheds his clothes frantically, tearing and stumbling, and when he is on the bed it is to press Burr between them. He does not hesitate. His cock finds the soaked place between Burr's thighs and -- oh, Burr right away is spreading his legs and baring his neck for Alexander, is clinging to Laurens and weeping and coming close to presenting himself, as close as he can get.

Alexander finds his hands tangling with Laurens' on Burr's hips, holding him steady. There is nothing, nothing like this, the eager, rippling muscles in his mate, a cunt gone fever-hot and gripping Alexander the same way Burr clings to Laurens beneath him.

Alexander fucks him hard, just like he needs. Like they all need.

[slowtoanger]

He shivers--a full body trembling right down to the core of him, as Alexander pushes in. Let's the upper half of his body go limp against Laurens while he pushes his ass up, presents himself, a good omega.

It feels so good. It's perfect, that passage inside of him spread apart by the head of Hamilton's cock, the slick displaced, squelching and running down between where they are joined, where Hamilton's balls are pressed between them.

Perhaps if he had not been forced to wait, and the abstinence had not driven his heart higher in the fervor of absence, he would not come immediately. As it is, he begins jerking straight away. His knees and legs clenching inward as he shakes on Hamilton's cock, his cunt gripping and pulling and urging Hamilton deeper.

He whines, and moans, and does nothing to control himself. The smell, begging to be fucked, seeded, even as Hamilton drives into him. He needs more, his body pulsing painfully with an orgasm that can't satisfy him. He needs more.

Each thrust pushes him down against Laurens, grinds his cock near the spot where Hamilton is inside him. And Burr squirms, wiggles with each movement, until the head is catching there against the stretched ring of muscles where Hamilton drives relentlessly forward.

[non_stop]

His mate, his darling, darling mate, in such need, in such violent desperation. And he has the solution. He presses in so deep, rolls his hips like he could find somewhere deeper still. And his -- his second mate? Pinned beneath them both, unsatisfied. Both of them, they belong to Alexander, and they are unsatisfied.

He stretches up to bite hard at the scruff of Burr's neck, to keep him still, and he pushes Burr's thigh up, widening the space between his legs. He has to stop thrusting, just for the moment -- hence the bite. Burr has to be still. It would be better if he would go sweet and limp for Alexander, though Burr is so wild that this seems unobtainable.

Alexander draws his hand up Laurens' swollen length, directs the head to press between the soft lips of Burr's cunt, where Alexander's cock has him stretched tight. Slips fingers in alongside his own length, and spreads those to make room --

Oh, it must hurt, and now Alexander releases the scruff. Where his teeth sank, he bathes in long licks, grooming and soothing as his hands go to Burr's hips and angle and pull him down so he's strained-tight around the two alphas who are so devoted to him.

The sounds Laurens makes are choking, and his hand covers Alexander's, to clench spasmodically on Burr's hip. Alexander almost doesn't notice. Burr has never been so tight, and Burr's sounds are distressed; maybe it is that they won't fit. That would be the height of unfairness, now -- Alexander knows Burr, remembers Burr's exquisite rapture at taking them both once before. Surely Burr would want this again. Surely Alexander belongs this way, nestled against Laurens, inside his husband. Surely -- !

He hitches forward and meets Laurens halfway in the wet, glorious kiss, the ravenous kiss. They share breath, and Burr sounds as though his has been driven entirely out of his body. Like there is not enough room in his slight form for both of them, and for his lungs to expand.

"My slut, my beautiful slut," Alexander says, like a prayer, nosing against Burr's neck. "Is it enough? Is this enough for you?"

[slowtoanger]

It hurts. He can feel the stretch, his hole burning as Hamilton fits Laurens cock inside, and he bucks, his muscles clenching and giving out, and when his trembling legs do go limp, Laurens is only driven deeper beside Hamilton. He can feel the way Hamilton retreats and Lauren's cock just forward to eat up the new space. There is no place inside him that is not stretched and used.

They're inside him. They're both inside him, and he feels mad with it, that he wants this, that he wants them both to knot him, mate him, breed him. And the though of both of their releases, swirling and mixing together by the motions of their arousals somewhere deep inside him, where it might catch and thicken him and they wouldn't know--it makes him wild.

He is limp now, between their bodies. He is trembling, sweat beading down his head, and his chest heaving. And he's mewling, and his knees are catching against the mattress though he cannot support himself.

"It hurts," he says, voice shaking, even as he bucks his hips again, tilts his ass up, so that he can feel more the helpless spasming of his entrance. "oh, please," he says, doesn't know what he's asking for, as he clenches down hard again and chokes.

He wants them both. But he can't, can he? They won't fit. But he wants it. He bites down on Lauren's neck, on that place mates bite. Hard enough to break skin, because he wants it. And he wants Hamilton to keep going. Reaches back, urges him harder, faster.

[non_stop]

He takes them fiercely and mercilessly, a claim over them both. Laurens, accommodating, and Aaron, helpless. The impossible grip of his mate's body. Warm, thick smells, musky, animal.

He can be forgiven, perhaps, for not lasting long under those circumstances. Even if the muscles still pull a little inside him from where he was taken already twice this morning. Even the slight swell of his knot can't fit past Burr's terribly stretched and battered entrance, and this is intolerable.

Hamilton grabs on to Burr, bodily, and flips him over onto his back next to Laurens, surging on top of him. His knot presses in easily, swells fast, and he sinks his teeth hard in at Burr's gland, canines breaking the skin, swell of sweet blood on his lips and his cock deep in Burr's body, which pulses, flutters around him as Burr's cunt milks pleasure from his knot. Burr's cunt must have been worked so hard it's tender, because it engulfs him in the softest heat he's ever felt. Soft, welcoming, wet heat, and he is lapping up the trickles of blood, bathing Burr's throat in long licks, when he realizes: he has mated Burr, truly, now, in the most primal of ways. Burr is his, and with that immensely pleasurable thought, he feels himself release into Burr's vulnerable womb.

The purr that rises in him is answered outside him. A nuzzle at Hamilton's own throat, slow licks where he is sensitive, and he arches a little, bares his throat to Laurens's attentions. Because it is Laurens, halfway up, one hand on Hamilton's shoulder, nose buried in the soft flesh under Hamilton's jaw. His body remembers Laurens penetrating him, biting him, doing both with Burr's approval. Why does this feel right, this way? Why does it set him at ease that Laurens takes Hamilton's scent on him, breathes it in the way he does?

Laurens helps guide them when Hamilton instinctively shifts, instinctively wants Burr laying on his chest. And then Laurens nudges Burr's thighs farther apart and -- ahh, his hot breath, and then his tongue must be lending Burr some special torment, either on his cunt's lips or at his other passage, because Burr shifts up and goes a little tighter on Hamilton's knot. Hamilton takes his cock in hand, and doesn't even have to coax it to hardness -- Burr is hard and desperate, and his cock weeps wet almost as much as his hole does. He is a mess.

[slowtoanger]

Burr whines out his displeasure when Hamilton pulls him bodily away, when Laurens cock slips out, doesn't slip, nothing so gentle as the rough pull of his cock head against Burr's entrance. But that whine becomes choked into silence, into a moan, when Hamilton forces him down and knots him. His back rises off the bed when Hamilton bites, and a wave of pleasure courses through him, and he can feel the way his body clenches and squeezes over the width of him, the knot that seems to stretch even as Burr can feel the fluids of his arousal leaking out loose beneath the knot.

He's never been mated, like this. Well and truly. He is Hamilton's, and they are married but they are mated now, in the proper way. He closes his eyes and focuses, hard, to feel the pulses of the cock inside him, seeding him. He shifts, clenches, to milk out more, to be good for his mate.

And he's never been mated like this, when Hamilton's seed could take. If he weren't caught up in the heat sickness like he is now, he would not act so. But he is caught up, and he whines and squirms and begs with his scent. Fertile and breed me and yours. The scent and omega makes when he is desperate for something, when he wants to be seeded with a child.

And he's licking then, as Hamilton shifts them, licking up Hamilton's collarbone and his neck and his eyes are closed but he collides and--oh, yes, he is kissing Laurens then. Lazy kisses, faces pressed against Hamilton's body, all of them together here, together, but not as much as they should be, and--

Burr jerks when Laurens licks him. Pulls away and goes behind him, circles his tongue and Burr's legs fall open impossibly wider, speared open on Hamilton's cock. He's panting straight away, trembling, when Lauren's pushes his tongue forward around beside Hamilton's cock.

Hamilton thought once, before, that Burr didn't know the paternity of their child. That too many were needed to satisfy him. All Burr knows now is that he needs, desperately. He's squirming them, pulling at Hamilton's knot, fucking those bare few centimeters he can, whining and begging and needing.

"More," he says, and the heat surges again,"please please please please please."