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amrev_intrigues2022-07-07 10:02 pm
slowtoanger) wrote in amrev_intrigues2022-07-07 10:02 pm
Private Storyline 10
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.
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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."