Burr yields, subtly, the way every move he makes is subtle and crafted and elegant. And Hamilton steps forward, to flatten Burr between him and the wall, and he may be just a fraction taller than Burr but Burr has his head tipped back, and it's the perfect chance for Hamilton to nuzzle under his jaw and press his nose just where Burr's scent is the strongest.

Need and passion and desire and omega, all over the subtle spice that is Burr, the slow, rich roll that was new in Burr's smell since Quebec. Hamilton breathes it in, greedy for it, eyes closed, and brings his hand up to cup the other side of Burr's jaw. Then he kisses over the gland, kisses at Burr's pulse, and kisses the line of his jaw and then, finally, kisses Burr properly, on the lips, pouring out all the desperate want that's built in him astonishingly over these paltry few weeks.