Burr laps greedily around the digits, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, bobbing his head forward to take more into his mouth, until they are pressing further than the base of the tongue, the edge of his throat. He flutters his eyelashes, gazes down at Hamilton, sat between his legs.
Hamilton seems as gone as Burr is, shedding layers with his other hand, eyes dark and cheeks red and seeming with every glance to drink Burr in. And his eyes, God his eyes, pupils blown wide, black eclipsing blue.
He talks, filthy, filthy things, that make Burr's muscles clench, attempting to clamp down on an intrusion that has not yet come. Hamilton has folded Burr open past the point of pain, but even still he weakly wiggles his hips, attempts to present himself more.
Hamilton rubs his cock along Burr's entrance, Burr shivering, thrusting his hips ineffectually, trying to spear himself.
"You could have told me, Aaron. Showed me how much you need it. I wouldn't have left you unsatisfied." Oh God, and he slips the head in then, leaves it there for Burr to clench around, trying desperately to fuck himself back but completely unable to move, and the fucking hasn't started yet in earnest but Burr feels on the verge of tears.
And then, without giving him time to adjust, Hamilton sinks down to the hilt. Burr jolts, shocked with pleasure, jerking beneath Hamilton as he is filled, digging nails into Hamilton's gloriously bare back, scraping.
Still clothed, pants opened just enough to free his cock, and Burr angles his head down, looks at where they joined, at where Hamilton is disappearing into him, and the sight is enough to send delightful spasms through his insides, clenching down around Hamilton's cock.
"I don't want to be able to walk," Burr whispers, desperate, demanding, in Hamilton's ear, biting hard between words. "I don't want to be anything more than a loose, dripping hole."
But Hamilton is not doing enough, and Burr is so needy. He reaches between them again, grips around where Hamilton is penetrating him, gathers up slick and trails backward, rubbing over his hole and moaning.
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Hamilton seems as gone as Burr is, shedding layers with his other hand, eyes dark and cheeks red and seeming with every glance to drink Burr in. And his eyes, God his eyes, pupils blown wide, black eclipsing blue.
He talks, filthy, filthy things, that make Burr's muscles clench, attempting to clamp down on an intrusion that has not yet come. Hamilton has folded Burr open past the point of pain, but even still he weakly wiggles his hips, attempts to present himself more.
Hamilton rubs his cock along Burr's entrance, Burr shivering, thrusting his hips ineffectually, trying to spear himself.
"You could have told me, Aaron. Showed me how much you need it. I wouldn't have left you unsatisfied." Oh God, and he slips the head in then, leaves it there for Burr to clench around, trying desperately to fuck himself back but completely unable to move, and the fucking hasn't started yet in earnest but Burr feels on the verge of tears.
And then, without giving him time to adjust, Hamilton sinks down to the hilt. Burr jolts, shocked with pleasure, jerking beneath Hamilton as he is filled, digging nails into Hamilton's gloriously bare back, scraping.
Still clothed, pants opened just enough to free his cock, and Burr angles his head down, looks at where they joined, at where Hamilton is disappearing into him, and the sight is enough to send delightful spasms through his insides, clenching down around Hamilton's cock.
"I don't want to be able to walk," Burr whispers, desperate, demanding, in Hamilton's ear, biting hard between words. "I don't want to be anything more than a loose, dripping hole."
But Hamilton is not doing enough, and Burr is so needy. He reaches between them again, grips around where Hamilton is penetrating him, gathers up slick and trails backward, rubbing over his hole and moaning.