He never thought to see Burr so gone with need. Even when he supposed that Burr might be avoiding mention of his secondary gender, even when he concluded that this likely meant omega and meant that Burr would be reduced to this in heat --
God. If this is what Burr is like now, what would he be like, in heat? Maybe he truly doesn't know who the father is; maybe it took too many to satisfy him. Maybe he speaks like this because he is, in truth, bent to depraved desires. If he is, Hamilton wants to find them all. Lay them bare. Use them. And yet, what does it matter, if Burr is depraved? He has not sought out anyone since coming here, apparently even when he wanted so badly -- and he is under Hamilton's hands now, receiving his attentions with glorious enthusiasm.
His thrusts are rough; not as fast as they could be, but that means he can make them hard, fierce, making him feel as though he's fucking the air out of Burr's slim body.
"You are more already," he counters, deflecting Burr's searching hand and pinning it down, just to see if Burr thrashes for the extra stimulation, in need. "A hole can't beg for it. A hole can't cry from needing it so badly. A hole might have me as greedily as you -- like that, the way your cunt takes me, Aaron," and he says it like praise, while he fucks like violence, "but a hole couldn't debase itself the way you are." He crushes Burr's wrist to the bed. "Come on my cock or don't at all."
His knot is already starting to swell. He isn't gentle with it -- he persists in forcing it in and out of Burr long after he would ordinarily have seated himself secure within an omega's body. He has to manhandle Burr into place, keep him held down and force it brutally past his entrance the last time, and for a moment he doesn't think that Burr will accommodate it, but he does, he unwinds under Hamilton and Hamilton loses himself recklessly to the bliss of it, his seed joining the mess within Burr, the thick base of his cock swelling to lock them together, whether or not Burr can take it, now.
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God. If this is what Burr is like now, what would he be like, in heat? Maybe he truly doesn't know who the father is; maybe it took too many to satisfy him. Maybe he speaks like this because he is, in truth, bent to depraved desires. If he is, Hamilton wants to find them all. Lay them bare. Use them. And yet, what does it matter, if Burr is depraved? He has not sought out anyone since coming here, apparently even when he wanted so badly -- and he is under Hamilton's hands now, receiving his attentions with glorious enthusiasm.
His thrusts are rough; not as fast as they could be, but that means he can make them hard, fierce, making him feel as though he's fucking the air out of Burr's slim body.
"You are more already," he counters, deflecting Burr's searching hand and pinning it down, just to see if Burr thrashes for the extra stimulation, in need. "A hole can't beg for it. A hole can't cry from needing it so badly. A hole might have me as greedily as you -- like that, the way your cunt takes me, Aaron," and he says it like praise, while he fucks like violence, "but a hole couldn't debase itself the way you are." He crushes Burr's wrist to the bed. "Come on my cock or don't at all."
His knot is already starting to swell. He isn't gentle with it -- he persists in forcing it in and out of Burr long after he would ordinarily have seated himself secure within an omega's body. He has to manhandle Burr into place, keep him held down and force it brutally past his entrance the last time, and for a moment he doesn't think that Burr will accommodate it, but he does, he unwinds under Hamilton and Hamilton loses himself recklessly to the bliss of it, his seed joining the mess within Burr, the thick base of his cock swelling to lock them together, whether or not Burr can take it, now.