"Hamilton," he says, and his voice cracks, and he closes his eyes, breathes in roughly, buries his face in the spot between Hamilton's shoulder and neck. Breathing in his scent, alpha. Not Monty. Not Monty.
Hamilton is rubbing at Burr's scalp, and Burr can feel himself melting, hurt dripping out to be replaced with lingering pleasure, the buzz of their release not long ago.
He feels pleasantly used. Sore, ruined, as he had wanted to be. And something unfurls inside him, some desperate, needy, delicate thing, drinking in each small attention with a pain not unlike something verging on tears. Hamilton kissing his face, rubbing thumbs over his cheeks, like Burr is something precious. Like Burr is wanted.
His shoulders shake, his chest heaves. Burr shifts, pulling at the knot, stills and hisses. He's not sure he'll be able to walk after this, and even so his bindings are ruined, and he won't be able to fasten his pants. Maybe Hamilton planned all this for that reason, and he is still hollowed out enough for that to strike him with a jolt of fear, even as he knows it is ridiculous.
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Hamilton is rubbing at Burr's scalp, and Burr can feel himself melting, hurt dripping out to be replaced with lingering pleasure, the buzz of their release not long ago.
He feels pleasantly used. Sore, ruined, as he had wanted to be. And something unfurls inside him, some desperate, needy, delicate thing, drinking in each small attention with a pain not unlike something verging on tears. Hamilton kissing his face, rubbing thumbs over his cheeks, like Burr is something precious. Like Burr is wanted.
His shoulders shake, his chest heaves. Burr shifts, pulling at the knot, stills and hisses. He's not sure he'll be able to walk after this, and even so his bindings are ruined, and he won't be able to fasten his pants. Maybe Hamilton planned all this for that reason, and he is still hollowed out enough for that to strike him with a jolt of fear, even as he knows it is ridiculous.