Burr's breath catches in his throat, as Hamilton advances, stepping back until he hits the wall, cool against bare skin, flesh prickling.
"So my need or want of privacy must speak to some trauma in this way? Not everyone is as open as you, Hamilton. About these things. You, the powerful alpha, who has never worried for shame should he sleep with every omega in the vicinity," another inhale, shakey, as Hamilton's scent--anger, worry, fear, overwhelmes him. "You never asked, and I would not have volunteered the information." Blushing now, looking down.
No, he never wished to speak of Monty. Would have refused to, had Hamilton come out and asked, but Hamilton does not know that. That Burr had sent every indication that he did not want to discuss it and would not. Subtle, unspoken warfare. His specialty.
He holds out a hand, presses it to Hamilton's chest, to attempt to maintain some last modicum of distance. Oh, but that contact serves only to overwhelm him more, and he closes his eyes, angling his head away.
"You--" he stops, stutters. "You are wrong," he says, though the words are difficult, stickied in his throat, though a lump that has suddenly appeared.
no subject
"So my need or want of privacy must speak to some trauma in this way? Not everyone is as open as you, Hamilton. About these things. You, the powerful alpha, who has never worried for shame should he sleep with every omega in the vicinity," another inhale, shakey, as Hamilton's scent--anger, worry, fear, overwhelmes him. "You never asked, and I would not have volunteered the information." Blushing now, looking down.
No, he never wished to speak of Monty. Would have refused to, had Hamilton come out and asked, but Hamilton does not know that. That Burr had sent every indication that he did not want to discuss it and would not. Subtle, unspoken warfare. His specialty.
He holds out a hand, presses it to Hamilton's chest, to attempt to maintain some last modicum of distance. Oh, but that contact serves only to overwhelm him more, and he closes his eyes, angling his head away.
"You--" he stops, stutters. "You are wrong," he says, though the words are difficult, stickied in his throat, though a lump that has suddenly appeared.