Burr doesn't cry out--no, he goes quiet and still. Not stiffening but ceasing all movement except for the quiver in his hips, that tightening and releasing and tightening deep inside. His hands stay splayed on Hamilton's neck, his face. Holding even as he only breathes against that place he was so attached.
He allows his body to be delivered to his husband in the most complete way. There is no pretension, nothing put on. He doesn't need his muscles--his body--to do anything except what happens regardless. His face is slack. He makes no sound. He does not loosen but he does not move. Hamilton knows, even if he could not feel it in those wet tightenings around those still working fingers.
His body tingles, and his eyes fall shut, and his husband holds him, and there is nothing as wonderful as Alexander, looking to Burr as though he were divine. So completely satisfied not through his own pleasure but through Burr's.
"I want that," Burr says, in the sudden way water breaks. His fingers do tighten then, and his mouth turns, and he opens and closes his lips there, mouthing at the blood that is still so endlessly appealing. "I want to see--how you would look, if you were driven deeper, moved without your own power by the roughness of the road."
He wants also to help his husband as his husband has helped him. Looks there, to the swell between Hamilton's legs, if it is still there. Even as he would enjoy just as well curling up on Alexander to go back to sleep.
no subject
He allows his body to be delivered to his husband in the most complete way. There is no pretension, nothing put on. He doesn't need his muscles--his body--to do anything except what happens regardless. His face is slack. He makes no sound. He does not loosen but he does not move. Hamilton knows, even if he could not feel it in those wet tightenings around those still working fingers.
His body tingles, and his eyes fall shut, and his husband holds him, and there is nothing as wonderful as Alexander, looking to Burr as though he were divine. So completely satisfied not through his own pleasure but through Burr's.
"I want that," Burr says, in the sudden way water breaks. His fingers do tighten then, and his mouth turns, and he opens and closes his lips there, mouthing at the blood that is still so endlessly appealing. "I want to see--how you would look, if you were driven deeper, moved without your own power by the roughness of the road."
He wants also to help his husband as his husband has helped him. Looks there, to the swell between Hamilton's legs, if it is still there. Even as he would enjoy just as well curling up on Alexander to go back to sleep.