It would be easy to be offended, when Hamilton fails to return Burr's words, but it's easy to see how overwhelmed he is. His pupils are blown, from Burr's earlier treatment, but he seems breathless, speechless.
Burr grins wickedly. He knows how to extract what he wants from one less than willing. And bending down to latch his lips back onto Hamilton's scent gland is a pleasure in of itself. Not nearly as pleasurable though, as the way Hamilton gasps and digs his fingers into Burr's shoulders, angeling his head back.
He revels in the sound of Hamilton's moans as he works him over, his other hand smoothing down Hamilton's side to grip tight over the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing once, twice, while Hamilton writhes. Ah, but he is making such sweet sounds, and for as much as Burr loves them, he cannot allow them to be discovered, in this little alcove between the tall bushes.
The hand not working over Hamilton's pants he brings to Hamilton's mouth, working fingers inside past lips, pressing down hard on his tongue, and then he slides down Hamilton's body, until his mouth is level with Hamilton's crotch.
"We'll have to be quick," Burr says, "and quiet," but he doesn't allow Hamilton any preparation beyond that, loosening the ties and allowing his erection to spring free, quickly bringing his lips to the head and licking over the liquid beading there, running lips over the slit, the gland, darting his tongue to lick them free of salt.
Hamilton is making desperate, muffled sounds, his hands fisted in the grass, hips trembling with the effort to remain still. Oh, Burr thinks, such restraint won't do. He should be gripping at Burr, held down by Burr.
Burr latches his mouth around the head of Hamilton's cock and suckles, fully intending to drive Hamilton mad, for as quick as they must be, for the threat of discovery. His other hand works over Hamilton's balls, rubbing and massaging. After a moment he switches hands--pulls the one wet with saliva down to grip over the part not in Burr's mouth and gags him with the other. He pays special attention to the knot, not yet fully swollen, pulls his head away to lap at it, before he decides he wants it in his mouth, needs it in his mouth right now.
Sliding his head down that warm, hot length is easier than he thought. Slipping the knot in is not. While he hollows his cheeks and bobs his head up and down, tasting the cock on the back of his tongue, the knot bumps continually against his lips. What would happen, if Burr slipped it in and left it there, until it had swollen to its full size? Would Burr be knotted that way, in much the same way as an omega is knotted to an alpha in the proper way? The thought sends a new rush of heat to his own neglected cock, and despite himself he begins humping Hamilton's leg, looking for some kind of relief, friction.
Hamilton is making all kinds of wild sounds now, writhing fully on the grass, fisting his hand roughly into Burr's hair, forcing him down. The knot bumps against his lips, seeming impossibly large, but Hamilton is pushing, and Burr is relaxing his jaw, and then it is in, and Burr gags once before moaning around the intrusion, the ache in his jaw, the fullness.
There was a plan here, at some point. A plan that involved making Hamilton beg for Burr's mouth, and return those declarations of love. But it seems Burr has gotten himself into a situation, at it were.
no subject
Burr grins wickedly. He knows how to extract what he wants from one less than willing. And bending down to latch his lips back onto Hamilton's scent gland is a pleasure in of itself. Not nearly as pleasurable though, as the way Hamilton gasps and digs his fingers into Burr's shoulders, angeling his head back.
He revels in the sound of Hamilton's moans as he works him over, his other hand smoothing down Hamilton's side to grip tight over the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing once, twice, while Hamilton writhes. Ah, but he is making such sweet sounds, and for as much as Burr loves them, he cannot allow them to be discovered, in this little alcove between the tall bushes.
The hand not working over Hamilton's pants he brings to Hamilton's mouth, working fingers inside past lips, pressing down hard on his tongue, and then he slides down Hamilton's body, until his mouth is level with Hamilton's crotch.
"We'll have to be quick," Burr says, "and quiet," but he doesn't allow Hamilton any preparation beyond that, loosening the ties and allowing his erection to spring free, quickly bringing his lips to the head and licking over the liquid beading there, running lips over the slit, the gland, darting his tongue to lick them free of salt.
Hamilton is making desperate, muffled sounds, his hands fisted in the grass, hips trembling with the effort to remain still. Oh, Burr thinks, such restraint won't do. He should be gripping at Burr, held down by Burr.
Burr latches his mouth around the head of Hamilton's cock and suckles, fully intending to drive Hamilton mad, for as quick as they must be, for the threat of discovery. His other hand works over Hamilton's balls, rubbing and massaging. After a moment he switches hands--pulls the one wet with saliva down to grip over the part not in Burr's mouth and gags him with the other. He pays special attention to the knot, not yet fully swollen, pulls his head away to lap at it, before he decides he wants it in his mouth, needs it in his mouth right now.
Sliding his head down that warm, hot length is easier than he thought. Slipping the knot in is not. While he hollows his cheeks and bobs his head up and down, tasting the cock on the back of his tongue, the knot bumps continually against his lips. What would happen, if Burr slipped it in and left it there, until it had swollen to its full size? Would Burr be knotted that way, in much the same way as an omega is knotted to an alpha in the proper way? The thought sends a new rush of heat to his own neglected cock, and despite himself he begins humping Hamilton's leg, looking for some kind of relief, friction.
Hamilton is making all kinds of wild sounds now, writhing fully on the grass, fisting his hand roughly into Burr's hair, forcing him down. The knot bumps against his lips, seeming impossibly large, but Hamilton is pushing, and Burr is relaxing his jaw, and then it is in, and Burr gags once before moaning around the intrusion, the ache in his jaw, the fullness.
There was a plan here, at some point. A plan that involved making Hamilton beg for Burr's mouth, and return those declarations of love. But it seems Burr has gotten himself into a situation, at it were.