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Thomas Jefferson blinked away the stained yellow tint that remained in his eyes from scouring hours of parchment. His eyes settled on his fellow cabinet member, James Madison's, shoulder length, blonde hair: illuminated by the single candle they were using. Neither man had realized that night had settled upon New York City and their wives were surely waiting at home for their return.

Tom was just turning his attention back to the treasury documents when James slowly stood up and scooted the chair back. He discreetly stretched his stiff muscles, rolling his neck and speaking to Tom without turning his head to him.
“Thomas, we've been here for six hours.”
“With breaks.”

“Thomas.”

James held the bridge of his nose and ran his hands over his eyes.
“We're not going to find anything in these records. You know that.” Thomas looked up at him from his parchment, his dark hair and brows contrasting greatly with his light skin.

“Actually, I know what I know, Mr. Madison. We just have to begin-”
“Don't Mr. Madison me. And that's exactly your problem, Thomas, you don't know where to begin. There's simply too much.”

“And when did this become my problem? We both need to find a bullet to put in the gun we're loading on Alex. Unless you want him to force me to resign, of course, and leave you with the southern Democratic Republican party?”

Jefferson irritably turned his head to James, cocking an eyebrow.
“Now when did you start calling him Alex?”

The question caught him off guard.
“What?”
“You called him Alex, Mr. Jefferson. Instead of Hamilton”

 

There was a pause. The Secretary of State stood up, sighing, cooly smoothing over his hesitation. “And how is this of any relevance to our current situation?”
“It's not,” replied James, tossing down his thick bundle of parchment copies of treasury records onto Thomas's desk, “just like these records. We are blindly groping for one needle in a haystack, it's just simply not going to happen."

He walked towards the window and gazed out over the lights of New York, the light breeze tousling his long light hair. “now unless you have a sudden stroke of genius, Tom, I'm going home. I'm sure Dolley is missing me and dinner is long since cold.”

He turned his face to Thomas, awaiting a response. When there was none but a scratching quill, he persisted. “I hope, Mr. Jefferson, that you will do the same. Martha shall surely await your company,” he smirked mischievously, “possibly with... means to take your mind of this whole ordeal for the night. Take no offense, Tom, but you look like you need to get laid. And desperately.”

Thomas sarcastically laughed and looked from Madison's face to the window. “Go to your wife, James. I'll be here tomorrow afternoon, same time. Enjoy your pleasantries, I'm looking a bit longer.”

James Madison made his way to the door of the office, coat in hand.
He sighed. “My friend, for someone who hides it well, you're an awful lot like him.”

Thomas looked up, Madison's hand rested on the knob of the open door.
“What?”

James smiled, “Goodnight, Mr. Jefferson. Give Martha my greetings.”
with a nod, James Madison quietly closed the door and left Thomas Jefferson alone in his office. The Secretary of State could hear Madison's soft footsteps on the padded carpet in the hall, and then silenced enveloped the room once more.

 

The young Virginian felt another wave of reluctance to go home, especially now that he was alone. When his friend James was by his side, studying parchment just as he, it was a group effort. But now that Madison was gone, surely he should be expected to head home as well.

And once again, Thomas hesitated. Hesitated to even begin thinking of walking through the city streets and to Martha. He hesitated for one reason, and one reason only.
His mind wandered to where it had been wandering for weeks...

Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton.
Naturally, his mind had been on Hamilton for a year since the day he met him. His plan for a new form of government, the undeniable growth of the treasury, their heated, bitter rivalry, his short tempered, arrogant, loud-mouthed tendencies to say whatever the fuck was on his mind. How he writes like he's running out of time.

Of course, these issues had dominated Thomas's mind since he returned from France. Hamilton had been nothing but a threat to Thomas, a hard-headed, pain in the ass obstacle between his views and Washington. They'd never agreed once, all they did was fight for power like rabid dogs.

But this June, these few weeks in June, were enough to keep Jefferson's mind completely dominated by Hamilton all hours of the day. Thomas was reluctant to admit it to himself, but he could deny it no longer. He hated Hamilton, with a burning, heated, passion. But he couldn't shake it from his mind. How Hamilton was alone this summer. This whole summer. Hamilton was alone. And surely that meant something to Jefferson... but he couldn't say what.

When he thought of this he was rushed by a strong wave of emotions, anger, frustration... a powerful burning that was on the border of... desire. But this couldn't possibly be true. There was no way that he, Thomas Jefferson, a revered native Virginian Secretary of State, could feel any form of desire towards Hamilton, an arrogant, immigrant, creole bastard from the Caribbean.

And yet, when he thought of going home, he was filled with hesitation. When he thought of going home, he thought of Hamilton, alone in his house, all summer. He denied whatever form of desire that was so strongly and frustratingly pulling him towards Hamilton.

But denial or not, when he heard that name the strong rush of blood entered achingly between his legs and left him in an infuriating place of dissatisfaction and angered lust, so frustrated for Alexander, so hard for him. Alexander Hamilton.

Thomas irritably picked up the parchment and quill again; the twenty-year-old now insatiably hard and full of lust just thinking about that twenty-one-year-old. How he was probably laying alone in his bed right now, maybe naked, maybe playing with himself as Thomas wished he could do now.

Alexander Hamilton. If only he could get that name out of his head. Thomas leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands, yawning.
He caught a glimpse of his bulge and tried to keep hands off.

“Damn you. Damn you Alexander Hamilton.” he snarled.

Chapter Text

Breathing heavily, Alexander pulled himself away from Maria's embrace. His lips heavy with the taste of hers. Their bodies, slick with sweat from filthy sex and the July heat, were pressed close together on Maria's bed.

Her weight pressed him to the sheets.
“What is it, baby?” she gazed down at the young Treasurer's reluctant expression. She tilted her head and ran a finger torturously slowly down his chest. Her lustful eyes burned into his deep brown ones as she pulled his mouth back into hers.

Alexander panted as she slid her tight pussy back down onto his shaft. Chest rising and falling, he suppressed a moan. Something about tonight was wrong, his heart not fully in it.
“Maria...”
she stroked his jawline

“Yes, Alex?” she never broke eye contact as she began to slide up and down on Alexander's hard cock, torturously slow, exactly how he liked it, the friction making him whimper.
“I.. fuck...” his head fell back. He needed to find a way to get out of this tonight, but he couldn't do a damn thing when she was torturing him so perfectly. It was too good.

“Tell me what you want, Alex.” she whispered. He squirmed helplessly. She leaned her head right next to his and breathed in his ear, “Anything you want.” her lips met with his neck.
“I want... no...”
“hmm.” she trailed kissed down to his collarbone.

“No, Maria. Stop.”
Alex found her shoulders and held her away with his shaking hands. She hesitated, looking puzzled by his sudden lack of enthusiasm. “Alex? What's wrong?”

He didn't meet her eyes as he breathed heavily, shaking his head. “I can't, Maria.” he pulled out from her slick pussy, “Not tonight.”
“Alex, I-” she was cut off as he sat up and moved her off of his lap. He blindly began searching in the bed for his pants, hands roaming the sheets, cursing as he hit his head on the wall bordering the bed.

“Alex, stop. What are you doing?”
“I'm looking for my clothes, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Don't call me that, Alex, please.”
She grabbed his arm and pulled him to face her. He stopped shuffling in the covers but couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

“You know what I mean, Alex. You've hardly looked at me in the eyes once this week and you cum half-heartedly, mouthing somebody else's name.”
“I-”
“Don't think I haven't noticed.”

Alexander looked down at his chest. He searched for an explanation but found none. He couldn't explain to her why he couldn't look in her eyes or say her name as he finished, much less tell her the name he had been uttering...
“Just stay for the night. That's all I ask, Alex. Just one night-”
“I can't. Maria.” he moved to swiftly button his shirt up and bent over to slide on his shoes by the bedside.
“Please, all I want-”
“Well this isn't really about what you want, now is it?” His voice raised slightly as he very obviously picked up his wallet from the bedside table.

“Alex!”
“I'm going home, Maria.” he grabbed his coat from the coatrack with some difficulty and shouldered it on over his ruffled shirt. “I'm sorry. Have a good evening, tell your husband hello for me, let 'em know he can finish the job tonight.”
“Alexander!” she gasped in outraged shock.

But he was already closing the door behind him and standing on the doorstep.
Alexander Hamilton took a deep breath; the night was cooler than it was when he had arrived at the Reynold's household. There was a pleasant gentle breeze through the streets, making the short trees lining them sigh almost inaudibly.

He stepped down from the door and made a left onto the adjacent street. This was not the way home, he knew. But he was not heading home, he was seeking a clear mind: not a distraction, but an answer.

The skies were clear, revealing warm, comforting stars, and the city lights grew more welcoming the closer he came to its center. Alex could see candles flicker in windows, and every few seconds a carriage go by drawing sleepy customers. Pubs radiated smells and sounds of men singing and laughing. The sights and sounds of the city were comforting to him as his feet took him on a journey through its blocked streets. This comfort was much needed as he began to shoulder the difficult task of understanding his own recent peculiarities.

Something had been different the past week this July.
He had become quite used to his daily schedule this summer. By day he was the Secretary Treasury New Yorker, mercilessly arguing his government plan to assume state's debts and establish a national bank: tedious work that he enjoyed. Nowhere did he feel more belonging than in the Cabinet room, fighting for his plan, rising up for his country.
He loved everything from the orderly fashion of the seating to the heated cabinet debates, where he could prove his worth.

By night, Alex was either at home; writing, reading, or in the company of miss Maria Reynolds.
And that was where he was perplexed.

Despite his settlement into this routine, he had suddenly started to feel a different dynamic taking place in both aspects of his world, the congress room and Maria's bedroom. Something had shifted and he needed to place his finger on what it was.
His lack of enthusiasm was all but inexplicable in her bed, he found himself insatiable for the most part, for an hour even. Alexander took no pleasure in undignifying and degrading Maria, but he simply knew that he was longing for something different. Something he knew was very... specific, but he didn't know what.

Irritable once again, cock still frustrated from stopping so abruptly with Maria, flustered, Hamilton finally stopped his walk. Looking up, he realized immediately where he was and why his body had subconsciously taken him there; he was standing outside the Treasury Department, his Treasury Department.

“The place where I do my best thinking. Touché.” he muttered to himself as he stared up at its marbled walls and rows of windows. Curiously, at this hour one was lit by weak candlelight. Alex sighed at someone's thoughtlessness and made a mental note to put it out before he left.
But for now, he needed to go to his office and write. Write his way to a conclusion, an answer, closure. Write his way out.

He entered the familiar building and strolled to his large office which he usually kept locked with a heavy key. He fit the key into the lock and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to reveal his familiar workspace, the desk near the window with stacked bookshelves lining the entire room, shelves of novels and his own thousands of pages and pamphlets and drafts of writings.

Sighing, he sat at his desk, prepared a new length of parchment, and began writing.

 

He did not know how much time had passed when he heard a soft noise in the hall outside his door... Footsteps.
And then they stopped.
Hamilton curiously looked up from his work, the twenty-one-year-old adjusting the glasses on his face.

Slowly his office door cracked and let in a thin shaft of light. Cautiously, the person outside opened the rest of the door and stepped inside the reaches of the office.

“Well, well, well. Mr. Hamilton still at work at this hour?”

Alex was bombarded by a strange rush of emotions as he heard the southern drawl and saw the candle-illuminated face of Thomas Jefferson, standing in his office. Late at night.
Alone.

“ Jefferson.” he replied with a coldness not even New York's Decembers could match. He glared loathingly into the eyes of his enemy, seeing the fire of the candlelight flicker within them.
“What are you doing here so late at night, Thomas?”

“It's Secretary Jefferson, Hamilton.” he lifted his nose loftily, "And I could ask the same thing to you." Thomas responded as he took slow steps towards Alexander's desk, calmly smiling and leisurely scanning the room like he was admiring the decorating.

His eyes landed on Alex and he halted suddenly, lip curling in distaste.
“My god, Alex, come into an encounter with some weather tonight?” he looked him up and down, taking in the messiness of his clothing and hair. Alexander silently cursed himself. It clearly looked like he had been in an intense meeting with a woman and had not bothered to clean himself up.

At Jefferson's observation, Alex bristled in anger and felt the familiar rage of being in close quarters with Jefferson arise.
But something... was different. As anger boiled up, so did another emotion that was very similar to it: lust. What the fuck? He quickly tried to suppress the thought, not wanting to even know where it had come from. He was just horny and tired, that's all.

“Can you read? This is MY office, Jefferson. Why are you here? What do you want?”
Thomas smirked and stepped around the desk to Alex's side. Alexander immediately rose out of his chair to meet his challenger's eyes. Despite being shorter, he glared into Jefferson's gaze, fire eminent in both of theirs.

“That's a wide question, Hamilton.” he breathed lowly. What was up with this guy? Christ, sometimes Alexander had to use every ounce of self restraint he had not to slip the man's lip.
“It was a question, so start talking.”

“Ha. What makes you think I'm going to respond to that?”
“You seem to have no problem talking in front of the Cabinet.”

“And coming from the loud-mouth bastard.”
“excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Alexander fumed, outraged at this sudden encounter of disrespect. He'd come in for one alone moment and then Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson of all people, strolls in like he owns the Realestate and calls him a- a bastard!? Who did he think he was, why was he doing this now? The thoughts swirled in his storming mind.

“Why are you here, tell me you bastard or by God I-”
“You what?” Jefferson cut him off, smirking.

In the heat of the argument, the back and forth taunts being fired ruthlessly, Alexander had hardly noticed the space between them had been completely erased. His eyes saw nothing but the rage in Jefferson's. He could feel his breath on his lips...

“You'll make me?” he smirked, clearly amused by the idea.
He gazed down at Hamilton condescendingly and laughed through his nose. “I'd like to see that one day.”

 

It was the final straw, and Hamilton, finally engulfed by his rage and exhilarating emotions, snapped.
With a deep-throated noise of fury, he rushed at Jefferson and collided into him with a loud smack. They stumbled to the wall by the door, hitting the wood hard. Hamilton slammed Jefferson into it, one arm across his chest clenching the material at his shoulder, the other hard on his warm throat.

The little Alexander could hardly comprehended what he'd just done. To a federal Cabinet member.
Holy fuck...
If Jefferson wanted to, he could end the Treasurer's career. Right there, right then.

There was an electric silence and they stood for a moment, breathing heavily, glaring into the other's eyes. Hamilton could feel the heat radiating from Jefferson's neck, feel his pulse as his heart accelerated its beat. Both of their chests rapidly rose and fell, heaving as their faces hovered heatedly close together.

“I will make you.” he managed shakily, trying to uphold his strength under the cool glare of a man, a dangerously powerful man, that Alex somehow knew had an intensely dominant nature.

the expression on Thomas's face changed from surprise to something completely different. It was an inexplicable mix of anger, a challenge, a dare... pleasure, frustrated lust. Hamilton knew it was in his eyes too. Fuck. What was happening?

He... wanted Jefferson. He more than wanted Jefferson. He craved him. He was starving for him. He loathed him, and he wanted to let him force him to beg and whimper helplessly on the floor for more. Blood helplessly rushed to his member as the thoughts of his true desires consumed him. God he wanted Thomas.

As heat pooled heavily in the bottom of his belly and his bulge swelled, it was met by the searing warmth of another. Alex looked down, shocked, to the place they were meeting and grew even harder, appalled at the delicious size of Jefferson through his pants.

"Fuck-"
"Thwack!"
He could barely finish his thought when he was absolutely surprised by a stinging smack across his face; his head snapped to the side.

Blinking, stunned, he realized that Thomas Jefferson had slapped him. Thomas Jefferson had slapped him right across the mouth like he was a filthy animal.

“Eyes.Up.” Thomas threatened darkly. Hamilton suppressed a needy sound as he got harder. Something about the way he talked and hit him so torturously... he was weak. Absolutely and completely weak. A deep-throated growl resounded in Thomas's chest as he spoke.

“You asked what I want, Hamilton.”
Thomas shoved Alexander off his chest. He stumbled backwards over his own feet but Jefferson matched him and seized him roughly by the hair, tilting his eyes to meet his blazing ones.

“I think you already know.”
He smirked mercilessly and forcefully let go of Hamilton, leaving him alone in his office, staring, unbelievably baffled at the place Thomas was just standing.

For moments after, he couldn't believe the shit that had just gone down. Not three hours ago he had been in a dilemma about what he wanted. What would finally satisfy him. And somehow, now, after being slapped raw and snarled at by his enemy...

He thought he knew...

Chapter Text

Alexander Hamilton awoke the next morning and rolled onto his back to stare at the top of the canopy bed he ususally shared with Eliza, but was now amply more spacious. He blinked as his groggy mind returned from sleep, half-mindedly searched for any memory of his dream last night (a little morningly ritual of his).

Alex hesitated, slightly perplexed. He remembered going to Maria's house last night, but he didn't remember coming home after that.
He squinted; he still remembered having a dream though, going to the treasury, writing a note alone in his office when suddenly...
The Caribbean man sprung up to a sitting position in bed, hands on either side of him anchoring into the sheets, breathing restlessly as memory bombarded his thoughts. It couldn't be. Eyes widening, he calmed himself as he remembered the storyline of his dream. He was writing at his desk when Thomas Jefferson... the argument, the anger, pinning to the wall... Jefferson leaving in a flurry.

Alex briskly shook his head and blinked. This was crazy. A dream is all it was, nothing else, he thought as he took a sip from a water glass on his bedside table. A stupid dream after having a weird night with Maria. Wouldn't be the first time this week.
The water cleared his mind as he emerged from the thick blankets and stepped onto the floor, heading towards his bathroom to wash his face.

He had planned to have Sunday brunch with Laurens and he wasn't going to be late this time. Last time he had slept in so long that by the time he bothered to get up, Laurens had-
“Shit! What the-”

Alex's thoughts were discontinued as the bottom of his foot came into painful contact with something small and hard on the floor. Surprised and stinging, he looked down, irritably rubbing his foot to see what he's stepped on.
His jacket from last night was laying splayed out on the floor, discarded with the metal button's facing up. “Great.”, he huffed as he begrudgingly collected it from the floor and hopped to the closet to hang it with the rest of his coats. He slipped it onto a hanger and replaced it in its home, and when he turned back around, he noticed something had fallen out from the pocket, a fresh-looking piece of parchment.

Curiously, he bent to pick it up and uncrinkle its wrinkled face.

As his eyes began to scan the page, his mouth dopped.
His mind jumped with disbelief and recognition.

It was the bit he had been writing in his “dream”. His dream about Jefferson. His dream that was clearly not one, as he was holding in his very hands the paper he had written in the Treasury Department. It was very much real.
And... he gulped.

That meant so was the encounter with Jefferson.

***
Brunch had been a welcome distraction from the mishaps of that morning, John had been the one to show up late this time to the small cafe, and much to Alex's joy as he took advantage of the wonderful circumsance to mock John for hypocracy. John sat down giving Alex a certain finger as the waiter came by (shooting concerned looks) as the two jested.

Alex was already on a tangent about the disputed location of the nation's capitol and the ludicrousy of the anti-federalists when their water arrived (“Ah, thank you, waiter, this water is lovely. Alex, do shut up.”). By the time they had finished eating an absurd amount of food, Alexander was in high spirits and the situation that morning was all but in the back of his mind now.

“Tavern tonight, Laurens?” he inquired as they were leaving.
“Uhhh, does the sun rise in the morning?”
“What?”
“Yes, Alex, the answer is yes.” he rolled his eyes, “Are Herc and Lafayette gonna be there?”
“Are you ugly as shit today?”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, the answer is yes John.”
Laurens flashed him a mocked look of hatred as they moved to hug each other and give one another a brotherly slap on the back. “See ya tonight, John.”
“See ya, Ham.” And they parted ways back home.

***

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” The immigrant muttered to himself as he balled up a crisp piece of parchment. This was not the first sheet that had met this demise as Alexander Hamilton worked five hours that afternoon. The sun was now beginning to set, casting golden light through the window of his home onto everything in his office. His desk, his bookshelves, the growing pile of half-inked-up parchment on the floor.

He had lost track of how long he had been writing, as per usual. He didn't have to write anything toady, it was Sunday, but he knew he wouldn't stop writing unless God himself grabbed him by the collar and dragged him from his desk.

Nothing seemed to be coming out right today, the points that he had perfectly organized in his head for this report for Washington looked like a disaster on the paper, and after each one he scoured it for several seconds before tossing it atop the last.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his palms over his face, frustrated with his lack of productability. Why was he so distracted? Maybe if he was working in his office at the Treasury Department...

His breath hitched as the thought of his office there. The last moments he had spent in there. With Thomas Jefferson...
His thoughts wandered to the scene last night. He knew he shouldn't want to think about it, but he was dying to remember. How it felt when the Virginian had pulled his hair, the surprising pleasure from the slap across the mouth, the searing heat as their cocks pressed against the other man's.

A dull heat immediately began to pool at the bottom of Alex's belly. He looked down at his half-hard cock. Letting out a shaky breath, he ran his fingers through his hair. What was this? What was he wanting and why did he want it? At the moment he didn't really care as he took his clothed dick in his hands and slowly and gently began to stroke, needy for some sort of friction as relief.

“Thomas...” he gently whispered as he leaned his head back, grinding his hips against his hand. The desperation for friction became more intense and he hastily and clumsily kicked his pants off and sat back down in his office chair. He took his fully hard cock in his hand and started stroking faster.
It should've felt good but something was... missing. Something was unsatisfying about what he was doing. Then it hit him. “This isn't how Thomas would do it,” he thought, “This is how Maria would do it.”

“Thomas wouldn't let me have it...”

He slowed his strokes down until it was basically torture of his throbbing cock. With the other hand's thumb, he swirled tiny, light circles around the head of his dick, ghosting over the slit just so that he could barely feel it. With the precum that was there he slicked it over the sensitive head.
“Fuck...”, he whimpered.

He needed to go faster so badly, but somehow he knew that Thomas wouldn't let him. He would...

Alex knew exactly what he would do. Thomas would punish him for being so naughty. For doing this right in the open at his desk, the door unlocked like a little slut.
At his own thoughts, Alex released a needy high pitched whine that nobody needs to know about. “Yes,” he decided in his head, “Thomas would call me those things.”

stroking deeper, but still not enough, he raised his other hand and lightly smacked it on his thigh, testing the waters.

“Oh God.”
He knew immediately this was so fucking good. The shock from the sting ignited him, urged him to go faster, grip harder.
“Oh fuck, yes!” he moaned as he broght his hand down again, harder this time with more confidence. He was in love with the way it felt, it couldn't be described.

A sudden heat rose up from a place he had never felt such urgent need from before. Intruiged and in hasty desperation, he reached under himself and ghosted his finger over his sensitive opening. He shivered and started to stroke his absolutely throbbing cock faster. Squirming at his own touch, he breathed and tentatively pushed one finger in to the first knuckle.

His eyes snapped open with the sharp flood of pleasure. This new pleasure was so fucking good, he slowly moved the finger in and out as he furiously stroked.

He wanted another finger in. So badly. But he thought of Thomas standing in front of him. He wouldn't let him. “You want it you filthy whore? I can tell by the way you're wimpering. You can't even stand it, you want another one so bad but not until daddy says so.”

He imagined Thomas leaning in towards him, “You've been a bad boy. Bad boys don't get what they want. I'll just stand here and watch you squirming, struggling to cum.”
That image in his head threw Alex over the edge.

“Thomas!” He screamed obscenely loudly and pushed his finger all the way in, as far as it could go. The pressure became unbearable then was released all at the same time as he came powefully all over his hand, the liquid warm on his skin.

For a few moments, Alexander sat quietly, heavy panting heaved his chest as he came down from the ecstacy of his orgasm. He blinked and drew in a shaky breath. “Holy shit...” he said out loud to the empty house.
Bewildered, he glanced sideways at the grandfather clock standing near a shelf; it was nearly time to head to the tavern with his friends. Still in a bit of a trance, he cleaned his hands and pulled his pants back over his weak legs.

Somehow he knew this summer was not going to be like any he'd had before...

Chapter Text

“...And then,” Hercules Mulligan tries to continue his story, his whole body racking with laughs.
Laurens, Lafayette and Alexander were leaning into each other, sides splitting from the excessive wheezing.

“Listen, listen, and THEN he walks straight up to him.” Herc does a straigh faced impression of Alex, “And Alex PUNCHES the man right in the jaw!” He mocks a punching motion as he bellows with laughter. The rest of the friends slap their palms onto the table, wheezing so hard almost no sound comes out.

“T-The man looked at me like I was stupid.” Alex fought the words out through gasps, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. Laurens slapped him on the back.
“Alex? Stupid?” Lafayette piped up, “Of course not. Any smart man would punch the bursar!” They all roared with laugher.
As they heaved, their drinks arrived and they all grabbed them messily.

“Let us raise a glass to Alex,” Laurens faked a British accent, and raised his pinkie, “And to his elegant intelligence.”
“I'll drink to that.” Lafayette raised his glass which met the others with a clink. They laughed one last time and took a deep swig of their whisky, all pleasurably happy in the warm tavern bathed in gentle warm light from the fireplace, the talking and laughter of other people giving it a cozy environment.

The door of the Tavern swung open suddenly; a tall figure appeared in its frame. The friends turned their heads and craned to view the newcomer who was removing his hat.

“Well, well, well, Aaron Burr!” Hercules called loudly over the voices in the tavern. Burr looked around, slightly startled, until he saw the table he was being called at from. He broke out into a smile and made his way to them, narrowly dodging a bartender.

“Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, Hamilton.” he nodded at each of them, sitting down. “Burrrrr.” The boys chorused back at him.
“Well come right on in, then.” Alex muttered inaudibly to himself.

Alexander had never been one for Burr. Being polar oppossites in basically every area they had touched, Alex had grown to dislike Burr, and Burr him. Their friends were mutual but the two of them were in constant dispute over anthing and everything. Burr was a frustrating, reticent un-opinionated man, everything that Hamilton was not.

“What's new in town, brother?” Laurens inquired as he took another swig of his whisky. “Ah same old, John. Senate work day and night.”
“Ahh, come on Burr. Drop some knowledge, oui?” Lafayette nudged Burr in the side.
“Really boys, there's nothing new.” Burr reached across the table, lazily and took hold on Alex's whisky. He brought it to his mouth and casually took a swig. Alex felt his face begin to burn with annoyance.

“Although...”

Burr looked at them, a slight hint of darkness in his eyes. the friends all perked up at the sound of Burr having some gossip. He looked cautiously side to side, “Have you heard about Henry McCoy and Charles Conway?”

the friends exchanged glances curiosly. “No, who's that?” Laurens inquired eagerly. Alex scoffed at their childlike behavior.
Burr looked from side to side again and leaned in towards the center of the table, Laurens, Herc and Lafayette gravitated towards him as Alex rolled his eyes and followed their lead.

“Sodomites.” Burr whispered the word like it could summon the devil himself. Burr shivered a little bit. “Gay. The both of them. Conway's wife came home from a visit early and found them... doing things...”

Lafayette's eyes widened. He gulped, “What happened to them...?”

“Well,” Burr shuffled and leaned closer, fully engaged in his story, “Of course, horrified, she ran right to the nighbors who summoned the police. By now the whole block was looking on to the commotion. He dragged them out of the house and people shouted and threw things at the sodomites. Then..." Burr paused.

"He hung them.”

Herc gasped. “For real? Hung them right in front of everyone?”
“You bet. Heard they held each other the entire way there.”

Alex was silent with shock. “That's... horrible.”

“It's pathetic.” Burr scoffed as he slowly leaned back from the tight bundled group. He continued in a normal voice. “A stop had to be put to it.”
“Well there's no question how you feel about gays.” Alex mumbled into his whisky as he sipped.
“No question at all. Nobody should question it. It's an abomination of human nature. If I ever met one, I'd-”
“You'd what, Burr?” Alex looked across the table at him, cocking his head sarcastiacally. “You'd sit around and wait for someone tell you what to do.” If anyone's pathetic, it's you, Alex thought.
Burr glanced to the side of Alex as if he hadn't even spoken to him. He sighed and cheerfuly excaimed, “Well, would you look at the time! I best be getting back, there's a report on my desk that needs some attention.” standing up, he placed his hat back on his head. “Goodnight boys, have another round for me, will ya?”

“If you insist Burr.” Lafayette laughed and gestured towards Burr with his glass. Soon burr was gone and it was just the four friends sitting in considerably more silence. They were clearly thinking about what Burr had said and were shaken by it.

 

Laurens slowly exhaled. “So... that was... unsettling?”
“Yeah.” Hercules agreed and nodded.

 

“We're all thinking it, I'm just saying it.” Alex piped up and looked around the group, “We know what Burr thinks of sodomites but what do we?”

“Well,” Laurens immediately started, “I need to know more before I make any decisions... It's like slavery in a way. We're okay with people punishing and ridiculing them until we really get INSIDE the issue and see how horrible punishing them is.” Alex could see the passion in Jonh's eyes as he spoke about the sorrows of slavery. He had a point with this analogy.
“I am with John. It is unusual, it seems weird, but I do not know enough. One secondhand story from Burr is not enough.” Lafayette carried on the point in his heavily accented voice.

Alex nodded and set his drink on the table, staring down into the bottom of it like it could provide the answers he so desperately needed. This whole ordeal, this whole story from Burr wouldn't have shaken him so deeply if it didn't apply directly to him in the past two days. This thing with Jefferson... where would it go if he carried out his true desires? To heaven in the bedroom or to the noose?

He sighed a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

Alex didn't know.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Alexander Hamilton woke and called upon Eliza's housemaid to draw up a bath. The aging woman curtsied and backed out of the room to begin on the lengthy process it required. Alex heard her footsteps pattering and then silence.

Stretching, he rose from his sleepy state and starting making the bed, a task he loathed and avoided whenever possible, although Eliza usually caught him and dragged him back in to force him to do it, whining and complaining (“Housemaid, Eliza! We have a housemade!”, “You know what else you have, Alxander? A serious lack of virtue.”)
Still wearing his night clothes, he furtively descended the stairs and tiptoed into his office.

The young immigrant began to shuffle among his things on his desk, collecting his papers and squatting down to fit them in his bag in a semi-organized fashion. That was when he caught sight of his report from last afternoon. “Dammit.” he groaned, sliding it from his desk to the bag. The half finished report was sloppy at best, he'd have to come up with some excuse for Washington at the Cabinet meeting tomorrow. God knows Alex couldn't tell Washington of the true distraction that diverted him from his work...
“Mr. Hamilton?”
“Shit!” He exclaimed as he stood up quickly and hit his head on the edge of his desk. “Oh! I'm so sorry for frightening you, I wanted to inform you that your bath is ready, sir. My apologies...”
Alex gingerly rubbed his head, blinking. “Thank you, I'll get right to it.” He walked awkwardly by her in his less-than-presentable night clothing and headed upstairs for the bath.

He was already fully undressed when he realized he had left his brush in his room, casually walking from bathroom to bedroom, he felt a draft and turned his head to see the open window. “That maid sometimes...” he grumbled irritably as he moved to close it.

Hands on the shutters, he peeked outside to the street below, it was a clear but windy day, the city already at work on a Monday, and Alex noticed two men walking down the street. Peering closer, squinting without his glasses, he didn't realize who they were until they were practically under the house.

“Fuck!” he hissed as he slammed the shutters closed. It had been James Madison in the company of Thomas Jefferson, casually strolling to work.

And Thomas Jefferson had seen him.

***

“Honestly, James, I have no idea why you drag me into this every week.”
“It's good for you, Thomas. Smell the fresh air. Look at the sights.”
“All I smell is the horse shit to the right of me and- oh look! Another load of crap to the left.”
“For goodness sake, Thomas, it's amazing the amount of complaining you do. You should run for Secretary of State sometime.”
“Very funny, Madison. I'd watch out I can still kick the horse shit at you.”
“Warning taken, you ridiculous child.”

Similar exchanges between the two friends every single Monday when Madison would drag Thomas on a walk to work instead of taking a carriage. Thomas protested loudly the whole way there, and today the route was unusually long because they weren't headed to their usual offices, they were headed to the Treasury to do some more tedious digging around Hamilton's government spendings.

Thomas had been hesitant to go back to the Treasury today. For reasons that he had been thinking about nonstop for the past two nights. The issue surrounded encountering Hamilton... After what had happened between them, whatever it was, what would he say if he saw him? What words could possibly be appropriate under the current circumstances?
Plus, if Hamilton was there, Thomas knew that Alex would seek him out and question him (being the impatient, hasty man that he is) and Thomas knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself alone with Alex. He'd want Alex under him, on his body, and strangely he felt that Hamilton would want the same.

If Thomas couldn't stop thinking about Hamilton before, he certainly never left his mind now. His hate for the man was all but more inflamed by their rushed little showdown in the office, how dare the bastard treat him like that? He had no idea who he was talking to. Thomas had found himself longing to teach the man a lesson, to show the immigrant some discipline for being the impatient, insufferable little prick that he knew him to be. These desires were new and obnoxiously sudden, Thomas needed more time to sort them out, to figure out what he truly wanted, but here the were, walking to the Treasury.

“Ah, the pest's house himself.”

Thomas looked up, breaking his train of thought. They were walking by the Hamilton household, he realized abruptly. His heart skipped a beat and he tried to surruptitiously observe it. It was definitely beautiful. It had a lot of windows all the way up to the top, and-

“What the fuck?” Thomas hissed to himself. His eyes widened, as he actually comprehended what he was looking at. In the window of the top floor stood the figure of Alexander Hamilton himself, and though he could only view from the waist up, Thomas could tell that he was absolutely and completely naked.

A breath hitched in his throat as he gaped at the man hungrily. Despire the distance, he could observe the smaller man's toned shape, not unnaturally perfect, just very human and clearly strong. His hair spilled onto his shoulders and his dark, intelligent eyes peered down at the street.

Before he could see much more, Alexander Hamilton had abruply slammed the shutters closed, leaving Thomas with nothing to see other than his thoughts that had been in the back of his mind but were now apparent. He hated Alexander Hamilton. God, he hated him more than anyone else he had ever been forced to deal with. His cockiness, his arrogance, his intolerable aggression.

But by God did Thomas Jefferson want that insufferable bastard.

***

It was about three-o-clock, six hours with their noses in the pages of the Treasury records when a messenger arrived for Mr. James Madison. At first he had set it aside, not thinking much of it, until Thomas offhandedly reminded that he should read it, his face still pressed to a parchment document.

As Madison began to scan the words, his face drained and became pale.
“James?”, Thomas inquired. He set down his paper and removed his glasses, “James, what is it?”

Madison recounted to Thomas the contents of the letter, that his wife Dolley was at the docter with a broken ankle from the stairs. He apologized profusely for having to leave.
“I understand,” Thomas replied calmly, starting to collect the scattered documents and file them back in their respective folders, “we can finish early today. My eyes were beginning to see new colors anyway.”

James was already shouldering on his coat, “Thank you, Thomas. I'm sorry about this. I wish I could help clean up.”
“Don't worry, there'll be plenty of work for you to do tomorrow.” Thomas winked reasurringly and was rewarded by a warm smile from James. “Until tomorrow.”
“Until tomorrow.” And he was gone.

Thomas sighed as he finished organizing the information, and stood from his chair stiffly. Grabbing the files, he finally exited the small office on the second floor and descended the stairs to re-file the records in their proper room. Once they had been carefully restocked, he brushed off his hands and turned the corner towards the main door, happy to leave the department and have some tea at home.

He stopped in his tracks as he was about to pass Hamilton's office, though. He was not contemplating going in there, not at all, but because the tall mahogany doors were both wide open, very uncharacteristic of Hamilton.
“Strange...”

Curiously and cautiosly, Thomas Jefferson inched towards them, peering inside. Hamilton was nowhere to be seen, he had clearly left only a minute ago, he could tell by the still-smoking candles. Very odd... it was too early for him to be leaving his Department, he surely had plenty of work to do.

Pulling his head out from the office, and closing the doors, Thomas took note of another oddity. The key used to open them was sitting, still fitted into the lock, just sticking out for the whole world to see!
He sighed. “That ass-for-brains idiot,” Thomas muttered. He hurriedly glanced from side to side as he slid the key from the lock, holding the cold, heavy thing in his hands before pocketing it.

“He couldn't've gone far...” he reasoned as he strode with a brisk pace towards the main doors of the Treasury. People milled about the lobby and he weaved through them as he exited the marble building onto the white steps leading up to it. Once he was on the steps he glanced around wildlly, scouring the bustling city sidewalks for any sight of the short Treasurer. With his high vantage point, he just barely spotted Alexander as he turned the corner of the street.

Stumbling down the steps, Thomas entered the city crowds, dodging between people and apologizing for bumping into them as he frantically kept his head up for Alexander. Nearly swamped, he turned onto the street Alex was on, a much quieter street, but hesitated, puzzled.

This wasn't the way home for him, Thomas knew, because he had walked by the route only this morning.

Alex wasn't going home, Thomas realized.

He had left work early on a Monday to rush off to somewhere else...?
“Where do you think you're going, Alexander Hamilton?” Thomas murmered to himself, smirking.
Thomas waited a few more seconds for the man to get another head start as he quickly made the decision to follow him...

They wound through backstreets for a short distance, less than a mile, before Alex stopped at a stout and old looking house with faded sides and uneven wooden steps. Thomas's feet were already hurting from the short distance and he silently cursed Madison for the walking this morning as he watched Alexander Hamilton look up and down the street several times before gingerly climbing the steps.

Both Alex and Jefferson looked out of place here, both in fine expensive coats and shined shoes, while Alex stood on the weathered doorstep of this beaten old house and Jefferson shamefully concealed himself behind an overgrown bush that had surpassed a fence. It was rather comical, rather ridiculous.

Thomas Jefferson paid close attention as the door creaked open and... a woman emerged from the reaches of the house.
Knitting his eyebrows, the Virginian observed the puzzling scene with undivided attention. The sky had grown cloudy since the morning and now the breeze had spittled a few drops of mist onto his skin.
The woman smiled as Alexander looked her up and down. She reached out her hand and he took it, entrapping him in her gaze. She backed up slowly and seductively as she pulled him into the house with her. He quietly swung the door closed behind them.

And all at once it converged on Jefferson.

All at once it hit him, like the rain that had started pouring as the sky suddenly opened up.

The woman, the disheveled Hamilton two nights ago, the lack of any misdeeds in his treasury records.
It was all because there was nothing in the treasury records in the first place. They were looking in the wrong place the whole time.
This whole time...

Thomas Jefferson slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the cold metal key against his skin. He turned it over three times as the rain began to wet his hair and clothing, chilling him. He knew exactly what to do.

 

Running down the streets to the treasury was quicker this time, the sidewalks were cleared because of the sudden storm as he thundered his way, block by block closer and closer. His soaked shoes wetly smacked the pavement with every painful stride, the aching sensation crawling up his calves. But he kept running.
He had his mind set on it. He knew it. He had found the root of Hamilton's sins. That bastard. After all this searching, he knew exactly where to go.

Taking the steps three at a time, he glided up the treasury stairs and into the warm building, safe from the rain and wind which had rapidly picked up in the past few minutes. Not wanting to draw any attention from the workers in the lobby, he slowed himself to a speed-walk down the carpeted hall and turned the corner to Hamilton's office.

Fumbling with the key, he felt uncharacteristically impatient as he finally slipped it into the keyhole and turned, unlocking the office and bursting in to the dark room beyond.

Thomas felt his way haphazardly to Hamilton's desk and groped around for a candle and matches, which he lit only one of before setting it down and continuing his desperate search.
Lightning flashed outside, revealing the whole room for a split second before going dark again. Thunder grumbled close behind.

Thomas pulled open the first drawer and fingered through its contents. He did the same with the one below it. “Files, files, files, foreign affairs, files, investments, files...”
He only paused his reckless movement when he intruded in the bottom-most drawer.

Everything went still.

Everything felt quiet.

There was nothing in it but a single opened letter, a red seal on the lip which he did not recognize.
Slowly and shakily, the Secretary of State reached into the drawer and gingerly took hold of the letter. The seal was of the Reynolds Family. He pulled the real content out of the envelope and, heart thumping in his chest, started to read the first lines.

“Secretary Hamilton,

My dear sir, you may have heard about me from my wife, Mrs. Maria Reynolds. I am James Reynolds. I hope this letter comes to you in good health...”

With every sentence the Virginian's eyes widen. His mouth drops with every paragraph. He can't believe it. He can't fucking believe it. Despite every urge to tear up the parchment, he keeps reading. And the more he does so, the more quickly his eyes fill up with spots of rage so he can seldom read at all. His fists tighten around the letter.

Lightning flashes outside.

Thunder rattles New York City.

Rain pelts the windows of the office in which stand the purely furious Virginian.

He has punishment on his mind. He has Alexander Hamilton on his mind.
This man is a self centered, arrogant, obnoxious bitch. Someone needed to teach him a lesson.

And it was going to be Thomas Jefferson.

Chapter Text

Alexander Hamilton hunched over to face the rain as he walked closer to the city. He was soaking wet in one of the only nice coats that he owned and his shoes were caked with mud.
He shivered and held his arms tighter to his body, trying futilely to warm himself up. Only a little closer to the city and he'd be able to hail a carriage home.

The evening with Maria had been just as useless. He had come, he had gone, nothing had happened. She tried to initiate something several times and he had not given in.
They talked and all the while he had been observing. Observing her, observing this woman who he had had a spark for, but now that she was his, he no longer felt anything.

Alex was an ambitious man. He loved the chase, the competition. Maria had thrown herself in his arms and Alex had won the hunt so... easily. Something about that did't sit right with him. She wasn't what he wanted anymore.
Deciding this at last was a relief he had been wanting to feel for a week now, she was only using him for money and it was time that he ended this whole affair. Tomorrow maybe...

Finally chasing down a carriage a mile from his home, Alex clambered in, a wet lump of shivering fabric. It was much warmer in there and the cushions were comfortable.
By the time the wheels started rocking down the street, he felt like he was going to collapse into sleep, just watching the rain patter on the small windows...

He hardly got to watch for long before his deep lull was broken by the halt of the carriage. Breaking out of his sleepy trance, Alex huffed, stretching his neck, and pushed open the door to the rainy night.
He paid the driver and hastily, cringing away from the cold rain, and made way for his porch keeping his head down and his shoulders hunched over.

 

By the time he reached the steps and looked up... it was too late. Too late to turn back around.

Alex's breat caught in his throat. His heart plummeted into his stomach.
Unbelievingly, he gazed up at the tall dark haired figure looming in front of him. He was leaning against the door, clothes just as wet as Alex's, his black eyes burning unblinkingly back at the Treasurer. He looked tired, like he had just been running, his shoes were muddy and his hair was slicked back, but he was standing so unnaturally calmly, arms crossed across his chest. And that was when Alex saw it.

An unrolled piece of parchment in one hand, and an open envelope in the other... a bloodred seal dangling from its lip.
He calmly uncrossed his arms. “Mr. Hamilton.” his face was cold as stone a he addressed him, “You're home early.”

lightning flashed.

“Thomas,” Alex screwed up his lips and inhaled through his nose, taking a step up onto the porch, “I don't know why the fuck you're on my doorstep but this is gonna be the last time I ask you to fuck off.”

There was a pause.

Thomas clucked his tongue at Alex. “So quick to anger.” he bore into him with his steely gaze, shaking his head.

“Don't patronize me you spoiled little prat. You're on MY prop-”

“Secretary Hamilton. My dear sir, you may have heard about me from my wife, Mrs. Maria Reynolds.”

Alex's heart stopped as he heard the words. The all too familiar words. Alex tried to speak but a sound wouldn't come out. It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He gasped for air.

“W-Where did you get that?”

“I am James Reynolds,” he continued calmly, “I hope this letter finds you in good health-”

Thomas's southern drawl was cut off as Alexander tried to push by him through the door. Briefly surprised by the small man's strength, Thomas was moved to the side as Alexander barged through the door and into the dark house.

Thomas blinked and got ahold of himself as he dashed inside, slamming the door behind him going after the small man who had unexpectedly made a run for it. Having a much larger stride, Thomas only had to go three steps before gabbing Alexander's ponytail and yanking him back towards him. A steel grip on his collar, he turned him around to face him, rage no longer hidden under his calm facade.

“Look, 'Mr. Secretary' I don't know why the hell you're sprinting around like a pathetic child runs from his mother but you have some fucking explaining to do. What the hell is this letter? Who is Maria Reynolds.”

“Now hold on one fucking minute, your highness, you can't question me in my own house after you- wait a second, did you sneak in my office to get that?”

Thomas rolled his eyes impatiently and tightened his grip on Hamilton's collar.
“You left your key in the lock, you dumb fuck. Are you actually slow as shit?”

“You broke into my office?! What the- I can't fucking believe this. Who the hell do you think you are?!” he jerked his arms into Thomas's chest, trying to shove him away, face red with dumbfounded rage.

The taller quickly turned on him and slammed his head into the nearest wall, knocking a vase off a table and hearing it shatter to the ground. One hand threaded in the immigrant's hair, Thomas expertly held his wrists behind his back with the other and pressed Alex's front against the wall with his towering body.

“Who the hell do you think YOU are, how dare you speak like that to me!” Thomas growled in his ear, “I asked a question and I want answers. Talk you disgusting animal.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Alex whined sarcastically, “I didn't realize the oh-so-elegant Thomas Jefferson was a psycho freak with a thing for breaking and entering,” he tried to kick at Thomas's shins, “This is your second time today, isn't it?”

As soon as the words had left his mouth he was whirled around and siezed by the throat, the dangerous hand leaving no room for extra words out of him. In a brisk movement Alex felt a white hot pain across his cheek. His eyes watered.
Thomas's face was very close to his, Alex could feel his hot breath as he panted furiously. “Last warning, Hamilton. Do as you're told and answer the question you insufferable little fucker. I'm warning you...”

Alexander just stared at him, panting for breath. Several long seconds passed, a standoff between the two.
Then all at once Alex stopped, screwed up his face, and spat right onto Thomas Jefferson's.

 

Thomas let Hamilton go and stepped back, dumbstruck. Blinking, he whiped the spit off his cheek with the back of his hand. He stood for a few seconds in shock, comprehending how he had been disrespected. Alex watched, realizing what he had done.
Thomas slowly raised his darkened eyes to Alex, the hatred of hellfire blazing in them.

“Go to your room now, Hamilton.” He whispered dangerously quiet.

“What? Don't tell me what to-”

“GO to your room, NOW!” Thomas commanded, shouting so loud his words echoed in the house.

They both stood deathly still.

There was a moment of hesitation before Alexander decided to do as he was told, he was in too deep now. He knew what he wanted, he knew what Thomas wanted. They were both one and the same, but it was going to be rough, even more so if he didn't follow direct orders from the taller man.

Keeping his head high, his eyes still blazing, Alex turned and grumpily stormed towards the staircase. The Virginian followed a few feet behind him, scolding him loudly the whole way. “I asked you several times, Alexander. SEVERAL times to tell me about the Reynold's girl. You're pathetic. Now I have no other choice but to make you tell me. Who's fault is that, Alexander?” Thomas shamed him as they turned the corner towards Alex's bedroom.

“Mine.” Alexander said quietly, gritting his teeth. Something about this whole shaming thing... It was really getting him off. And quickly. He bit his lip needily.

“Excuse me? That is not how you address me. It's either daddy or sir, first and last warning.”
They made it to the bedroom and walked inside.

“Fuck you.” Alexander spun around to face him, fuming, as soon as they had entered the room. Thomas seethed at him.

“That's it.” he hissed between clenched teeth. It was the last straw for Thomas as he threw the small man down on the bed.

“You have 30 seconds to get yourself ready. Take it or leave it.”
Alex looked back at him, outraged, hatred evident in his glare.

“You asshole,” he spat in shock, “I fucking can't even belive you. motherfucking cock-sucking-huge bag of shit.”
Thomas dished him a crisp slap across the mouth, leaving a red mark, shutting him up. He grabbed him by the front of his hair and stared right into his eyes, outraged.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that. You'd better show some manners to your superiors or I- you know what- you just got down to 15 seconds you little whore. Fuck you. Starting now.”

He paced to the other side of the room and sat down in an armchair. He gracefully removed his pants and folded them as Alex huffed, struggling to undress and loosen himself up with two fingers and a bit of lube.
Thomas smiled to himself at the sight and slowly, menacingly, stroked his cock.

The two were staring each other in the eyes across the room, Alex over his shoulder in a glare, and Thomas lightly and amused. Time ticked by and Alex got hornier and hornier seeing Thomas play with himself, watching him. The eye contact never broke as Thomas stood and drawled “Time's up.”

he moved to the bed and siezed Alex by the arms, flipping him onto his back and holding his hands over his head as he straddled him, holding him down with his thighs as he squirmed and kicked. “Get off me, you filthy Virginian fuck.”
“I hate you!” he growled as Thomas pulled out his handkerchief and crudely gagged Alex's mouth.

One hand holding his wrists and the other on tightly on his throat, Thomas dangerously whispered, “Listen to me, little bitch. One, we're doing a color system, understand.”

when there was no response but a glare and a growl, Thomas smacked his mouth, hard. “Understand?!” He tightened his grip on his windpipe. Alex curtly nodded, angry tears in his eyes from the shock. Despite his lusty rage, he could see the approval in Alex's eyes telling him that the color system would be fine with him.

“Good. Two, you will do exactly as I say and obey my words, if not I will punish you. And I will punish you hard. Do not test me.” He added, darkly. Alex nodded.
Thomas bent down close to Alex and bit his throat, leaving a mark. Alex gasped and moved his hips up to grind on Thomas' hard cock. The Virginian sucked harshly under his jaw then glided his tongue across his jawline.

“Three, you don't get to cum until I do. You will use your manners. If you cum before I do, there will be privileges taken, understand?” Alex nodded desperately, craving the end of Thomas's rules so he could have him inside him. He was starving for his searing heat and his cock was so torturously hard and in desperate need of friction. He messily grinded into Thomas.

Thomas, who was sucking at Alex's collarbone, stopped and looked up.
“Being impatient, are we?”

Alex whimpered in high pitch need, begging with his eyes for Thomas to give it to him.
Thomas looked back at Alex's desperation coldly.

“You will learn to wait. Am I clear.” he stated more than asked.
Alex dropped his head back in submission, wanting it to go quicker.
“That's a good boy.” The Virginian drawled.

Thomas dragged his tongue along Alex's belly, so... so slowly. The heat of his tongue was like fire on Alex's skin. So good...
When he reached his helplessly hard cock, he swirled his tongue around the base. Alex's legs started to shake with the sensation. Thomas sucked no more than a half inch of the tip into his mouth and held it there.

Not moving, not sucking, nothing.

The leg shaking got harder as Alex tried to restrain himself. It was so hard, Thomas was teasing him on purpose, torturing him so that he had no choice but to be bad and get punished. It became too much.

Alex made a squeal on the side of a sob as he grinded up into Thomas's mouth.
This was his mistake.

Thomas raised his hand high into the air and brought his palm down on Alex's inner thigh, rewarded with a loud whack. Alex sqealed in pain.

“You wanted to play nice?” Thomas moved up and grabbed Alex's hair violently.

“I play nice with you when you show me you deserve it.” Alex panted.

“All you're showing me is that you deserve discipline.” Thomas twisted the hair in his hands, making Alex see sparks of pain.

“And oh, will I show you discipline. Filthy slut...”
he continued as he positioned himself, tip touching Alex's entrance. He glared right into Alex's wide eyes as he slowly pushed in. inch by torturous inch. Alex threw his head back, snarling, gritting his teeth over the gag. It didn't hurt so much as it overwhelmed him with pleasure he had never felt before. It felt like eternity as Jefferson pushed in all of his many inches.

He forced himself not to rock his hips into thomas's cock, he would surely be punished for that and he wanted to be good for him. He was trying so hard. Thomas noticied.
“Good boy.” he remarked as he dug his fingers into Alex's hips.

“Learning some manners now, are we?” he growled as he pulled almost completely out, and then slammed back in with a harshness Alex had never felt. His head banged the headboard. “Ohh... f-f-fuck.” he stuttered.

Thomas sneered at his reaction and began to drive in and out of the small man. He moved with short and fast thrusts, getting faster and faster by the second, but not deep. “Please daddy, deeper, daddy please, I-I” Thomas ignored his pathetic begging, unconvinced that he wanted it enough. If he really wanted it he would be screaming.
He went faster in this fashion for a minute more and then all at once slowed down to a torturous crawl, deeply pushing against Alex's prostate at an outrageously slow pace.

Alex all but screamed and then went quieter, “No no no no-oo-o....”

Thomas leaned close to his ear and gave it a bite, “Careful what you wish for.”
Alex heaved a desperate sob.

Laughing evilly, Thomas reached in front of him and grabbed Alex's cock. Admiring it, he began thoroughly stroking it's length. “Filthy bitch.” he murmered as he briefly took pity on the man and violently started pounding him deep and hard, just how he had asked earlier.

“Good boy.” he said patronizingly as he watched Alex begin to melt under the pleasure. It was too much for Alexander, Thomas watched his open-mouthed face as he gasped for enough air and fluttered his eyelids. It was incredibly hot to watch.
It didn't take many more thrusts until, “Oh no... oh...daddy, I'm going to cum!” he screamed.
“I'm going to cum!” he repeated, moaning obscenely loudly.

The Virginian knew what he was going to do to him next. He had made rules he expected to be followed and Alex needed to be punished... he needed to be punished for being so disrespectful.

Thomas thrusted twice, deep and hard, then rammed in, as far as he coud possibly go, hammering against Alex's prostate... and... he held it there.

Alex screamed at the deep, unmoving, dick inside him against his sensitive area. He panted and whimpered at the same time, short bursts of air sqealing out of him.
“I-I-I... daddy please!” he choked and begged, practically sobbing, toes curling.

Five more seconds of unmoving torture. Alex's legs trembled violently.

At this irrisistable sight, Thomas finally released the pressure and felt himself reach a point of ecstasy. With two thrusts, he came inside of Alex and heard him moan at the feeling.
“Fuck...” Thomas hissed between his teeth. He began harshly hammering the immigrant again and moving his hand up and down Alex's throbbing shaft.

Again, the pleasure bubbled over in Alex “Please!” he begged and screamed. “Let me cum, please let me cum I need to cum...”
Thomas took a moment of consideration.

“Fine.” Thomas sneered with a harsh smack to his thigh for good measure. “You can cum all over yourself like the whore you are. Disgusting little bitch.”
At this, Alex screamed with all his being and arched his back, cumming all over his own stomach and chest.

Thomas pulled out of Alex, making a mess, but kept stroking. Alex whimpered and shivered with every extra little squirt of cum that squirted out until he was completely finished.

“All done?” Thomas asked, suspiciously kindly.
“Yes, daddy.” Alex nodded breathlessly.

Thomas stroked Alex's cheek with one finger, looking him deep in the eyes.
“Well,” Thomas held Alex's chin in his hand, “I'm not.”

Alex's overly sensitive cock still in hand, he kept stroking. Smirking evilly as his eyes never left Alex's.
The immigrant realized what Thomas was going to do to him.

“N-No d-daddy please.” he pleaded, eyes widening.
Thomas completely ignored his begging for whole minute. He continued to ruthlessly overstimulate Alex until he was in tears. He looked like a mess, cum all over his chest, shaking and shivering. Soon he was sobbing with every stroke, toes tightly curled, jaw clenched.

With one last torturous stroke, Thomas let go.

Alex whimpered and gasped, collapsing backwards into the pillows. Thomas quickly crawled up next to him, cupping his wet face in his hands.
“Oh, sweet one.” he pouted as Alex muttered and sputtered incoherently, eyes closed. “Did daddy teach you a lesson?”

Alex nodded gently into Thomas's hand. “And when are you going to see the Reynolds girl again?” “Never. Never I swear... I...” Alex trailed off, floating from ecstasy and exhaustion.
Satisfied, Thomas gently lifted Alex into his arms, cradling him as he carried him to the bathroom where there was a tub already prepared, slightly lukewarm from the day it had been sitting.

The next thing Alex knew, he was clean and in bed, enveloped warmly in Thomas Jefferson's arms silent and still. He couldn't help questioning if this had really happened. Had this really happened? What was this? It seemed completely unreal completely unexpected, like someone had looked at the timeline of his life and scattered it with one brush of their hand, like dust off the tabletop.

For now it was hard to think of much of anything but the gentle breathing of Thomas Jefferson, his enemy, lying next to him in bed. Alexander matched his breathing with the Virginian's.

It was only moments before he drifted off to sleep...

Chapter Text

Consciousness crept back to young Alexander Hamilton and reverberated through his body, followed shortly by waves of realization of what had happened the night before. A deep hapiness washed over him as he remembered.
Eyes still closed, he reached his arm across the bed in search of Thomas Jefferson's warmth, but grappled at nothing but cold sheets.

Puzzled, he blinked his eyes open to the bright room, it must be at least 10:00 judging by the sun and the rain had stopped during the night because birds were twittering as a cool breeze drifted through a cracked window, slightly swaying the cloth of the canopy bed.

Sitting up and cracking his neck, Alexander breathed deeply. With a new day and a clear head he started to fully comprehend what the hell had just happened last night between him and the Secretary of State. The SECRETARY OF STATE. Thomas Jefferson. Alexander shook his head in astonishment. He almost couldn't beieve it. Almost...

Except it had felt so right the entire time. The anger, he roughness, the dominant Jefferson. It had felt so right, leaving him wondering how couldn't this have happened before now?
But his soaring heart began to come down as he remembered why any of this had happened in the first place. “The Reynolds Letter...” Alex thought to himself. “He found the Reynolds letter... what the fuck am I going to do?” The letter proving his affair was in the hands of his most ruthless enemy. The question was: what was JEFFERSON going to do?

Getting out of bed, sighing, Alexander's eye was caught by an out of place piece of parchment on his bedside table. Stepping towards it, he was puzzled by two other odd items: some neatly folded money and on top of that, the heavy metal key to his Treasury office. He pushed aside the other two object and picked up the parchment, squinting without his glasses to aid him.
The handwriting was impossibly neat, the letters delicately curved, giving the impression of patience, precision, and high class wealth. Alexander snorted, rolling his eyes, and began to read the note.

“Mr. Hamilton,

I took the liberty of dressing you in your nightclothes and sending your dayclothes to the washroom. I also have cleaned up the vase that was broken last night and have left payment for a new one next to the key to your office. I hope you don't mind that I made myself some breakfast in your kitchens, and in return I have made some for you.

Thank you,
Secretary Jefferson”

Alexander set the note back down quietly, processing.
It was so... professional and stiff, no hint of passion in it whatsoever. It was just how Alexander had seen Thomas before this whole week had happened, elitist, cold, formatted. He had called him “Mr. Hamilton”. What the hell?
Between the lines there was undoubtedly some passion at the bare minimum. Alexander shrugged, and thought, “At least he made me food.”, trying to ignore all the other nagging thoughts he wanted to contemplate.

Bare feet padding on the carpet, Alexander thudded down the stairs, swinging around the corner with one hand on the banister like a child, and entered the dining room where he would usually eat breakfast with Eliza. The deep green drapes of the room were pulled open, flooding the room in morning sunlight that poured across the redwood table and carved chairs extravagantly. Alex's eyes landed on the table with awe.

At the head of the table there wasn't just breakfast, but rather an entire place setting, prepared formally with the fine glassware the Hamilton's kept locked in a china cabinet in the dining room.
The crystal glasses, silver cutlery and porcelain plates glittered under the incoming sunlight.

“Holy shit...” Alex breathed. This was definitely not what he was expecting from someone like Thomas, someone who never had to make their own food.
He slowly skirted the edge of the table and sat down at the head, still awestruck by this display as he stared.

The food on it didn't seem to be rotten or revolting at all. On one plate there was a spinach and herb omelette accompanied by warm slices of bacon and buttered toast. On another plate there was washed and cut fruit of all sorts. The three glasses held different beverages, orange juice, water, and tea, a selection he rarely had as he usually rushed out the door on his way to work.

Still slightly suspicious of poison, he gingerly took a bite. Alex quickly forgot his concerns as the flavor flooded his mouth; it was delicious. He scarfed down every last scrap until the plates were completely clean.
“I could get used to that.” he nodded in self satisfaction as he collected the dishes haphazardly in his arms and carted them to the kitchen sink, dumping them there. Washing the dishes was a chore he despised and he wasn't about to start now.

Instead he climbed back up the stairs and selected his outfit for the day, forcing himself to wear his formal clothing for the Cabinet meeting at three-o-clock that afternoon. He chose a beige waistcoat and breeches with a silk green coat and a white cravat.
“This'll do.” He shifted uncomfortably in front of the wardrobe mirror, the stiff fabric unpleasant on his skin .

He stopped moving when he noticed a discoloration on his throat. Furrowing his brow and stepping closer, he exposed his neck, examining two dark hickeys on the side of his neck and one bite mark right on his throat.
“Shit...” Alex groaned, pulling his collar higher up to conceal the marks, but it almost immediately slipped back down. He ran his fingers through his hair angrily.

“Fucking asshole.” Alexander slammed the wardrobe door shut and disgruntledly travelled downstairs to work in his office. This day just got a whole lot harder. And it was all thanks to that damned Thomas Jefferson.

***

Three hours of writing and Alexander had scrapped together a generally suitable argument for today's topic of discussion, the location of the nation's capital. The debates in the Cabinet had gone back and forth between his plan of state debt assumption and the whereabouts of the capital, it always came back around to those two important inssues.

The problem of solving them was with the rift of opinions of the two most important voices in the Cabinet, the rivals, the advocates of the North and the South, Alexander Hamiltong and Thomas Jefferson. Alex wanted the capital in Philadelphia or New York, Thomas wanted it in Virginia, and Washington was listening very carefully to their reasoning.

Which was not going to work well for Alexander today. He was supposed to have all night to construct his argument but he was... in other ways occupied. Now all he had were a few scraps of parchment and a fuckton of mixed emotions about the Secretary of State. This was going to be quite the meeting...

***

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-”

Alexander stumbled down the step of his carriage onto the gravel in front of the assembly buildind, fumbing for his pocket watch once again to be reminded of his lateness. It was three-o-clock and they had already started the meeting.
Alexander, still out front, was flustered from chasing a carriage and disheveled from the knowledge that minutes were slipping away where Jefferson had the whole Cabinet floor to himself. Panicking and rudely paying the driver, he dashed off to the stairs of the building and entered the quiet lobby in a flurry.

Tripping over a stray ottoman, he cursed and rounded the corner to the hallway, at the end of which were the double doors that led to the Cabinet room.

“I have a meeting in here, gentlemen.” Alex panted to to the two guards standing outside the door. They looked at each other.

“We're going to need identification, son. The meeting started five minutes ago.” The taller one monotoned.

Alexander rolled his head back, “You've gotta be kidding me.” He scoffed and blinked. “Alexander Hamilton. Secretary Treasury. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Son, we-”

At his exact moment the double doors creaked inwards, a rush of air ruffling the hair of the man that had opened them. President George Washington stood resolutely and firm in the doorway, hands on the ornate brass knobs he had turned.
He nodded to Alex, “Secretary Hamilton, come in.”

The guards looked at each other, mortified, and split a path for Alexander, who glared at each of them and loftily strolled through the doorway, following the blue coattails of the President into the room.

The cabinet room was simple yet beautiful. Rows of walnut desks that each seated two curved in an orchestra-style form around the raised part of the room where the main desk was placed. It had was adorned green velved covering, and behind it hung an American flag visible to all. Large windows lined the rectangular room, looking out on the building's garden, but the crimson curtains were usually pulled closed for privacy during these meetings.

Heads turned as Alexander walked in late. Clearly the doors were not very soundproof and the exchange outside the room was less-than-secret. Some were holding back laughs.

Alexander made a point to not make eye contact with any of them as he sat down at the only empty seat, to the right of Aaron Burr. Alexander looked at him inquisitevely and Burr smiled back. Alex waited for the President to begin calling the meeting to order again to speak.

“Burr, what are you doing here?”

Burr whispered, not turning to him, “Well you were so late they thought you had died in a terrible accident so they called me in to replace you.”
Alexander scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Hilarious. But really, Burr, what are you doing at a Cabinet meeting?” Alex began to set his papers out on the desk, “Isn't debating...how should I put this: not your forte?”

Burr leaned back in his chair, still looking up at Washington, “Mr. President specially asked for me to attend as a passive voice of the people. Now if you haven't realized, the meeting is starting no thanks to you.”

Alexander forced a sarcastic smile and turned his attention to the President.

“... and to begin today's meeting we'll hear Secretary Hamilton's statement followed by Secretary Jefferson's counter-argument. Remember the conclusion to this issue is pressing so we want to have a verdict by the end of this month. Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor sir.”

Alexander took a shaky breath and stood, looking down at his insufficient notes. They look sloppy and disorganized now that he was standing in front of the Cabinet. God, why hadn't he put together something more fitting?

But now there was no time to kick himself as he began.

“Mr. President,” he addressed Washington, “we've spent a month discussion the technicalities and scrutinizing the tedious details regarding this location, but we must remember that those details are irrelivant compared to what a nation's capital is supposed to mean in the first place. It has meaning beyond financials, it is where the very soul of this country was birthed.”

Alexander glanced around the room, looking in each individual's eyes.

“Philadelphia. The signing of the Declaration itself that Secretary Jefferson holds so dearly, the place where we wrote our Constitutional systems into existence. The people already know that this is the heart of our country, why uproot this accumulation of history and assembly and replant it in the South, a move only desired by those who don't want to lose their precious slave labor? Our capital needs to mean more than a bargain between slave owners and northerners, don't you agree, Mr. President?”

Alexander sat back down, satisfied with what he had put together based on his seriously lacking notes. Washington dipped his head at Alex, “Thank you, Secretary Hamilton. Secretary Jefferson, your response?”

Thomas Jefferson, stood up on the other side of the room and straightened his sleeves. He was dressed in a very expensive scarlet coat and his hair was neatly in place, unlike Alex's.
The Virginian looked put together, organized, cool headed and in control. He threw a steely gaze over to Alexander and held back a small laugh. His eyes darted from Alex's face to his neck and back almost unnoticeably. Alexander glowered and pulled his collar up once more.

“Mr. President, I think all of us in this room know what Alexander is trying to do with that pitiful statement of false national pride.” Thomas smirked lightly as he spoke.

“He's trying to use our patriotism against us and we are all smarter than that.
If his argument is that there is no national history in Virginia, well, I will not insult all of your knowledge on basic history by explainng how untrue that is. In addition, ignoring the financial details is going to make this decision even more difficult than Hamilton is already making it. The real-estate for the capital would be a fortune in New York and does congress have enough money to spare all for some falsesly placed patriotism? No.
And Secretary Hamilton would have us believe that the southerners want the capital in the South in order to protect slavery, but may I point out to anyone that is visually capable that Virginia is in the middle of these states and therefore has a perfect balance of North and South representation within its borders.”

He looked emotionlessly at Alexander, who was growing red from frustration.

“If a capital represents the people, as you have said, Mr. Hamilton, then why should it be hidden up in some far-off, frozen wasteland corner of our country?”

Thomas finished his statement in silence, smiling calmly as George Washington took notes for several long seconds, quill scratching. The rest of the cabinet were all nodding in agreement.
Alexander knew that his statement had been beaten. He knew it, Burr knew it, the whole Cabinet knew it. And it felt mortifying, agonizing to a point where he wanted to walk casually across the room and punch Thomas Jefferson right in the mouth. Alexander looked furiously down at his shoes. “Filthy slave-beating bastard.” he whispered.

“Thank you for that statement, Secretary Jefferson. Now if we could welcome Aaron Burr to the floor-”

“Apologies for my interruption, Mr. President, but I believe Secretary Hamilton has something to say.”

he looked sideways at the broiling Treasurer, “unless we've abolished the Cabinet rule of not speaking when another member is?”

There was a moment of silence, then George Washington sighed and turned his attention to Alexander.
“Mr. Hamilton, what did you need to say?”

Alexander, red-faced, livid, bore his blazing eyes into Thomas Jefferson's across the room. Thomas stared right back, smirking.
He raised one dark eyebrow provocatively. Clenching his fist, Alexander had had enough. Still looking at Thomas, he straightened himself up and said very properly and eloquently,
“I needed to say that Thomas Jefferson is a filthy slave-beating bastard.”

At once the Cabinet room erupted with shouts of protest. Jefferson had stood right up, chair screetching back and made a move for Hamilton's direction when his deskmate took him firmly by the shoulders and sat him back down. Through the uproar outraged voices addressed the president and each other. The chaos continued for several more seconds.

“SILENCE.” everyone fell immediately hushed and looked up at the President who had bellowed for their muteness. George Washington towered over them, disgusted by their behavior and composed beyond anyone else in the room. He looked around at the Cabinet.

“Gentlemen, I am appalled at this childlike behavior.” He pursed his lips, bearing down on them like a scolding mother. The Cabinet members all slowly took their seats quietly.
“Take a walk, all of you. We will reconvene after an hour of recess.”

He glowered at Alexander Hamilton first and then Thomas. “Secretary Hamilton, Secretary Jefferson, leave the rest of today's meeting to us. You have said quite enough for today, thank you for your time, gentlemen.”
Burr smirked at Alex, mocking him.
Washington addressed the rest of the group before either man had time to protest, “Meeting dismissed.”

Alexander, at a loss of words, fought against the current of men flowing to the door and towards Washington, who had just stepped down from raised part of the room.
“Mr. President,” he breathed, flustered, “I'm sorry, just let me stay-”

“No, Alex, you've stayed quite long enough at today's meeting.” Washington glided right past him.

“But, sir.” Alex's short legs struggled to keep up with Washington's tall strides as they moved towards the door.

“Alexander, I don't know why you and Jefferson have been going at it like cats and dogs today, but its more than usual, plus you showed up late, plus the essay I asked you to prepare was nothing more than scribbled notes.”

“Sir, I-”

“Don't think I don't notice these things, Alexander.”

They paused in the door frame and Washington faced him. Alex looked down at his shoes.

“Pull yourself together and be ready for our next assembly, that's what I'm asking of you now. And go home and get your head on straight. That's an order from your commander, am I perfectly clear?”

Alex clenched his jaw and held his tongue. “Yes sir.” he forced out.

“Good.” and Washington was gone.

***

Thomas Jefferson was leaving the assembly building in a flurry of annoyance. Annoyance at Washington, annoyance at the Cabinet, annoyance at Hamilton. Fucking Alexander Hamilton.
He shook his head frustratedly and pulled out his pocketwatch to check the hour 3:40. Great. He'd been kicked out not even an hour into the meeting. Thanks to that brat.

Not two seconds into having his head down he was pulled strongly by his belt to the side.

“What the-” he yelped in surprise and stumbled one foot over the other into an open door. Looking around, he noticed he was in an empty meeting-room and standing impossibly close to Alexander Hamilton, who still had his belt in his hand. Their eyes locked in a fiery standoff.

“Mr. Jefferson, please come in.”
Alexander smiled sickeningly sweetly, and harshly let go of his belt, reaching around behind Thomas to close the door.

“We have some talking to do.”

Chapter Text

“Secretary Hamilton, what is this?” Thomas sighed exasperatedly. Alexander took a step back into the room.

“Oh no. oh no no don't pull that oblivious bullshit with me.” Alexander laughed sarcastically, “Don't pretend like I'm the crazy one pulling you in here, you're the one going off on my ass since the second we started today. I want an explanation.”

“Mr. Hamilton I haven't the slightest idea what you're going on about.”

Alexander looked up at the tall man's face, his dark eyes and neatly combed hair. Alex could tell he knew, he was mocking him with this false formality. Thomas' emotionless facade angered the immigant even more. Why couldn't he just show some passion, get mad at him. He'd rather them fight and yell than have Thomas act like Alex was an irrational little boy.

“You got me kicked out of the fucking meeting two seconds in thanks to your insufferable pettiness and ridiculous ass-kissing on Washington.”

“No, Mr. Hamilton, you got youself kicked out with that little quip of yours that you felt so passionately about.” He moved towards the door, “You did that without my help. And if anyone's kissing Washington's ass it's you with that patriotic bullshit you tried to pull.”

He put his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder at Alex like he was a whining child, “Now if you'll excuse me I'm late to go- what did you say?- beat my slaves.”

“We're not finished yet.” Alexander stepped towards him and pushed the door shut, reaching around him. The two enemies were mere centimeters apart, Hamilton's hand on the door, trapping Thomas in his place.

He rolled his eyes,
“Mr. Hamilton your ridiculous fits of passion are highly inappropriate.”

Alex turned his face up to glare at the Virginian's, and breathed, “You know what else was inappropriate? Last night.”

Alexander could see that he had made his guard waver. There was a flicker of anger and surprise in his eyes before he quickly extinguished it again cooly.

“Last night?” He drawled boredly, as if he needed a reminder of what happened; it was too insignificant for his grandiloquent mind to remember.

Alexander scoffed and drew closer, cocking his head in mock contemplation.
“Yeah, last night. What happened last night, gee I dunno, something about you cumming in my ass rings a bell.”

Thomas loftily sneered and turned back towards the door, trying to make another exit but was stopped by Hamilton's strong grip on his belt once again.

“Where do you think you're going?” Alex yanked the Secretary of State to face him. Thomas shoved him in a quick jerking motion, disgust in his outraged eyes as if Alex's poorness would rub off on him.

“Don't touch me.”

“You can't ignore it forever, Mr. Jefferson.” Alex dismissed Thomas's clear warning and shifted closer to the tall Virginian, gently pressing him against the closed door with his front. He placed his hands on either side on Thomas.

Thomas's lips parted as if to speak but no words came out, they moved aimlessly. Alex was breaking down his wall bit by bit and Thomas knew it.
He could feel himself beginning to fall under his teasing touch, his body growing hot against Alexander's, but Thomas was more composed than Alex ever was. He wasn't going to let the immigrant have what he wanted.

“You were being a reticent little bitch , as per usual. I punished you. So your point is?”

“That's not a very casual way to punish someone, now is it?” Alexander smirked up, closing in on Thomas with his body and relentless arrogance, “I don't recall Washington ramming it in my ass when I was misbehaving.”

“Watch your tone with me.” Thomas threatened darkly.

“I'll use whatever the fuck tone I want.” Alex spat, trying to make himself look taller, eyes blazing into Thomas's.

“Alexander...” The Virginian warned dangerously, breathing wrathful breaths through his nose. It was evident that this would be his last warning.

There was an electric heat between them as several prolonged seconds dragged out, the two aggressors standing each other off. The only sound was Jefferson's breathing as they looked each other up and down, sizing one another up.

Thomas gulped as he felt a small pool of heat curl in the bottom of his belly. Fuck. He really couldn't avoid this, could he? He'd wanted to, he'd wanted to so bad... but his composure was forgotten as the desire crashed into him in a violent wave of hunger for the young immigrant.

He wanted to hear him whimper and beg, wanted to watch his helpless, gasping face as he punished him mercilessly, hear him completely unable to hold back his little sqeals of pain and pleasure. Thomas thought about how his legs had quivered... how he had cummed all over his own belly...

Alex could see Thomas thinking filthy thoughts just by looking at him, how his breath sped up and became ragged. Alex could feel it too. He was so close to the taller man that he could sense his heart thudding faster through his waistcoat, feel the warm rush of hardness to the man's cock which was pressing on his own lower belly.

Alex savored the feeling, relishing in that he was the one torturing Jefferson this time. He snickered up at him, smirking at the priceless sight.
Then, gritting his teeth. “God, you make me mad.” he hissed through them.

It was the last straw for Thomas; he let out a strangled growl and abruptly siezed Alex by the hips, his fingertips gouging into his delicate skin and bruising it immediately. He roughly pulled the smaller man's abdomen onto his, grinding their swelling bulges together.

Alex wimpered at the pain and friction, adrenaline bursting through his veins as the exitement exploded in him. This is exactly what he was aiming to do.

He reached down his right hand to paw at Jefferson's clothed cock through his pants. Thomas responded to the sensation by surging forward and taking Alex's throat in his teeth, sucking and nipping at the already-sensitive area from last night.

“You want it?” Thomas drawled into his ear, biting his throat deeply again. Alex whimpered.

“Is that a yes?” He growled again, growing impatient with the smaller man.
“Yes, give it to me soon or I'll fucking make you.”

 

In a split second Alexander was siezed by the collar and flung to the floor, he landed heavily on his back, choking out a furious snarl. As soon as he tried to sit up he was smashed back down by a heavy weight on his ribcage.

Squirming and cursing, he glowered up to see the livid Thomas Jefferson pinning him down with one expensive leather shoe. He was crushing him leisurely like he was a worthless little annoyance underfoot.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Thomas spat at Alex, “Try my patience one more time, slut, and I'll show you punishment.”
“Fuck you!” The man underfoot seethed, panting.

Thomas bent over and slapped the immigrants cheek, the red mark of four fingers slowly coming into appearance; he stood back up and brushed off his hands disgustedly.

His glare bore down on Alex like flames as he took a moment of consideration, deciding what he had in store for Alexander. That motherfucker had it coming for him; he was asking for it. He was on Thomas's last nerve and he was asking for it.

“Get up.” Thomas commanded as he reached down and grabbed the scruff of Alex's neck like a dog, dragging him roughly to his knees then discarding him.

Alexander huffed.
“I'd have thought you'd learned your manners by now. Clearly you're just as fucking stupid as you are disobedient.”

Thomas, hands behind his back and head held sophisticatedly and noble in the air, paced in front of kneeling Alex as he continued his scolding.

“I'm not impaired, Hamilton. I know there's something going on here.” He paced in the other direction, Alex's eyes trailing him the whole way, “But if I want your shit opinions, I'll ask.” he paced again and stopped, looking down at Alex condescendingly, “And did daddy ask for your opinion in front of the Cabinet?”

“You asked me to repeat what I said.” Alex muttered heatedly, scowling down at the floor.
Thomas snapped out a hand and grabbed Alex's chin roughly, forcing his eyes up to his.

“What did you say to me?”

Alexander screwed up his prideful face and decided better than to show Thomas what he was really thinking. That he had ASKED Alex to say it aloud! He choked down his opinion for once and instead forced out a strained, “No daddy. You did not ask for my opinion.”

“Good boy. Using your manners.” he smiled and roughly let go of Alexander who cracked his jaw back and forth, glaring at the floor again.

“That big mouth of yours does a lof of fucking talking for such a little man. It's too big for your own good, Alex.”

Alexander felt shivers down his spine at the sound of his name on Thomas's sexy southern tongue. The lazy drawl made it so perfect... he wanted to hear it again but didn't dare ask.

“Now it's time to put that filthy mouth of yours to use.” The Virginian sneered.

Alex look up in anticipation. He all at once realized what Thomas meant when he noticed he was about eye level with the southerner's swollen bulge.
Wow...
He stared at it in enthusiastic interest then looked up at Thomas who was watching him eye his clothed cock. He raised a dark eyebrow at the knealing immigrant.
“You want it, do you?”

Alexander did. He wanted Thomas's cock so badly. He was excited and interested and he wanted to find the moment when Thomas would whimper and cum and be at HIS mercy. He wanted to look Thomas in the eyes the whole time...

“Yes, daddy. I want it.”
Thomas sneered at his eagerness once again, “Then take it, you submissive little bitch. And be grateful I'm letting you.”

Not wasting a single second for Thomas to change his mind, Alexander reached forward and fumbled frantically with the Virginian's belt, undoing it and slipping it out of the loops in messy clumsiness.
Thomas watched him, smirking, the whole time, not bothering to offer the slightest bit of assistance. “Fucking asshole...” Alex thought.
As soon as he had discarded the pesky belt on the floor with a bit of an aggressive motion, he sloppily worked down Thomas's pants, yanking them and struggling until his cock was out and in the open.

It was just as it was last time, evenly shaped, the perfect length, throbbing and eager to find its home deep in Alexander. Alex shivered at the lovely sight of it, God he couldn't wait. Shifting his eyes up to gaze into Thomas's dark ones, he firmly grasped the base of his cock.

Keeping eye contact, he sucked the head into his mouth, applying a tiny amount of suction. Thomas blinked down at him. Alexander swirled his tongue in slow circles around the head and began to apply more pressure and speed with his tongue as he started slowly stroking the base of Thomas's cock.

“Fuck...” Thomas hissed. The sound of the dirty word out of the eloquent Virginian propelled Alex, encouraged him to go further.

He pulled more of Thomas's length into his mouth, inch by inch, then pulled back up, then went further by another inch, then pulled back up. He continued this pattern until he was going as deep as he thought he could go, his mouth almost reaching where his hand was.

He gazed up at Thomas as he continued to stroke faster and harder, coming down on his cock with his mouth as far as he could go.
The wet sounds were loud in the empty room and were dirty and erotic.

“Yes... oh God...” Thomas grumbled as Alex kept bobbing up his length, spit shining on his cock and a bit on Alex's chin. He reached with the other hand that wasn't stroking and palmed Thomas's balls. This rewarded him with a low moan from the Secretary of State.

Alex could tell that Thomas was getting close, feel his legs laboring not to shake. He couldn't wait to see Thomas melt all over him, become the mess that Alex was the night before. But... the obnoxious, arrogant, prideful part of Alexander wanted Thomas to feel what he had felt, to get a taste of his own medicine.
He remembered what Thomas had done to him, and he formulated his idea.

Alex sucked harder, hollowing out his cheeks. He travelled up and down, faster and faster, stroking until he could feel Thomas almost ready to cum.

“Good boy... I'm so close...”

That was his cue.
He let go with his hand and deep-throated Thomas's cock all the way down to the base. Thomas was shocked with pleasure.

“Oh God! Fuck!” he moaned. He was definitely going to cum.
If Alex hadn't stopped moving altogether.

Alex stood on his knees, the smooth cock deep in his mouth, and held it there. Unmoving.
All the while making a point to glare right into Thomas's frenzied eyes, watching every single moment to perfectly see the orgasm slipping... slipping out of his reach.

He remained still.

His legs shook. He panted. Thomas's orgasm slipped away, infuriatingly just out of his grasp.
And, staring in his eyes, Alexander could see the lost ecstasy turning into lividness.

Panting and heaving, Thomas screwed up his mouth and clutched Alex's hair, threading his fingers in and twisting.

“How... DARE you!” Thomas raged. Alexander squealed at the pain on his scalp.

“You good for nothing, naughty little fucker. I'll teach you a lesson, by God.”

Pulling his hair and yanking him closer, Thomas thrusted his cock back into Alex's delicious, red, smirking lips. Alex smiled at the perfect roughness and coughed a little bit, gasping for air.
With his free hand, Thomas clamped it over Alexander's throat, now holding the boy in two places on his head, the perfect leverage for the face-fucking he was about receive.

“No more nice play...” Thomas snarled into Hamilton's eyes, relishing his orgasmic expression of helplessness and lust. God, he was perfect.

Thomas thrusted in and out of Alexander's throat, feeling the boy occasinally cough and gasping for some air, moaning at the sight of him.
His little mouth was so good... It was almost impossible.

Thomas sped up deep and long until he knew he was about to cum again, it sure didn't take long.

“Fuck!”

With a final three thrusts, he cummed into Alexander's open mouth, the immigrant remaining wide open for any left over.

Thomas stroked a couple times with his hand, releasing every last drop onto Alex's waiting tongue, completely and helplessly turned on by the sight of him.

Knealing submissively on the floor, cum in his mouth, he was a sight to behold as he opened and closed his jaws, swallowing all of it until he was licking his lips, Thomas watching the entire show hungrily.

“You are... fuck...”
Thomas's speech fell out of his mouth clumsily. He was at a loss of words after.... this.

“So you admit it.”, Alexander Hamilton smirked triumphantly, lips wet from spit and cum, “There is something here you can't ignore.”

Thomas hastily pulled his pants back up and fumbled with the belt, regarding Alexander with his eyes.

“My place. Tonight.”

It was an order, not a question.

Chapter Text

“Wait, like, forty seconds after I go out.” Alex said, peeking his head out the door of the random office and glanced around. People were milling in and exiting the lobby of the assembly building.

Thomas's low voice sounded close behind him.
“You're ridiculous, you know.”

“No I'm not, there's an absurd amount of people out there. What day is it?”

“You're just noticing it more cause we're trying to get the fuck out. Move-”

He shoved the smaller, disadvantaged man with his shoulder, wedging in to look out the door, his line of vision easily clearing the top of Alex's head.

“Shit, that is a lot of people.”

Alex snorted.
“Gee, it's almost like someone just said that.”

“Alex-”

“And cockbreath didn't listen.”

“Alexander, for God's sake quiet down, that group's getting closer, and- wait a minute what did you just call me?”

“Cockbreath.”

“You know, that's incredibly ironic of you,” Alex elbowed him, Thomas shifted around, craning for a better side view.

“Oh, go now you have a window.”

“What? I don't wanna go first-”
“Go!” Thomas whisper shouted as he opened the door wide enough for the immigrant to pass through and herded him towards the hall.

“Hey! Ow, stop shoving-”

Thomas placed his foot on the small of Alex's back and propelled him out of the door, more lightly than rough, but Alex still stumbled and turned around.

“What the hell, man?” he hissed, “You're gonna get both of us caught.”

“YOU are if you keep talking, for Christ's sake GO.” Thomas urged him, annoyed, and caught the most genuine shock-faced scowl he had ever received from anyone before irritably closing the door.

As much as he was liking punishing Alex's arrogance during sex, the man's personality was fucking intolerable outside of it. How could anyone be so insufferable? At moments like these, during Cabinet meetings, anywhere around Madison, Alexander Hamilton and him rubbed each other the wrong way no matter what. It was infuriating, and Thomas hated it.

And now it was their second time using their obvious hate for something else. Thomas had no idea how either of them felt about this. They had wives. They were important men in high positions, they had friends that talked. But if there was anything Thomas was notorious for, it was for his collected control and analyzation.

He knew that Alex would rather get hit by a cab (multiple times) than talk this whole affair through, and that's precisely why Thomas didn't tell him that's what they would be doing. He knew Alex would whine and try to derail the conversation with sex but Thomas wouldn't let the prick stand a chance at that until he had gotten what he wanted.
The obnoxious bellyaching wouldn't budge him, Alexander Hamilton was just going to have to wait for it.

***

Alexander savored the faint aftertaste of Thomas’s cum the whole ride home, basking in the fact that he had held Thomas, at least for a moment, completely under his control.
He didn’t like being completely in control, per se; he lived more for the battle than the victory. He was glad that Thomas had been rough with him; for a moment after Alex had pulled his little orgasm-deprivation stunt, he thought that Thomas wouldn’t mercilessly face-fuck him.

That was a once in a lifetime moment where he was wrong, Alex thought.

Still chuckling to himself about the absurdity of it all, he hopped out of the carriage a little numb-legged from the ride and kneeling on the hardwood floor.
Just as he turned to stroll to his house he collided face-to-face with a pedestrian walking by who was shielded by the carriage.

“Real classy, whatch where the fuck you’re goi-”

“Alexander!” the man jeered at him playfully. Blinking Alex realized who he had encountered and laughed at himself.

“Laurens, I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“Damn right you didn’t. Almost smashed my face on your thick-head.”

“It’d be an improvement.”

John snickered and waved to someone who was hidden from Alex’s vision as they strolled up to the little encounter. Lafayette and Hercules sauntered into view.

“Monsieur Hamiltonnn!” Lafayette purred in his thick French accent, “Out of the Cabinet so early?”

Alex openly displayed his annoyance to the group, “You’ll never believe this, I was kicked. Out.” he gestured each word with his hands, and dropped them to his side exasperatedly.

Hercules looked at him, astonished as Laurens snorted to his left, “You? Kicked out? Yeah, I’ll never believe that.”

“It’s not fucking funny,” Alex tried to make a point as Hercules wheezed and Lafayette tried to hold back and conceal a grin,
“Thomas motherfucking Jefferson went off on my ass then proceeded to kiss Washington’s, and before anyone knew what the hell was going on Washington tossed the both of us out of the meeting!”

“Back up, Washington tossed Jefferson out?” Laurens was perplexed.

“Hello, does nobody give a fuck that I got kicked out-”

“There’s no way Washington would boot Jefferson, why’d he do that, Ham?” Herc interrupted.

“Gee guys, really making a brother feel special today, huh?”

“He probably wanted you two to walk out together and sort out your differences alone.”

Alexander scoffed at the thought of it, “We’re not toddlers anymore, Lafs.”

“Right, toddlers are better at that.”

“Bro why would you even insult toddlers by comparing them to Alex. Shit’s messed up.”

“You know what? Done. Done with you jerk-offs. Go have fun at your…?” Alex approached his porch and turned around, trying to be as annoyed as possible with his snarky friends.

“Protest. We told you last week but you had a Cabinet meeting today. At least you did.” Lafayette slapped Laurens on the back, sputtering.
“Whatever. I’ll see you morons tomorrow.”

“Right back at you, love.” Laurens cooed and went in for a hug Alex held his nose snootily in the air and refused to return the hug as his arms wrapped around him.

Laurens recoiled sharply as soon as he had enveloped Alexander. John looked down at him bizarrely, his face concerned and inquisitive.

Shit…

Alex realized what had jolted him so suddenly.
Of course, only now did he realized he could smell it on himself, too.
The faint smell of sweat and the distinct scent of cum mixed together with a perfume that wasn’t his seemed to have jump-started John into thought.

Alex looked up at him, straining to masking his panic and guilt and was met by John’s calculative eyes, regarding the immigrant and narrowing knowingly. John’s wheels turned, Alex could see it.

“Have a good night, Alexander.” Laurens smirked at him suspiciously.

“You too.” Alex gulped.

***

The young treasurer spend the next four hours pacing around the house in boredom. His friends out in the city, his assignment for the next Cabinet meeting not given yet, this is a time where he would definitely settle down in his bed for a good, long jerk-session.

With the upcoming evening he knew that was out of the question. It was the only thing keeping him sane as the hours dragged by like beaten horses pulling up a hill.

Lounging in the living room shirtless, he messily dug into what had to be his fifth roll in that hour. He was always hungry but gaining weight never seemed to occur to his metabolism.
Alex sighed and dramatically flopped over the arm of the couch lazily. What was Thomas doing right now?

Alex paused and then physically snorted at the thought, the man was definitely sipping delicately out of a crystal glass. Maybe eating grapes one at a time with two fingers and being fanned by one of those little fat angels… what were they called? Chubbubs? No, cherubs. Definitely being fanned by cherubs.

Alexander snickered at the ridiculous image playing in his head as he ripped into his role again. Rich Thomas Jefferson. He wondered what Thomas Jefferson’s house would look like.

Who would’ve thought a month ago that he’d be headed there tonight?

Chapter Text

Alexander rounded the corner of the street that Thomas lived on. He’d decided to walk as to not arouse any suspicions from nosy cab-drivers, but the decision seemed less-worth it as he grumbled irritably at his aching feet.
He really needed a horse… and the money for one and a place to keep it.

Walking there, he had already gotten the gist of what Thomas’s house would look like. These long, wide, lanes in the neighborhood were only occupied by four houses at most, houses that had their OWN lanes leading up to them and huge amounts of property to work with.

The grass glowed with the pinkish tint from dusk as it settled to sleep throughout the sky, thin lines of clouds streaked the canvas.
This ridiculously beautiful display almost seemed like it was designed to match the neighborhood of which it adorned.

Alex grew impatient as he travelled down the long lane, still not seeing Thomas’s house; he knew it had to be somewhere around here but these streets were so long and the addresses were so hard to see.
A carriage drove by close to him and coated him in fine flying dust. Coughing, sputtering and cursing the driver and their family, he stopped in his tracks.

He had reached the end of the road and it transformed into a slightly wider lane that could fit a carriage and a half across. It was lined on either side by tall trimmed bushes weaved with flowers until it created a loop in front of the house.
Beyond the bushes the wide field of impossibly green grass, pathways, and towering old trees provided a canvas for the true jewel of the Jefferson property: the manor.

Made of bricks and decorated with large windows and towering white columns, the Jefferson household didn’t loom so much as it stood proudly and entitled. The cathedral-like dome at the top of the house and the lack of unnecessary gold and silver statues proved both the architectural genius and the good-taste that went into building this masterpiece.

Alexander tried not to gape like a fish at the sight of the home that would be… exactly the home he would make if he had the money.

 

Hotly adjusting his jabot that was sticking annoyingly to his neck, he puffed his chest and strode up the pathway.

Not wanting to go around the loop to the front of the house Alex cut right through the neat grass in a quicker route.
When he had climbed the steps onto the columned doorstep, he felt extremely small compared to the sheer size of the brick manor. He didn’t feel unsafe or overshadowed, it was a warm feeling of protection, but still, the discomfort of being in a place so wealthy and grand contrasted severely with what he was used to.

The small man took the brass knocker in hand and gave it several loud raps for good measure.
There was no immediate response. He strained his ears for any noise but heard only the crickets beginning their nightly lullaby and the summer breeze in the large trees.

Impatiently, he rapped the metal against the door again, louder and more times than before.
What the hell could he be doing that was so important?

There was a softened sound from inside; Alex stepped closer to the door,

“I’m coming, Jesus Christ, little fucking prick, I swear…”

Alex smiled at the muffled voice and backed away from the door a bit.
Brushing off more dust, he braced himself as he heard the dull vibration of footsteps nearing the entryway, fully expecting to be grabbed inside by a whirl of force and pinned to a wall.
His heart jumped to his throat in excitement.

The door swung inwards slowly and revealed the towering Virginian standing entitled and composed, the man’s atmosphere completely matching the estate on which he lived.

He had changed from his scarlet coat to a satin maroon one and Alex realized he hadn’t changed at all since the Cabinet meeting.
Thomas raised his chin and looked down on him, fully collected and in order, not a hint of hungry fire in his eyes.

Alex was unpleasantly surprised; Thomas looked like he was ready for a business meeting, not a hookup.

“Mr. Hamilton.”
“Mr. Jefferson.”

They scanned each other’s brown eyes.
The Virginian’s view shifted to a spot behind Alex. He looked back in lazy annoyance and sighed,

“You walked across my grass, didn’t you, Alexander.”

“What?”

“You ignored the path and cut across my grass.”

“No I didn’t. Why would you even assume that.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “I can literally see your footprints in the dew.”

Alex glanced behind himself. He was right. “That wasn’t me.”

“Who else would have- ah fuck it just get inside, you cretin.”

“Yes sir.” Alex flashed Thomas a sarcastically sweet smile as he skipped cheerfully by him into the house.

“Nice place.” He called over his shoulder as Thomas was closing the door.
“Shoes, Alexander.”

Alex ignored Thomas’s request as he explored the entrance hall. It was lively and bright, adorned by paintings of people and the estate. Small matching decorative tables were opposite each other on the wall and Alexander picked up a small contraption on it that interested him, turning it over in his hands.

“Put that down.”
Thomas had stopped behind him.

“What is it?”
“It’s something I got from France, now put it down and follow me.”

Jefferson brushed by him and made way for a hallway to the right.
Alex grumpily set down the metal contraption and followed Thomas as they turned, not even trying to not admire the Virginian’s sculpted ass.

“Where’re we going?” Alex inquired.

“China.” Thomas responded dryly as they entered a large room.

Alex looked around at the long table and portraits, the glass of wine and plates of cheese on either end of the table, and realized what was going on. It crashed on him all at once.

“Nope.”

“Alexander-”

“Nope, leaving.”

He turned around on one heel but choked as Thomas snagged his collar and dragged him like a child to one end of the table.
He plopped him down in the chair with a huff and skirted the table to the other side.

Thomas tossed his coattails behind him and sat down delicately, scooting the chair close to the table and unfolded his napkin as he selected one square of cheese to eat.

“What are you doing, Jefferson?”
Thomas stopped, looked up at him, and slowly answered, “I’m… eating the cheese.” He gestured innocently with his hands to the cheese.

“No! - you… This!”

Alex frustratedly tried to convey his message, pointing at the dinner setup in front of him.

“That’s… still cheese, Alexander.”

“Cut the shit, Jefferson. What are you trying to do here.”

Thomas leaned back in his chair, slowly crossing his arms and exhaling, keeping his gaze on Alex.
“What do YOU think I’m trying to do here?”

“I’m not exactly sure but it looks like we’re having a romantic anniversary dinner instead of fucking.”

“So just because I’m not hammering it in your pathetic ass, we’re a married couple?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard you say, and that’s really saying something.”

Alexander shot him a searing scowl from across the table. Thomas looked impassively back.

“Are you that slow that I have to just say it, Alexander?”

“Please do,” Alexander rolled his eyes dramatically, picking up the glass of wine and swirling it, “And make it quick, I can tell we’re both horny.”

“You’re horny.”

“Yeah, and? You are too.”

“You’d like me to be, Alexander.”

“What happened to saying it quickly?”

It was Thomas’s turn to throw a glare the other way.
“What I was trying to say before your incoherent interruption, is that we need to lay down some rules for whatever the fuck this is. Because as far as I can tell that wasn’t the last time we’re gonna screw, or else I’d have just left this whole ordeal alone.”

“Who says I want to do it again?” Alex leaned forward challengingly.

“Of course if you don’t, my mistake, you can just leave and I’ll do whatever I will with this little letter of yours.”

Alex heard the last words so clear, it felt like a smack to the face. His heart skipped a beat.

“what?” he spat.

“Oh don’t you remember? The one I got from my little excursion in your office, the one that led to out first… discipline lesson.”

“And what the fuck does it have to do with us screwing?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow mischievously, eyes beginning to burn with cold fire.
“I just believe we are in a position to… keep each other in check.”
Alexander scoffed confusedly, shaking his head in request for an elaboration.

“You see, Alexander, how am I to know that you won’t use this affair against me? It could ruin me if the political world was to know that I’m a sodomite.”
Alexander screwed up his mouth in distaste for the word.

“And I have information that could ruin you. We’re both in a stagnant position. We’ve got each other right where we want each other and nobody to call it off but ourselves.”
Thomas leaned forward and placed his knitted hands on the table.
“And quite frankly, I relish the sound of that.”

Alexander whirled with a mix of excitement and pure fury that Thomas was doing this. He wanted to punch the guy right in the nose, but for some absurd, inexplicable reason, the anger and the way Thomas did everything like it was a battle strategy made him ache for the man even more.
He would feel like Thomas was trapping him into this relationship if he didn’t want it so bad too. He savored the sight of Thomas, he looked incredibly sexy and erotic in the low candlelight.

“I hate you.” Alexander bit his lip provocatively.
He saw Thomas’s eyes flash with hunger.

“Not so fast, you whore.” Thomas spoke slightly less composed than before, but still in control of Alex now as he was ever.
“We’re establishing rules.”

“Fucking kidding me.” Alex rolled his head back.

“Alexander, if you weren’t such a discourteous barbarian you’d understand that any relationship, ESPECIALLY sexual, needs to have a basis of ground rules.”

Alex slumped down in his seat, bellyaching. “Okay dad.” He mumbled.

“If you would stop bitching we’d be done by now.”

“Fine, fine, list the rules, asshole.”

“You need to contribute too, that’s the whole point.”
Alexander groaned exasperatedly and sat up in his seat, finally being attentive to Thomas.

“Happy?"

“Thank you. Now, First things first, I’m not dating you. Despite that, other people can’t get involved.”

“That’s kind of contradictory, don’t you think?” Alex questioned.

Thomas gave a slight laugh through his nose and smirked.
“Don’t you think having our little affair even though we’re married men is contradictory?”

“Fair point.”

“Good. So we agree on that one.”
Thomas nodded in satisfactory and cut himself a small piece of cheese. Alex eyed him carefully and slowly, gingerly, copied the Virginian, begrudgingly giving in to the fact that they were, in fact, dining together.

“Also, the color system works in replacement of a safe-word for you, no?”

“Agreed. If anything it allows for more communication.”

“Good. Thanks for actually contributing.” Thomas kept eye contact and placed a small bit of bread in his mouth. Alexander glared.

“In addition, you should know that Sally is going away for the summer to upstate New York. So you will be staying over at least three nights a week at my house.”
Thomas casually chewed and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Hold on, what?” Alexander choked on his cheese and, coughing, pointing at Thomas with one finger.
“You can’t do that.” he sputtered, red faced.

“Actually, I can, Mr. Hamilton. But," He smirked sweetly and gestured to Alex with open hands, "you can make a rule in return.”
There was a silence as Alexander considered. Three nights a week was a lot for someone he was not even dating and someone he deeply despised. But there was no way he was willing to drop the whole ordeal here and now. Making his own rule would suffice, he decided.

He leaned back in his seat, “Fine. You’re in charge of paying for all expenses of this whole escapade. We’re talking cleaning when I cum all over your furniture.”
“Wow, not even an ‘if’, huh?”
“Also, toys and all the exciting things. On you.”
“That seems fair.” Thomas agreed.
“Good.”

There was a long pause. They looked at each other in silence.
Seconds passed as they visually raked each other’s bodies, hunger growing more and more evident with every passing moment. Clearly, the both of them had been patient in sexual tension for too long and it was finally starting to show.

God, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They both sensed the gradually intensifying heat.

All at once, Alex had finally had enough of the waiting and patience. Enough talk.

“Fuck it.”
He stood to make a move towards Thomas, scooting his chair back and shrugging off his coat as he strode hastily towards him.
In immediate response, Thomas moved his chair back away from the table with his powerful legs, smirking up at Alexander as he seductively swung himself onto Thomas’s lap, one leg on either side of the chair.

Alex could feel the area of heat below his and muffled a sigh.
Thomas ran his palms up Alexander’s thighs torturously slowly, and when he finally reached Alex’s hips, he was growing hungry and began pulling the smaller man’s tucked shirt out of his breeches in handfuls.

Alexander smacked his mouth violently onto Thomas’s, intertwining their tongues hotly in a dance of heat as the Virginian’s hands travelled to hastily fumble with the buttons on the immigrant’s waistcoat.

Their kissing was fast and dirty as they undid each other’s waistcoats and shrugged them urgently to the floor.

Alex pulled away from Thomas’s mouth with an erotic wet sound, “One more thing.”

He moved to nip and suck at Thomas’s pulse point. “Promise me you’ll always be this rough on me.” he breathed.

Thomas reached behind Alex’s head and seized his hair, scowling in his eyes. “You couldn’t stop me if you tried.” he snarled, tilting the immigrant’s head back harshly, exposing his delicate neck for Thomas to take in his teeth, clamping and sucking.
Alexander moaned.

“Shut up.” Thomas barked and yanked his hair sharply. He looked up into Alex’s provocative, fiery eyes.

“Last rule. I won’t tolerate your shit. We’re going to be honest with each other, am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Alexander smirked as Thomas devoured his mouth heatedly, raking his tongue across the roof of Alex’s mouth.

Yes, this was going to be a good evening...

Chapter Text

Still on Thomas’s lap, Alexander grinded deeply against the Virginian’s clothed cock, grabbing the man’s shoulders for leverage. Thomas grinded back against him, harder. Much harder.

“Watch yourself, Hamilton. Remember who’s fucking in charge. ” Thomas bit down hard on Alexander’s neck. Alex whimpered and ignored Thomas’s generous warning. He knew a punishment was coming and God, did he crave it.
“Well, since I’m on top: me.” Alex whispered, panting.

Thomas immediately clutched Alex’s thighs and stood, lifting the man up with ease. Diggin his nails in, he strode two quick steps towards the table and slammed Alex onto the wood, legs still wrapped around Thomas. Alexander cried out and looked up at the taller man, snarling.
Thomas’s icy glare slashed into the immigrant.

“I have no words. For how fucking arrogant you are.”
Never breaking his frigid, bitter, eye contact, he raised a hand and backhanded Alexander across the face. The smaller man’s head snapped to the side, growling before he looked right back, determined to fight against Jefferson’s dominance.

“Your disobedience is out of control. You are a disgraceful slut, Alexander.”
Thomas put extra emphasis on the word slut, he spat the dirty word at Alex, his accent thick and incredibly erotic on his tongue.

He cocked his head, “Say it, whore. Tell me how much of a naughty bitch you are.”
Thomas smirked cooly and gently, too gently, placed a hand on Alex’s throat, stroking the delicate skin softly with his thumb. Alex exposed his neck even more.

He wasn’t going to let him win. Thomas was just as arrogant and insufferable, Thomas couldn’t quench Alexander’s raging fire of hatred for him; this was a battle of wills.
Alex made up his mind. Thomas was going to have to beat the submission out of him.

“No.” He hissed slowly.

Thomas glared lividly in surprise, “What?” He spat.

“I’m sorry, are you fucking deaf? I. Said. no.” Alexander raised an eyebrow provocatively at Thomas. The Virginian breathed through clenched teeth as he slowly increased his iron grip on Alexander’s neck. He began to see sparks and choked at the pressure.

Thomas’s deep, gravelly voice whispered, “Strip. Now.”

Thomas violently shoved his neck into the table and let go, backing up dangerously. Alex sputtered.

Thomas took a couple steps back, his black eyes boring into Alexander’s as he sat up on the table. He looked dark and menacing as he slowly undid his belt and slid it out of the loops, turning it over in one hand.
“I said.” He let the belt swing ever so slowly. Threateningly. “Strip.”

Alexander’s heart was thudding with the thrill of adrenaline. He could hardly think as he began excitedly pulling off his shirt, removing his pants hastily as Thomas stood and watched him, unmoving.
The threat, the danger looming around Thomas Jefferson… it was already making an incredibly-horny Alex even harder as he anticipated what was to be done with him.

Alex was completely naked on the table, the flat surface hard and cold against his ass. He shivered as goosebumps spread along his body in waves.
Thomas had stripped himself as well. Just as he had last time, he was graceful and delicate in the process, making it seem like the clothing fell right off him, whereas Alex struggled and strained to escape the satin prison.

“On your belly, dirty slut. I won’t fucking ask twice.”
Alexander sensed the strictness in his voice, it left no room for any more disobedience. Alex slowly and reluctantly did as he was told, glowering over his shoulder at Thomas who was menacingly folding the belt in half.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do to you, Alexander.” He drawled. “If you interrupt me I’m going to kick your fucking ass more than I’m already going to.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and snorted out loud, “Sure tough guy, do your worst. Maybe I’ll actually get a decent bruise this time.”

There was a crack and a flash of white hot pain across the left side of his ass, the sting reverberating for seconds after.

“Fuck!” Alex roared at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Thomas grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.
“What did I just say!?” He scolded Alexander loudly, pressing the tip of his searing cock to Alexander’s entrance.

Still not letting go of the immigrant’s hair, he continued what he had started.
“Listen now, bitch. You’re going to get the belt ten times before you so much as touch my cock. You’re going to count- out loud- until I get to ten. If you scream or whimper, or moan, it’s another strike.”

 

Thomas released Alexander’s hair, the smaller man angrily looking back over his shoulder once again.
“Lastly, you have lost cock stimulation privileges. You’re going to cum from prostate stimulation only. Maybe now you’ll learn your fucking lesson.”
Alexander growled in fury. This challenge just became a lot more difficult. His blood surged with hatred for the Secretary of State.

Thomas shifted behind Alexander and gripped the belt tightly in hand, flexing his jaw sexily. Alexander braced himself.

The first four came down one right after the other. Strong and brisk, it was obvious that an expert hand was controlling the blows as they struck loudly on the Treasurers sculpted ass, the slapping of leather reverberating through the house.

Thomas paused, the metal buckle jingling in the silence. Alex looked back over his shoulder to see Thomas smirking approvingly at four pink lines emerging on his ass. He looked at Alexander, “Keep counting, princess. You won’t be able to feel your dirty ass when I’m done with you.”
“Yes, daddy.” Alexander moaned exaggeratedly obscenely and turned his head back forward, bracing once more.

The belt connected with his skin once again, much harder this time. Gasping, Alexander exhaled out a very shaky, “Five.”

Six through eight were more spaced out but progressively harsher and harsher. He could feel the tears beginning to prick at the corners of his tightly sealed eyes; he breathed deeply.

“Nine.” He choked, straining to contain a sob after the leather connected with his skin. Only one more…
There was a longer pause than any before. He pressed his cheek to the wood table, awaiting the blow nervously. Seconds passed until-

“Ten!” the blow collided harder than any of the previous ones combined, his hips bucking in response to the sharp whiplash. There were several moments of intense silence as he breathed.

Alex exhaled deeply and slumped onto the table, relaxing all his muscles and panting at the release.
“Good boy…” Thomas’s low voice grumbled behind him.
After Alex had caught his breath, he propped himself up on his elbows and twisted to look at Thomas.

The Virginian gently ran his fingertips over the curve of Alex’s raw ass, feeling his way tenderly over the pink welts he had created. Alex flinched and jerked at the stinging twinge, shuddering under the touch.
“Feels good, hmm?” Thomas purred disgustingly sweetly.

“Feels like a fucker just whipped the shit out of me.” Alex winced as he spoke.
“Ha. Good… are you ready for your reward, my little jouet précieux?”

Alexander surprised himself by moaning in needy response. Being condescended by Thomas in French had more of an effect on him than he would’ve thought, and he felt an urgent rush of heat flood his lower belly.
He had waited. He had waited long enough and weathered the punishment and been as obedient as possible to the arrogant, self centered, aristocrat. He had been good. It was time he received the sweetest payback of all, the Virginian’s mouth-watering cock. He wanted it now more than ever.

“I take that as a yes.” Thomas smirked confidently. He raised his chin in the air.
“Turn over. I want to look right in your eyes when you cum.”

Alexander did as he was told without complaint and rolled onto his back stiffly, the cold tabletop shocking his stinging ass.
Thomas laughed at the sight of Alex wincing and got observably harder.

Alexander scoffed, “You like it when I’m in pain, don’t you, you sick fuck.”
“Immensely.” Thomas smiled sweetly and nodded in mock politeness to him.

The Secretary of State positioned himself at Alexander’s entrance and looked at the smaller man, extending his palm towards his face.
“Spit.” Thomas commanded.

“What?” Alex snorted in disgust.
“Spit. Or else I’m going in dry. I don’t give a fuck which one it is.”

Alex gaped at the degrading thing he was being asked to do. It was disgusting and he fucking loved it, his cock swelled more.
“You’re despicable.” Alex growled and spat into Thomas’s waiting hand.

“Disgusting.” he mumbled again as he watched Thomas take that hand and run it deliciously up his cock, coating it and smiling mockingly down at Alexander the whole time.
Thomas extended two fingers to Alex again.
“Open.” he commanded and Alex complied with the most loathing scowl he had ever given.

“Cut the fucking attitude. I have no problem with not doing this for you.” Thomas scolded as Alexander ran his tongue over the fingers, rolling his eyes.

Thomas wasted no time in getting started with Alexander, he was starving to be inside the smaller man and wasn’t going to take any scenic routes.
He immediately shoved the the lubricated fingers into Alex. who bucked in response.

“Fuck!” He sqealed, lifting his head to look, open mouthed, at where Thomas was fingering him. The sight propelled Thomas onward.
He scissored his fingers hastily and pushed them in and out in a deep, quick motion for thirty seconds.

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” Alexander finally moaned, leaning his head back onto the table, “Please.”
“Please what?” Thomas questioned, shoving the fingers in as deep as possible.

Alex gasped, “Please fuck me! Daddy, please!”

“Fine.” Thomas agreed, satisfied with the needy man’s begging. He removed his fingers and replaced them immediately with the tip of his cock, slamming in his full length with a force that would've thrown Alex off the table if it wasn’t for his iron grip on his hips.

“Yes!” Alex whined loudly, “Faster!”

Thomas decided to comply with the man’s desires since he had already beaten some manners into him with their belting session. The immigrant would get a short grace period and he would be grateful for it, Thomas would make sure of that.

Thomas sped up his pace, hips hammering against Alex’s thighs with every pounding.
“You like that, huh? You like when I fuck you senseless.”

Alexander moaned, head falling back in pleasure as he began to melt with the sensation.
“Yes daddy… oh fuck…oh…”

“I can’t believe I have to fuck you on the dining room table. You, naughty slut. Just to make you behave...”
“Yes, yes, yes….” Alexander whimpered, helplessly squirming under him, hips jumping wildly with every thrust, trying to roll into Thomas’s pelvis to match his pace.

Soon Alex was shaking with every violent thrust, wailing as Thomas’s cock brushed so torturously close to his prostate. He was so close… so incredibly close… all he needed would be a little stroke to his cock. He knew he wasn’t allowed to, but he was rapidly losing all grip on reality as the pleasure mounted to an unbearable level.

He weakly reached his limp arm outwards, groping blindly for his cock as he was being rocked back and forth by thrusts.
Thomas immediately saw what he was trying to do and seized Alexander’s wrist, slamming flat onto the table above his head with the other one.

Alexander sobbed with desperate need.
“Rules are rules, Alexander.”

With the lack of grip on his hip bones, Alex was being lifted off the table with every harsh thrust, Thomas’s cock striking his prostate every time with this new position. He felt himself getting close to his climax, his breathing sped up loudly in short gasps.
“I’m going to cum! God… Fuck… Please let me… please… I… I…”

His words stumbled out incoherently as he begged and whimpered.

Alex knew that the sight of him falling apart, squirming and crying and begging for release was exactly what Thomas wanted as he felt him cum warmly inside of him, filling him up with his hot release.

Thomas was never as loud as Alex, Alex was loud enough for the both of them, but he lived for hearing Thomas hiss after he cummed.
“Oh… Fuck…” The Virginian squeezed his eyes shut in ecstacy, panting.

Alex knew he could cum now that Thomas had, so he wasted no time in arching his back and letting his orgasm completely take him away, not trying to contain it at all.

“Thomas!” He screamed as he released powerfully all over his belly just as he had done the night before.

He shook and shivered as the final drops squirted out, whimpering and panting as Thomas’s eyes undoubtedly watched the whole show hungrily.

Thomas pulled out gently as Alex bit his lip, whining.

Alexander was a sight to behold as his eyes remained closed, his whole body twitching in pleasure.

God, for somebody he hated more than anyone else he knew… he was loving whatever the hell this was between them…

Chapter Text

Alexander panted for a few more seconds, laying on his back. In front of him, Thomas ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, slicking it away from his face and took a deep pleased breath, smiling a bit to himself in exhaustion.

After a few seconds, Alexander grunted as he stiffly propped himself up, leaning back on his hands and wincing at the discomfort. The man was gently laughing to himself as well.
He looked down at the ground, smiling and laughing through his nose then looked up at the taller man, “Well, shit.” He breathed.

There was a beat of silence, then all at once, out of nowhere, the two enemies burst out laughing. Alexander slapped the wooden table he was on with his palm as Thomas covered his face with his hand and wheezed. Maybe it was the flaccid dicks, maybe the pure absurdity of everything that had just happened, maybe a combination of both, but the two took an entire minute to come back down from their sudden ridiculous outburst.

“God,” Thomas swiped under his eyes quickly, “You look like a fucking stroodle”

Alex looked down at himself, he was indeed adorned festively with a generous amount of white substance, leaking out onto the table and decorating his belly. He gave Thomas the middle finger.
“You look like John Adams tried to run a mile.”
“Fuck off.”
“With pleasure.”

Alexander scooted into a sitting position stiffly as Thomas watched the struggle in amusement.
Alexander dished him another glare as he hopped down from the table and started to hobble out of the dining room door, limping back towards the entrance hall.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Thomas sighed at him.

“To the bathroom.” Alex called over his shoulder as he stepped unevenly out of sight.
“You don’t even know where the bathroom is!” Thomas called again and in a second there was a faint response from somewhere in the house.
“Found your room!”

Thomas shook his head incredulously and turned to the discarded clothes all over the dining room floor, fussing over the mess in his orderly house and folding them neatly into piles. After the few minutes it took for him to fold and arrange the clothes, he strode out of the dining room to try and find Alexander. It wasn’t difficult.

“Alexander!” Thomas called when he entered the threshold of his bedroom, “You slug, you left a fucking cum trail across the house.”
“I know.” Thomas heard the muffled voice from inside his bathroom, the door cracked open and Alex peeked his head out, smiling.
“Your problem now, guess who’s in charge of expenses?”
“You’re disgusting.”
Alexander stuck out his tongue childishly as he closed the door on Thomas, still talking faintly.
“I’ve got a quote for you, ‘spit in my hand’.”
“Oh go fuck yourself.” Thomas made his way across the floor.
“Can’t hear you, washing my junk!” Alex hollered as water splashed quietly behind the door.

“Barbarian…” Thomas mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled open the middle door of his dresser that contained his silk nightclothes. He selected a set for himself and a set for Alexander before pushing it closed with his knee and turning left to where his bed alcove was.

The Virginian set the clothes down on the scarlet satin covers and slipped into his set with ease, the silk flowing comfortably over his skin as he carefully climbed into bed. He laid on his back with his face calmly up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, peacefully waiting for the immigrant to finish up in the bathroom. He sighed.

Thomas’s room was simple and pleasant. Upon entering the bathroom door was to the left, the bed alcove was diagonal right on the far wall, and to the right there were the windows with the small lounge area and the dresser and wardrobe on the wall nearest the door. To the left of the bed alcove there was a beautiful door that led to his study.
The place was a spot of ease and comfort to Thomas with its familiarity and simplicity. Tonight the windows were cracked allowing the warm summer breeze to slightly drift in… The sweet scent of water lilies wafted in the air…

“Well! Thanks for the jolly good fucking but I best be on my way.”
Alexander burst noisily out of the bathroom, jolting Thomas rudely out of his lull.

“Jesus fucking Christ Alexander…” Thomas had bolted upright and clutched his heart in shock.

“Where’d you put my clothes?”
“In the dining room.” Thomas answered still catching his breath from the sudden surprise, blinking.
“Gee thanks for the convenience.” Alex rolled his eyes in dramatic exasperation and made way to the door, “See you tomorrow.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Thomas’s tone stopped the naked, but now clean, Alexander in his tracks. He pivoted on his heel to face him, impatient.
“Where the hell do YOU think I’m going? Home.” Alex stated obviously.
“No the fuck you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s really late.”
“Clouds can be grey sometimes.”
“What?”
“Oh, sorry I thought we were saying random shit that don’t matter.”

“Alexander.” Thomas called his name firmly as the man was just making a leave again. Alex turned around once again gritting his teeth in restless annoyance.

“You’re staying over tonight because that was the rule we agreed to and that’s. It. End of story. Now get your sorry-ass over here.”
Thomas commanded, sitting up in bed. Alexander fumed at his place in the threshold.
“Back up one fucking second, who said you get to decide the nights that I stay over?”
“Who said I didn’t get to decide?” Thomas raised a dark eyebrow smartly.

Alex’s face glowed as he stood, stuck in a checkmate. He resorted to his last method.
“This is so fucking unfair.” He grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Quite the lawyer you are.” Thomas snorted, tossing the set of nightclothes to the small immigrant who just narrowly caught them with a thud.

“Clothe yourself.”
Alexander’s scowl was semi-hidden behind the mass of satin piled in his arms as Thomas watched on in amusement.

“You’re kidding.” The immigrant gaped as he un-balled the shirt and pants. He held them up showing their length and blinked in astonishment.
“I can’t wear this shit, it’s tailored for the fucking statue on second and third street.” he guffawed, looking the garments up and down.
“Stop your bitching, they’re incredibly comfortable, you’d see if you’d stop whining like a child.”

“I’m not a child.” Alexander spat as he begrudgingly began to slip himself into the oversized clothing.
“You’re definitely a child.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“I’m older, beat you.”
“To what? Birth?”
“Yes.”
“Well congratulations on that.”

Their bickering came to a close just as Alexander had finished pulling the shirt and pants on and turned around again to face Thomas, his expression perfect saying, “You’re. Fucking. Kidding me.”
Thomas covered his grin with one hand but his eyes said everything that Alex needed to know about how he looked.

The shirt fell at least four inches below his knees, the sleeves completely surpassing his hands and continuing onwards. The pants pooled in folds of fabric on the floor at his feet.
“My, my, I’m afraid I’ve seen a ghost.” Thomas snorted, noting Alex’s resemblance of an evanescent spirit.

“Fuck you. This is why I don’t like you.”
“Get over here.”
“No. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Alexander.”
“Nope, look, heading down.”
Thomas smirked at the Treasurer. “Alexander you’re going to get fucking cold.”

Alexander stopped, turning his head and narrowed his eyes at the Virginian who had found the Caribbean man’s only weakness. The man was annoyingly clever and it made Alexander want to slap the smile off his arrogant face. To Alexander’s deepest resentment, the guy had a point and he had to make a choice of being miserable with cold or miserable with Jefferson.

“Fine but you’re going to regret this.” Alexander scowled and shuffled towards the bed, trying not to trip on the dragging clothing. Thomas raised his nose in the air in cocky triumph.
“What’re you going to do, kick me in your sleep?”
“Yeah right, ‘in my sleep’.” Alexander snorted with air quotes, “Thanks for the idea Jeffs.” he indelicately pulled back the crimson satin covers and swung his legs into the bed, huffing, as Thomas fluffed up his pillow.

“Don’t call me that.”
“What, Jeffs? Okay, Tom.”
“Alex-”
“TJ.”
“Alexander Hamilton I will close your motherfucking mouth for you.”
“Tommy Jeffs- mmph!”

Alexander’s relentless taunting was cut off abruptly as Thomas unexpectedly rolled on top of the small man and pressed his lips onto his.
Alexander’s eyes widened in shocked surprise as the taller man’s protective weight pressed down on him, elbows on either side of the baffled immigrant.

They melted together in a gentle battle of warm lips, Thomas lapping gently and carefully into Alexander’s semi-open mouth for several seconds. The connection was much different than what they had done before this. It was tender, peaceful...

 

After a few long seconds the realization of what they were doing crashed into Alexander like a wall.

His eyes snapped open in fury as he ripped away from Thomas’s lips in a haste, pushing the Virginian up with his palms.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Exactly what I said I’d do.” Thomas’s brown eyes hovered close above him.
“Not like that! Ugh I can hardly breathe,” Alex squirmed under Thomas’s heavier body, “get off me you whale.” The virginian rolled his eyes.
“Flattering.” he grunted as he rolled off to the side of Alex, laying on his back and sighing heavily.

“Get under the blankets, I want to go to sleep and you’re a human paperweight.”
“So urgent to get to bed, Alexander? As I recall you had one foot out the door two minutes ago.”
“Get under the covers.”

“Alexander.” Thomas warned in his drawl, blinking in lazy annoyance, yawning as if Alexander’s sudden change in mood was commonplace to him. “What exactly is your problem now?”
“I don’t have a ‘problem’. I don’t have any ‘problems’. You said it yourself, it’s late. I’m tired so I’m going to fucking sleep. Good fucking night.”
The immigrant fussily fluffed his pillow once and turned over with emphasis, his back to Thomas as he pulled as much of the blanket over him as possible and went still.

 

Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes in tired knowingness.
“You’re mad because I kissed you, aren’t you?”
There was a pause. Alexander turned his head and glowered over his shoulder. “What?” He spat at the Virginian.
“You’re angry with me because I kissed you.”

Alexander scoffed.“No the fuck I’m not. I’m angry because you won’t let me go to sleep.”
Thomas brushed off his response, “No, Alexander, you’re mad because you feel even the slightest touch of intimacy and you recoil like a tomcat from water.”

The Virginian had propped himself up on his forearm and was narrowing his eyes at the smaller man, analyzing his tendencies. “You’d rather run than have someone actually show you some tenderness.”

Alexander seethed and sharply turned back towards Thomas, fuming, their faces mere inches apart.
“You don’t know shit about me, rich boy.” Alex hissed through clenched teeth. Thomas’s gaze slightly twitched as he calmly observed the fire crackling in the Treasurer’s eyes. Alex licked his lips.

“The one very important detail that you’re forgetting, Mr. Secretary, is the one that’s been there since the beginning of all this shit. I don’t like you. Not in the fucking slightest. In fact, I fucking hate you. And nobody, especially not you, can change that. So pardon me if I don’t jump for joy when my rival swoons over the kiss he just gave me.”

The two stared at each other for a moment of electric tension, Alexander’s burning eyes gouging into Thomas’s infuriatingly calm ones. Seconds passed as their hearts beat rapid symphonies.

Alexander broke the spell by turning angrily from Thomas once again and flopping himself down irritably in the covers, head on his pillow, back turned on the other man.

“We’ll see about that....” Thomas mumbled so that only he could hear his words, grinning cooly and finally slipping under the covers.
He blew out the candle on the small alcove shelf and shuffled himself around in the sheets until he was comfortably facing the back of Alexander, staring at the small man. The rustling linens stopped as he fully settled.

The Secretary of State gazed the immigrant, his eyes strolled lazily atop his long brown hair spilling onto the pillow in the moonlight. Why had he kissed him? Thomas gazed back at the ceiling. He knew that this whole situation would be a lot easier if he hadn’t, so there must have been a reason for him doing it. He waited in silence.

In the back of his head a little idea… a little voice sparked weakly for a split second before Thomas pinched it out. No, it wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t let it be possible. Thomas shook the little spark from his mind and distracted himself with other thoughts. But nevertheless… It had been there.

 

Thirty minutes had passed in total silence between the men, the moonlight patch slowly began its crawl across the floor.

The tension had slipped away into the night and Thomas had already begun to drift under the warmth and the scent of water lilies. Getting farther and farther away from reality, Thomas let himself go to where his dreaming would take him, the weightless feeling already setting deep into his bones…

“Thomas…” A small voice whispered. It sounded reluctant and even a little guilty. He continued floating, curious.

“Thomas.” The voice stated, firmer now. He jolted a bit, realizing the voice was coming from the lump next to him.
“Wha-” Thomas croaked, blinking his eyes open. He couldn’t see a damn thing, so he leaned groggily over and fumbled precariously with the matches until he had sparked and lit the shelf candle.
He turned back to the lump that was Alexander, propping himself on his forearms.

“What.” He gestured impatiently with his hands.

His eyes finally focused on Alexander. The small man was facing him in bed now, and he looked embarrassed and irritated with himself. He sighed and got right to the point.
“I’m… really cold.”

Three simple words and something in Thomas’s chest shifted a little bit.

“You’re cold?”
“Yeah.” Alex sighed in defeat. There was a beat of silence.

Thomas opened his arms, holding the blanket space between them open for Alex to move.
“Come here.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Thomas wasn’t going to repeat it twice.

For once Alexander didn’t complain or protest, didn’t whine or retort. The small man simply shifted over to Thomas’s side of the bed and gave in to Thomas’s embrace.

It was so much warmer for him there, he felt his freezing skin immediately begin to absorb the heat radiating from Thomas’s body.

Alexander’s forehead rested pressed against Thomas’s chest, the tall man curled protectively around him. Thomas’s arms were around his waist while Alex’s were curled against the Virginian’s belly. Their legs intertwined under the sheets as Thomas rested his head gently on top of the smaller man’s.
They breathed deeply in the silence that followed the comforting embrace.

The summer breeze wafted in through the window.

The patch of moonlight crawled calmly across the floor.

And that is how the two enemies fell asleep…

Chapter Text

A warm light from behind his eyelids and the aroma of cooking food ever so gently nudged Alexander Hamilton out of sleep. He took a deep whiff of the scent and fluttered open his eyes, blinking against the light until they focused on the surrounding room. The windows were open leaving the young treasurer fairly chilly, but it cast a pleasant morning light on the room’s contents, the sitting area and ornate dresser.

Alex took a good moment to let his memory catch up to him, squinting down at the scarlet sheets of the expensive bed. Everything slowly washed back to him, the argument, the way the two had fallen asleep together. What did it mean?
If anything, Alex was not used to being in the dark about something, and the whole situation was making his emotions spin like wagon wheels. It was uncontrolled and thrilling and agitating at the same time.

The treasurer pulled back the blankets and swung his feet out of bed, long pants spilling around his feet on the wooden floor as he padded to the bathroom, pulling his hair into a ponytail has he went.

When he had tied back his hair and looked up to mirror, he gasped.

“Oh… shit...”

If he had thought his neck was bad the other day, it looked like a war zone now. He half expected to see trenches. There were bite marks sprinkled throughout the dark bruises and one significantly larger bite mark where Thomas liked to take Alex’s entire throat and clamp on it.

Alexander was all for that move, it was one of his biggest turn-ons, but god, did it look like a disaster. He gingerly touched it and exposed his skin to the light.

The strangest part was that he wasn’t disgusted by any of this at all. A little thrill shot through his gut. He felt like he had been marked, owned, like he belonged to Thomas and Thomas was displaying it. The possession excited him more than he would have thought. He nodded to his reflection, puzzled.

Still wearing Thomas’s clothes, he exited the bathroom and carefully meandered through the house, following the pleasant smell of breakfast and half frightened that he would run into some unsuspecting maid.
However, he encountered nobody as he finally stepped into the threshold of a startlingly bright room, blinking at the contrast from the rest of the house.

The parlor was astoundingly lavish, sizeable windows lined the round room, casting their light up into the domed ceiling. Thomas’s art collection decorated most of the blank space on the walls, and the floor was dominated by tables, plush chairs, and a gaping marble fireplace.

This is where Alex pinpointed the enticing aroma’s origin. And whom was the creator.
He clucked his tongue mockingly, announcing his presence, “Thomas Jefferson. Once again proves himself to be quite the cook.”

Thomas turned around at the sound of Alexander’s voice and smiled in mock surprise.
“Ah, so the sleeping maiden finally awakens. And God does she look beautiful.”

Alex sauntered towards Thomas, batting his eyelashes and running a hand over his obnoxiously untidy hair. “Beautiful, indeed. But enormously damn hungry. I haven’t eaten in years.”
“We ate nine hours ago.”
“Point proven.”

“Well,” Thomas turned back to the fire to poke at the items in the pan with a wooden spatula, “since you so subtly hinted, I’m making omelets and bacon for your ungrateful ass.”
The food sizzled deliciously at the touch and Alexander’s mouth watered. He swallowed.

“Any specific reason why you’re cooking in the living room?”
Thomas didn’t face back towards him to answer, “I thought you’d prefer to not walk outside and eat on the dirt floor but please correct me if I’m wrong.”
Alex threw his hands up in innocence, “Parlor is fine.”
“That’s what I thought.”

Alex sidled closer to the fire and wedged next to the taller man, peeking in the pan that was suspended above the crackling fire. The omelets and thick cut bacon looked delicious and, thankfully, almost done. The heat from the fire buffeted against his face.

Thomas scooped the food with the spatula onto two waiting plates on a stand beside the fire and handed one to Alexander without looking at him. He took the other one for himself, turned, and stepped to the other side of the room to sit at a tea table. Alex watched him as he pulled out a chair and sat down to eat.

“Uh, wanna eat by the fire? It’s warmer.”
“Go ahead.” Thomas spoke offhandedly, looking down at his food and beginning to eat.

“That was an invitation, you know.”
“I do.” Thomas responded dryly, setting down his fork for a water glass and drinking sophisticatedly.
Alex nodded “Oh okay, well I’ll just go fuck myself then.” he scoffed in annoyance and made his way to sit cross-legged on the floor, placing the plate on his lap.

Thomas sighed and set the water down exasperatedly, turning his head to Alexander for once, bemused. “Alexander, cut the bullshit. You’re the one that wants nothing to do with me unless I’m fucking you senseless. So what do you want?”

Alex was shocked by the sudden honesty. He was shocked even more that for once in his life he didn’t have ample answer to the question at hand. He sputtered and looked down at his lap.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird if you make me food and then don’t sit with me.”
“So do you want me to come sit with you?”

Alexander met Thomas’s eyes with some self-unexpected hope. There was a pause before Alex helplessly cracked a smile.
“Yeah, get your raggedy-ass over here.”
“Watch that attitude, Hamilton, or I’ll beat it out.”
“Is that a promise?”

Alex laughed as Thomas strolled over and sat down “accidentally” kicking Alex in the shins.
They ate the rest of their meal together, bickering and taunting, filling up every bit of silence with their effortless conversation.

The sight of the two of them was the most unlikely scene anyone could conceive. Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, political enemies, rich men, wearing each other’s clothes and sitting on the floor together, laughing and picking arguments like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t seem possible, and yet.

Thomas stood with a sigh and extended down a hand for Alex’s plate, who complied.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Alex mocked. “Shine my shoes when you get back, will ya.”

Thomas scowled as the shorter man stood and made the mistake of turning his back to him to pick up his water glass. Thomas dished him a crisp slap on his sculpted ass.
Alexander recoiled as if he had been burned and yelped, whirling back around.

“Wow, I knew you were a sensitive little bitch but that’s a new record for you.” Thomas snorted.
Alex grimaced “No, you fuck, my ass… Christ.” he winced as he glided a hand over his ass.

Realization dawned on Thomas’s face as he remembered what he had done to the young man the night before.

“It can’t be that bad, I was so easy on you.”
“Tell that to my ass!” Alex snarled
“Well what does it look like?”
“I don’t know, haven’t checked.”
“Drop your pants.”
“Classy.”
“Come here.”

Alexander scowled, turned away from Thomas and lifted the long shirt up so it was at his waist. The Virginian stepped closer and slipped his fingers in the waistline of the pants and pulled down carelessly, the fabric rubbing on Alex’s ass.

He gasped, “Careful! What’re you trying to do, dickhead, flay me?” he spat.
“I won’t hesitate to slap it again, watch that mouth of yours.”

Alexander whimpered as Thomas inched his pants down to his thighs and stopped. He heard Thomas quietly whisper,
“Fuck…”

“What? What’s it look like?” Thomas didn’t respond immediately and Alex turned his head over his shoulder, agitated.
“Are you fucking deaf?”

Alex trailed off as he saw Thomas’s face, his dark eyes hungry as they scanned the landscape of Alexander’s skin. He looked down to check the damage himself. He was pleasantly shocked; there were raised welts along both cheeks, pink and purple streaks marking where the belt had punished him. None were bleeding, but they were all sufficiently harsh and lasting strikes, proving the expert hand that had made them.

Alex swallowed and looked back at Thomas. His eyes widened when he saw...

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Are you getting hard from this?” he scoffed.
Thomas looked up darkly.

Alexander hardly finished his words before he was swept to the wall by the fireplace and had his front pressed to it. Alex protested loudly and squirmed at the uncomfortable sensation of his cock against the cold surface.

Thomas ignored his whining and leaned his lips in close to the shorter man’s ear, breathing a bit faster than normal.
“Don’t you dare shame me, bitch. Who do you think you are?” he whispered dangerously.

Alex squirmed. “You’re sick. You disgusting sick fuck. You like it when you hurt me.”
The Virginian responded by menacingly pressing his bulge into Alexander’s ass, winning him a guttural moan as he took two fingers and dragged them over his left cheek, just hard enough to be painful. Alex squealed.

“Oh, I love seeing you squirm in pain. Hearing you whimper and cry.” He bit Alex’s ear, “But oh, do you love it when I hurt you. You know you love it, you filthy little slut. Tell daddy how much you love it.”
Thomas growled deeply as he bit where the shoulder meets the neck, Alexander exposed it to him, moaning.

“I…”

At that exact moment three loud knocks rang clearly through the house.

The two men jolted and sprang away from each other, knocking over Alex’s water glass, which shattered to the floor chaotically.

“Shit!” Thomas hopped as it hit the floor, trying to avoid the shards with his bare feet. Alexander frantically pulled his pants back up with considerable pain and looked up at Thomas wildly.

“Who’s at the door?!” he exclaimed, unmasked panic in his eyes.
“I- I don’t know, I dismissed the servants, I don’t know who possibly-” He stopped abruptly, heart plummeting coldly into his stomach.

“What? What, Thomas, say something.”

Thomas ran his fingers disastrously through his hair, time going in slow motion as he breathed a devastated, “Shit….”
He cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, looking down at the floor.
“It’s James.”

“What?”
“James Madison. We share a carriage to work.”

Alexander froze, gaping, baffled, at Thomas Jefferson.
“You’d better tell me this is some sick joke right now, Thomas-” Alexander stepped towards him in shocked fury.

“Calm the fuck down, I need to find a place for you to hide.” Alexander grabbed him by the shirt and bunched up the fabric, looking up into Thomas’s panicked eyes.
“Hide? Hide? This is fucking great. Perfect! James fucking Madison finds Alexander Hamilton having an affair with Thomas Jefferson; this is perfect. I’m dead, we’re both dead! Shoot, me Thomas, do it quickly-”
“Would you shut UP!” Thomas barked at the incoherent ranting.

“You can’t go upstairs, he’ll see you from the door. Go to the dining room and STAY there.”
“What? This is hopeless.” But Thomas was already shoving Alexander towards the dining room door.

“Don’t make a single sound or I’ll have you ass, Hamilton.”
“You know what, fuck you. This is ridiculous.”
Thomas shoved him into the dining room and slapped him across the mouth brutally. Alex clenched his teeth and snarled viciously in pain and ferocity.

“Not a. Fucking. Sound.” and the dominant man slammed the door closed on Alex’s face.

Alex let out a yell of frustration and punched the back of the door briskly for good measure. Un-fucking-believable. The man was outrageous, his astounding asshole-ery baffled Alexander to no end, and it infuriated him.

He turned to face the empty dining room and put his hands on his head, exhaling stressfully and squeezing his eyes shut. How did he get himself into this situation again?

He walked around the edge of the long wooden table and spotted a folded square of clothing. Eyes lighting up, he remembered that Thomas had left his clothes here last night after they had had sex. Alex blushed as the thought surprised him, jumping into his head uninvited. “Thomas Jefferson fucked me on this very table…” the immigrant thought as lifted the clothing, ruining its impossibly neat creases and clambering into it messily. He left Thomas’s nightclothes in a crumpled pile on the floor, not bothering to pick it up.

There was a sharp noise from the other side of the door, causing Alex to whip his head around in alertness. After a moment of consideration, he crept carefully to the door, pressing his cheek against the cold, sleek wood, straining for any sound.

It came louder and closer than expected. Alexander tried not to jolt.

“Honestly, James, you’ve seen this room a thousand times.”
“Quite aware, but you know that I love the architecture, it never gets old.”
“To you.”
“Indeed.”

Their footsteps clunked deeper into the center of the room, passing Alexander as he held his breath, heart thudding audibly in his chest.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t ’ve talked in the library. Or hey, maybe actually go to work.”
“So impatient.” James Madison’s footsteps wandered a few steps around the room, “One might mistake you for Alexander Hamilton these days.”

There was a tangible tension in the air for a few moments before Alex heard Thomas force out a strained laugh.
Alex realized he was holding his breath and let it go slowly.

James cleared his voice and talked again, “Speaking of the devil,” Alexander’s heart leaped into his throat once more, “I think we need to go in a new direction in our digging and I’ve found a different approach to the whole affair-”
“James let’s talk about this later, now’s not a good time.”

Thomas’s voice was rigidly cold with a waver of panic that only the man on the other side of the door could detect. Alexander was completely perplexed as to what they were talking about. He furrowed his brows suspiciously and pressed closer to the door; he knew it had to be him. What was this?

“Thomas, this could be our lead in this ordeal, we’ve got to-”

“You know, I really think we should drop the whole thing.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. Maybe we should consider laying off.”

There were two clunks on the wood that undoubtedly meant James had turned to face Thomas again.
“What’s gotten into you today, Tom?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what-”
“YOU are the one dragging me into the Treasury department every night for the past week, staying up til ungodly hours, making me miss my dinner and my wife just so that you can find evidence on that bastard. Not me, Thomas, YOU.”

Alexander’s heart stopped. His breath hitched in his throat.

“James, really, I-”
“You want to put that man out of office? Well, I finally have a new approach and NOW you want to give up?” James snorted loftily, “Could’ve done that before all the late nights, save the both of us some trouble.”

Alexander didn’t hear the rest of what the two men were saying. He couldn’t hear any of it. All that was audible to him was the rushing of his pulse in his ears as his blood surged in rage.

The small immigrant turned away from the door slowly, absorbing the information as the shocked denial boiled gradually into livid madness.
Screwing up his face and breathing through a clenched jaw, he strode past the dining room table, snatching his coat off the chair as he whirled by.

The small man shouldered the garment over his arms aggressively and, blood pumping madly, seized the knob of a small door in the room that led outside towards the kitchens.
He yanked the door open and stormed out, striding along the dirt path with crunching footsteps.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.
But what infuriated him the most is that he did.

 

“Look, I can see why you’re agitated with me but can we seriously talk about this at work?”
James crossed his arms and looked at Thomas like he was a sporadic teenage boy.

He sighed, “I suppose so. You have explaining to do.”

“I know and I shall follow through when we arrive.” Thomas shifted and breathed impatiently, straining to maintain his usual composure. “Can you just wait in the carriage while I... put out the fire in the dining room? I'll be there in a moment.”

Madison regarded Thomas for another painfully long second before shrugging like it was no matter to him.
“I’ll be waiting.” James turned and began stepping towards the entrance hall, not casting Thomas a glance over his shoulder.

The Secretary of state restrained himself until the last agonizing second that Madison was in sight before leaping to the dining room door and grappling at the handle. He pulled the entrance open with a buffeting of air to his face.

The Virginian looked around wildly, stepping into the room in disbelief. Alexander was nowhere to be seen. Neither were his clothes. All that remained were Thomas’s nightclothes and…

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The slight draft in the room was justified by the sight before Thomas Jefferson: the servant door standing ajar with the outside path visible, dew glinting in the morning sunlight. He paused.

“That little bastard.” Thomas whispered, hand gently on the servant door, looking out. He caught a glimpse of green coattails rounding behind the kitchen building, and sighed in exasperated dread.

He definitely had an explanation to deliver to Alexander, and he was going to deliver it whether he wanted it or not. Knowing the man, the answer would be the latter, but Thomas would force the stubborn prick to listen no matter what that entailed. It would not be pretty, the Virginian knew that.

With a deep breath and an application of his stern, controlled expression despite his temper, the Secretary of State strode out into the morning dew…

Chapter Text

The dirt crunching underfoot was amplified in the morning silence as Thomas paced out of the house and towards the kitchen building. The path wrapped around the other side and then continued to the vegetable garden, but not back towards the road. There was no way Alexander could get very far with the path he was on, and definitely not since Thomas was after him.

He straightened his coat collar and hopped into a steady jog, rounding behind the wooden kitchen building and spotting Alex's green coat on the path ten feet in front of him.
He sighed a deep breath and forced his voice into composure.

“Alexander Hamilton, where the hell do you think you're going?”

Alex whirled around in a flurry of fabric and planted his feet threateningly into the ground.
The two met eyes in a silent standoff, tension tangible in the air.

“Where am I going?” He snarled, “Where are you going, Jefferson,” he spat his name coldly, “To the Treasury Department, yeah?”

He took one slow step towards the guilty party, eyes tracking the taller man's dark ones.
“Have a little tea party with Jamesy and do some light hearted DIGGING in my fucking spending records!” Alexander's voice grew to a yell as he finished his thought.

Thomas barely had a second to comprehend what was going on before the smaller man had lunged at him, going for his face with his nails! He scratched and grappled at Thomas's face, fighting dirty as they collided with a ringing smack.

Shocked, Thomas only hesitated for a moment, flailing for Alexander's wrists before easily flinging the shorter man off.
Alexander grunted and stumbled backwards over his momentum, crashing to the dirt ground with a sickening smack.

Thomas panted, “Stay down, Alexander. I will explain this to you if you stop wrestling me like a pathetic child-”
His voice cracked abruptly with a roaring bark as Alex shot up from the ground and brought his fist to punch unsuspecting man's jaw with a nauseating crack.

Thomas saw sparks as he took two steps back, hand on his face where he had been struck and blinking in pure shock.

The raging immigrant seethed. “Explain?!” He spat, “I don't want your patronization, bastard.” He took two steps towards Thomas and seized his collar,
“You're a disgrace. You're pathetic. You think I'm embezzling government funds? Is that what you think? Well you can keep fucking digging, Jefferson. Keep fucking digging and you won't find shit because I'm good for the money.”

He roughly let go of Thomas's collar and stepped back, arms opened in honest confession, panting. He screwed up his face.
“And while you're at it, stay the fuck away from me.”

Thomas growled and took two strides forward, “You don't know what you're talking about, boy. I started this endeavor before any of this shit.”

Alexander scoffed disgustedly at Thomas livid fury blazing in his eyes, “Well you can kiss this shit goodbye, because. I'm. Done.”

Thomas's heart dropped into his stomach.
Alexander looked up at him darkly, “I hope you go to hell, Mr. Secretary.” He growled soft and slowly.

There was an electric pause. Thomas clenched his jaw, seething through his gritting teeth.
Alexander's eyes didn't stray for a moment as he screwed up his mouth and spat onto Thomas Jefferson's polished shoes, shooting him one last scorching glance before twisting away from him, moving to distance himself as much as possible from his enemy.

Thomas froze in paralyzed shock, slowly looking down at his shoe. Alexander's mark of disrespect tarnished the expensive leather, the insult so clear in front of him.
The sight ignited something in him that he had only felt flares of before. This... PEASANT, this mangy tomcat of a politician had dared to offend a Jefferson: one of such high name. Thomas's honor would not be disparaged, not on his watch. Not by this rat. He clenched his fists.

Alexander had only taken a few fuming steps before he felt an explosion from behind him. The side wall of the kitchen reverberated as Thomas slammed the small man into it, composure long vanished as he tried to pin the man to the wood but lost his footing.

Still clenching tight to Alexander, the two men crashed down heavily to the ground, thudding in the dirt as the immigrant landed on top of him.

Screams of rage and primitive snarls rang in the morning air; the two aggressors wrestled and rolled, each one trying to get the advantage as they clawed and scratched at whatever they could reach. Alexander landed a couple quick hits on Thomas's belly but left himself exposed on top of Thomas, who quickly seized the opportunity.

He drove an uppercut right into Alex's throat; the livid man recoiled, sputtering and coughing violently. Thomas reached up and clutched Alex's neck with both hands, straining, and flipped Alexander onto his back with a grunt.

Still coughing, Alexander squirmed uselessly underneath the larger man who shifted up to pin Alex's arms with his knees. Two hands clenched on his throat, the trapped man growled, spit foaming at the corners of his mouth as he scowled up at Thomas.

The dominant man panted heavily, he could feel Alex's body heaving between his legs as well.
“I can't fucking believe you, Hamilton. You're a pitiful excuse of a man.”
Alex tried to throw Thomas off but the taller man had him under complete control. He tightened his grip on the immigrant's throat, who coughed from the pressure.

“I'm not going to fight with your miserable ass all day; I'm too busy for your bullshit, Alexander. I'm only going to say this once so you'd better listen up now, worthless bitch.”
Alexander could manage nothing but a seething glare that sliced into Thomas like steel.

“Madison and I initiated this whole enterprise long before this goddamn mess started.”
Thomas looked down to make sure that the stubborn brat was paying attention to his explanation.
“What you don’t know is that I had already planned to call off the whole endeavor this very day. But you don’t give a fuck about asking questions before you jump to ludicrous conclusions and punch me in the goddamn face.”

“I didn’t jump to any conclusions, BASTARD.” Alexander spat out through his strained windpipe, “I heard just what I needed to hear to know that you broke the rule that your pathetic ass made in the first place.” He wheezed.

Thomas paused and blinked, caught off guard. Unknowingly, he loosened the grip on his throat slightly. Hamilton was bound to do this; the clever man was bound to find a perfect way to justify his cause and expose the Secretary of State, turn the issue upside down and whip it back around at the Virginian. His intelligence only infuriated Thomas by another degree.

“What?” Thomas sputtered, dreadfully noting that he had hesitated too long. Alexander picked this up in a heartbeat.

“Don’t play dumb, you useless sack of shit. You KNOW you broke your own goddamn rule, your “no bullshit” one, so I have the authority to call this entire shitshow off. Would you get OFF me-”

“Shut up and don’t fucking use that tone with me, whore. I’m making a new rule.”
Alexander scoffed up at him incredulously.
“You can’t just-”
“I can do whatever I please, Mr. Secretary.” Thomas leaned in closer to the man’s panting face, taking a moment to look deep into his deep brown eyes he had become particularly familiar with.

“This affair shall allow for only one instance of the participants breaking a rule. Only one. Now that it’s been done, we can continue without dwelling on this little fuck up. And!” Thomas continued, cutting off Alexander’s complaints of protest, “If either of us steps out of line again…”

His steely gaze darted from Alexander’s eyes to his lips for a split second. The pinned man licked them reflexively.
“Then this whole scandal is over. Finished. Consigned to oblivion…”

The two men’s eyes trained on each other as Thomas purred enticingly, menacingly sliding down on Alexander’s body. He dragging himself on the helpless man so that his pelvis was sitting on Alexander’s hips heavily.
The dominant man smirked as Alexander slowly sat up, drawn thirstily to Thomas’s alluring seductions and staring nakedly at his lips, rising hungrily. Thomas smiled smugly as he watched his spell entrance the hostile little man, just like he knew it would.

“Now how does that sound…?” he purred pleasantly, drawing closer to Alexander’s face, their bodies just barely touching.

“I hate you…” Alexander growled lowly. His heart fluttered in anticipation.
Several beats of agonizing silence dragged on, Thomas would not be the slut to make the first move. He was much too noble for that. He knew Alex wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Unable to take it for another second, the impatient man gave in and attacked the handler’s lips, devouring him hotly as fast as his body could allow.

Thomas surged in reciprocation, mouth wide open dirtily to ravage the smaller man’s tongue, raking his tongue over Alexander’s as far back as he could reach and then dragging it roughly back along the roof of his mouth. This earned him a deep, muffled moan from the immigrant.

Alex suddenly needed more, much more; he rustled his hands under Thomas’s coat, trying to find a way in, and glided his palms up the smooth skin on his belly, sighing.
The Virginian dipped his head to bite Alexander’s slightly exposed collarbone.

He whimpered, “Oh… please fuck me, sir. I’ll be good, I promise.” right into Thomas’s ear.
Thomas held still, biting down on the desperate man’s collarbone and whispered, “You want daddy to fuck you, right here on the filthy ground?”, shaming Alexander’s dirty desires. Alex didn’t care, he was so ready…

“You disgust me.”
The small man only whimpered and weakly grinded into Thomas in response to the slut-shaming. It was getting him off too much too quickly, and damned Thomas Jefferson was so arrogantly aware of this.

He laughed cruelly and pulled away from Alexander, who looked up at him apprehensively, expectantly.
Thomas smiled down at him, condescending him sweetly with his tone, “I know you would do anything to get me to fuck you here and now on the floor like the submissive whore you are,”

He stood up from Alexander’s lap, winning him a shocked look and brushed himself off loftily, nose in the air.
“But you don’t deserve it.” Mischief twinkled in Thomas’s cruel eyes.

Alexander huffed in needy frustration. “I hate you. I fucking hate you”
“Mmm.” Thomas nodded mockingly down at the immigrant. “And that is why you’re begging for my cock, filthy bitch?”

Thomas straightened his coat and pulled his cuffs into place daintily. “Check that tone with me or I’ll check it for you.” He turned and began to saunter back towards the house, towards the place where James Madison was undoubtedly waiting impatiently.

“And Alexander?” Thomas stopped and looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow naughtily, “If you think you won’t be punished for this behavior… Think again.”

He turned airily away and strolled back around the kitchen building, smirking mercilessly the entire time…

Chapter Text

James Madison impatiently drummed his fingers on his knee and leaned forward to glance out the window of the carriage once again. Eyes scanning for movement at the front door, he detected nothing.

The exhausted man leaned back in the seat in a moment of consideration before disgruntledly sitting back up to pull open the door. With a huff, he stepped out onto the dirt
path.

Sighing in the morning air, he straightened his cuffs and glanced around.
The morning was crips for June, only a few early birds were twittering in the rustling trees, the sky a cool eggshell blue.

The Representative nodded with a word of explanation to his driver to wait, and made his way tiredly towards the house once more, formal shoes crunching on the gravelly ground as he went.

Several strikes of the knocker earned him no response from his haughty friend, and James, growing annoyed with his unusual unpunctuality, pushed the door open himself. Shaking his head and sighing in irritation at the Secretary of State’s inconsiderate behavior, he strode into the house’s entry hall, the warm air inside buffeted his face.

He was enveloped with the silence of the house, the rustling of the trees left behind.

“Thomas!” He called half-heartedly, not pausing for an answer as he walked right through the gleaming parlor and portrait collection.
He pushed through the heavy dining room door, head still down.

“Thomas, I have waited for-” he began.
But as he raised his head on entry and glanced around the delicate room, it was unmistakable that something was amiss.
The blonde man furrowed his brows, perplexed.
His shoes clunked on the wood as he took another slow step into the space. One glance at the marble-mantled hearth told him that there had, in fact, never been a fire burning in its belly since at least three days ago.

Squatting in front of it with a grunt, he observed with a careful, calculative eye. Old ashes crumbled within the barren heart of the fireplace, dry and vacant from days of dormancy.
“Interesting…”
He noted, pulling himself up from the squat with a huff.

Thomas had, without question, lied to him about his whereabouts. This was beyond unusual for him, it baffled James. The man was on-time and eloquent, he wasn’t this flaky and scattered Thomas that James had been witnessing this morning. He shook his head, not quite believing this behavior.

Suddenly, a cool ribbon of air kissed his face and shook him back to the moment. He took a short whiff, crisp scents of grass and dew were weaved within the draft, subconsciously pulling James’s attention towards its origin.
Scanning the objects of the room, he pinpointed the plain, undecorated servant door on the left side. Clearing his throat slightly he skirted the long table towards it, somehow feeling like he was trespassing guiltily on another man’s estate.

Shrugging aside his discomfort, he approached the door and stopped in front of it, running his fingers down its side until they found the opening where it was undoubtedly left ajar. Guiltily, like an intruder, he pulled it open just enough for his head to peek out.

His earls were encircled with the morning sounds once again, the breeze, the disant twittering, and…

“Know…. Bullshit… OFF me.”

James almost recoiled at the unexpected sound. Voices? Were there voices? Surely not probable.
He strained his ears for the supposed speaking of the person outside.

A couple more words and his heart leaped suspiciously when he realized that the articulation was most definitely not Thomas Jefferson. Not at all. The voice was higher pitched with no accent thickening the words like they were dripping in saturated honey. He shifted, somehow the itching discomfort of guilt heightened as he continued to listen.

“... can’t just-”
“I… whatever I please… Mr. Secretary.”

There was Thomas Jefferson; his familiar low register voice carried less sharply than the first man and drawled like saccharine molasses. But... "Mr. Secretary" ? James Madison’s heart began to quicken its pace, eager to hear more; he pressed further outside. Mr. Secretary… It couldn’t be. There was no chance. Was there?

“Affair… without dwelling… scandal is over.”
“I hate you.”

The Representative’s head swirled with confusion, his thoughts screaming for more answers, pleading for him to get closer to the conversation between his fellow politician and… another man. He forced them to cease their distracting banter and strained further to hear.

The voices trailed off gradually and discontinued into a combination of muffled clips of panting and wet sounds. James held his breath. A whimper rang through the morning silence.

“Fuck you right here… ground?” The lower voice growled softly, barely audible to James’s ear.

But he had heard enough; the inexplicable guilt rising steadily in his chest had bubbled into his throat like boiling water; he couldn’t listen to any more, he wouldn’t.

His head retreated, as if burned, back into the house and he clicked the door shut as quickly and quietly as possible. Eyes wide in shock, breath short and clipped.

Alone in the dining room, he stood impossibly still in the carpeted silence of indoors. The silence seemed deafening after what he had just heard on the other side of that little door. Moments passed as he processed in the quiet, still house.

Turning away from it and stiffly making his way elegantly through the halls and out the door, his storming mind did not match his proper facade that he had painted on.
He was absolutely, cluelessly baffled as to what he had just witnessed.
Trying to put together the whole scene was impossible, but James was a calculative man, he reminded himself. He knew the facts.

Thomas Jefferson was with someone outside the house that morning. A man.

Thomas Jefferson was doing very... familiar things with the person he was talking to. A man.

 

And James Madison was not going to say anything about it. Nothing. Not a word.
Because for him, it was out of the question. Unthinkable. Inconceivable to say something, to Thomas, to anyone.

 

He knew that Thomas Jefferson was involving himself in something mysterious and unsung, sinister.

And he knew that he himself was hiding a dangerous secret as well…

Chapter Text

“Coming!”
Alexander thudded down the stairs, buttoning the last two clasps of his coat hurriedly and craning for a view out of the windows onto the porch. He had been expecting a letter from Washington all morning and it had been awfully belated for his taste.

“Ah, thank you.”
Alexander sighed as he held open the door and extended his hand for the letter, presidential seal adorning the lip patriotically.
He extracted it in an entitled manner and began to back into the house when the young, scruffy messenger coughed slightly. Alexander looked back at him questioningly for a moment, then rolled his eyes.

“Well, if you’re so satisfied with your work, bud.” Alex reached into his pocket and flicked him a coin smoothly. It glinted in the sunlight for a moment before the messenger caught it with one hand, slightly caught off guard.

Young Alex, amused with the boy, laughed through his nose and closed the door, turning back into the house. His attention shifted to the document in his hand.

The sound of crackling paper followed Alexander to his office as his eyes scanned the letter the entire time, slowly strolling as he read and meandered towards his workspace.
By the time he had made his way there he knew he still didn’t have the slightest clue what the topic of the Cabinet meeting in two days would be, all thanks to the entire first page being one long scolding from the President.

Alexander couldn’t help but grin at the ridiculous length of it.
Rounding his desk, eyes still on the paper he stopped to read further, trying not to snicker at the contents. Alexander was used to their letters beginning with this sort of lecture, having always been a buck-wild kid who never knew when to quit talking. So nowadays he just saw these sections as comedic relief to kick off the serious matters.

Finishing the page’s last, “I am disappointed but not surprised, Secretary Hamilton,” Alexander lowered into his chair, scooting it close to the desk and extracting a quill. Placing an ink bottle next to new parchment perfectionistically, the young Treasurer hovered his quill eagerly over the sheet, reading through the assignment for his Cabinet argument.

Of course.
He was not surprised by the topic, it was to be expected for, most likely, the entire rest of the summer.

His very own financial plan for the nation would be the matter of discussion in two days. It didn’t take a genius like Alexander to figure out what that meant; it would be Hamilton versus Jefferson in full blown debate the entire day. The Cabinet would be spectators as the Secretaries played Capulet and Montague.

“Perfect.” Alexander sighed, dipping his quill in ink. “Fucking Jefferson…” He trailed off as he began writing meticulously.

His words started in a trickle but rapidly rushed into a flood in less than minutes as his ideas sculpted full fledged arguments.
There was nothing to hear but the furious scratching of quill on parchment in the Hamilton household. A frequent sound that meant the immigrant was doing what he did best; doing what he did the most.

An hour, three parchment sheets, and an ink bottle later, Alexander was still writing restlessly when a rough, informal knocking rang through the house. Alex stopped for no more than three seconds to consider irritatedly before returning himself back to the paper to continue his idea. Whoever was at the door could fuck themselves or come back later if it was so important. He was busy and it was a workday.

The knock sounded again, louder and more persistent this time. Alex’s eyes shot up from the paper in immediate annoyance; could anyone be more of an inconvenience around here?
“Fuck off!” Alexander called loud enough so that it could be heard through the walls of the house.

The response was a knocking even louder and faster, much too insufferable to ignore this time.
Alexander groaned dramatically, frustrated, and rolled his head back in inconvenienced aggravation.
“Shut the hell up, I’m coming!” He hollered, smacking the quill down onto the desk and yanking his chair back, grumbling incessantly. Bastard.

He stormed around the corner to the doorway, not bothering to primp himself up, and flung it open.
A familiar figure stood in front of ruffled Alexander with their, short, scruffy stature and signature long brown ponytail.

“John?” Alex sputtered crossly.
“No, the King of England.”

Alex was always glad to see his closest friend, but he was in no place to entertain, certainly not today.

“John, as my best friend you’ll understand I mean this in the kindest way. Piss off, would you?”
“Glad to see you too.” John snorted and brushed aside Alex’s demand as he pushed by the smaller man into the threshold of the house.

“Come right on in.” Alexander stepped aside exaggeratedly. John strolled to the stair banister and turned curtly to Alex as he clicked the door shut, leaving the two in silence for a few moments. They looked at each other, then the walls. Alexander coughed.

The impatient man broke the silence, “any particular reason for this lovely visit or just making your rounds?”

John laughed lightly through his nose and nodded down at Alex from his place by the stairs. He sighed and shifted.
“For real, man, do you want me to be straight-up?”
“More than anything.” Alexander replied.

John looked down at the floor and coughed awkwardly. His eyes rejoined with Alexander’s as he straightened his cravat and spoke.

“I want to know what’s up with you, Alexander.”

Alex’s heart swooped into his stomach with icy dread.
“What?” He feigned cluelessness.

“Alex I’ve known you for too long to tell when you’re playing dumb. You’re terrible at it.”
“Frankly, I take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t distract me, Ham.” John persisted, not diverting for Alexander’s words.

Laurens looked at him deeply in the eyes for the first time that day and Alex immediately knew what he was going to bring to the table.

“That smell, Alexander. We both knew it. I know that you knew that I knew it.” Alex gulped, eyes flitting to the floor.
“Someone else’s perfume, and probably-- no- DEFINITELY cum.” John continued his one sided interrogation, narrowing his eyes as Alexander flushed red, “Where’ve you been going, Alexander; I’m not stupid. You might as well tell me here and now because I already know.”

Alex sputtered in outrage; his best friend was, of course, right and Alex sure as hell knew it. It irked him beyond compare.
“I haven’t been going anywhere, John!” he strained.
“Where were you last night.”
“Nowhere- here- I was here, this is ridic-”
“You’re lying, Alex.”

He screwed up his face in pure offense, shocked at the accusation.
“Why would you even insinuate-”
“Last night, Alexander. After the protest. I came by to talk to you about this very subject. But…” John slipped his hand off the banister and into his pocket, looking down on the panicking immigrant, “You didn’t answer. The house was dark. Silent.” John took one step closer to Alex, trying to meet his stubborn eyes,

“You weren’t here.”

“I was asleep!” Alex spat, his friend slowly getting the best of him, bringing him to an alarmed boil.

John nodded sarcastically, pursing his lips condescendingly, “Mmmhm. Okay, Alex, wanna guess what time I stopped by?”
Alex’s stomach lurched. Shit… why oh why hadn’t he asked this first? Now he was in deep trouble and he knew it.

“Uh, not really.” Alex responded, shifting, knowing full and well that his friend had defeated him. His last defence came down and he accepted that he would have to tell him something. No fucking way he’d say anything about Thomas. But something…

“Seven forty-five. I knocked on your door at seven forty-five. I know damn well your ass doesn’t stop writing until the sun comes right back around; so who are you shitting, Alexander? Not me.”
John was close to him like a normal conversation now, eyes softening in a more gentle approach to extract his answer. “Just tell the truth, man.”

“I was having an affair.” Alexander burst out emphatically; it took the effect he’d been hoping for on John. He faked distress and guilt, enough so that it would truly seem like he wasn’t lying anymore, that John had cracked him.
“I’m having an affair; it started this summer when she cornered me and extorted me for money. But I ended it, I couldn’t take anymore of the shame, John, I couldn’t.” He paused for a dramatic moment, looking passionately into his companion’s eyes, “So that’s it. There it is.”

 

There was a pause and John blew air out through his lips slowly, puffing his cheeks and processing what he had been told; he ran a hand over his hair. Alexander didn’t care about the embarrassment; his evasion of the real story was working like a charm.

“Shit Alexander.” John breathed, shaking his head incredulously, “I knew you were a horny little bastard but this is a new level for you.”
“I know.” Alex squeezed his eyes shut at the floor, feigning guilt, “You won’t tell anyone, Laurens?” he strained, “I trusted you enough to tell you, I can trust you enough not to tell anyone about this scandal.”

John walked slowly to the door, still in a phase of disbelief.
“Of course, I’m not gonna tell anyone, Ham. You’re the closest friend I’ve got.”

Alex moved aside, gloomily twisting open the doorknob for John to depart.
“I’m sorry, man.” he sighed, catching one last look in his buddy’s eyes, “I really am going to fix things right back to normal.”

John cracked a small smile and grasped Alex’s shoulder playfully, “I know you will, man. I know you will.” He nodded, shaking the smaller man slightly before turning away.
“And Alex, if I happen to stop by tonight for no apparent reason, where will you be?”
John smirked over his shoulder stepping down the stairs with three clunks. Alex forced a grin.

“Right here. Home sweet home.” John strolled off of Alex’s property and around the corner out of sight…

**

Bullshit, Alexander thought as he blew out the candle and shimmied down into the sheets. Covers rustling, he settled himself into bed, trying to get comfortable in his irritated annoyance.
Finally, there was a moment of stillness before he restlessly turned over to the other side once more.

Now, what he really needed was a good fucking, a solid pounding until he was too exhausted to possibly keep his eyes open. God, how he’d love to be nailed against a headboard right now… but John’s little warning had been too risky to ignore, far too risky. He wasn't going anywhere.

So there laid Alexander, alone in his huge bed hopelessly horny. What would Thomas do if he was with him right now… He’d pin him with his knees, whisper lethally quiet that Alexander wasn’t allowed to make a sound..

Stop. Alex groaned and rolled to the other side, tossing the sheets around. If he aroused himself anymore he’d just be more fucking miserable.
He’d usually just sit up and get the job done himself, but something about doing that at the moment just felt… wrong. It felt like something was missing, out of place, and Alex knew exactly what it was but there was no way in hell that he would admit it to himself.

The restless immigrant forced his mind to other places, any other place. But no matter what the hell he thought of it would always meander right back to Thomas jefferson. Stupid Thomas fucking Jefferson.
He contemplated the garden he was building. Who else had a magnificent garden? Jefferson.
He scrutinized the upcoming Cabinet meeting. Who else would be the main attraction at the meeting? Jefferson. Even when he wasn’t around the bastard was impossibly frustrating. Impossible to ignore. Fucking Jefferson.

Alex huffed, disgruntled. This would be a long night.

**

The sticky, humid air slicked Alex’s dirty hair to his neck.
He sweat profusely onto the rough straw bed, skin dripping and itching from raging fever and being tightly packed onto the surface. The hut was dim and musty; the only sound was the shallow, ragged breathing off two weak Caribbeans, muffled in the dark, humid space.

Alex’s eyes were closed. He could only see blurry darkness as he shivered, freezing despite the sticky heat, despite being pressed so closely to another.

Alexander gained enough energy to cough rawly, the wretched sound filling the filthy cabin. The other figure weakly gripped his frail body as he hacked and then went silent once more, too exhausted to continue.

He shivered.
“I’m so cold.” He managed weakly, “So cold… mom.”

There was a long pause.
The arms around him gripped harder for a moment. Just for a moment.
In that one grasp, there were a thousand words. An apology. A cry. An act of love… one last time.

And then it went limp.

The breathing against Alex’s body ceaed. There was silence, stillness.

He panicked, jagged breathing accelerating.
He croaked in exhaustion, “Mom?” There was no response.
He whimpered weakly and pressed closer, begging for an answer. He couldn’t manage to lift his head. He saw spots.
His voice cracked, “Mom!”

Alexander lurched up in bed, eyes shooting open in panic.

He heaved in short, sharp gasps, struggling for air as his heart-rate surpassed what his lungs could keep up with. Wildly looking around, he remembered where he truly was. He tried to assure himself that he was at home. He was safe...

But panicked sweat slicked his hair down and deep breaths seemed impossible; he flopped in weak exhaustion back onto his pillow, never feeling more despondent.

“Shit...” He whispered quietly, wiping his wet forehead with the back of his hand, then touching his face to find it wet too.
He immediately swiped the tears away with his hand messily, quick to deny that they were even there in the first place. The little man sniffed curtly and tried to relax his tense muscles once again, forcing deep breaths through his body.

After a few minutes of sniffles and silence, he reluctantly closed his eyes once again, begging for gentle sleep, begging for safety.

A silent tear rolled down the side of his face and into his hair. Along with it came a faint whispering in the back of his mind. A little voice that was giving its all to tell him something that a part of him already knew.

He wanted comfort, he wanted relief, he wanted the ability to go back to sleep and not miss his mother anymore. He wanted someone to hold him firmly and tenderly at the same time, someone to curl around him to keep the cold away.
He wanted someone.

He wanted Thomas.
He wanted Thomas with him right then.

Alexander sniffed and rolled over to his side, burying himself in the blanket and staring off into nothing. He let the voice have one moment of advocation. One moment to fully embody itself.
And then the small immigrant snuffed it out without a second thought.

Consigned it to the impenetrable silence it had lived in before. That is where the thought belonged, in the back of his mind where it hardly even existed enough to be true.

He didn't want Thomas. He didn't need Thomas. He was a powerful man who wielded noble importance.

“And yet...”

He thought as he closed his eyes once again...

Chapter Text

Alex boredly looked over the shoulder of the rotund man across from him at the grandfather clock. Three more minutes of this mind-numbing bullshit. He inaudibly exhaled and tapped his fingers on his leg under the desk, forcing his eyes to return to the pompous gentlemen as he spoke, chin jiggling.

His voice was almost impossibly dull and dry; everything was a monotoned whisper that made Alex want to rip his hair out. Three minutes.

The man paused as if he had said something important and Alex forced a strained smile at his baby-round face, scribbling something down onto his paper. What had he written? Who the hell knew. What was this man saying? Same response.

It’s not that Alexander wasn’t listening; in fact, he was far from ignoring this gentleman who was the governor of Massachusetts. But he had already pinpointed the issue, analyzed its every detail, and formulated a solution within the first ten minutes of this dreadful meeting.
He had scribbled furiously nearly three sheets of parchment for an outline of a compromise plan but what did that matter? The meeting was supposed to be an hour and a half, and so shall it be.

“....I trust that matter shall be resolved overseas… Oh my, would you look at the time, nearly four o clock. How it flies!”
The old man wheezed to Alexander’s greatest delight, setting his papers down onto his crossed legs

Alex stretched an exasperated grin and sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap, “Indeed it does, sir.”
The old man smiled at him and stood stiffly from his chair, collecting his papers into his case while rasping to the young Treasurer, “We meet again this following week if I am correct?”
“That you are, sir. A plan will be most carefully drafted at my hand, and most wisely approved at yours. Thank you for your time, Mr. Governor, and I assure you that the matter will be resolved with our methodical reasoning.”
Alexander assured the man eloquently, earning himself a satisfied nod from the governor as he stood up and looked at the immigrant admiringly.

“Secretary Hamilton,” he breathed, shaking his head, “I you truly are the young genius this country direly needs.”

Alexander smirked, suddenly wishing achingly that Thomas was in the room too so that he could mock the proud little prick.

“I humbly accept your compliment with honored gratitude, Mr. Governor. I will see you again promptly, and thank you once more for your time.”
The old man backed out of the room appreciatively.

As soon as he was sure he was gone, Alexander slumped down in his seat, collapsing dramatically with an enormous sigh.
“Jesus fuck me.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes exasperatedly in relief that his third and last meeting of the day was finally concluded.

There was a slight cough from the door, “Uh, Secretary Hamilton, sir?”

Alex acknowledged the quiet address offhandedly, “Uh huh.” He grunted, dragging his hands off his face and sighing.
“It’s the messenger, sir. I have a letter for you, sir.”

Alex had sat back up with a low huff and bent over his papers, not diverting any attention to the messenger boy as he scribbled.
“I’m done for the day. Tell whoever sent it that they can eat a dick, Hamilton’s out.”

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his place in the threshold as if he was about to speak. There was a very long pause until Alex had finished writing and looked up from his work without straightening up.

“Why are you still here?” he snipped irritably. The deliverer jumped a bit.
“Oh- Sorry- sorry, sir, it’s just that the sender of this message made it clear that it was urgent.”
“Who send it?”
“The Jefferson household, sir.”

Alexander’s breath caught in his throat giddily; he swallowed, trying to mask the anxious thrill in his gut and sat up in his chair.

He looked at the boy cooly.
“You have permission to enter.”
Within a couple seconds, the deliver had scurried in and out, handing the short-tempered Treasurer the letter and high-tailing it out of there.

 

Alex turned it over in his hands, observed the meticulous details of scarlet seal carefully. Atop the shield shape was a lion’s head, within the shield three leopards head above a cross-hatched pattern. A banner of latin words ran along the bottom.

“Ab eo libertas a quo spiritus…” Alexander whispered to himself and tore open the paper eagerly. He unfolded the letter inside.
The same impeccable handwriting adorned the parchment; Alexander could almost smell the expensive ink.

“Alexander,
As soon as you finish your last meeting, I expect you at the Jefferson manor by seven. Bring with you any work you need to do because you will not get home until tomorrow, don’t try to negotiate that.
Don’t be late.

Mr. Thomas Jefferson
Secretary of State”

Alexander snorted out loud and rolled his eyes, setting the letter in the bottommost drawer of his desk and kicking it closed with his foot. That pompous egomaniac was such a fucking pain in the ass. He really did believe he was entitled to everything, including Alexander.

The immigrant flexed his jaw while putting his quills away; God, he wanted to give that bastard a good ass-kicking one day.
But today, whether he wanted to or not, he was undoubtedly heading to the Jefferson manor. Unquestionably.
Thomas had promised him a punishment the previous day; he wouldn’t let the spoiled Virginian go back on his word.

And what was that rule they made about toys?
Ah yes, Alexander smirked devilishly.

Thomas was in charge of that one.

***

Alexander strolled up to Thomas’s towering double doors with a spring in his step. The summer evening was turning out to be rather warm so the Caribbean man was peacefully content and hungry. Definitely hungry.

Birds and crickets sang harmoniously in the ancient trees of the estate and the sunset was strikingly spectacular owing to the storm clouds in the distance. Alexander had showed up at the golden hour of seven forty-five but he didn’t really care; Thomas’s aristocratic ass could wait for forty-five minutes more, it wasn’t Alex’s damn problem.

He knocked obnoxiously on the door a few times and waited, glancing about at his scenic surroundings. Contrary to two days ago, he heard the vibration of footsteps within the house almost immediately. A smile bubbled up to his face as they drew closer; he stepped back a bit to leave room for Thomas.

The double doors swung open on oiled hinges and revealed Thomas Jefferson standing tall and resolute in the archway. He was as entitled and composed as ever, blue coat basically shining in the light and hair combed back infuriatingly neatly.
His brown eyes found Alex’s in a heartbeat, his face annoyed and inconvenienced, eyebrows knitted together.

Alex stared up at the tall man, watching as his irritated glower travelled from Alex to a spot behind him and back. He sighed.

“Alexander again with the grass?”
The immigrant shrugged, “Big deal, it’s just a big plant.”
“That ‘big plant’ costs more than your existence.”

Alex scoffed,“No the fuck it does not. It’s literally grass.”
“What would you know about proper lawn maintenance, neanderthal?”
“Have you seen my lawn?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Hey, I don’t do a thing to it and it does just fine.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “I don’t give a fuck about your grass, Alexander. But MINE is on your shoes and I won’t have you tramping about my house trailing the whole yard with you.”
“It’s like three pieces.”
“Take them off.”
“You’re appallingly spoiled, you know that?”
“Off.”

Alexander groaned as Thomas made him take off his shoes and leave them out on the porch, supervising snottily and slapping his ass as he walked past him into the house. That move won Thomas a pained yelp and propelled the little man into the entry hall.

Alexander stopped after a few skips into the hall he had been in only two days ago, face lighting up.
“Ooh, I smell food.” He turned around to face Thomas excitedly.

“Incredibly observant of you.” Thomas drawled boredly, daintily removing his coat by the door to hang it on the coat rack.

Alex’s mouth watered impatiently. “I’m going to start eating, meet you in there.”
“Alexander Hamilton, turn your ass right back around.”

Alex pivoted on one heel to face the proper man once again.
“What?”

“We’re going to have dinner together and work together and you’re going to do it properly or I’ll have your ass.”
“Is that a threat or an invitation?” Alex snickered immaturely.
Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed, his powerful sides pressing against his fitted waistcoat that, Alexander would admit, deliciously displayed his form.
“Come.”

Alexander grumpily walked towards Thomas, who gracefully stripped him of his coat and hung it next to his.
“That wasn’t so damn hard, was it?”
“Gee Jeffs, don’t undress me all at once.” Alexander mocked sarcastically.

They began to move further into the house.
“Don’t call me that.” Thomas warned again as they meandered into the dining room side by side, Alexander’s shoeless feet padding on the floor.

He noted that he was even shorter than Thomas now than he usually was, something he didn’t think was possible. The taller acknowledged the huge height difference as well with a sideways glance and cold smirk. Alexander scowled back his arrogant host.

 

Now, Thomas had prepared meals for Alexander before, but that was with limited resources and time. The dinner that Thomas had prepared tonight was with full anticipation and supplies, and, God, was it nothing like Alexander had ever seen before...

A full French table spread before the two men, plates upon platters of different dishes crowded the table in golden heaps, the smell intoxicating the hungry little man. He looked up at Thomas ecstatically.

Of course, the Virginian didn’t let the tardy Treasurer off easy
(“Yes, well, it wouldn’t be cold if your ass had decided to turn up when I fucking told you to.”), and also made Alexander try every different dish, no matter how foreign
(“W-what the FUCK is this… UGH- Thomas!”
“My God, Alexander, anyone who’s main food source isn’t semen would fucking realize that they’re eating the highest class pissaladière you’ll ever touch.”
“High class my ass!”
“Don’t you dare spit it into that napkin, you barbarian... Alexander!”)

By the time all the plates were cleared, Alex’s stomach was bulging from fullness, his insides buzzed warmly as he gazed lazily over at Thomas. The Virginian gaped at him.

“Alexander, I knew you could eat a fuckton, but not twice your bodyweight.” he sneered.
“Oh, go fuck yourself, rich boy.” Alex puffed, leaning back to stretch his swollen belly.

Thomas sighed regally and stood, sliding back his chair and placing his napkin neatly folded on the seat-back.

“I’m getting to work. Go get your briefcase and you can work anywhere except my study; I don’t want your greasy fingers all over my things.”
Alexander kicked him under the table, Thomas kicked him back, harder. They scowled at each other.

“Where are you working?”
“In my library.”
“Then library it is.” Alex tossed his wrinkled napkin crudely on the table, brown eyes tracking Thomas’s.

“I’m sorry, did I say library, I meant backwoods behind the house.” Alexander had already stood stiffly and strolled by Thomas, looking over his shoulder cheekily.
“Alexander,” Thomas growled testily, skirting the table and striding to catch the pest.
In three quick steps he snagged Alexander by the waistband and yanked him around fussily.

“Let go of me, dickhead.” Alexander thrashed but Thomas held him cooly with an iron grip, stilling him with his firm glare.
Thomas collectedly tucked a lock of his hair back behind his ear before burning back into Alex.

“You’re staying away from me while I work, is that perfectly clear?” He growled.
Alexander moved his face closer to Thomas’s angrily. “Why?”

“Why?” Thomas spat incedulously, “Why? Are you slow as shit, Hamilton? I don’t want you reading over my shoulder like a fucking double agent.”

The immigrant realized. “Oh so this is about work now?” he jeered.

“Yes, this is about work, how could this not be about work? We have a fucking cabinet meeting tomorrow and you think I’d let you eyeball my counterarguments?”

“Or hey, Thomas, maybe I don’t want to sit alone in this empty-ass house really fucking far from the asshole who’s supposed to be making this fun.”

“Bullshit”

“No, your reasoning is bullshit, as per usual.” Alex took a step back.

Thomas seethed, shocked at Alex’s disrespect. “Excuse me?” He spat.

“You don’t give a fuck about if I see your work,” Alex smirked for dramatic effect, “you just think I’ll distract you.”
There was a pause.

Thomas took an aggressive step towards the little nuisance, the lock of his brown hair falling again as his eyes burned with fury; he seized little Alex by the shoulders of his waistcoat.
“Don’t you DARE talk to me in that manner you filthy little rat.” He sneered down at Alexander, “Unlike you, some of us can control our fucking dicks like the adults we are. God, I ought to beat some common sense into your dirty ass.”

Alexander glared up and met Thomas’s raging eyes dangerously,
“Talking about control are you? I’m not the one who looks like he wants to slam me into a wall and fuck me senseless.” He breathed lividly, “Now am I?” Alex challenged Thomas riskily, knowing he was playing a dangerous game.

The following beats of unmoving silence between them was charged with electric tension. They sized each other up, each one waiting for the other aggressor to make a move as they breathed livid breaths.

Agonizing seconds passed; Alex could tell Thomas wasn’t playing around anymore; his eyes blazed with icy danger, railing against Alexander’s gaze with dark warning of what was to come.

The Virginian’s eyes didn’t break from his enemy’s. He ever so slowly let go of Alexander and stood tall, gradually straightening himself with careful, cold dignity.
Alex looked on in wary anticipation; he knew he had fucked up and done himself in for some serious trouble.
Shit.

“Go to my bedroom, Alexander.” He whispered, lethally calmly. His arctic gaze cooly slashing into the Treasurer.

Alex opened his mouth to retort, but Thomas cut him off threateningly, “Go to my bedroom... Now.” He whispered.

Chapter Text

Alex sat anxiously on the corner of the bed, bouncing one foot in anticipation. He’d been waiting for nearly two minutes after Thomas had ordered him to his bedroom, and he hadn’t seen him since. Alexander looked up at the door once more and deduced nothing, how long would that bastard make him wait?

It was so typical of Thomas to leave Alexander there like he deserved to wait in desperation; he wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas made him sit there all night, a vigil of shame. Arrogant fucker, Alex thought angrily.

His burning thoughts about Thomas came to an abrupt halt as he paused, barely detecting faint footsteps vibrating the floor.
His heart skipped an anxious beat and he forced a deep breath as the steps got louder and louder approaching the door.
He sat up as tall as he could on the bed, bravely trying to look bigger to challenge the dominant man; he readied himself for the Virginian’s arrival.

The brass knob turned and the door was flung open more violently than Alex would have anticipated; the man on the bed jolted, startled.

Thomas looked, of course, just as proper as usual, but there was a dangerous fire in his movements as he slammed the door behind him, the sound ringing through the house. Alexander gulped in thrilled fear as he carefully met his handlers eyes. They were blazing with frozen fire and bit into him ruthlessly.

Alex’s breath hitched suddenly. His heart rate accelerated with adrenaline.

“What’s that?” He demanded boldly at Thomas, staring inquisitively at what he had just noticed…
Dangling from Thomas’s right hand, slightly swaying, there was a tangle of chains and definitely expensive black leather. Thomas looked at the contents of his hand and back at Alexander.

“Did I fucking give you permission to speak?” He spat. “And get off my bed, you dégoûtant, petite garce coquine. Filthy slut.” He sneered.

Alex haughtily did as he was told, hiding the fact that Thomas’s French was getting him off far too quickly, as heat pooled in his belly. Puffing his chest and lengthening his spine, he stood tall. Thomas stared on coldly.

“On your knees.” He ordered in a low tone, leaving no room for disobedience.
Alexander slowly lowered himself to the floor, fuming silently at the powerful Virginian and keeping eye contact the whole way. Thomas twitched his eyebrows evilly at the sight of Alex submitting to his every word. Alex growled.

“Good boy,” He took a step and began to saunter slowly, leisurely towards the kneeling man while looking down on him degradingly,
“These are the outcome of that little rule you made, Alexander.” He jingled the metal chains menacingly, laughing slightly at Alex’s reaction, “intrigued, are we?” he stopped in front of the boy and kneeled down close to his level, chains clinking on the floor.

Alexander could feel Thomas’s breath on his face as he hovered close to him, suddenly seizing his chin roughly with his one hand. The fingers digging into his cheeks caused the small man to snarl primitively as Thomas forced Alexander’s gaze to look up at his. He eyed his face with icy authority, control radiating from his grip as Alexander glowered lividly back.
“Your desperation disgusts me.” Thomas whispered dangerously slow.

Alexander knew that his words were everything but the truth and wanted to retort rudely back against his slut-shaming. But he kept his mouth shut against his every will because he was starving for Thomas’s punishment; he craved whatever was in Thomas’s hand, and he wanted it now.

The taller man let go of his face and slowly stood up elegantly, still glowering down at the kneeling Alexander. The immigrant followed his movements with his head, anticipating what was to be done with him next; it was becoming harder and harder to hold down his urgent lust for Thomas and the devilish man knew that in a heartbeat.

He laughed mockingly through his nose as he set the jingling chains and leather onto the bed that they were so close to and paused for a moment, observing the neat pile with calculative consideration. His hand hovered for a moment above the heap before carefully selecting an item and turning his head down towards Alexander.

“Strip. Now.”

Alexander nearly sprang to tear his clothes off and discard them as far from him on the floor as possible; they would be far less than useless whilst he was with the Secretary of State. Thomas watched his struggle in threatening impatience, his short temper showing through as he tapped his foot menacingly.

As soon as Alexander had returned, freezing, back to a submissive position on his knees, Thomas threaded his powerful fingers through his hair and jerked him up forcibly. Alexander squealed noisily at the pain.

“Shut up and get on the bed, facing me.” Thomas barked roughly at Alex, who bucked his head rebelliously against his grip.
This smart move earned him a crisp slap on the cheek from the ruthless man who continued to pull him up to the bed until he was facing Thomas, a leg on either side of the dominant man, eyes watering furiously.

Alexander looked up into his fuming face for several moments of powerful sexual tension. Thomas only stared back coldly.

“I’m sick of your games, Alexander.” He growled, glaring at Alex and running only his fingertips up his thighs. The defenseless man tried not whimper at the soft threat and erotic feeling of Thomas’s gentle nails on his skin.

Thomas hummed in satisfaction at his helpless reaction and abruptly changed course, grasping a thigh with each hand and kneading them roughly,
“If you want to play with daddy’s new presents you need to fucking behave yourself.”

Alexander moaned lowly and squirmed to get as close to Thomas as possible, ignited by his cruel behavior.
“I promise, daddy, I promise…” He breathed, leaning in so desperately close that their hot breathing intermingled erotically.

Thomas exhaled, smirking wickedly, and slowly reached out to gently stroke Alex’s throat with the back of two fingers. Alexander gulped fearfully as the dangerous touch that brushed his delicate skin; Thomas watched his reaction in hunger.

“Do you want to see your new toys?” He purred, alluring the man with sweet utterances.
Alex quickly nodded in response to his generous offer, taking it now because he knew damn well he would not be allowed to ask for it later.

“Yes please.” He whispered, trying to look innocent for Thomas.

“Mmm.” Thomas nodded, humming menacingly. The dominant man wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and placed his thumb on the soft part of Alexander’s throat, pressing down on the sensitive area. His face darkened.

“Think we can act sweet and feign innocence, do we?”
He pressed harder, making Alex squeal in pain. “Think we can get a lesser punishment?”
Alex tried to shake his head.

Thomas laughed through his nose, and leaned in close to Alex’s body
, “No…” he whispered in the small man’s ear, “Because you deserve to be punished. You know that.” he pouted condescendingly to Alex, degrading him perfectly.

Alex whimpered in submission, so, so ready for Thomas to do what he wanted with him, anything he pleased; he just wanted it now; that was his only wish. He wanted it now.

Thomas released the painful pressure and, as Alex coughed and gasped sharply, reached beside them on the bed.
Without letting the little man view it, Thomas lifted the item that he was holding earlier from the sheets and jangled it close to Alex’s head, twitching his eyebrows as Alex flinched slightly.
He kept careful eye contact with his slut’s smoldering gaze as he dragged the leather across the back of Alexander’s neck, too slow to not be cruel, and began to wriggle it around the front and tighten the thing so that it was snugly against the needy man’s skin.

Alexander wasn’t stupid, not even close. He calculated quickly as the cold leather wrapped around his throat, buckle jingling. After three seconds of Thomas fitting him into this particular item he realized with a shot of thrill through his gut what it was.

It was a collar.

Thomas let go as he finished, stepping back to admire the specimen as if it was another painting in his extensive collection.
With a knuckle to his mouth and the other arm crossed along his chest, he ravaged the sight in starvation.

“Shit…” he whispered orgasmically, shaking head slightly at the immigrant.
Alex could tell he was getting hard; he knew it, but he didn’t dare to look and suffer the consequences.

“Up.” Thomas commanded out of the blue, jolting Alexander from his stillness, “Into the bathroom.”

“What?” the collared man spat, “You’re not going to fuck me?”

Thomas stepped forward and seized Alex roughly by the front of the collar, “Not with that attitude, I fucking won’t.”
He jerked the smaller man up from his sitting position ferociously and yanked him towards the bathroom, the immigrant stumbling along across the cold wood floor.

As soon a they had tumbled through the threshold, Thomas fussily manipulated Alex so that he was facing the mirror, taller man behind him. One arm wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly, the other laced through his hair, the Virginian pressed his front to Alexander and forced him to look into the glass.

The trapped man’s mouth stop protesting and dropped as he gaped at the sight before him. Fuck...

His entire throat was clad with a thick, expensive leather collar with a shining metal buckle to hold it to his skin. On both sides of his neck hung two metal rings, the purpose of which were currently undefined, and on the front of his throat…

“Is that a plaque?” He inquired carefully, squinting into the mirror at the small metal strip adorning the center of the leather.

His eyes met with Thomas’s in the mirror; his handler smirked approvingly, mischief on his mind.

“Why don’t you take a closer look?” he offered, cooly releasing Alex from his grip to step gingerly towards the mirror.

Alex, surprised about his release, gulped and stopped to scoured the plaque, noticing small disturbances on the surface. His poor eyesight was not helping him out too much.
He tilted his head towards the light which reflected off of the metal and revealed deep, formal engravings of letters. He read them carefully.

 

There was an electric pause.

The small man’s heart jolted into his throat, his breathing hitched violently in his chest. All of a sudden his eyes widened... blood rushed downwards towards his member.

Oh… Fuck…

The word Jefferson glinted sharply in the candlelight.

 

It was etched in the most formal lettering, professionally marking the wearer of the collar as owned. Property.
Holy fuck…

Thomas could see Alexander’s reaction to his little present clear as day and smirked in satisfaction. Alexander was falling apart at the notion of being possessed by him, of belonging to him, and it was more than evident in his helpless little display.

Alex squirmed defenselessly in his current state, looking back over his shoulder at Thomas, a begging plea in his eyes.

The cruel Virginian regarded him coldly for a moment, finally deciding that he had made the poor bastard wait for it long enough. It was time to chain him up in the other gifts and serve him the punishment he had been in desperation for.

The taller man stepped forth slowly and calmly set his hands on Alexander’s shoulders in a patronizing manner, the immigrant still staring baffledly at his name of ownership on the collar.

At Thomas’s unexpected touch, Alexander looked up abruptly and met the Virginians’s cold eyes in the mirror, fear, thrill, fire, and desperation in his own.

“Please…” He whimpered weakly, pressing back against Thomas in hopes of propelling him into his well-deserved punishment.
“Please…”

Thomas’s hands still on Alex’s shoulders, he addressed him through the mirror.

“Go to the bed, Alexander.” he spoke softly.

A glint of fire flickered in his brown eyes.

Chapter Text

Alexander speed-walked out of the bathroom and clambered onto the bed clumsily, ruining the sheets. He’d been waiting impatiently for too fucking long thanks to that pompous cunt, and he’d be damned it Thomas didn’t get right to nailing his ass.

Alex leaned back on the luxuriously fluffed pillows and spread his legs whorishly as far as they could go; The chilly air kissed his smooth skin. If Thomas didn’t fuck him like this then pigs were flying over New York City.

He smirked in deep satisfaction; his plan for tonight was going exactly how he had anticipated. Bicker, mooch a meal off the guy, and get the best dicking in New York all while making sure his political rival had absolutely nothing to say at the next Cabinet meeting. Brilliant as per usual, if he does say so himself.

He spread his legs a little wider, shuffling; Thomas didn’t have to know that between four and seven thirty he had crafted a lethal argument that would put the Democratic Republicans on their knees.

The young Treasurer was just beginning to curiously and halfway-fearfully eye the pile of chains remaining at the end of the bed, when Thomas strolled out of the bathroom, his masterpiece of a body now available for Alexander’s hungry eyes to devour.

“What’re you looking at?” Thomas spat, accent heavy with disgust as he padded across the floor towards the foot of the bed, scowling threateningly at Alexander, who lowered his eyes.

Thomas fumbled with the heap of chains and leather, not bothering to look at Alex as he spoke.
“I’ve had my wit’s end with you, Alexander.” he drawled, untangling something sinisterly.
Alex craned to view this new item, anticipation pumping uncontrolled through his veins.

“I give you ample warnings to behave yourself and you continue to push your luck.” Thomas turned his head towards the spread man, calmly holding a new item as he scolded.
“And you give me no choice but to punish you for talking back to daddy.” Thomas slowly stepped towards Alexander and swung a leg onto the bed, then the other whilst tracking Alexander’s every movement.

“You want to talk?” He snarled deeply, “You don’t fucking deserve it.”

He finally raised the item for Alexander to see; he scoured it with his eyes quickly. It was mostly black leather, but part of it was a naughty looking metal caging. Two thick straps with buckles dangled from it, right alongside two lengths of chains.

Thomas sneered at Alexander’s expression and crept on his knees up towards his pelvis, torturing him by not touching him in any way.
“A muzzle,” He snarled, “for the filthy bitch you are.”

Without giving Alex any time to react, Thomas leaned forward, fitting the muzzle to the straddled mans face roughly, buckling the two straps behind his head, one above his ears, one below. Alex growled in protest but didn’t dare speak out; he was burning so desperately for dick that he wouldn’t risk anything despite his deepest desires.

“Look at you... being such a good boy for me.” Thomas purred in satisfaction at the livid immigrant’s seething glare and laughed.

He took the chains in hand and hooked them each to one of the rings on the side of Alexander’s collar, metal clinking erotically.
Oh… so that is what they were for.

Alexander tried experimentally to toss his head but to no avail, the muzzle chains and collar kept him in firm place.

This only amused Thomas further; not bothering to break eye contact and miss the show, he reached behind him.
“Not so talkative now, are we?” he mocked ruthlessly as the chained man tried to buck his head. “Hmph.” Thomas grunted in satisfaction at the sight.

“One more present for the naughty little boy.” Thomas drawled, pulling the thing towards them, lengthy chains dragging across the bed ominously.
“Daddy loves to see you squirm and struggle, slut.” Alex shifted.

Thomas moved his free hand to run a single finger slowly, torturously up the underside of the little man’s soft, throbbing cock. Alexander whimpered and fell for the Virginian’s trap, hips helplessly bucking into Thomas’s waiting hand just how he said they would.

“Mm.” He hummed deliciously. “Well, nothing would make daddy happier than to see you suffer.”

Alex flinched as the cold chains met with his skin, dragging over his legs and allowing him to realize what the purpose was.
Reflexively, he strained to look up at the top of the headboard (muzzle and chains restricting him) but managed to catch a glimpse of a shining metal hook that he somehow knew would be there, waiting.
He lowered his head back at Thomas and considered for a moment. The Virginian raised a dark eyebrow quizzingly, waiting for his response.

Alexander submissively lowered his head, eyes downcast, and slowly, obediently, extended his bare wrists to his master.

Thomas shook his head exhaled. “Such a good boy for me…” he praised as he lifted the last toy, the chain and leather handcuffs, and opened the buckles one at a time.

Alexander watched in thrilled silence, adrenaline pulsing through his chest, as Thomas buckled the thick wrist cuffs over his skin and fastened them snugly. The two men paused once he had finished and trained each other’s eyes, ice evident in the Virginian’s and fire in the immigrant’s.

Thomas ran his hand down the chain that trailed from the cuffs.
“Are you going to behave for daddy?” he whispered, looking down into Alexander’s leather-clad face while unhurriedly raising the chain upwards. Alex’s wrists followed close behind.
Thomas’s distinctly handsome face hovered impossibly close to Alexander’s as he latched the chain onto the metal hook, feeling the small man’s rapid breath through the caged muzzle. Alexander’s pleading eyes melted into Thomas’s brown ones, darting down to his lips and back up. God, how he suddenly needed to kiss him… but that would not be possible.

“Look at you…” Thomas breathed, devouring the sight, “chained up like the naughty boy you are.” Erotic disgust was discernible in his grumbling voice as he slowly ran his fingers down Alexander’s vulnerable chest.

He continued to touch Alex, fingertips just barely tracing the sensitive skin as he brushed his thumbs over his nipples, making him shiver defenselessly.
“There, there…” Thomas purred, ever so lightly tracing over Alex’s heaving ribs, the sensation almost unbearable as he pulled against his suspended, chained arms, whimpering shrilly.

Thomas laughed lightly. “Someone’s ready for his punishment.”
With one last sweeping stroke to the little man’s ribs, he placed his whole powerful hands firmly on Alex’s sides, grippingly strongly as he grinded achingly slow into the immigrant’s soft area of searing desperation.

Alexander moaned throatily before his handler rolled his hips into him once more, earning him yet another moan on the verge of a sob. He looked back up to see the poor man’s eyes squeezed shut, struggling to deal with the torture; his ribs heaved shakily against his palms.

Thomas’s right hand travelled to the overheated place where their members were meeting.

“Aww… does someone want his daddy’s cock?” he pouted condescendingly. The Virginian moved behind Alexander and shuffled into position between his legs, just barely touching his opening with the tip of his cock and kneading his palms over Alexander’s sharp hip bones.

“You want it bad?” he mocked sulkily.

Alexander’s reaction to the degradation was absolutely priceless. The chains jangled as he pulled at them and squirmed uncontrollably, eyes squeezed closed, whining in a wordless beg.

“Crying won’t get you anywhere.” Thomas drawled cruelly.
“But it makes me want to give you something real to cry about.” he whispered, extending his hand to Alex’s caged mouth.

“Spit now, filthy little bitch. I won’t ask again…”

Alexander basically leaped to spit in his master’s hand, not even thinking about how he had so firmly resisted this inhumane treatment only days ago. Thomas had him dancing at his fingertips, he realized. He had become so much more brutal... and Alexander fucking loved it.

Thomas coated his delicious cock and gave it two firm strokes for good measure. Alex pleadingly shuffled in his chains and spread his legs further, begging for the process to go quicker. The dominant man eyed him warningly with his dark gaze and smoothly pressed the tip of his cock back against Alexander’s entrance.

“Look me in the eyes, Alexander.” he commanded icily to his sub, who had dropped his chin to his chest in anticipation of the aching sting. Alex drearily lifted his gaze to Thomas’s, facing the fact that he didn’t deserve to get prepared; he had lost the privilege. He would have to bear it and he would do it for daddy.

Thomas nodded approvingly before beginning with Alexander, thrusting deeply inside. He was not gentle on his little partner… not in the slightest.

The small man roared in ferocious, pained lust, pulling fiercely down on his binding chains.
“Shut the fuck up.” Thomas snarled at his plaything, striking out a hand to grasp his collared throat and hold him in dangerous possession.

He rolled his hips back and slammed in once again much harder than the first time and began a steady brutal rhythm, relishing in Alexander’s screaming moans that echoed through the house’s walls.
With his free hand, Thomas spat hastily into his palm and seized Alexander’s aching cock, slowly running his wet hand up and back down, far more slowly than how he was pounding the man remorselessly.

Bucking up into the well-waited-for stroking, Alexander wailed and rattled his chains, entire body screaming with waves of intense pleasure. The powerful grip on his scorching cock, the possessive clamp on his throat, the heartless, savage pounding deep inside his ass… After all this waiting, the little man was not going to last long at the mercy of Thomas Jefferson.

Thomas growled and shifted his knees a bit, getting into a position that granted him more room for movement. His sub was too lost in melting, moaning, ecstasy to ask what he was doing until it was too late.

With every raw thrust the Virginian began to twist his hips powerfully, screwing his impeccable cock into Alexander with added friction. He struck the little man’s prostate skillfully with every expert drive, eager to watch his reaction with rapture.

Alexander immediately gasped, eyes shooting open at the shocking sensation and caterwauled through his muzzle. This fueled Thomas to continue as his pet writhed wildly, sides heaving noisily with shrill breathlessness.

The obscene sounds of erotic sex filled the room as Alexander’s stunned pleasure gradually boiled to a melting point, the intense ache of on-the-verge orgasm pressing to his abdomen.

With every single pound he squeaked helplessly; he was sobbing with each individual thrust. Tears leaked from his clenched-closed eyes as the pleasure mounted to be too much, he couldn’t fucking bear it… he couldn’t. He felt so full with pulsating cock, his little ass was throbbing with over-intense pleasure. He needed to cum. He could feel it.

Forcing his eyes open with pained difficulty, Alexander struggled to focus on his dom’s face, a desperate beg outpouring from his eyes.

After only a moment, Thomas realized Alex was fervently trying to communicate with him and returned the gaze coldly. Recognition spread across his face when he interpreted Alexander’s urgent expression.

“You need to cum, baby?” He panted patronizingly through his thrusts, placing a protective, condescending hand on his belly. The helpless man nodded frantically, chains rattling in true desperation.

“Mmm… Fine, my worthless little slut. Show daddy how grateful you are for your punishment.” Thomas sneered heartlessly.

At this, Alexander sounded a guttural wail as he and Thomas cummed at exactly the same time, the warm, full feeling of his master’s satisfaction causing him to release every last squirt of his pleasure onto his waiting belly.

 

His sobs racked him helplessly with every shudder that washed through his body, his most intense orgasm yet reverberating through his veins.
He barely even heard Thomas quietly moan, “Alexander… yes…” in front of him as the chained man cried in pleasure.

“Good boy…” Thomas faintly breathed, shakily rubbing his palms over Alexander’s hip bones once more, massaging him comfortingly while his entire body twitched and quivered.

“Good…” he purred, watching Alexander’s head roll back in complete exhaustion; his tears were glistening on his cheeks as he whimpered and murmured incoherently.

 

A few more moments were given by the Virginian for Alex to come down from his climax, all the while kneading and massaging his hips to comfort him.

Little Alexander barely realizing, Thomas unhooked his arms from his chains above him, unbuckled his handcuffs and moved gently forward to carefully remove his muzzle from his fatigued face.
The taller of the two delicately held his partner’s head and laid him down into the pillows, sighing in alleviation.

Slight smile upon his face, Thomas watched Alexander for a moment in silence before tilting the small man’s chin up gently and kissing him slow and soft.

“Better?” he inquired thoughtfully as he pulled away an inch.
Alexander, eyes still closed, nodded wearily to his handler, drifting.

Thomas Jefferson smiled again as he saw Alex searched for his lips with his own and tenderly, passionately, pressed his to Alexander’s once more; the little man's wet face meeting with his own.

They slowly, gently lapped into each other's mouths for half a minute before Thomas needed to collapse back in exhaustion, too tired to hold himself up for much more time.
It had been a long night for the both of them...

Chapter Text

The bedroom door creaked open and closed causing the blank-staring Alexander to look over. He rolled his head to the other side to see Thomas reentering, still wearing nothing but pants.

“Thanks for helping me put everything away, Alexander. Really appreciate it.” he drawled, strolling to his dresser and opening the middle drawer.
“Anytime.” Alexander smiled sweetly then snorted at his partner, for he had not helped in the slightest. Like he’d ever.

Satin rustled as the muscular man pulled a shirt over his strapping body and shrugged his shoulders, getting comfortable. Alexander was watching him, mesmerized as he dressed and turned towards the bed, bare feet padding on the floor.

When he got close enough, he stopped and sneered in disgust, brown eyes revolted.

“You didn’t even move?!” He scoffed down at the man laying on his back, who was still, to Thomas’s elegant disdain, covered in both of their cum.

Alex scowled up tiredly, leaning back on his elbows.

“I’m sorry DAD. I orgasm harder than you; I needed to breathe so I didn’t fucking die on your expensive, polished floors.”
“You orgasm harder because I do all the work.”

“Bullshit, you should be grateful, you pompous fuck; I’m a hell of a lot better than your right hand.”
“If you don’t want to catch my right hand you’d better get your ass to the bathroom in three seconds, bitch.”

“Hey, I can’t even move, asshole!”
“One.”
“Ughhhh…”
“TWO.”
“Alright, al-RIGHT, stop shoving.”
“Now.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“NOW.”

Alex stiffly dropped his feet to the floor and limped dramatically to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open from sheer lack of fucks to give.
“You’re mean.” he pouted, pulling his hair up in front of the mirror.

Thomas shook his head, shoving down the bubbling urge to smile and turned back to replacing the sheets in an orderly fashion. Christ, they had really ruined them this time.

 

After five minutes of quiet maintenance, Thomas strolled back into the bedroom with a glass of water to angrily observe Alexander digging around in his neat drawer.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He spat, expecting Alex to jump but the stubborn man didn’t even look up.

“Getting clothes.”
“You didn’t bring your own?”
Alex paused turning his annoyed glance towards Thomas. “No.” He scoffed incredulously, as if the Virginian had asked if he’d brought the king of England.

Thomas had set his glass down on the bed alcove shelf and crossed his arms, shaking his head disbelievingly at Alexander.
“I’m sorry, but can you fucking read?”

The sound of the wooden drawer closing rang out as the immigrant turned to walk towards the bed, Thomas’s most expensive pair of scarlet nightclothes in hand.
“What kind of question is that?” he spat.

“In my letter, I said that you’d be staying the night. What part of that means ‘fuck it and wear Thomas’s clothes’ to you?”
“Uh, I don’t know, the part where your clothes are really, really soft.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Pathetic.”
“Despicable.”
“Petty.”

By now their bickering faded into rustling sheets as they clambered over each other into bed, squabbling over which side was Alexander’s and how the pillows should be distributed.

They finally settled down from their frenzied shuffling as Thomas blew out the candle, washing the two in velvety darkness broken only by the faint silver moonlight. He sighed and laid back down flat on his back, hands neatly over his belly as he exhaled. Several moments of nighttime quiet passed before…

“Hey, Jeffs, you bring me a glass of water?”

Thomas opened his eyes once more and rolled them impossibly far back into his head. Nobody. Not a single person was more exasperating. It was a fucking marvel.

“No, Alexander. I did not get you any water. And don’t call me that.”
“Well I’m thirsty.”
“That you are, Alexander.”
“Oh, shut up. Pass over the water, twat.”

Thomas turned over onto his side away from Alexander and sighed sleepily once more.
“Well, tough luck. I don’t want your diphtheria or whatever you’ve got.”
“Seems a little late for that, don’t you think, buddy? Not like we had our tongues down each other’s throats ten minutes ago.”

Thomas groaned, running both hands over his face in pure irritation.
“If I give you some goddamn water will you shut the fuck up?”
“Most certainly.”
“Hallelujah.” he grumbled, passing the cold glass across his body to Alex who drank the entire thing before handing it back.

The tired Virginian didn’t even scold him this time, just let the petty conversation go and decided some sleep was in his best interest at the moment.
He turned onto his back at closed his eyes, letting himself be still.

“Goodnight, Thomas.”
“Hmph.”

And the room went quiet under the blanket of night, the scent of summer sleep hanging heavily in the air…

***

A ribbon of chilled draft threaded its way into the deep blue of the lush bedsheets. It drifted aimlessly, probing until it found the warm heat of Thomas Jefferson and curled against his soft belly, chilling him.

Goosebumps spread throughout his arms as he was nudged uncomfortably from his deep dreaming, consciousness slowly sifting up to the surface. He shivered for a moment and exhaled an exhausted breath, grunting and reached out one heavy arm, eyes still falling closed. He weakly grappled for Alexander, trying to hook the little one by the waist and pull him close for body heat.
Thomas groped at nothing but cold, empty sheets.

His eyes shot open as something deep inside him jolted, consciousness breaking through the surface. The tall man pulled himself into a sitting position in their bed, drowsiness long snuffed out.

“Alex?” He croaked, groggy night voice ringing through the room. There was no response. He ran a hand through his hair.

 

No fucking way… Would the bastard stoop that low?
Thomas already knew the answer.
Alexander had left. He had got up in the middle of the night and left Thomas after he’d fallen asleep.

“Little cunt…” Thomas whispered, stumbling out of bed towards his wardrobe, yanking both creaky doors open in a flurry of wind.
He pulled his thickest fur coat out from the darkness within and staggered hastily back to the bed, leaning over it to snatch the candle and its holder.

“Ff..! Shit!” He hissed and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment of flaring pain as a spark from the match had grazed across his finger. Shaking his hand out frantically, he forced the sting down and hopped towards the door, breathing through the pain.

The shadowy halls were stiflingly dark and silent as he crashed through them angrily, calling Alexander’s name through the night while his candle flickered frenziedly.
He pushed through the empty dining room. Nothing.
Unbelievable.

It all made sense now; this is why Alexander had come over in the first place. He didn’t fucking want to eat with Thomas or have sex with Thomas or sleep with Thomas no. The only thing on that heartless sociopath wanted was to keep his nemesis from doing any work on the day before the most important Cabinet meeting yet, the one that would probably decide the entire future of the nation that was now at Alexander’s fingertips. That deceitful, wicked bastard…

 

No longer knowing what he was looking for or why, Thomas thudded up the north corridor, past the spiraling stairs. There was something bubbling up into Thomas’s chest that he was shoving back down; it wasn’t hatred, it was more powerful than that. Far more powerful… He violently shook his head to clear whatever the hell was going on.

It was pouring outside now, that was evident by the rushing sound of pattering water as the tall Virginian approached the end of the north corridor, a place where the door led out onto the covered, columned porch.

He stopped at the door and breathed. Everything was still.

A breath of moist, metallic, outdoor air slipped through the door and met with Thomas’s nose, allowing him to smell the summer rain.
Hand on the knob, he sighed and ever so slowly leaned his forehead gently on the cool surface. He stood there for several long moments.

Going out there would be a good choice, he thought rationally through all the storming going on in his mind. He needed to clear his head and the fresh air would be half the remedy. Just go outside.

Exhaling deeply, he pushed the door open. A cool, humid wall of air buffeted his face as he stepped outside, his bare feet cold on the bricks.
Slanted sheets of rain fell in dancing patterns onto the grassy gardens beyond the porch, into the darkness, giving off the warm, wet, earthy smell of a rainy summer night.

Thomas scanned the familiar place where he often enjoyed a pleasant book. The chairs, the fireplace, but his favorite by far was his peaceful porch swing he held so dearly.
As he padded towards it, an unexpected voice sounded out.

“Up so late, Jefferson?”

Thomas shrieked and jumped five feet backwards in one leap; his heart pounded maniacally as he scrambled and dropped the candle to the floor with a clang. The flame hissed out.
A shape on the porch swing shifted.
“Holy shit, man, chill out.” the voice snorted quietly.

“Wh- Alexander?” The startled man scoffed in complete astonishment.
“Nah, George Washington--of course it’s me, thickhead.”

This was unbelievable; he didn’t believe it. Why…?
Thomas caught his breath, hand on his rapidly beating heart and slowly rea-approached the swing, rain drumming melodically in the night.

He stopped in front of the swing and hesitated. Should he stay?
Why did With no words, only a single deep breath, the Virginian seated himself lightly on the swing, chains clinking as it swayed under his movement.
A foot to his left sat Alexander, legs curled under him on the soft cushioning and staring rigidly straight ahead out into the rain.

Thomas continued to scan his blank face for several dragging moments and then sighed.
“Why are you out here, Alexander?” he inquired, “I thought you’d left.”

There was a short pause as the little man shifted his weight a bit.
“Left?” he repeated
“Mhm.” Thomas grunted at Alex’s stony face, turning to look out at the storm as well when the other man failed to meet his gaze. A distant rolling of deep thunder sounded through the darkness.

“Well. I didn’t leave.”

“Thanks for the update. How much longer until you answer the question? Thinking about running for president in the meantime.”
“Funny.” Alex retorted quietly, clearly not in a bickering mood which was a definite red flag to Thomas. The immigrant’s gaze shifted to the ground.... They sat side by side in uncomfortable silence as the rain poured around them.

Alex’s eyes darted to Thomas and then back at the ground. Silence.

“I just… really like the rain.” he finally breathed, getting it over with.

“Huh?”

“I love rain. It kind of reminds me of home, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Thomas nodded to his feet.

“What is it?” Alex quizzed, picking up on the rare confused tone in the Secretary of State’s voice.

Thomas shifted and crossed his ankles, “Nothing, it’s just the peculiar irony of that notion. One who’s town was destroyed by a hurricane to love rain; it’s curious.”
Alexander nodded and smiled weakly, turning his face towards Thomas for the first time.

“ L'ennemi est souvent sa passion la plus profonde. ‘One’s enemy is often his deepest passion’. Give or take....”
“I do speak French, you are aware?”
“Not very well, though.”
Thomas scoffed, “For your information, I graduated with honors at the Academy- Oh fuck you, Alexander.” He cut off in strained laughter as the little man giggled quietly beside him.
The two choked down smiles and looked back out at the rain for a fleeting heartbeat of hopefulness. Despite trying to suspend the moment, tension slowly wormed and burrowed its way back between them and settled heavily. Thomas sniffed and uncrossed his ankles, slowly tracing a pattern of some meaningless shape on the porch floor.

“So,” Alexander began much too quietly; he immediately cleared his throat in embarrassment and tried again, reddening.
“So… What, uh- what’d you and James decide about the whole ordeal?”

Thomas squinted, puzzled.
“Ordeal…?”
“You know…” Alexander coughed slightly and scratched the back of his neck, “That we fought about.” he mumbled.

Thomas lit up in recognition, “Ohh, you mean the one that you physically threw fists over?”
Alexander squirmed uncomfortably and cleared his throat again, “Yeah. That.”
Thomas sniffed.

“Well, you can consider it done. However, I do have to prepare James lunch every day for the rest of the month on his condition. So that should be a joy.”

“Hah.” Alexander only nodded distantly at his reply.

Another deep roll of thunder grumbled in the night air and somehow, Thomas could feel it in his chest.
The rainfall changed directions, blowing the other way and causing the leaves in the towering, ancient trees to rustle and whisper in the torrents. The boughs creaked and groaned as they swayed in the downpour.
And somehow, for a moment, Thomas felt like he was in the faroff Caibbean.
It was an inexplicable sort of feeling, like he’d suddenly been engulfed by a lost painting and was filled with the sounds and smells of a distant, blustering island. They were inside him, it was a part of him…
And... so was Alexander. Clinging onto the wordless feeling, he sighed deeply and decided to break this impenetrable silence.

“That’s not why you’re here, Alexander.” he spoke softly out into the rain. His brown eyes glanced over at the small boy, “You know it’s not.”
Alexander didn’t speak, he didn’t move at all; his rigid face stared stubbornly forward.

Thomas shook his head, “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing all alone in the rain in the middle of the night, but I’m not going to leave you alone until I figure it out.” He spoke firmly this time, putting serious emphasis into his every word.
“So if I have to stay out here and bother you until the sun comes back around, so be it.” Thomas turned his whole body around on the swing, facing Alexander so he couldn’t possibly ignore him any further.

“I’m not going anywhere, Hamilton.” He finished.

The Virginian could almost see something in Alexander’s chest lurch. The little man hesitated and opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it, and opened again. He closed his eyes and huffed.
“It’s not your damn problem, Jefferson.” He sputtered. “You don’t care. So why don’t you make this easier for both of us and get your precious ass back to bed.”

“Tough luck, buddy. Nobody ever fucking said I didn’t care, so don’t put words in my mouth.”

Alexander opened his mouth to snap back but Thomas was sick of the little man getting the best of arguments; he interrupted him easily.
“I plead the final.” He asserted coldly, scooting towards Alexander and cornering him so that their legs were almost touching.

“What are you talking about?” Alex sneered, trying to muster up some weak fire to use against the bigger man.

“Our final rule. You’re going to tell me the truth right now, Alexander, I won’t make a fucking exception. This was a directive we both agreed on and my ass if you’re going to renounce it right here, right now.”

Alex looked down at where their feet were close together, his long brown hair brushing his shoulders gently in the damp breeze.
There was a deep, long pause as he breathed, Thomas watching the man’s every move with observant care, and with shock when he saw…

A single, shining tear pearled in Alexander’s right eye and teetered, spilled over soundlessly, rolling down his cheek and splattering onto the cushioned swing seat.
Alex snapped his arm up instantly and rubbed the wet streak off in a rough manner, angry that it had dared show itself. He rubbed his face hastily and moved to put his hand back down in his lap, in mortified shame.

Thomas was… stunned by Alexander’s reluctant display; he was at an utter loss for words. It shook him deeply in a place he was completely unaware he had... and it scared him.

But what shocked him the most was his own reaction. The startled man suddenly felt as though he was helpless, so very small… had he ever felt that before?
In a flurry of movements he choked it down and stuffed it aside, this wasn’t him.
Alexander was… crying. Right in front of his eyes. And Thomas knew somehow that he needed to be there, he needed to be strong, standing, gentle for him. He had to.

The powerful urge surged up from an ancient place within the Virginian while he moved to wrap his arms around the little boy, pulling him closely into his chest, legs over his.

“Stop it, Thomas, leave me al-” but his voice was muffled and cut off as the bigger man held his head to his chest tenderly, wrapping his whole body protectively around the little immigrant.

Alexander struggled and squirmed for only a few moments before understanding that Thomas was not going to let him go. Not by a long shot. He was going to hold him in this warm, stuffy, embrace for as long as it took.

Alex breathed one shaky sigh before giving in, letting his body go limp as Thomas enveloped his around him, powerful and firm. It was warm so close to his partner, his thick coat cushioning all of their body heat.

Thomas sighed. “Alexander… You can tell me. It’s going to be alright.” He murmured calmly, voice humming in Alexander’s ear as he pressed against his chest.

Completely letting go, Alexander choked out single sob, a real sob; Thomas’s arms immediately squeezed closer.
The little man began to gently shake as wet tears spilled silently across his face and onto Thomas’s shirt, unseen in the close embrace.

“It’s… It’s just dreams, it’s pathetic… but my mother- she. When she died… she was holding me- we were so sick… She was holding me…” He wept quietly.

 

A little piece of Thomas’s heart broke that night. He didn’t understand it, not in the slightest. But he could feel it happen.

“She was holding me… Thomas…” He trailed off, hiccuping once in the muffled fur and continued quiver slightly with exhausted, weak sobs.

Thomas wrapped firmly around him, holding him as best he could.
Still at a loss of words, it was the only thing he could do… and despite everything he knew in this world telling him that this was unthinkable… For some reason, somehow, he felt like it was enough.

 

The torrents of rain pattered off the waxy leaves of the trees; the downpour soaked the house in humid, blustering sheets of rainfall.
Another deep well of thunder rolled across the sky and into the night, grumbling until it disappeared. Just another rainstorm on a late summer evening.

But as the Virginian and his enemy sat on a porch swing together, wrapped in a gentle embrace…

It was impossible not to feel something as they listened to the soft pitter patter of rain…

Chapter Text

Oh my. Fucking. God…” Thomas grunted out strained huffs of words as feeling crept back into his body and he realized that he could hardly move. He was so stiff. Every muscle in his body felt rigid and tight.

On opening his dry eyes, they were stung by the glare of a cloudy morning; the earth around the gardens was soaked into black soil. The tree’s leaves hung limply; little droplets of water splattered off the tips of leaves quietly and one lonely mockingbird’s coos rang in the crisp dawn.
He squinted and slowly, stiffly, began to sit up a bit more from his slouched position, his head had been laying on top of Alexander’s. Neck and back cracking and popping at the same time, he woke up the curled little man.

Alex stirred a bit.
“Mmm…” he groaned and sniffed, “don’t move anymore, Thomas, your bones’ll wake up the whole neighborhood…” he murmured muffledly and burrowed deeper into Thomas’s belly as if to go back to sleep.
He went still.

“Get up, Alexander, I can’t feel my limbs.” Thomas huffed shifting to move rigidly away.

“Mmhm…” the little man mumbled, blindly hooking a heavy arm around Thomas’s waist and holding him firmly in place.
“Nooo…” He groaned, holding tight as Thomas tried to peel his arm off his middle, roughly shaking him away.
“Special medical treatment… Need at least twelve hours of sleep with warm, soft person or I die.” he mumbled muffledly.

Thomas snorted in annoyance, “Well, in that case.” He finally tore the velcro-like man off his body and leaned forward stiffly.
Knees popping like never before, he stood laboriously.
“Ah… shit.” He grimaced, rolling his neck around and facing the gardens to observe the new day dawning on New York. A rooster joined the mockingbird, signaling the rise of the sun somewhere beneath the thin blanket of grey clouds.

“Sure you’re twenty?” Alexander piped up, yawning and slowly rising to a sitting position on the swing with a sigh, “Your joints make Ben Franklin sound like a young stud.” he jested, settling his head on the back of the cushioned seat and closing his eyes again, shifting his hips to get comfortable.

“If you weren’t so fucking small I’d have something to rest my head on instead of breaking my damn neck.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll come a little taller for ya.”

Thomas shook his head, suddenly cross. “Shut your mouth, I don’t have time for this. We’re going inside. Now. I have a lot of work to do.” he snapped as he made way for the door.

Alexander lazily placed his hands behind his head and sighed leisurely, closing his eyes in comfort.
“I don’t.” he smirked cruelly, settling in.

Thomas whirled back around to glare at the little man.
As soon as he had woken up this morning with Alexander in his arms, the seriousness of today’s circumstance had settled on him about as gently as a sack of bricks. It had hit him that the filthy weasel had trapped him into sex so he had no choice but to leave that shitload of Cabinet work for today. Whether there was a moment or not… Alexander had manipulated him once again.

“I know you don’t, you ratty little bastard.” He spat.
“I don’t want you out of my sight. I know what you’re doing and I’m sick of your fucking games, Alexander. Sick.”

The towering Virginian shook his head and took a few threatening steps towards the arrogant, smug little man who was mocking him with his leisure. Alexander opened his eyes as Thomas stopped in front of him, staring up in lazy mischief at the fiery aggression in his brown glare.
He smirked and laid his head back once more to close his eyes. “Well, well, well. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the swing.” he mocked without looking at his partner.

Suddenly, he choked as a ferocious grip seized him by the scruff of the neck violently, clenching some hair in his ruthless fingers as well. Alexander’s eyes shot open as he yelped in shock, outraged at the treatment.
As soon as his eyes had opened, he barely caught a flashing glimpse of Thomas’s livid brown ferocity before his head snapped forcefully to the side with a powerful white hot pain.

“AUGH FUCK!” Alexander roared in agony, blinking laboriously as the searing twinge burned throughout his entire face. Unable to move his head owing to the iron grip, he forced his watering eyes open to fume in utter, scorching hatred at his enemy.

Thomas stared Alex down, icy fire smoldering in his eyes.
“Speak to me like that one more time and you will be sorry you were born, Mr. Hamilton.” He whispered, panting, drawing closer to Alex’s face that he had just smacked the daylights out of.
“We are going inside. Now... Don’t you dare think I won’t make you”

Alex squirmed in rebellious resistance to the restraint.
“What the FUCK are you talking about?!” he snarled ferociously through bared teeth.
“You’re fucking crazy!” he bucked against the grip.

Thomas twisted his hair, face screwing up in lividness.
Alexander squealed and saw sparks in his eyes, realizing he should submit to Thomas now sooner than later.

“Okay, okay please!” he begged loudly, eyes squeezed shut in pain, “I roped you into having sex so you wouldn’t be able to work. But you wanted it too and you know it! You were begging for my ass!”
Thomas paused, loosening his grip dangerously slowly; Alex looked up in timid apprehension.

“Ohh, you’ve really fucked yourself now, Alexander Hamilton.” he growled, shaking his head, slicing into Alex with his cruel brown eyes.
The taller man surged forward and wrapped his powerful arm around Alexander’s middle, lifting him up easily and carelessly flinging him over his shoulder like a worthless sack of flour.
“Put me the FUCK down, Jefferson!” Alexander complained loudly, striking the Virginian’s back with his clenched knuckles.

Thomas immediately raised the hand that wasn’t holding him and spanked him as hard as he was capable, shutting him up.
“You’re making this worse for yourself, Alexander. Shut your filthy mouth while you can or I’ll beat the living shit out of you.” he threatened.

Alexander protested the entire way as Thomas hauled him through the warm house, clunking through the north passage, the entrance hall, past an open room that looked like a smaller parlor, and through a dark walnut door into yet another round room that Thomas was so fond of designing.

“Sit.” Thomas commanded, sliding Alexander over the back of his shoulder, ruffling his nightclothes.

“You’re raving mad. You’re actually fucking crazy.” Alexander scoffed, watching his tall partner open a creaky trunk and shuffle in its contents; not responding to the little man’s slandering.
Thomas dragged a rattling mass of chains out of the trunk, the links slithering out like serpents.

“I said. Sit.”

Alexander thumped down on the hardwood floor begrudgingly, huffing in frustration. With another glance he could tell that the handcuffs were in Thomas’s possession once again and he suddenly had no clue in which direction Thomas was going to go. Would he spank the daylights out of him and leave him horny, would he fuck him right here on the hard floor? The cabinet meeting was at five o clock, there would be plenty of time for Alex to get what he wanted.
He squirmed in impatient thirst, cursing Thomas for making him wait.

The Virginian turned back towards him and approached his sub, not bothering to ask for his wrists as he reached down and seized them in heartless brutality, rolling up the long scarlet sleeves.
Alex shifted frustratedly as Thomas fastened the binds on him, irritated with the unusual lack of instruction.

“On my knees? Belly?” He scoffed annoyedly, badgering him for some orders as Thomas chained the other end to the heavy table leg next to him and stood up, brushing off his hands.

“You’re never satisfied, are you.” Thomas looked down on him disgustedly; it was a statement not a question. Turning away, he walked to the other side of the room and rounded the desk, checking inside a creaky drawer nonchalantly.

“If you think you’re going to get fucked this morning, you’re dead wrong, Hamilton.” he continued to shuffle around, not bothering to glance at the seated, chained Alexander.
“We have a cabinet meeting this evening, you disgraceful whore, and I am the fucking Secretary of State. I am in charge of this country and one lousy, mangy politician isn’t going to weasel his scrawny ass into my way.”

Thomas sat himself down heavily in the ornate chair and pulled it in close to the desk, “Am I perfectly fucking clear?” he placed his rimmed glasses on his face and cocked his head mockingly at the man on the other side of the room.

Alex nodded. “So that’s it, huh. Classy, aristocratic Thomas -fucking- Jefferson just chains me up like an animal and makes me wait.”
He sneered incredulously.

Half ignoring him, Thomas had already laid out a piece of parchment on his desk and was dipping a quill in his ink bottle with a clink.
“Yes, Alexander, wonderful observation.”

“You’re a sick sack of shit, Jefferson. Go to hell.”

“You have three seconds to close your goddamn mouth.”
“Why don’t you just gag me, huh? Shut me up yourself if you’re so fucking profound, Mr. Secretary.” Alexander spat in livid sarcasm at his infuriating dom, pointing at him as chains jingled.
“If I gag you, you’ll cum in your pants, Alexander. And I don’t have time to deal with a mess right now. So shut your fucking oversized mouth; I’m working.”

Alexander snarled and punched the side of the bookcase he was next to for emphasis; the pain shooting through his hand and wrist as he clenched his jaw, seething. Thomas didn’t even look up at the furious display as his quill began scratching calmly, the concentrated man working diligently in intelligent silence.

The immigrant was fuming with rage, but what could he possibly do? He was chained to a table leg, a motherfucking table leg; the thought infuriated him even more. He shifted heatedly and scooted back towards the wall, leaning stiffly against it and huffed.

The room was, of course, another architectural marvel. Round and flooded with natural light from tall windows, the library was stock-full of leatherback books packed neatly into the shelves lining the walls, velvet bookmarks hanging out of many like satin tongues. There was a warm smell of old paper and weathered hides, proving that this room was well used by the Jeffersons.
There were a few tables around the room but at the end, the ornately carved desk was surely reserved for the man of the household.

Alexander took the time to scowl at him now as he wrote. God, he looked delicious in his glasses, Alexander couldn’t help but think, and shoved the intrusive thought back down. He was too busy hating Thomas to want the man to stand over him, glasses and all, and belt his bruised ass over and over again.

 

“I hate you…” Alexander whispered, glowering down at his helpless, chained wrists folded in his lap, the shame pooling heatedly in the pit of his belly. Lust.

“What was that?” Thomas drawled offhandedly from his desk, not pausing from his writing.

Alex lifted his head slightly.
“I said I hate you.” spoke up once more, casually.

Thomas continued his work cooly, dipping his quill in the ink once and proceeded in silence for a moment.
“The feeling is mutual, Secretary Hamilton.” he finally spoke.

As Alexander looked up for a fleeting second, he could just barely catch a glimpse of a mischievous smirk dancing on Thomas’s cruel lips.
And then it was gone.

****

“I told you, you buckled it too tight.”
“Let me see.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“Alexander, roll up your cuffs.”

“No... Ow!! Thomas!”
“Stop whining, you pathetic child, Christ just sit still.”

Thomas leaned across the carriage seat and fingered Alexander’s sleeve, shimmying it up his arm and revealing the raw, irritated skin beneath.

“See?” Alexander’s brown glare met with Thomas’s as he rolled the cuff back down less-than-gently, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, grow up. I give you what you deserve, so if you want to blame someone, he’s the one wearing the cheapest coat on the market.”
“Fuck you and your entire fucking family.”
“Likewise.”

Alex flopped back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest, puffing grumpily as Thomas sat up straight and elegantly crosse his ankles. Fucking pratt. The carriage bumped along the uneven roads, rattling the two politicians inside.

A nagging anticipation had been gnawing away at Alexander’s insides all day leading up to the evening’s event. It was unavoidable and though he tried to stuff it down it would always worm its way up to the surface like a pestering itch.

The Secretary Treasury pulled his smooth wood work-case closer to him protectively on the bench.
It was amazing how he could feel no hesitation in dropping his pants and spreading his legs for this man, and yet in asking him a simple question he was frustratingly speechless.

The little man pulled at his white cravat with one finger to get some air in; Thomas had made him pull it up so high in order to cover the bite marks and bruises he had marked him as property with.
Alexander swallowed.

“Thomas.” He began as firmly as he could manage.
“That’s my name.” Thomas drawled boredly, still looking out the window as he monotoned.

Alex sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “How’s this going to work?”

“Could you be slightly more specific?” Thomas sneered offhandedly to the small window. The carriage hit a large bump, jostling Alexander easily. When he had gotten himself back in order, he spoke again.
“This, the Cabinet meeting, us, how’s it going to work, Thomas?”

The Virginian shifted his hips and finally turned his face towards Alexander reluctantly, neat brown hair framing his handsome face.
“Well, generally the president calls the defender to the floor, then they talk about politics and things.” Thomas babied his partner sarcastically.

“Cut the shit, Thomas. How’s this gonna work.”

The interior of the carriage was silent for a few long moments. The Secretary of State adjusted his hips once again in awkward hesitance, opening his mouth as if to speak and then deciding otherwise.
The man took a deep breath, returning back to his usual cold, rigid, controlled self and turned towards Alexander. His stone-cold gaze settled against the Treasurer’s.

“We will go inside separately and you will sit as far away from me as possible. You will not talk to me before or after the meeting while we are in the building. You will make your statement, I will make mine. Neither of us shall hold back on our opinions. You will address me as only Secretary Jefferson.” Thomas’s gaze flickered with fire for a fleeting moment. “After all, you hate me. This should be quite fitting.”

“Oh don’t pull that bullshit with me.” Alexander spat exasperatedly. Thomas rolled his eyes as if he hadn’t the slightest clue what the immigrant was on about, which infuriated him a degree more.
“So what, we’re just gonna act like nothing happened despite all this shit?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do, Alexander.” Thomas sneered back, leering closer to the boiling man’s irritated face.

 

“You know what? No. No, fuck you.” the Treasurer got all up in Thomas’s face and poked his chest painfully with one finger.
“Who the fuck said I have to listen to your spoiled ass? I’m gonna go in exactly when you do and sit at the same desk as you and call you whatever the hell I want, goddammit.”

Thomas’s steely eyes flicked to Alex’s lips and back in a split second. There was a pause.

“And suffer the consequences, Hamilton?” the Virginian murmured lowly, his voice dripping with cruel foreshadow. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven your little stunt so easily, bitch. You think you can derail me from my work, well, oh can I do so much worse to you, boy.”

Thomas slowly slid closer across the seat, challenging the immigrant who immediately followed suit and accepted.
“Fucking try me, bastard.” Alex sneered, reaching up to grab Thomas’s cravat in his grip and ball the fabric viciously in his fist, pulling his head close and burning deeply into his eyes.

“I will make this meeting a living hell for you.” Thomas growled and leaned forward on two hands, forcing Alex to place an arm behind him in order to hold himself up; the two glowered in a fiery standoff.
“Scared?” Thomas whispered, smirking, drawing so close that his lips ever so lightly brushed Alexander’s quivering ones in a moment of electric feather-light contact.

“Of you?” Alex breathed lividly, hot, moist breath intermingling with Thomas’s as he panted.
“You wish.” he whispered deathly quiet.

A moment’s pause while Thomas bore into Alexander, their hearts thudding aggressive symphonies.

Thomas walked slowly forward on his two hands planted on the cushioned bench, dark seduction in his gaze as he never broke eye contact, but gradually sped up in impatience.

In response, the small man leaned backwards, matching Thomas’s speed until his ruthless pursuit forced Alexander to lay on his back, still clinging roughly to his dom’s cravat and throwing flames with his livid glower.

Thomas dragged one hand across his belly and up his chest, landing it firmly on Alexander’s soft throat, tilting the immigrant’s head up to look deep into his blazing eyes. Lips still touching, breath still mixing, Thomas squeezed his powerful fingers in a dangerous threat.

“You’re on…” he hissed into the helpless man’s mouth.

The Virginian’s tongue pried open Alex’s lips, demanding entry roughly as the Treasurer whimpered a muffled moan.
Thomas devoured him in brutal ruthlessness, lapping dirtily into his mouth as Alexander opened wide in helpless surrender.

It was a dark warning for what was about to come…

Chapter Text

Straightening their cravats fussily and smoothing back hair, Alexander and Thomas bashfully thanked Thomas’s driver who had hopefully not heard much of what had become an aggressive makeout session in the backseat. Or how the carriage had rocked when it had stopped at a crossroads from what was definitely not incessant grinding.

Despite Alexander’s most persistent begging and pawing at his enemy’s clothed bulge, his rival had cruelly refused to touch him or undress him in the slightest. It burned Alexander to the core.

Thomas hopped out of the carriage gracefully onto the kept gravel driveway and closed the door behind him. Shoulders straightened, head high and chin raised, he strolled cooly towards the building, expensive work case swinging at his side.
The door closed in Alexander’s faced and he yanked it right back open again, growling in frustration as he tumbled out onto the ground, landing clumsily, unlike his insufferable partner.

“Hey!” Alex called, feet hitting the floor in a puff of dust and stumbling quickly to catch up with his swift-moving agitator.
“Wait up you fuckwad, I’m in the Cabinet too, you know.” Alex puffed angrily once he had come to his side, long hair already threatening to come free of its ties.

Thomas gave Alexander a mere sideways glare before looking back ahead and taking the building's steps easily two at time.
“As of right now you are Secretary Treasury. If you want to follow me around in front of the assembly and look like a fucking fool then you’d better keep up.” He whispered through gritted teeth, opening the door regally and breezing through, Alexander just barely squeezing in before it shut in his face.

The little man flexed his jaw and jogged for a moment’s boost; he would do whatever the hell he wanted in front of whoever the hell he wanted. If it would distract Jefferson from making a compelling argument, it was fair game for the treasurer.

“We’re late.” Thomas glanced at the grandfather clock standing resolutely in the rugged lobby. He turned the corner towards where the Cabinet room was, coat buffeting behind him.

“The fuck do you mean? We’re five minutes early.” Alexander turned the corner and rammed right into Thomas’s back, knocking the wind out of himself. Thomas barely even moved after being body slammed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Thomas spat, whirling around to his small Cabinet member as Alex put a hand on the wall, panting. He couldn’t do more than scowl at the Secretary of State in his current condition.

“I am aware that you have an insufferable obsession with showing up late for the most important federal assemblies, but the rest of us actually give two shits about the country we’re running, so get this in your head:” Thomas straightened himself up and ran his fingers neatly through his dark hair as he always did.
“Us real politicians do not come five minutes early.” He growled lowly, pivoting and strolling towards the end of the hallway where the same two guards stood as last time.

“Mr. Jefferson, sir, please come in, it’s an honor.” they bumbled, splitting a path for him and bowing respectfully. Thomas held his nose as high as ever in the air as he glided into the Cabinet room as if on wheels.

 

Alex stood dumbstruck in the hallway, shaking his head in outraged disbelief at this man. This intolerable, pompous, aristocratic sack of shit.
“Conceited asshole…” Alex grumbled to himself and shook the dust from the hem of his coat, moving to follow Thomas into the Cabinet room.

The humming sound of many voices filled the tall-windowed assembly room with life. Bodies in expensive coats meandered between those who were standing in small groups chatting or sitting down at the walnut desks in hushed conversation. Some pored over papers. The smell of wig powder and parchment was heavy in the air as the bumbling voices filled the space.

Upon entering, Alexander raised on his toes above all those heads to spot George Washington at his desk on the raised dais, handsome light hair slicked back against his scalp. He was already writing something quietly despite the buzzing activity in the room.

Scanning the scene as best he could with his short stature, Alex scoured the men with his eyes, raking the vicinity for a tall head of dark tidy hair. How could such a huge load of shit disappear so quickly?

“Hamilton.”

Alex jumped in surprise as a large figure slid in front of him, blocking his path from heading deeper into the room. “Jesus…” he breathed, startled and catching his breath; he wasn’t expecting a sudden encounter.
Alex finally looked up to evaluate the man and it was quite apparent who this politician was.

“Burr.”
Alex tried his hardest not to sneer in disgust. Burr smiled greasily down at him.
How was the bastard still in the Cabinet room? He’d been invited to the last assembly for a one time chance but he didn’t belong here; he never would. Alex glanced up at the seated Washington then back to Burr again, already annoyed.

“Alright there, Alexander?” Burr mocked, his sleazy voice raising the hairs on the Treasurer’s neck. Burr took a step closer and Alexander fought the desperate urge to take a step back from this seedy snake; he held his ground.

“Fine. What’re you doing here?” Alex snapped dryly, not bothering to hide his disdain.

“Mm, not very friendly.” Burr noted

“Well, not known for being so.”
There was a silence between the two men as they stared each other down. The taller nodded.

“I owe you my gratitude, Mr. Hamilton.” He began greasily, mischief twinkling in his eyes. The Treasurer pricked with suspicion.
“Thanks to your little… episode last assembly,” he smiled condescendingly at Alexander who breathed fumed breaths through his nose, “I never got the opportunity to partake in the session. So it is you to thank for my appearance today.”

Burr, knitted his fingers together and leaned in closer, “My sincerest thanks, Mr. Secretary,” he nodded.
Alex burned with silent rage, forcing himself to keep staring in Burr’s slimy gaze. What a greasy little weasel…

But Alexander’s breath caught; his eyes spotted a glimpse of a scarlet coat, a dark head of hair. His attention flicked to a spot over Burr’s shoulder where he finally viewed the man he was looking for.

“Excuse me.” Alexander growled distractedly, far from polite.

“B-” Burr opened his mouth to speak but Alexander had already rudely pushed his way past him and deeper into the room. Sleazy asshole. He hoped he wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the assembly.

Dodging haphazardly around the Secretary of War and Attorney General walking side by side, Alexander wedged up next to his target.
Thomas was standing, back to him, near the middle of the room; coat swaying slightly as he shifted onto the other foot, in conversation with someone else. Alex pushed through next to his tall partner.

“Ehem.” He coughed slightly, trying to get the taller man’s attention. Thomas shifted as if unpleasantly inconvenienced by the sound, and turned his body slightly towards Alexander.
Their brown eyes met each other for a split second.

“Secretary Hamilton.” Thomas drawled boredly, unenthusiastically making space for the persistent little man to slide into the conversation.

“Secretary Jefferson.” he nodded as passive aggressively as possible; Thomas forced a tight smile, restraining himself. There was no way Thomas would put up with this snotty behavior if it was the two of them, but in public the man had no choice, and Alexander was basking in it.

“Mr. Madison.” Alexander addressed the next man coldly, heart plummeting as soon as his eyes fell on the unfortunate sight. James was only slightly taller than him with slick, long blonde hair and always a handkerchief in his pocket. Always.

The sickly man dipped his head back to the Treasurer.
“Secretary Hamilton.” He whispered out, eyes avoiding Alexander’s without budging. He shifted uncomfortably to the other foot, looking up at Thomas and then back to the ground. Something wasn’t right here. Did Madison know something? The immigrant would be able to tell if the man would actually look at him.

The Secretary of State was not about to help Alexander out of this one. He wasn’t hesitant to throw the man right under the carriage.

“Do you need something, Secretary Hamilton?” Thomas drawled in exasperation, Southern twang buried deep down under a well-feigned northern accent.
Madison finally looked up at Alexander expectantly as the immigrant smiled irritably up at Thomas, “so that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh?” perfectly written on his face.

As Thomas and Alexander stood each other off awkwardly, James Madison began to cough behind his lips, trying to play it off cooly, but soon brought a fist to his mouth as the fit progressed.
“May I have a word with you, Mr. Jefferson.” Alexander stated, still keeping his lock on Thomas’s cold, cruel eyes.
“It appears Mr. Madison needs a moment.”

James was hacking at this point. He nodded in approval as he extracted his handkerchief from his pocket and raised it to his face, tears in his eyes. The aggressors were still locked on each other as Thomas slowly raised an eyebrow as he always did, challenging Alexander.

“As you wish.” he spoke, impeccable northern accent throwing the Treasurer even further.

Alex pivoted and shouldered his way through the crowd, making for the more empty side of the room. Thomas followed behind, people seeming to part way for him with ease.

 

“Yes?”

They stopped and Alex whired back around to face Thomas’s smug facade with annoyance.
“I’ve got questions.” he spat immediately.
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Hamilton.” Thomas smirked condescendingly, scanning Alexander’s frazzled appearance. This only irritated the man.

“The fuck is up with you talking to Madison? We made an agreement. Or did that suddenly disappear along with your accent?” Alexander ridiculed.

“Oh please, Alexander, we made an agreement we would stop our research not our partnership; you ignore that he and I are Democratic Republicans.”
“You never let me forget that one, Jefferson. Explain why he’s looking at me like that. You’d almost think he ...”
Alexander latched his gaze with Thomas’s, “Knows something…”

Thomas did not waver.
“What are you insinuating?”

“I’m not insinuating shit; I want to know why that physical embodiment of diphtheria is looking at me like I fucked his wife.”
“Well with your barbaric tendencies, that may be true.”
“Cut the shit, Jefferson.”

“Careful, Alex.” Thomas warned darkly. Disrespecting him would cost the immigrant, Alexander knew that but at this point he didn’t care.

“Is this my punishment? Huh? Ignoring me, illusive? Is this it?” Alexander took a half step closer, blazing as he interrogated.
“Cause you’re gonna have to try a lot harder to get me to regret what I did last night.”
He whispered, as close as Thomas as possible not to draw suspicion from the interior of the room.

The Secretary of State looked down on him, chin in the air. His steely eyes gave away nothing of what was going through his head.

A loud, sharp banging brought Alexander and Thomas’s attention snapping to the front of the room.
The buzzing in the room fell silent in hushed anticipation.

George Washington stood behind his desk on the dais, towering resolutely above the Cabinet as his blue eyes scanned the crowd.
“Gentlemen.” his full voice resounded through the room, “Please take your seats; I call this meeting to order.” He carefully struck the mallet once more as men shuffled and murmured, pulling back seats and rustling papers into place.

“Wh-” Thomas had turned and taken off, leaving Alex to stumble in pursuit.

“What is this?” Alexander whispered irritably, pulling back the seat next to his punisher and quietly sitting down.
Thomas did not look at him. “You want to sit with me, you don’t complain where we sit.”

They were in the very back row that nobody else had occupied. Just them.

Alex looked around in suspicion, pulling his briefcase onto the desk and beginning to empty it.
“No longer concerned about suspicion, eh?”

Thomas still locked his eyes on the front of the room lazily.
“I suggest you shut your unfortunately large mouth.” Thomas spoke as the rest of the room finally fell silent.

Alexander settled back as Washington’s voice filled the room, “May we all welcome Senator Burr to review the minutes of our previous assembly…”
Burr stood and began his recitation in a boring, monotone voice.

 

“SH-it..!” Alexander gasped sharply, unexpectedly choking down his shrill voice into his throat. The little man looked down in complete alarm, to his lap where a sudden burst of friction had spread through his belly like a shockwave.

What was this?

“Ahh, Thomas…?” Alexander sputtered out, hissing as quietly as possible as not to draw any attention.
The Viginian’s hand was resting gently on his belly now… spinning slow, dangerous circles with his index finger. He rhythmically threatened Alexander after he had suddenly reached over and given the immigrant’s clothed cock one long, firm stroke, his expert hand providing just the right amount of friction for maximum pleasure.

Oh no.

It came down on Alexander like a bucket of ice water.
This was his punishment. An eye for an eye. A distraction for a distraction.

Shit.

“Thomas?” Alex attempted again, urgency mounting pressingly in his voice as a rush of warm head curled in his belly right under Thomas’s fingers.

“You did a very bad thing, Alexander.” Thomas whispered so low it was barely audible. His fingers dragged brutally slowly towards Alex’s pants making his skin twitch and tingle.

“You think I wouldn’t fucking do anything about it? You think I’d let you carry on that disrespect? That filthy behavior?”
Alexander shifted in his seat, trying not to squirm as Thomas’s fingertips slipped under the waistline of his pants. His nails dragged torturously over the sensitive skin right above his cock.

“Thomas…”
“You don’t deserve a good beating. You don’t deserve my belt. You’re going to make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone who deems you important. You’re going to show everyone in this room how much of a disgusting, cock-loving, little slut you know you are.”

The Virginian finally brushed his feather-light fingers over the base of his cock, making Alexander shiver helplessly. Shit shit shit shit…
Thomas curled his fingers firmly around the base in a strong fist, changing course suddenly, setting Alexander’s nerves on fire.

“Shit!” He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and jolting in his seat.

Aaron Burr stopped talking for a horrifying moment. Glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the room.
Alex fell quiet. He shoved down the critical urge to cry out as Thomas stroked his cock once and then stopped.
Burr turned back towards Washington and continued. He couldn’t have seen anything thanks to the front-covered desks, but Alexander’s face, his movement… it was close.

There was no way he was going to let Thomas win this one. No fucking way in hell. This was another challenge, a dare, another one of Thomas’s sick plans for revenge that the Treasurer would fight to snuff out. And something about the danger of getting caught, the shame, the humiliation… It was not helping his current condition. He squirmed, desperate as a bitch in heat.

In one quick movement, Thomas popped Alexander’s dick out of his pants without exposing anything else but his shaft. It sprang up into the Virginian’s waiting hand, already completely hard. Thomas was not surprised.
“Already hard? Disgusting, Alexander. Such a dirty, desperate bitch…” He shamed him heartlessly cruel, spitting quietly into his hand and looking around before returning it back to his prize.

The wetness glistened on his smooth skin as Thomas slowly dragged one dangerous finger up the bottom of his shaft, tracing the route of a prominent, sensitive vein. Alexander’s breath was becoming ragged; was this sustainable?

He glanced frantically around the Cabinet room. The CABINET room. He was in a federal assembly and he was getting a handjob from his political enemy. This almost seemed like a ludicrous dream that you wake up from and wonder what the fuck you’d eaten before bed, but Alexander knew that it was all too real. Holy fuck.

Aaron Burr’s voice finally concluded and murmurs buzzed through the room quietly as Burr took his seat near the front.
Alex’s knees jumped apart involuntarily as Thomas held firm for a long, deep, stroke. The little man swallowed a whimper and forced his eyes to Washington instead of devouring the sight of Thomas’s sculpted hand slowly pumping his cock.

“Thank you, Senator Burr.” Washington dipped his head down to where the Senator had sat, and looked back down at the papers on his desk.
“Now may I call upon the Secretary of Treasury, Alexander Hamilton to deliver his statement on today’s topic of debate, Secretary Hamilton’s financial plan to assume states’ debts.”

The president scanned the rows, searching for Alex and finally landing on him in the back row with a curious flicker in his blue eyes.
“Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor, sir.” he addressed him politely, nobly not letting his suspicion be visible after seeing the man Alex was sitting at the same desk as.

Alexander gulped as the eyes of the Cabinet settled on him, a dozen white wigs turning his way to respectfully listen to the statement of the Secretary they found insufferable but always seemed to need in the end.

Standing slowly and shakily, Alexander felt as if his legs were going to give out beneath him, they were already weak.
The desk was tall and Alexander was not, so his midsection was still hidden behind the walnut wood. Should he be grateful for this or was it his doom?

He pushed his chair back and suddenly almost fell with pleasure as Thomas stroked again.

“Careful, Alexander.” Thomas muttered amusedly, “Someone might think you’re up to something naughty…”
Alexander breathed a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair as composed as possible as Thomas stroked him in a steady rhythm, too soft for him to hit a climax at this pace but too firm to not make him need to squirm.

This was torture. He didn’t know if he could take it. It was brutal, cruel torture.
But the little man was determined.

“Mr. President,” Alex sputtered out, too uncomposed to be unnoticeable. He looked around the room and coughed, starting again, “Mr. President. As a Federal Government, it is the responsibility of the men in this room to protect the general welfare of our citizens. All of them. It is common knowledge that the North is in debt following the honorable war for our indepe-…”

His voice tapered off as Thomas hit a particularly sensitive pace, picking up speed by the slightest degree. Alex blinked lightly, fluttering his eyelids and looking down to take a gulp of air.

“Independence.” He finished the word.
“The argument that the South’s debts are paid due to a more efficient economy is- SHIT!”

His voice rang through the room embarrassingly loudly. Some of the men jolted a bit in their seats.
Thomas had sped up for three impossibly fast strokes and then stopped altogether, folding his hand daintily back in his lap. Alex could just barely see him out of the corner of his eye, holding back a delighted smirk.

There was an agonizing pause.

President Washington sighed and looked up from his papers. “Secretary Hamilton, I will ask you once again to refrain from using profane language when referring to the South’s economy.” he monotoned exasperatedly, returning to his notes.

“Yes sir.” Alex complied, relieved. He continued, humiliated, “The debts of our Southern states have been paid because they have the convenient advantage in that they do not pay for labor. Through the shameful practice of human slavery, it has allowed the South to emerge unscathed from war when their brothers to the north struggle simply because we do not partake in crimes against humanity.” Alexander looked around the room.

 

“So, If we assume the… If we assu-...” Alexander swayed slightly as Thomas’s hand returned to Alexander’s throbbing cock, now pumping it faster and faster as if he was trying to jerk the cum right out of it by force.

“Please continue, Secretary Hamilton.” Washington looked over at him concernedly and tapped his quill in annoyance.

“If we assume the gets the union debts… No, sorry, if we assume the debts the UNION-!”
Alexander squeezed his eyes shut as Thomas’s wet thumb brushed over his sensitive tip, making him gasp. He blinked and breathed, trying to reinstate his composure. It felt so impossibly good… pleasure surged from the tip all the way down his shaft.

The Cabinet looked at each other then at him curiously. God this was mortifying, God, this was perfect.

“S-Sorry… if we assume the debts the union gets a new line of credit for war reparation to… to…”
Alexander’s eyes fought desperately to stay in place as he rocked on the verge of an orgasm, he could feel it brewing sharply in his belly. Holy shit… in front of the whole Cabinet…

“Secretary Hamilton, are you quite well?” Washington’s voice was spiked with an edge of irritation.
“I…I... - president Washingman- Washington”

“You have ten seconds left for your statement and if you have nothing of substance left to declare I am going to request that you take a seat, Mr. Hamilton.”
Washington declared firmly, strict disappointment in his tone. The rest of the Cabinet stared on nakedly at Alexander, shocked and expectant.

The little man crossed his knees desperately, trying to force down the inevitable orgasm building up heatedly between his legs.
“Thank you for your statement, Secretary Hamilton, but your time is finished, you may sit down if you so please.” the President shook his head in disapproval, writing down som last notes as the entire Cabinet began to murmur. Oh God… the humiliation, the shame.

The assembly fell into a period of note taking and gentle talking before they would hear the next statement.

 

Thomas’s strong hand pumped him in a furiously fast rhythm as he slowly lowered down into his seat, leaning back into it and trying to contain his quivering legs, smashing his knees together.
Thomas hummed in sick amusement, “How does that feel, hmm? Are you humiliated?” he drawled filthily to Alexander who clenched the sides of the seat with white knuckles, panting uncontrollably. Yes, yes yes...
Thomas smirked, “No matter how hard you try you’re going to cum in front of everyone. I can see it in your face. It’s too late. You have to cum, baby?” He purred.

Alex clenched his jaw furiously, gritting his teeth in desperation. He could feel it about to happen.
“Thomas-... I’m gonna… I’m gonna…!” He hissed head dropping to his chest. He was using every last ounce of restraint in his body not to scream.

This was Thomas’s cue; in one swift movement, he pulled Alexander’s pants over his cock, clothing it once again as the little man squirted out his release.

“Ohhh…” Alexander gripped the chair so hard his nails dug little cuts in the sides, his head rolled back and his back arched as much as it could in this position. He cummed helplessly into the fabric, leaving a stain that would prove hard to hide…
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck…” He panted incoherently, heart racing in ecstasy as his mind floated in a word of nothing but mortified pleasure, an emotion he was unaware existed.

Thighs twitching defenselessly, Alexander swallowed the powerful need to whimper, to scream, anything...

He hadn’t even come back down from his body-rocking orgasm when he noticed Thomas had been asked to stand and was already making his statement.

Shit… So this is how the bastard would play it, huh?
It seemed a whole new level of cruelty... How could Alexander love it so much?
He looked down at his lap, gingerly touching the spot with his shaky fingers. It was wet and not going to dry in time for the meeting to be over. That wicked fucking bastard…

Alexander looked up at the standing Thomas Jefferson, his gaze still blurry and cock-drunk. The man’s words slowly started to process in Alexander’s head, sentence by sentence.

Alexander watched helplessly from his seated position at the desk as Thomas tackled the Treasurer’s points one by one one and struck them down. His eloquent wording was lethal against Alexander’s it was a lost cause for the immigrant.

As Thomas concluded and cooly, collectedly sat back down, he gave poor Alex a side glance as Washington and the rest of the Cabinet continued taking notes furiously.
“How does it feel, Alexander?” Thomas mocked, raising a dark eyebrow coldly.

Alex shook his head. “I hate you so much…” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, stripping off his coat to put it in his lap over the stain; the Cabinet was about to be dismissed.
“Color?” Thomas demanded firmly as Alex yanked the coat over his lap in anger.
“Green…” the little man replied frustratedly, scowling down in livid hatred at his coat.

He was furious, but there was no question that he had relished this.
There was a pause as Washington called the meeting to a close, Alexander’s fuming face growing redder by the second.

Thomas chuckled cruelly at the little man’s hopeless condition. He leaned in slightly, “Have fun trying to cover up that cum stain, you filthy whore.” he breathed, spitting the last words with disgusting emphasis.

“Let today serve as a lesson for you, Alexander…” he whispered, straightening his cuffs and grasping the handle of his briefcase, his movements were all-business.

The Secretary of State stood gracefully, pushing in his chair with one hand, looking as if he was about to walk off casually.
He suddenly leaned in impossibly close to Alexander who gasped sharply in surprise; Thomas gripped the back of Alex's chair.

“Daddy… is. In. Charge.”

Every dirty word rustled the immigrant’s hair with warm breath.
And with a whirl of expensive fabric, Thomas was walking out of the Cabinet room, shoulders rounded, chin as high in the air as ever.

Chapter Text

Alexander dismounted his carriage in front of the tavern, the starry blanket of night settling comfortably over bustling, noisy New York City.

As soon as he had gotten out of the assembly building, he had scrambled to a carriage to get home and change his clothes; Thomas had set him up for the most tedious route of humiliation until then, however. His escape had not been easy.

Thomas had disappeared without a trace, taking Madison with him and strolling off, smug chin in the air, leaving Alexander sitting in the Cabinet room completely and utterly exposed and helpless. Of course, as soon as the room had emptied and Alexander was trying to hobble out with his balled up coat in front of his pants, Washington intervened.

Recounting the events as he crunched towards the tavern, straightening his cravat, brought him an uncomfortable shiver. It was the most humiliating scolding of his life.

Washington sat him down at his raised desk to bash him repeatedly on his wildly unacceptable behavior, drilling him for why on earth he was stuttering and tripping over his own tongue like a blubbering hoodlum.
Alexander’s excuse was illness, but Washington accused him of being drunk on the job which, of course, seemed like it could be valid now that he thought about it... Alexander talked his way out of Cabinet suspension like he always did, but to make matters worse, Washington had made him put his coat on the entire meeting, declaring how improper it was to talk to a president with a shirt and waistcoat. The little immigrant had to lean forwards the whole time and put his hands in his lap, desperately trying to cover the damage that Thomas had forced him into.

“Bastard… That filthy bastard.” Alex shook his head in angry disbelief as he pulled open the door, bell ringing as he entered.

He was surrounded and engulfed in the familiar sounds of the tavern, the scraping of knives on plates and the clinking of glasses followed by cheers, the crackling of fireplaces and groans of chairs being pulled back, and the voices and bursting laughter of men, both drunk and sober.

The whole place was filled with its usual gentle, warm lighting from the fireplaces and well-melted table candles, great towers of dripping wax around the bases. The faded old paintings on the walls gave it a cozy feel just like the enormous bear-pelt rugs that decorated the floors.
The smell of a fat, juicy, smoking roast beef enveloped the space.

“Oi! Hamilton!” a waiter from the inexpensive but extremely well-stocked bar called. Alex turned his head to see his most trusted waiter, a kid about a year younger than him, Samuel. The blonde lad had a British accent and a neckerchief tied around his neck, always. He was cleaning a glass.

“Sam! Business alright tonight?” Alex called over the hubbub.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, “Yeh, all thanks to your buddies over there; they’d buy out the whole stock if some’un didn’t stop em. Keep’en us in rent for a year I’d say!”
“Ah, the bastards.” Alex shook his head, amused, “Usual table?”

“Nowhere, else sire.”
Alex tossed him a coin affectionately as he headed off, weaving between bodies and tables towards where his friends always dwelled.

Already in a better mood, his spirits lifted further as his companions came into sight.
“Hamiltonnnn!” They chorused loudly when they noted his appearance, immediately shifting to drag up another chair to the worn and notched table.
Alex opened his arms wide in a “here I am” gesture and slid into his seat, Lafayette and Hercules slapping him on the back.

“Ahhh so ze immigrant bombed anozer Cabeenet meeting, oui?” Lafayette slandered Alex between laughs as he sat down.

Alex furrowed his brows, perplexed as Laurens quietly took a swig of his whiskey. “Wait, what? How’d you guys know that?”
Hercules leaned back, “Burr’s here a coupla minutes ago. He’s sitting with a buddy at the bar now but he came and told us everything.”

The little man’s heart plummeted into his stomach with a cold rush of unpleasant dread. A bitter taste filled his mouth as his head whipped to cast a glance at the bar. Sure enough the back of Burr’s greasy head was bobbing between some other men.

“Burr told you?” He repeated, trying to choke down his disgusted sneer.
“Yeah, man. Said you totally blew.”
“What happened?”

Alex held up a hand to silence Herc and Lafayette, “Look, I appreciate the curiosity guys but today’s been a total shitshow and I really just need to get wasted.” He looked around, trying to shake off the clinging, creeping feeling of Burr in the same room, “Where’s Sam, I gotta get myself some whiskey, stat.”

Alex was starving to take his mind off of the whole ordeal as he got Sam’s attention to bring him three glasses of liquor to begin his hopefully-forgettable night.

“Shit, Alexander, trying to wipe your memory all the way back to this spring?” Laurens snorted. Oddly, Alex couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or actually criticizing for some reason.
“Hey, I’d be fine with that too.” Alex sighed, raising one glass over the table.

“To you fuckwads.” he breathed in false emotion, looking each one of them in the eyes, “And your massive asshole-ery.” Hercules wiped an imaginary tear away as they all drank, Alexander tipping his head back and downing the entire glass of liquid.

He smacked it back down on the table when he was finished; blinking quickly.
He puffed out a breath. “Fuck.” Alex shook his head, slightly dizzy, a smile spreading on his face. “Let’s keep them coming.”

 

The second glass went down quickly and the third followed soon after. As the friends jested into the night, Alexander’s head was beginning to fill with the warm, pleasant buzz of alcohol, the drunken bliss. His troubles began to float away as the candles and hubbub of the tavern carried into the night.
So very pleasant… why was he worried anyhow? He’d made his argument through some difficulty, and Thomas didn’t even make it that hard.

He snorted lazily at the bad pun he’d accidentally made and took another sip of his whiskey.

Over the top of his glass he could se John leaning back in his seat. Was he looking at him? Alex squinted and tried to focus.
Yes, he was. He was giving him the same odd little stare he’d been giving him the whole night. Alex refocused his shifting vision once again.

“You ‘right John?” He spoke, tongue a bit heavy. Laurens crossed his arms and shifted a bit in his seat, looking around and then back to Alex.

“Why do you ask?” he evaded the question. Alexander set his glass back on the table and held down a belch.

“Dunno, your face just look like you stuck your dick in a grinding mill, man.”
John nodded slowly, humming.

“Well…” he smiled and placed his hands on the table, looking right at Alexander. “I never put my dick where it doesn’t belong, Ham.” John nodded silently.

There was a long silence as Lafayette and Hercules had listened in on the conversation and clearly picked up something that Alexander hadn’t. His fuzzy, tipsy, turning mind was trying to piece together what John was trying to say, but at this point he could only mash together vague ideas. He reached gingerly forward for his glass, missed, and grasped it again on the second try. Shit, he was drunk.

Laurens watched him the entire time, eyes tracking his every movement. Alex suddenly decided not to take another sip; he had to go get some air and clear his head. The need to escape unexpectedly became more urgent.
“Aight, I need to take a piss.” He grunted, leaning forward laboriously to push his chair back and stand.

John snorted as the chair scraped. “Of course you do, you’re piss drunk.”

“First of all, I’m not drunk.” the small man stood and immediately swayed violently to the left, being caught by Lafayette.
He held up a finger and laughed, “And second of all… I’m not drunk.”

Hercules laughed and took a swig from his own glass. “Get your bum-ass to the outhouse, you’re not back in ten we’ll just assume you kicked the bucket.”

“‘Preciate it!” Alex called over his shoulder as he veered sharply into a table corner.

**

Walking out of the bathroom, a great relief, he opened the creaky peeling door of the outhouse to go back to the tavern. He wanted the walk across the small back-lawn to be quick because the Caribbean man was already chilly, but if he walked fast he’d probably veer into a wall and kill himself.
He’d lost track of how many glasses he’d downed… had he ever been this drunk?

His mind spun as he opened the rusty-hinged door and walked out. But he ran directly into a large-bodied, towering, dark figure.

He grunted on impact and jumped back, grasping the handle of the door for support. The little man’s heart was racing with startled surprise and booze.
“Wh- fucking watch where you’re going!” Alex spat at the stranger.

“Ahh, Alexander.” the slimy, creepy voice made the hairs on Alex’s neck raise uncomfortably. His stomach lurched with dread. Burr…

The immigrant tried to take a deep breath to conceal his drunken state. Shit.
“It’s Secretary Hamilton, if you please.” He sneered coldly, trying to make a move around Burr and hightail it out of this situation.

Burr took a step forth into the candlelight by the outhouse, blocking Alex’s way. Just by the looks of him he was not drunk, the small man observed. This was not good. Fuck. What would he say? Who knows what his loosened tongue would let slip…

“Having a good evening, Hamilton?” the man purred. Alex grimaced.
“Was.”

Burr seemed to ignore his retort as he continued. “Good, good.” he nodded, “Glad to hear that, I thought you would be groveling and ruminating after your little… display today.” He smiled condescendingly.
“How encouraging to know that instead of writing like your life depends on it you’re…” Burr leaned in and took a subtle sniff, hinting obviously at the strong scent of whiskey, “drunk.”

Alex took a step forward, shocked at the blatant offense by this… weasel. Burr did not step back from the immigrant’s abrupt, drunken display, simply stood and stared down on Alexander carefully, calculatively, undoubtedly up to something.

“The fuck do you want, Burr? Get off my ass.” Alex spat in rage, at a complete loss as to why the man was pestering him like this. So uncalled for.
Burr interlaced his fingers in front of him calmly, “So quick to anger.” he observed.
For some reason those words jolted something deep in his chest. Angry and confused, he tried once more to push past Burr. The tall man simply stepped in his way.

“Alexander, I have questions for you.” Burr sneered greasily.

“Tough shit, this isn’t an interview.”

“Why can’t you seem to finish a sentence in meetings this month?”

“Get the fuck out of my way, I don’t have to answer diddly damn shit to a- what are you again- senator?” Alex mocked, furrowing his brows and swaying onto his left foot,
“Yeah, Burr. Don’t mock me for anything when you had to had to suck Washington’s star spangled dick to be able to fucking recite the minutes in one Cabinet meeting.” Alex laughed angrily.

Burr stood silently, arms crossed, looking down on Alexander.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The Treasurer sneered.

“Why were you sitting next to Jefferson?”

Alexander’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
“What?” He sputtered, knowing he had given something away by his lack of control of his expressions.

“Ahhh.” Burr hummed in satisfaction. “Hesitation?” he noted.

“Our agreement has nothing to do with you, fuckwad.” Alex snarled, “Go fuck yourself in the middle of Mainstreet.”

“Agreement?”
There was a deadly silence in the night. You could hear a pin drop. It felt almost like the crickets and bustling city traffic had stopped at the enemies' words.
Burr raised a greasy eyebrow, knowing he had just caught on to a piece of useful information.

Fuck.

Alexander cursed himself and his loose, drunk tongue for not thinking. Why was he not thinking? He couldn’t think. Now he was in danger and he knew it. Did Burr know he had caught on to something far more dangerous than he could imagine?

Alex moved his heavy, buzzing lips but no words formed, only a sputtering, gaping noise.

Burr rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms.
“Alright, Hamilton, alright.” He breathed quietly, staring down in sobriety.

“Clearly you are too disgustingly intoxicated to put together any coherent sentence.” Burr sneered sleazily, “So allow me to do the talking, if you will.” he feigned politeness, suddenly growing very serious and looking right down into Alexander’s eyes, raking the deep brown as his face darkened.

“I’m on your tail, Alexander. I’m breathing down your neck. You're right where I want you...” Burr breathed darkly, nasty breath brushing Alex’s face.
“I’m indecisive? Reticent? Hmm.” he smiled grotesquely, “only because you keep me out of the room, Hamilton. You’ve kept me out of the room my whole life and now…” His contorted smile deepened, “It’s over.”

Chills ran down the Treasurers spine as he tried to break eye contact but couldn’t.

“All the time I’ve spent on the sidelines looking in, you don’t think I’ve acquired any skills, Hamilton?" He laughed, "I hear everything. I see everything. And just when you don’t want me to know something, I’m everywhere.” He breathed each individual word. Alex had to get out of there. Now.

“And I’m onto you, Hamilton. I don’t know what game you and Jefferson are playing at but I will. Mark my words; and when I do everything will be over for you. It’s only a matter of time, Hamilton. Count the seconds.” Burr leaned in slowly, blue eyes impossible to escape, his whole being closing in on Alex who’s heart was hammering.

“I’m breathing down your neck.” Burr whispered, trapping Alexander.

“Can you feel me?”

The panic bubbled over in Alexander’s wide eyes as he shot both hands forwards, pushing Burr’s chest away from him.

“You’re crazy!” Alex slurred loudly, hopping around the tall man and speed-walking as quickly and briskly as he could away from the creeping senator, struggling not to stumble, head pounding as he reached the weathered door of the tavern and yanked it open, desperate to get inside.

This was ridiculous, fucking ridiculous. Frightened of Burr? Running from Burr? Burr? Why? His head was spinning because he wasn’t frightened for himself, no. What was he frightened for, then? He felt a tugging in the pit of his stomach, an inexplicable, heavy nag.

He stepped onto the wooden floor of the tavern, warm light flooding his eyes and the sound of the old piano that someone had started to play.

 

“We’re not finished yet, Mr. Secretary.” Burr had followed him in and sounded less insane now, but Alex needed to get away from that putrid little worm.
Burr snagged his arm from behind him, yanking him to a stop near the middle of the tavern.

Alex whirled around. “I said, we’re not finished yet.” Burr hissed greasily.
Alex jerked his arm free and shoved him in the chest once again, “Yeah, well I am.” he slurred.

Burr took a step back from the impact and shoved Alexander in the same way, tempers began to gradually simmer to a boil.
The drunken little man stumbled back further, swaying due to his intoxication and tripping over his own feet, crashing and falling messily right onto someone else’s table. The men jumped up as the table came crashing down noisily, a woman shrieked in shock.

Alexander could barely hear any of it, grunting, he tried laboriously to stand from the rubble and as soon as he was on his feet, charged drunkenly back at Burr with a strangled battle cry.
From the usual table a few feet away, John, Lafayette, and Hercules leaped up all at once from the noise of shattering plates and yells.

The Senator made an “oof!” sound as the little man thudded into his waist, sending them both careening over the bar counter, knocking bottles over which shattered to the ground chaotically.
The men snarled as they wrestled each other.

“Hey! break it up, boys!” a waiter boomed loudly, moving towards the politicians angrily. The pianist had stopped playing.
Lafayette, Hercules and John jumped in too, helping the waiter rip the aggressors apart and hold them back from each other, but soon it was found that only Alex needed to be held back like a wild animal, Burr was calm and collected.

Brushing off his coat, Burr stood cooly apart from the frenzy; Alex struggling and writhing to get free and charge again.

 

The livid immigrant only heard snippets of what happened next, his head was spinning at such a nauseating pace.
The rotund, sweaty owner of the tavern came out and Laurens did all the talking (“he’s just drunk.” “So sorry.” “I’ll take him home, we won’t be any trouble.”).

And before Alex quite knew what was happening, he was ushered out the door into the cool dark night, looking back over his shoulder at the unmoving, looming Burr as if through a window…

**

John and Alexander had walked for maybe ten minutes in the city night; it was hard for Alex to judge time very accurately at the moment. As the two best friends walked in complete and utter silence, the immigrant’s head buzzed with thoughts.

He could almost feel the rift between the two of them, almost see it. Now that he thought about it, it had been there all night. Why was it there? As their feet thumped on the bustling road, the sound around them didn’t matter when between them there was such silence.

Sober Alexander would have waited longer, analyzed. Come up with something more clever to say, but he had no room for that sort of judgement now. Shaking his head to futilely clear it up, he spoke.

“Look, John, I don’t know why you’ve been weird to me all night, but what’s up?” Alex drawled. There was a minute’s silence as they walked.

Then, John sighed. “You’re asking what’s up with me? You got in a bar fight, Hams.” he reminded reasonably, “We should be talking about you. What happened at the assembly, how did you get in a scuffle with Burr?” he threw his hands up exasperatedly, fully knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. “Whatever.” He breathed, dropping his arms.

Alex bowed his head to watch his shoes in silence. They walked.

 

“Look,” John sighed suddenly, stopping Alexander with a hand and turning to him, forcing his eyes up to his, “I just thought you’d be honest with the guys. Tell them what’s going on… Tell em yourself.”

 

It took a moment before Alexander finally understood. He gaped.
“You mean the… affair.” He whispered the last word in embarrassment. John nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“John.” Alex scoffed, laughing incredulously, “I can’t just go around telling everyone about a fucking affair.”

Laurens furrowed his eyebrows and blinked, taken aback by his harsh address.
“‘Everyone’? We’re your friends Alexander. What, you think we’re not trustworthy enough?” John halfway sneered at him.

“No, I never said that, look.” Alex gestured at himself grandly, “IF it somehow got out, I’d be ruined. The Democratic Republicans-”
“I get it, Alexander.” John scoffed lifting a hand to silence him.

“No, really, Washington would be forced to-”
“I get. It.” John annunciated once again, looking Alexander up and down calculatively. “It’s about you.”

There was a tense pause.

“What?”

“It’s about you. It’s always about you. Your job, your legacy, your Treasury. You.”
“John… what’re you talking about?”

Laurens shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to put his words, then looking back into Alex’s eyes again. “Alex, I love you man. You’re my best friend, always have been. But if you won't trust us, what are we supposed to do? Follow blindly?”

Alex swayed, trying to wrap his head around this argument. This was not the time to be having it. Not at all.
“Well yeah, it’s not like any of you are the Secretary Treasurer. I tell anyone I’ll be ruined, you don’t know what that’s like.”

John stared at him silently for several long, drawn out moments. Was he gaping? A carriage went by on the road quietly. Alex tried to think back to his words, had he said something?
Oh.
Oh shit.

“Oh, John, I-” He tried to speak but was cut off.

“I think you should head home now, Alexander.”

 

“Really, please, let me just say-”
“I think you’ve said enough. It's fine; I get it.” John crossed his arms and looked down at the ground. The stood in awkward silence for a drawn out period of time.

Alex wanted to say something, anything, but he knew whatever he would say would somehow make everything worse. He tried to speak but no words came out.
Trying to take a step towards John, he swayed violently and caught himself on the side of a faded wall.

John looked him up and down, his emotions indiscernible on his cold face; everything was impossibly blurry.

“Go home, Alex. I’ll see you around.” He spoke dryly and softly, turning on his heel and heading back in the other direction.

“John…” Alex croaked out as his friends boots padded on the road, the hem of his coat fluttering in the breeze.
“John!” He punctuated louder. But there was no response as his friend, his best friend, walked away from him, head down, disappearing into the deep traffic of a New York City night…

**

Alex unlocked the door and walked in, throwing the jangling keys on the dining room table carelessly. Staggering to the living room, he barely made it to the couch before flopping down in drunken exhaustion, head spinning a million miles per hour.

The events of the night were already becoming mixed up and vague in his mind. The Cabinet meeting, John…
Burr…

His heart panged as he thought of how his friend had walked away from him in such disappointment. Why?

And Burr..

Alex breathed, cupping his hands over his face and rubbing slowly. Why had he gotten in a fight with him, again? What had he said?
It was all becoming so distorted as Alex beat his slow mind into motion.

It slowly seeped back in; Burr had threatened him, he realized. He had threatened him blatantly.
Alexander dragged his hands down his face and folded them on his belly, staring up at the white ceiling. A patch of moonlight painted it from the window, reminding him of someplace. It was so quiet.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid of Burr, or for himself; the bastard couldn’t touch him; he was nothing, a nobody.

Then why was he so worried? A heavy, cold, tug weighed down in the pit of his stomach. Rolling over onto his stomach laboriously didn’t help.

Alexander closed his eyes, allowing the velvety black to envelop him…

 

And then it hit him.

His eyes snapped back open, his breath caught painfully in his throat.

The little immigrant sat up on his elbows restlessly and thought; the more he remembered, the deeper his head sank into his palms.

He had told Burr that he was in an agreement with Jefferson. No details, nothing, but he had said it and now Burr knew there was something to dig for. There was blood in the water and Burr was on the hunt. Alexander had left a trail in the woods and now there was no way to hide it.

Alexander thought back to what John had said.
“It’s about you, Alexander. It’s always about you.”

But as the Treasurer stiffly rolled onto his back, body aching and throbbing from the fight and head pounding with whiskey, it was not about him.
As he stared up at the moonlight patch, coldly painting the ceiling, he did not fear for himself.
One name rang through his head, the only thing that was clear.

Thomas.
He feared for Thomas.

Chapter Text

“I still don’t see why you want to walk in the city so late at night. Especially this area.”
“If you’ve walked here before you’d see it has its charms.”

James took a moment to consider.
“As do all places. Fair point. I would ask to join you but…”
“No worries, James. Perhaps another time.”

Thomas intervened, sparing Madison the embarrassment of talking about his sickly nature on this cool night, August having come in chilly this year.

The two politicians were sharing one of Madison’s personal carriages; it had a lush interior, the finest driver, and two of the most well-bred horses to draw the masterpiece behind them. After the Cabinet meeting, Thomas had swept James out of the room, finding himself in a particularly good mood. Of course, only Thomas himself knew the reason for his high spirits.

Taking James’s carriage they had gone for a dinner in the city at the finest restaurant around, Lionne, and dined on only the most exquisite dishes. The place was pristine and high-class, a string quartet had played in the gentle candlelight that glinted off the golden cutlery.

 

And throughout the entire dinner Thomas could barely pay attention to what James was saying. It started out easy but grew more difficult as time passed.
Alexander Hamilton possessed his thoughts. Even when he wasn’t around he was insufferably bothersome.

He couldn't help but dwell on the way the little man had been forced to give into submission, helplessly arching his back and digging his nails into the chair in excruciating need to scream. Remembering exactly how he had clenched his knees together as he stood, desperately struggling to keep the inevitable orgasm down.

 

Thomas had been relieved when the final course was over, Madison having finally finished his souffle. The blonde man had given him some grief for rushing out, but Thomas promised he wouldn’t have to deal with him all the way home; he’d hop out for a walk downtown.

The Virginian almost sneered at the thought of himself walking downtown and getting his expensive shoes tarnished in the dirty streets. As the carriage slowed to a stop and Thomas bid goodnight to his fellow Democratic Republican, he had only one thing on his mind while dismounting the coach, work-case in hand. Alexander.

The handsome bay horses tossed their heads as he thanked the driver and headed off down the block, only one street to go before he could be knocking on Alexander’s door. A late night booty-call, Thomas noted loftily.

The little man wouldn’t protest to that sort of treatment, Thomas knew. He was his slut, he was at his disposal and he could come to him whenever he wanted because the needy little nuisance would devour any chance to get nailed, willingly.

Now, if Alexander had come to Thomas in this manner, it would not be tolerated. Disrespect like that was unthinkable, and he wouldn’t give Alexander the slightest taste of satisfaction for behavior of that sort.
Bad boy.

Chuckling in self-satisfaction, he thudded up the steps of Alexander’s house.

 

The windows were dark, he noticed first. Furrowing his eyebrows in skepticism, he approached closer to the door for a listen. The inside of the house was silent as well.

Stepping forth, he rapped on the door powerfully listening for any movement. After a prolonged period of silence, he was about to bang once again before he heard a disturbance from inside. There was a clinking noise, like glass, followed shortly by uneven, out of beat thumps.
A large thud made Thomas jolt, but before he could react, the door was swung open haphazardly.

“Thomasss.”

The Virginian’s jaw dropped.

 

Alexander stood before him, leaning heavily on the open door for support, arms open in wide welcome. And he was a disgrace.

He wore no shoes or coat, his waistcoat was completely unbuttoned and hanging loose; his shirt was ruffled. The little man’s hair was down and it fell over his shoulders; in one hand he held a bottle of cheap whiskey that had only a quarter of golden contents left.

But the most startling sight was the blooming, purple, black-eye that flowered on the right side of his face.
Alex tried to stand straight but simply swayed to the other side of the door, laughing softly.

Thomas didn’t gape for a second more.
“Alexander Hamilton…” he breathed in disbelief, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Alex looked up at him stupidly, “You, hopefully. Fuck, you look hot… did ya bring Madison, he can join us if he is so inclined…” the man slurred, winking at Thomas.

The Secretary of State ran a hand through his hair, this was ridiculous. He was drunk, so incredibly, disgustingly drunk.

“Watch your FILTHY mouth, Hamilton.” Thomas spat, a shot of anger searing through his chest at the mention of another man. Jealousy…

“Oooh… NOT very friendly…” Alex jeered, lurching forward in an attempt to approach Thomas but swerved sharply to the right, towards the edge of the porch.

He would’ve careened over the edge if Thomas hadn’t leapt to catch him, snagging him by the waist and holding him standing as the little man giggled and hiccuped.

Thomas looked down at him, disgusted, seizing his hair brutally.
“Filthy drunk, how much have you drank tonight?” he sneered.

Alexander hiccuped, putting the bottle to his lips once more. “Not enough!” he laughed, breath smelling sharply of whiskey as he tilted his head back.
“Put that down!” Thomas commanded sharply, yanking the bottle from Alexander’s hands. The vaguely disgruntled man groped around for the bottle, climbing all over Thomas to try and get it back.
But the movement was too much for his stomach.

Turning his head to the side, Alex heaved abruptly and retched the contents of his body onto the porch.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Thomas growled in surprise, manipulating the man to the side of the porch hastily and expertly shoving him down to his knees. Thomas bent over and collected Alexander’s hair into one fist, holding it back as he vomited over the edge of the porch. It didn’t last too long, but long enough for Thomas to make his decision.

The little man coughed and sputtered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and coughed again.
“Shit…” he managed feebly.

“Alright, that’s fucking it.” Thomas sighed firmly, letting go of his hair. “We’re going inside. Right. Now. And you’re giving me a fucking explanation; I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you.”
Thomas declared sternly, thick accent coming through as he made his commands.

Alex didn’t move, just stayed on his hands and knees and breathed.

“Get up.” Thomas commanded icily. There was no response.

He rolled his eyes in engine exasperation and yanked Alex to his feet by the scruff of his neck, grumbling at this whole situation. This isn’t why he had come; this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Alex stumbled violently and grunted beside his handler as Thomas dragged him through the threshold into the house.

Thomas was supposed to have the Cabinet meeting of his life, eat the most refined dinner with an important associate, and then come to Alexander’s as he pleased and do what he desired with the man. Tie him to the staircase and fuck him senseless, take him home and do what he willed there, whatever it would be, it was not supposed to be... this!

Dragging around a drunken child that couldn’t even stand on his feet without his help… He was entitled to more than this servant’s work! He didn’t have to deal with this shit; he could leave the immigrant wasted on the couch if he had no use for him. Thomas huffed in aristocratic frustration. How fucking uncivilized and burdensome.

And yet once he had dumped Alexander emotionlessly on the couch... he still stayed.

 

“Sit up, goddamnit.” He sneered in disgust at the little man, who took two tries to sit up and lean back on the couch.

“Don’t move.” Thomas ordered, moving into the kitchen and out of sight.

Alexander sat in silence, thoughts almost completely incoherent at this point. Before Thomas had come, he had pulled out a bottle of his own after contemplating Burr’s threat. He couldn’t shove down the notion that his little slip put Thomas in danger… He shouldn’t feel guilty, he WANTED Thomas destroyed. Yet when he was wasted it was Thomas that showed up… Maybe it was the alcohol doing the thinking at this point.

Thomas returned to the room after a minute, tall glass of water in his hand.
“Drink.” he placed the glass into Alex’s haphazard grasp and skirted the living room table to a plush chair.

Gingerly, as to touch as little of the chair as possible, Thomas sat himself down in dainty loftiness. Looking over at Alexander, he crossed his legs in a princely manner.

“When is the last time you had this furniture sanitized properly?” Thomas enunciated in disgust.

Alex set the glass down precariously and swung his head to look at his partner, eyes half closed lazily, “Dunno, ask the last owner.” he slurred.

“Barbaric.” Thomas whispered, edging to the very end of the chair. Alexander gave him a very laborious middle finger, then flopped back, laughing through his nose.

He looked back up at Thomas, draping himself over the couch smugly.

 

“So.” He spoke, smirking, shifting his hips, “You gonna fuck me, big boy?” He purred, gradually unbuckling his belt and looping his fingers in his waistband.

 

Thomas was struck completely by surprise. What!?

“How dare you speak to me like that.” he spat incredulously. How could Alexander be so insensibly blatant? Who did he think he was?

The immigrant shimmied his pants as graceful as he could, which was clumsy to say the least, to halfway down his thighs, biting his lip as he did so.

Thomas watched in appalled disgrace.
“Alexander… you FILTHY skank!” He snarled. “You’re… DESPICABLE. Christ, you have a death wish. You really have a death wish pushing your luck like that. I swear…”

“Why are you here then, Thomas?” Alex stroked his cock once, being sure to part his knees so Thomas could perfectly see, and gasping sharply at his touch for exaggerated eroticism.

“Hmm?” Alex raised an eyebrow at Thomas’s hesitation. The drunk little bastard was right; Thomas knew that. It was why he had come.

Alex raised a clumsy hand to his mouth and cocked his head at Thomas, mocking.
“Don’t you dare.” Thomas whispered darkly, not an element of joke in his tone.

“What, daddy?” Alex pouted, “You won’t fuck me? … I’ll do it myself.”

“Alexander, don’t. You. Dare.”

Alexander wiggled his eyebrows dangerously, staring right into Thomas’s deadly-threatening glare as he licked his palm torturously slowly. He dragged his tongue over his skin, coating it with slick. As he stared down his enemy, not even comprehending how much trouble he was in.

“Having second thoughts?” Alex questioned, lowering his hand to his bulge and wrapping his fingers around, slowly stroking it agonizingly. He tilted his head as he moved his hand, moaning deeply in dramatic pleasure, orgasm painted mockingy on his face.

He squirmed and rolled his hips deeply, feigning oversensitivity and needy desperation. He knew this was exactly what would make Thomas want him, need him.

The Virgian was helplessly turned on, no doubt about that. Seeing Alexander play with himself all while looking right in his eyes… It was enough to make him shoot right up and advance on the little man, throw him down on the coffee table and fuck his little asshole.

...But not tonight. He knew needed to contain the fury bubbling up inside of him, manifesting itself in a nagging pool of ravished hunger in the bottom of his belly.
Despite all primitive urges, Thomas was a man of class. And Alexander was so intoxicated he had no idea what he was doing. He laced his fingers properly over his knee and stared coldly back at Alexander.

“What gives you the idea that you get to decide when you’re allowed to cum?” Thomas drawled boredly, seriousness laced in his calm, icy tone.

Alex stuck out the tip of his tongue and closed his eyes orgasmically, “Ooh, I’m scared… Watch out daddy, I might cum all over your pretty little shoes.”

“SHUT UP!” Thomas barked sternly, sitting up straight. Alexander’s hand froze on his cock for a moment as he opened his eyes, his drunken gaze slightly shocked at the rough voice, anticipating.

 

Thomas stood smoothly, gracefully, brown eyes training on his bothersome little sub. He skirted the table as if walking on air, until he was in front of Alexander.
The tall man stopped, towering over him.

Alex looked up timidly.

“Who decides when you are allowed to cum, Alexander?” Thomas whispered, staring coldly down.
Alexander did not respond other than to accept the challenge, glaring tipsily back into his dom’s eyes.

 

The pain came quickly and abruptly. Alexander’s head snapped to the side as the sharp “thwack!” echoed in the room.

“I said, WHO DECIDES WHEN YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CUM?” Thomas roared.

Alexander’s eyes teared up as he blinked rapidly, lips parted in speechless shock. He lifted his hand to his face, gingerly touching the raw, stinging skin and grimaced from his own touch.

Thomas watched him coldly.
“Did that hurt, Alexander?” he nearly whispered, his voice was so low and emotionless.

“Yes.” Alex breathed submissively, spinning mind giving in to the total control, blinking the tears away.

“I’m going to hurt you a lot harder if you disrespect me again. Understand, Alexander?”

“Yes.” Alex mumbled again, trying hard not to pout.

“Look me in the eyes. Manners.” Thomas commanded briskly and Alexander complied to Thomas’s humming approval.
“Answer my previous question, Alexander. And I would be careful with my attitude if I were you.” Thomas warned darkly, looking down on the little man.

Alex shifted shamefully, not daring to look away. “Daddy decides when I get to cum.” He strained out as respectfully as he could manage considering that he wanted to leap up and show Thomas a good challenge. But he knew he was in trouble, so he agonizingly held his tongue.

“Good boy.” Thomas nodded curtly, satisfied. “Now apologize to your daddy for your unacceptable behavior.”

“I’m sorry.” Alex mumbled looking at the floor, cheeks glowing red with fury and alcohol.
“For what?” Thomas prompted. Alex whined inaudibly in desperate frustration, looking at the ceiling then back at his master.
“For touching myself when I didn’t have permission.” He struggled out between breaths, rage well-hidden considering his state.

The taller crouched down so he was level with Alexander, gently reaching out for Alexander’s hands. The immigrant flinched when their skin made electric contact, but Thomas purred enticingly, allowing Alex to skeptically allow his enemy to hold his hands.

“And why did that make daddy unhappy?”

Alex looked deep into Thomas’s brown eyes and gulped.
“Because daddy is in charge.”

“What was that?” Thomas hummed, cocking an eyebrow and parting his lips, clearly having heard what his sub said, but having the brutal arrogance to force him to say it again.

Alex forced his eyes to stay on Thomas’s swallowing his angry breaths, laboriously struggling to be good for Thomas; just do as he says, just do as he says and you’ll be rewarded, Alex chanted in his mind.

“Daddy… Is in charge…” Alex breathed.
“Right you are, Alexander. Good boy.” Thomas released his hands and stood once again, brushing off his smooth coat and clasping his hands behind his back.

“Listen very carefully, Alexander, I know you are disgustingly intoxicated.”
The seated man tilted his head up to him angrily, glaring but once again holding his tongue.

“We are going to go upstairs. You are going to take a bath and brush your teeth. You will do your hair, get dressed in clean clothes and go straight to bed. Do you understand what we are to do?”

Alex squinted in irritated outrage, “We?” he spat.

“Yes, we. You think I’d let you stagger around here and kill yourself on a table corner. Who would be my fuck-toy then, hm.” Thomas sneered obviously.
“How about your wife?”

Thomas laughed lightly through his nose, crossing his arms. “I think I’ve made it obvious that women are not my forte.” he smirked.

“Had a feeling.” Alexander grinned jokingly as Thomas leaned forward, extending his arms.
“Whaddya playing at? Don’ touch me.” Alex slurred, sleepiness hinted in his voice. Thomas rolled his eyes and curled one arm under the little man’s back, the other below his knees.

“You can take the stairs on your own if you want. I don’t really fucking care and it would be amusing.”
“I’m good.”
“Truly, it’s a win-win. Either you make it and it’s fucking hilarous or you die. I can’t lose.”
“Fuck you.”

The two bickered aggressively as Thomas climbed the staircase, little Alexander in his arms smelling sharply of alcohol. They crossed the threshold into Alex’s bedroom and Thomas carried him to the bed, sitting him down gently on the edge.

“Feeling tame today, are we?”
“Feeling like if you vomit on me, I’ll murder you.” Thomas strolled to the bathroom, his muffled voice calling back, “you’ve already got a bath drawn in here, correct?”

“Mhmm this morning.” Alex hiccuped, flopping back on the bed, “Heat it up, would ya, darling?” He snorted at the ceiling.

Thomas emerged from the bathroom, “Not a chance. Get your ass up.” he grunted as he approached the little main and hoisted him once again into his powerful arms.

“I’m gonna freeze, you fucker!” Alex tried to kick Thomas.
“It’s warmer than you think, you insufferable brat. Sit on the edge and don’t fall in; it’ll be a hassle if you hit your head and die. I’d drown in inquiries.” Thomas mumbled as he crouched down, fingers working at the buttons on Alexander’s shirt and stripping him of it and his waistcoat.

“In.” Thomas commanded, assisting Alexander in sliding into the water without slipping. The immigrant basically melted into the bliss, trying not to prove Thomas right by sighing at the surprising warmth the bath had kept.

“Soap.” Thomas declared, placing the beige bar in Alex’s hand, but is slipped like butter through his limp fingers.
“Oh come on, try a little harder than that, asshole.” the Virginian rolled his eyes in annoyance.

 

“Can’t. Your job. Go ‘head.” Alex spoke in short sentences, rolling onto his belly and propping his head up on his folded arms. The arrogant prick sighed deeply and closed his eyes, awaiting Thomas’s touch expectantly.

“Unbelievable.” Thomas drawled irritably, picking up the soap with two dainty fingers and gingerly placing it on Alex’s submerged skin. He felt like a lowly servant and sneered.
“Enjoy this while it lasts, Alexander because I’ll never do your peasant's work again.”

“Mmm…” Alex hummed, “less talk, more wash.” he groaned deeply into his arms, earning his hair a sharp tug from his disgruntled dom.

It started out as burdensome, Thomas wouldn’t deny that: having to wash Alexander’s drunk-ass like a handmaid. He grumbled about how immature and irresponsible Alex was, but the little man seemed to hear nothing of it as he melted under Thomas’s touch.

After some time it almost became… therapeutic in a sense. For both men. Thomas gliding the soap rhythmically over Alexander’s exhausted little body, and Alex relaxing completely under Thomas’s control.

As soon as the two had settled into a system, Thomas broke it.
“Alright, up and out, my little drunk; my fingers are doing the distasteful prune thing.”
“Flattering. Call me Alexander.”
“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want; your drunk-ass won’t remember shit tomorrow.”

Alex stepped out of the tub and swayed, grasping Thomas’s shoulder.
“I’m sober.” he mumbled, taking the towel Thomas had extended to him, wrapping the long thing around his body like a cloak.
“Mm, and I’m the queen of England.” Thomas sneered, shepherding Alexander out of the bathroom fussily.

The little man tripped over the dragging, fluffy towel that enveloped his tiny frame, and plunked to the floor with protest as Thomas shoved down his shoulders.

“Hey whaddya think you’re doing?” Alex blinked up at Thomas who was opening the wardrobe door in front of them and then crossing behind the sitting man.

“Don’t move. Where is your hairbrush?” his voice grew faint as he disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared promptly.

“Thanks for the information.” He scoffed, lowering himself gracefully to the floor close behind Alexander. If he squinted, the thickly-wrapped immigrant could see in the wardrobe mirror that Thomas had found his horsehair brush made from cheap cowhorn.

Shuffling daintily into position, Thomas sniffed and placed a hand on the back of Alex’s neck, using the other hand to draw the brush gently through the man’s long, wet hair.

Alex hesitated.
“A- Are you brushing my hair?” he sputtered.

Thomas paused, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
“A- Are you stupid?” He mocked, rolling his eyes and continuing his task (“Dimwit…”)

Still in slight shock, Alexander watched through the mirror as Thomas’s eyes left his and he continued to work on his hair, pulling the brush through his long strands and taking extra care with the knotted places.
Alex’s fuzzy mind wandered as Thomas worked diligently with the brush, grooming his hair rhythmically… he was calm… he felt something that was a step further than content…
He realized the feeling was security. His eyes drooped closed at the feeling of Thomas’s firm hand on the brush and his palm against the back of his neck.

The little man was so deep in bliss, he hardly noticed when his handler set down the brush and started working at the top of his head, fingers tugging gently at his hair.

Opening his eyes effortfully, Alex glanced in the mirror after a few minutes of this meticulous tugging, curious.
As soon as his dull mind comprehended what was happening, something in his chest shifted.

Thomas Jefferson was sitting behind him, tongue between his lips, pleating Alexander’s hair with full concentration. His long, powerful fingers weaved the brown strands attentively… carefully.

When he was done fitting a clip to the bottom, he gently let go, leaning back a bit to observe his handiwork.

 

“French braid?” Alex laughed softly through his nose, making Thomas’s eyes shoot to meet his in the mirror, not even realizing Alex had been watching him the whole time.
“Oui.” Thomas spoke curtly, suddenly leaning forward to stand with a huff.
“Your hair was un désastre massif. I don’t want it in my face all night.” He approached the wardrobe, searching for the place where Alexander might keep his nightclothes.

“But I should not speak in français. Not tonight.” he cast a steely glance devilishly over his shoulder, “I’ve seen how it… affects you, mon jouet précieux.”

Alex squirmed in embarrassment as Thomas tossed his nightclothes at him on the floor.

“Get dressed. You can manage.” He dictated coldly, walking past Alex to put away the brush.

 

Holding onto the bedpost, the tipsy man dressed himself and clambered into bed, still staring at his reflection from there.
Tilting his head back and forth, he could see the impeccable craftsmanship in the smooth braid. If he was honest with himself, it was fucking badass.

In a minute, Thomas sauntered back out in nothing but underwear.

Alex looked him up and down.
“You’re gonna be cold on the walk home, but okay, buddy.” he laughed, settling in the sheets.

“Excuse me?” Thomas sneered, walking around the edge of the bed and swinging onto it, bouncing little Alexander.

The immigrant turned irritably, “I said, your ass is gonna be cold on the walk home.”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re going on about.” Thomas rolled his eyes, pulling back the covers and pulling his legs in. “Why aren’t you drinking water? Are you five? Drink the damn water, Hamilton.”

“Not thirsty.”

“You’ve had nine whiskeys, a black eye, and two affairs, Alexander. You’re thirsty.”

“I’m not thirst- how are you giving me orders? Get out of my damn house, Jeffs.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Get out of my house, damnit.” Alex threw up his arms drunkenly and rolled over so he wasn’t facing Thomas.
There were two minutes of silence before Alex peeked over his shoulder.

“Still here, Alexander.” Thomas sighed exhaustedly, used to Alex’s fits of passion at this point, slightly amused.

“Go away.”
“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you. That’s an order, not a suggestion, wise-ass.”

Alex suddenly rolled to face Thomas, much closer to him now as they laid in bed together. Alex pointed tipsily at his larger partner, looking like a damn fool as he tried to appear authoritative.
“You know what, I think I’ve got you figured out, Jefferson.” He slurred, squinting at Thomas.

The larger man squinted right back, amused. “Is that so?” He hummed, nodding leisurely. “Enlighten me.” He replied as he propped his head on his hand, eyes half-closed.
Alex scooted closer, arrogantly preparing his statement.

“You talk a big game, Jeffs, but you’re really just a soft pussy until someone puts you out of control.”

Thomas nodded slowly, entertained.
“You love power. You CRAVE power. And when it causes someone else helpless pain that’s when you crave it the most, don’t you, you sick fucker. Isn’t that right?”

Thomas stared at him silently for a few moments, squinting into Hamilton’s brown, drunken eyes.

He laughed through his nose. “You got me, Hamilton. Congratulations.” Thomas opened his hands and clapped them slowly, smirking as he mocked condescendingly.
“Don’t mock me.” Alex spat, shuffling forward to poke Thomas painfully in the bare chest. “Tell me that anything I said wasn’t true.”

 

“Nope. You’ve caught me red handed. I- how did you put it? - CRAVE control.” Thomas laughed again taunting, and drew closer. His face suddenly became darker, more serious, hand crawling up Alexander’s chest.

“I’m as tame as a lamb until you step out of line…” he purred, voice dripping sweetly as saturated honey. His fingers skimmed lightly up the front of Alexander’s delicate throat, making the sensitive skin twitch.
“And then I become a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” he breathed, stroking Alex’s throat affectionately like a pet, ever so feather-lightly.

“And oh... do I love the hunt.” He taunted menacingly, placing a powerful thumb on the painful part of the skin and pressing, making Alex’s eyes water in pleasured agony.

Thomas cocked his head expressionlessly, watching without emotion as Alexander coughed and wriggled in pain.

“I have you all figured out too, Alexander.” Thomas spoke softly, not letting go his grip.
“You talk a big game but you know you’re a submissive little lamb. Desperate to be preyed on…”

Thomas leaned in abruptly, grazing his lips against Alex’s wet ones, relishing in his erotic gasp.
“You love pain, Alexander. You love the torture.” The little man coughed sharply again and felt Thomas smirk against his lips.

“You want a wolf, Hamilton? ...You get the bite.” Alex gasped needily at the words as Thomas leaned in and bit his bottom lip sharply, enough to make him squeal.

 

Releasing the knifelike pressure on his windpipe, Thomas wrapped his hand around Alexander’s throat, holding him dominantly as they devoured each other’s mouths slowly.
Dirty tongues danced against each other at a crawling pace, memorizing each other meticulously. The slick heat between their tongues was obscene as the dominant one explored the sides of his play-thing’s mouth.

Thomas lapped at the roof of Alex’s mouth and drew away gently with a satisfying conclusion and a soft wet sound.

Lips still lightly brushing, Alexander opened his milky-brown eyes, glistening from the earlier threat of tears, “You can NOT make me go to sleep after that.” he laughed gently, shaking his head and exhaling deeply.

“Actually, I can.” Thomas smiled affectionately, hint of cockiness still in his lofty gaze as he brushed the back of his fingernails over Alex’s cheek.

 

There was a moment.
There was definitely a moment, more than that as the two stared at each other, gazing into the deepest depths of one another’s eyes. There was a fleeting moment where they were bare to the wind, vulnerable and unprotected, and neither one threw up their walls.

 

And then Alexander broke it. With the dreaded, dreaded word.

 

“I love you. Thomas.” He spoke, heavy tongue lolling on his teeth as he laid his head down sleepily on his pillow. His forehead pressed against Thomas’s collarbone.

 

The Virginian froze.

 

His heart plummeted into his stomach with a force greater than gravity crushing in on a planet’s core.

He couldn’t speak for a moment as Alex nestled into his body, seeking warmth as if he’d never said anything out of the ordinary, as if he’d only said goodnight. Thomas breathed a shaky breath.

“Okay, wow, definitely time for you to sleep off the alcohol.” he spoke, accent showing through to an embarrassing degree as it always did in the rare instances when he was caught off guard.

“I’m not lying… I love you…” Alexander slurred, voice muffled as his head tucked gently against Thomas.

It’s the liquor talking, Thomas reminded himself, desperately trying to hold down the thoughts that were threatening to push out of his restraints and scream through his mind.

“Alright, go to sleep.”
“But I-”
“Sleep.”

Thomas shut down the little man, not wanting to delve into this conversation any further. The man was drunk. Piss-yourself-throw-up-in-a-bush-tell-your-enemy-you-love-him drunk. He didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what he was saying and when the sun was to come up, he wouldn’t remember any of it.

And no matter how he justified that Alexander had not meant what he said, he had said it.

No matter how he weaved around it, it was glaring in his face like moonlight on the surface of the stillest lake.

Thomas looked down at Alexander Hamilton, already breathing softly in deep sleep, curled against his own body, dark braid snaking through his hair.
He gripped him possessively by the waist, going against what he knew was right and shoving all of his thoughts down deep into his mind, locking them up so they would not disturb this sleep.

He couldn’t think of this now. He wouldn’t.
He would ask tomorrow why he had gotten wasted and how he had gotten the black eye and what he remembered from the previous night. The Virginian would never mention this moment.

 

He consigned the thoughts to oblivion as his chin rested on Alex’s head, jaw brushing the curves of the smooth braid.

As minutes passed… he unknowingly matching his breathing with Alexander's as the two fell asleep…

Chapter Text

Upon waking, the first thing that Alexander felt was the dull pain in his skull. He kept his eyes closed, the light behind them already making his head pound sharply.
It felt like his brain was trying to squeeze out of his cranium with every knifelike throb, hammering on the back of his eyes.

Groaning and rolling over in his sheets, he pulled a pillow over the top of his head, shielding his ears from the usual sound of birds twittering, carriages meandering through traffic, men shouting and the nearby butcher, tailor, and wig shops opening for the day. These every-morning sounds of New York City were piercing his ears like sewing needles.

Under the muffled darkness of the pillow that brought him some comfort, Alexander tried to count his heap of thoughts that were piling up and give them all a hearing. He was hungover; that was obvious. But he was clean, dressed in poper nightclothes, and he was in his BED for that matter! Usually when he was wasted he’d wake up on the floor in John’s house or maybe Manhattan.

And his hair…
He ran a hand beneath the pillow over the back of his head.

What the fuck?

He pulled the pillow off and sat up stiffly, shoulders popping as he raised his hands to the curves that were obviously skillfully weaved but were fuzzy after a night of sleep.

Something was definitely questionable.
What had he done last night?

Alex thought hard but his pounding head swired up all the events into a chaotic disaster. He massaged his eyes deeply and began again with a deep breath, this time from the beginning.

Cabinet meeting. Right. Thomas had pulled his little public humiliation stunt and completely given Alexander’s argument a kick to the balls. Perfect.

Next he went to the bar and… Yes, he had wanted to get wasted. A feeling of tension crept up his spine. Because…?

Burr.

Alex’s veins rushed with a cold floor of adrenaline. From that name bloomed the fuzzy outline of a blur of events, the fight, the threat…

And that’s why he had come home; he was kicked out. And John had taken him home?
No they never got there because he had no recollection of being dropped off .

And then it hit him. They had had an argument, the topic of which was unrecoverable but the heavy feeling was still there.
And after that… everything was completely irretrievable.

 

Alex huffed a long sigh, and stiffly stepped out of bed groaning loudly as his muscles ached with soreness. He limped his way to the bathroom.
Splashing some water on his face, he looked up into the mirror after pulling the towel away and gasped.

A purple black eye bloomed from the right side of his face, startling him. Lips parted, he gingerly touched the area and winced at the contact of his fingertips. Shit.
Blinking, he rubbed his temples and turned out of the bathroom, staggering towards the hallway. He needed some hangover food. Now. Today was already one huge fuckshow and he’d been awake five minutes.

Were there any rolls left?

Railing as his support, the little immigrant thumped down the stairs and rounded the bend towards the kitchen hallway, starving.

Out of nowhere, a voice piped up.
“Alexander, about time-”

 

The little man positively screamed and reflexively rammed his fist up into whatever had just walked around the corner with a sickening “thwack!”

“AUGH!” The figure roared, putting hands up to grasp his face and stepping back.
Alex had leapt back in a defensive position, adrenaline pumping like ice through his veins, heart positively hammering with fear.

“CHRIST, ALEXANDER!” The man roared, leaning against a wall as support and lowering his hands from his face, droplets of blood coloring them. Alexander’s stomach lurched as he comprehended.

“Jefferson?!” He scoffed in complete disbelief, “What the fuck!?” he shrieked, not putting his fists down yet.

“WHY the HELL did you punch me!” Thomas boomed, veins on his neck popping, shaking his blood-spattered hands.

“I wasn’t expecting to be- WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?” Alexander cut himself off, realizing the ludicrousy of the situation.

Thomas took one moment for breath, “Just calm down for one fucking second I’m bleeding out over here.” he sneered angrily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning his hand over to observe it.

“Calm down? Calm down?! My head feels like someone put a bayonet through it with a mallet!” Alex whined in pain, refusing to lay off.

Thomas sighed exasperatedly,
“Alright, bitch, you want pancakes or not?”
he asked, catching the little man off guard.

Alex ceased his whining, and perked up, squinting at Thomas calculatively. “Pancakes?”
“Yes, you hungover shitwad. Pancakes.”

The little immigrant tried to hide his immediate interest in the hangover food and considered Thomas carefully.

“Yes.” Alex sniffed haughtily, making his decision with chin in the air.
“Well,” Thomas responded, knowing Alexander would react in this way, “let’s go to the kitchen and talk CALMLY, and you can eat the food I was making before you clocked me in the face.” he growled as Alexander walked by him and pushed open the swinging door.

The smell of sweet, warm, cooking batter filled the kitchen like never before.

“Shit… how long till they’re done.” Alex settled down on a wooden stool at the small table impatiently.
“They’re done when they’re done.” Thomas grumbled, standing over the stone cooking-fireplace with the cast iron pan suspended above.

“The light’s hurting my head.” Alex whined; the kitchen had big windows for ventilation and the morning sunlight was pouring into the stone and wood room.

“Suck it up.” Thomas grunted shortly, turning to him with a plate stacked to the roof with steaming pancakes and setting it down with a clink. He dragged up another stool and sat, knees spread, arms crossed on the table as Alex leaped forward to devour the food.

The tall man only watched as he ate, bouncing his foot rhythmically.

In only a couple minutes, Alex slapped his fork down when he was finished, crossing his arms.
“Okay. Answers.” He demanded.

“You’re welcome for breakfast, wise-guy.”

“Thanks. Now answers. What happened last night?”
Thomas crossed his arms too, sighing deeply through his nose.
“You want me to be straight with you?” he asked lightly.

Aex snorted, “preferably not. Somebody’s gotta fuck my ass.”
“Hilarious.” Thomas huffed through his nose at the gay joke, “And funny you should say that.” Alexander cocked his head.

“I came to your house last night after dinner. I was expecting proper satisfaction and then discarding you to enjoying a nice glass of Brandy and reading some Chénier for the evening at home.”

“Boring.” Alex whispered under his breath as Thomas continued.

“And I was in disbelief to see you so revoltingly drunk that instead, you vomit over the porch and stumble around like a hoodlum.” He shook his head, “I had to take care of your ass all night like a servant.”

“Did we fuck?” Alexander asked lazily around the glass of water in his mouth. He set it down, laughing to himself and swallowing, “Scratch that, considering that I can sit down, the answer is no.”

“Oh, but did you try, Alexander. I had to hold back from beating you senseless for your flagrant disrespect.” he enunciated strictly.
“And another thing…” his tone suddenly darkened and slowed; the Virginian leaned forward on his folded arms resting on the table. He burned into Alex’s eyes.

“The first thing you said when I saw you is that you’d want James. Madison. To join. Us.”
Thomas pulling in his dark brows, “Any comment on that?”

 

Alex felt like Thomas had just slapped him across the face. He gaped, stunned and laughed, blinking, “You’re kidding me, right?” He scoffed.

Thomas raised an eyebrow silently.

The little one rolled his head around in amused disbelief, landing his eyes back on Thomas incredulously.
Then he came up with a brand new little scheme.

 

Lips parted, he smirked slightly, showing his canines.
“You know what?” he purred, snakelike, “Yeah, I fucked James Madison.” Alex nodded deeply, leaning back and biting his lip, never breaking from Thomas’s gaze, “Fucked em good. Let him tie me down. Whisper dirty filth in my ear.”

Alexander watched in delight as the heat in Thomas’s glare mounted exponentially.
“Let him watch me moan as I cum.” Alex grinned, having far too much fun with this, “James! Oh- oh.. James, yes! Fuck!”

“Alexander.” Thomas punctuated composedly despite the rage in his eyes, “That is quite enough.”

“What’s that?” Alex cocked his head, looking up at the ceiling, “Is that… jealousy I hear?”
“Alright.” Thomas placed a hand on each knee and smiled, leaning forward to stand.

“Where’re you going?”

Thomas placed his fingertips on the tabletop as he stood, looking dominantly down on Alex.
“We are going to my manor. You need a rest day for that hangover.”

Alex sat in silence, puzzled.

“And do note that you will be punished for your behavior.” Thomas mentioned offhandedly, as if he’d just remembered it, straightening his cuffs.

“Ahh, so you are jealous.” Alex refused to let go, persisting as he stood and pushed his stool under.
“Not jealous, no. I know you didn’t fuck Madison.”

“And if I had?” Alex followed up, just waiting for the response he was desperately chasing after. Thomas smirked lightly, pushing in his chair with a foot.
“Well… let’s just say I am a man who knows what is his property and what must only serve for his personal use. I would have it dealt with.”

And there was the answer he was looking for.

“Get dressed and back down here in five. My carriage is on its way.”

**

“Alright, Alexander, this has gone on long enough.” Thomas piped up, setting down his quill for the second time.

“Ten more minutes.”
“You’ve been saying that at ten minute increments for the past three hours and I’m sick of your bullshit. So get off your ass.”
“Bite me.”
“Don’t think I won’t, smart aleck.”

The scratching of a quill is all that followed. Thomas plucked off his glasses and set them on his desk, staring at the table where Alex sat near the window in his library, writing like his life depended on it.

“Alexander Hamilton.” Thomas spoke firmly, not letting his tone give any room for misbehavior, “Put the goddamn quill down. Right. Now.”

Finally looking up and shooting the most hatred filled scowl, Alexander leaned back and tossed his quill onto the desk crossing his arms poutily.
“Happy?”
“Attitude.”
“Fuck yourself.”

Alexander got up, looking at his work longingly as he packed it up into his work-cas, mumbling irritably. Thomas only watched on in amusement.
“Why’d you take your glasses off, Jeffs?” Alex huffed as he paced up to Thomas’s desk and planted his hands on it rudely, “You look very provocative in them.”

Thomas laughed lightly as he put his quills in order. “You’re disgraceful, you know that? Want me lay you over my desk and fuck you with my glasses on?”
Alexander lit up in excitement, looking up hopefully into Thomas’s eyes, “Umm, duh.”

“Well. No.” Thomas answered cruelly, rising from his seat and brushing past him out of the room.
Alexander made a betrayed little noise as he watched him go.

The immigrant sprang towards the door, short legs striding rapidly to catch up with him, “The amount of self control not to strangle you…” Alex panted, sidling up next to him.
“I’d like to see you try.” Thomas sneered, strolling into his bedroom.
“How’s that broken lip feeling, Jeffs?”
“Don’t call me that. And go choke on a dick.”

The two bickered as Thomas changed from his formalwear into something more casual, a simple shirt and waistcoat. Alexander gave him a quizzical look.
“We’re going on a walk.” Thomas explained shortly.

 

His little partner groaned, rolling his head back impossibly far. “Oh, quit your bellyaching, bitch, you need the fresh air.”

“Noooo…” Alex trailed off as he threw himself backwards onto Thomas’s neatly made bed, “Fuck your fresh air. I need dick.” he whined through the pillow he’d plastered over his face. Thomas rolled his eyes and walked forth, ripping it out of his grasp.

“Hey!”

“Hello. Now, Alexander, do as I say or I will spend the entire day torturing you. Because I can and I absolutely will.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get started.” Alex barked frustratedly, sitting up.

Thomas pushed him back down forcefully with his palm.
“No, this is not the kind of torture you’re going to like. If I were you I would do as I say, and promptly. Up.” Thomas commanded, throwing the pillow roughly at Alexander who chucked it right back, earning him a disciplining slap across the mouth, but unfortunately nothing more than that.

 

And before he knew it, Alexander was walking beside Thomas in the crisp morning air rubbing the side of his mouth.
“Still hurt?” Thomas gave him a sideways glance, smirking.
“You hit me so hard your exact fingerprint is etched in my skin.”
“Pussy.” Thomas rolled his eyes playfully as Alexander punched him in the arm, the little man trying not to laugh.

The morning was turning pleasantly into afternoon, summer insects buzzed lazily about the spilling-over flower beds as the two pairs of feet crunched on well-packed gravel. The winding path brought the two strolling further and further away from the house, as they were surrounded in nature, the heavy scent of perfumed flowers in the sun engulfing their senses.

The men were silent as they walked side by side. Bird twitters and chirps filled the silence but despite their cheerful mood earlier, there was some inexplicable tension hanging in the small space between them. Alex looked up at Thomas and then ahead again, noticing a glitter of light somewhere between the trees.

He perked up considerably.

“Jefferson, what’s over there?” He inquired, pointing to the area curiously as more glittering spaces popped up. Thomas looked on ahead, not even looking where Alexander was pointing out.
“Lake. And a small one at that.”
Alexander’s heart fluttered excitedly. He loved water.

“Can we go see it?”
“Why? It’s not very thrilling.” Thomas drawled.
“Well neither is your grandpa walk.” The taller smacked Alex on the back of the head, but only to find him laughing.

“Okay well if you won’t take me there, I’m going on my own.”
“No you’re not.”
“Watch me.”
“Alexander Hamilton do not take ONE more step.” Alex swivelled around, the clever man having already constructed a plan.

“Okay, okay. Not moving.” He held up his hands innocently, “But... how about a competition…?”
He smiled at Thomas’s reaction. The tall politician had come to alertness as soon as the word came out, perking up dramatically.

“Competition?” He twanged, whole Southern accent coming through at full swing.
“Competition.” Alex repeated the word enticingly, nodding. There was a pause.

“Go on.” Thomas squinted, lifting his chin, already sure he was bound to win without even knowing the stakes.

Alexander thought for a moment and proceeded, “First one to get in the lake wins. First one in the lake… naked. And if I win, I get to ask whatever I want of you, and you’re required to do it.” Thomas opened his mouth as if to weigh in, but Alex cut him off, “AND, if YOU win…” He looked up into his brown, dangerous eyes, “You punish me. All day. Whatever punishment you want. I’ll have to deal with it.”

Thomas nodded slowly, crossing his arms, “Okay… but contact is allowed in the race.”
Alexander took a step towards him at the unfairness considering his size, “BUT you get a two second’s head start because you’re basically just a fuckable elf.”
“Fuck you.” Alex sneered, “And all bets are off when I leave this place tonight. Deal?”

Alex stuck out his hand. Thomas considered him for a lofty second before extending his larger hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s a bet.” He twanged.

 

The two made a decision of where to start and lined up on the side of the path, Alexander crouching down for his head start. Thomas looked down on him.
“Scared, Hamilton?” He raised an eyebrow.
“In your wildest rich-boy dreams.” Thomas sneered and crouched next to him.
“On three. One…” Thomas could see Alex’s muscles bunching up and grinned, “Two… Three!”

The immigrant shot off in a spray of gravel into the woods, startling Thomas. The little man was surprisingly fast as he streaked into the forest, head down as his legs pumped. So distracted, Thomas almost forgot to start in time, and pushed off the ground in a hasty burst of speed.

With his smooth, long, athletic strides, Thomas immediately gained on Alexander, feet crunching in the forest foliage as he approached.

The wind in their hair was exhilarating, their hammering hearts sending bursts of adrenaline to their legs as they thundered through the woods, trees streaking past.

Thomas was right behind Alexander now, and extended his arm as he sprinted, yanking the little one’s braid and forcing him down. Alexander cried out as he tripped and crashed to the forest floor. Thomas laughed and leaped over him, but was foiled by Alex’s quick reflexes. He reached above him and snagged Thomas’s ankle out of the air, sending him careening to the ground with a huge thud.

Wind knocked out of him, Thomas clambered over Alexander to get back to his feet, the two scrummed and snarled, but the Virginian emerged first from the scuffle. He jetted ahead followed closely by Alexander.

The lake was in clear sight now and with not many more strides they skidded to a stop at the bank, hustling to hastily tear away their clothes and fling them off. At this point, the winner was obvious, Thomas’s victory was imminent as he stepped out of his pants gracefully and turned to half-naked Alexander, a sparkle in his eye as Alex struggled and huffed.

Thomas winked, gave Alex a formal solute, and jumped backwards into the lake with a satisfying splash.

“Goddamnit.” Alexander growled, finally tripping free of his pants and kicking them off. He hated that the bastard had won. Not even considering the consequences, he ran and leapt right off the bank into the sparkling, sun-ginting lake. Thomas only had a second to put his arms up.

Half caught by the water, half by Thomas, Alexander landed in Thomas’s arms with a splash that got up both of their noses. The water was pleasantly chilly, making goosebumps spread along Alex’s arms as they coughed, and spit water from their mouths.

“Cheater.” Alexander pointed at Thomas, trying to tread water as he was too short to stand, chin slipping under.

“Cheater?” Thomas scoffed, “How the fuck did I cheat?”
“It was CONTACT, not hair pulli-” His voice glubbed off as he sank a bit and then tread again, growing tired from running and swimming.

Thomas rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Tell yourself what you want; you lost. If you accept that, maybe I'll consider not letting you drown right now.”
Alexander only scowled as Thomas laughed, reaching under the water for his hip bones before getting an answer, and hoisting him up to hold him.

“Still hate you.” Alex squinted.

Thomas didn’t respond but for a laugh and a silencing kiss, pressing deeply into the little man’s mouth with his tongue. Still angry and frustrated and tired, a flurry of emotions whirled through both men as their lips collided, both hearts skipping a beat in unison.

Alexander was a tough customer, making Thomas work for it, but eventually he opened up and surrendered to his dom’s tongue, letting him lap at the insides of his cheeks and the corners of his lips.

Wading slowly in the cool water, Thomas walked up to the small, sandy beach area quietly and lowering Alexander down onto the sand, working with his tongue as he pressed his weight over his sub, lapping into the back of his mouth, under his tongue, and raking hotly along the roof of his mouth.

Alexander suddenly needed more, the feeling of Thomas’s body and tongue on and in him was mounting into an urgent need. When heat rushed to his lower belly, his hips bucked helplessly, but under Thomas’s weight it was futile.

With a cute, little whine, he reached between them, grasping for Thomas’s cock. Suddenly, Thomas bit Alexander’s lip sharply, forcing a pitiful squeal out of him as he smacked his hand away roughly. Water splashed at the movement.

“Not allowed.” Thomas mumbled into Alex’s mouth, earning him a needy moan.
Taking a moment before making his decision, Thomas stood, powerfully lifting Alexander by the thighs.
Not breaking their deep-mouth contact, he strode up the shore to the bright grassy area they had stripped on, and laid him down in the soft grass with a thump, a little less-than-gently. Water streamed off of both of them, slick, wet hair dark against their heads.

“Legs. Open. Now.” He growled between short, hot kisses.

Thomas trailed his searing tongue down Alex’s jaw to his precious throat that he adored messing with, and clamped down on the whole thing deeply. Alex sounded a guttural moan at the perfect pain.

“Oh you like that?” Thomas breathed mockingly.
“Oh yes… Oh…” Alex gasped as Thomas sucked at his pulse point and bit his throat once again.

“Thomas…” he squealed. The larger man who was laying on top of him, dragged his body down as he trailed hot, wet, hickeys across his collarbone, tracing the sharp outline with his tongue.
Thomas grinded deeply into Alex’s cock, earning another obscene sound and, wanting to hear it again, Thomas rolled his hips in once more for his own cruel pleasure. Alexander sobbed at the friction.

“Sit up.” Thomas commanded. Alexander did not comply, only whimpered and tried to buck his hips helplessly, only causing his head to slam back into the ground. Thomas growled and reached a powerful hand forward to grasp his throat, pulling him up himself. Thomas smacked him across the mouth with a loud “crack!” that echoed lightly off the trees.

Alexander's eyes welled angrily as he snarled like a rabid animal, teeth bared. “Arrogant… piece- of- shit…” Alex coughed out.
“Don’t you DARE talk back to me with that FILTHY mouth of yours.” he asserted, making Alex flinch. “Come here…” he growled, pulling the little man closer, roughly, so that he was in his lap, their shafts touching.

Alex twitched at the heat, mewling lightly and looking down at their cocks desperately.
“Eyes. Up.” Thomas tightened his grip a bit, forcing the immigrant to do his bidding. Alexander complied.

One large hand dangerously still on his throat, Thomas every so slowly wrapped the other around both of their cocks, gripping firmly at the base and pausing.

Seconds passed, he could almost hear Alex’s heart thudding as he trembled with discipline. His lip quivered helplessly as he looked up into Thomas’s heartless gaze, desperately pleading.
“Ready to cry already?” Thomas mocked coldly, finally gliding his hand up their shafts. Alexander almost collapsed backwards in relief, he melted as his eyes rolled just a bit.
“Please… please… yes…” He breathed, chest heaving as Thomas continued to stroke their cocks together.

 

The steady rhythm continued before Thomas began to speed up, the pleasure shooting abruptly up from Alex’s belly through his body as he jerked uncontrollably.
“OH! Th- Th… Mmph!” His whimpering was cut off as Thomas pulled his head onto his, smacking their tongues together, going into the kiss with wide open mouths.

Thomas started to grasp harder, pump both of them faster, a steady motion of perfect pleasure. But he always had a kicker in mind. He knew that Alexander was relishing in being up against his shaft, so close to him… so he started to thrust shortly into his hand as well, providing the immigrant with added, slick friction.

Alexander wailed into Thomas’s mouth as the Virginian’s skillful hips moved his cock against his in perfect synch with his hand. Thomas sped up as he felt himself beginning to feel his climax in reach.

“You want your punishment?” Thomas breathed, panting into Alexander’s ear. The little one only nodded frantically, hips jerking wildly. “You want daddy to give you what you deserve? Wanna cry for daddy?” Thomas bit Alex’s ear roughly, yanking slightly before pulling back.

Thomas wolved Alex’s tongue back into his mouth, mercilessly as the man moaned.

Not five seconds passed before Alex squeezed his eyes shut, hard. His breathing accelerated to heaves against Thomas’s face.
“Mmph! Mmph..! Mmph…!” He whimpered shrilly into Thomas’s mouth, unable to make any other sort of noise. The message was communicated perfectly; he was about to cum. This was Thomas’s cue.

 

The Virginian broke off the kiss and lifted his hand away. Separating their cocks completely, Thomas backed up slightly from Alexander and continued to jerk off only himself, watching the show in butal cruelty.

Alexander screamed. It was so shrill and helpless, he thought it would never end. Eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, he panted, whimpering, as he flopped down onto his back in the grass.
He squirmed desperately, crossing his legs and uncrossing them as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. Eventually, the torturous agony of orgasm-denial was too exhausting and he lay mostly-unmoving in the grass, panting shakily and twitching.

Thomas watched on with immense enjoyment, finally letting go of his cock as he cummed his release into the grass between them. “Oh… Fuck… Alexander…” He breathed quietly, letting his orgasm rock him into ecstasy for brief moments.

When he finally came back down from his pleasure, he crawled forward towards his little sub. He was still on his back, unmoving other than some quiet sobs.

Thomas stared down at him, “What did you learn from your punishment, Alexander?” he spoke, voice as smooth and cool as velvet.
Alex heaved another sob and weakly managed to open his eyes, lips moving soundlessly.

“That daddy doesn’t like you talking about other boys, isn’t that right?” Thomas growled deeply in his chest, now crawling on his hands and knees above Alexander possessively.

His body was still shaking slightly. “So good… So… so…” he trailed off incoherently.
Thomas nodded, “You like it when daddy doesn’t let you cum?”

Alex bobbed his head, wet eyes gazing admiringly up at his dom.

“Well… That’s good news for you, Alexander. Good news, indeed.”

Thomas stood up, brushing off his hands. Alexander himself had cooled down slightly, still itching agonizingly from the torture, and sat up.
“Why?” he inquired curiously.

Thomas looked down on him.
“Because your punishment is not nearly over. And I’ve got a lot in mind before I’m through with you.”

 

Alex gulped fearfully, but excitedly, standing on his shaky, weak, legs to rise up to Thomas. He slowly met his eyes.

In one swift motion Alex put his hands on Thomas’s shoulders and bounced up, allowing the taller man to hold the thighs that he wrapped around him. “Alexander....” The name of his partner dying on his lips, the two collided together in a battle of tongues.

It was messy and heated, but more than anything there was an overwhelming, aggressive, unexpected and inexplicable amount of passion between those lips.

Putting the Cabinet work and debates and national government behind them for now, they lapped at each other. One nice long day to put all of it out of their minds and only think of one thing. One thing…

Yes, they both decided. This was going to be a good day indeed...

Chapter Text

“‘And even silence found a tongue’… STOP laughing; every time you laugh, I laugh, and we’ll never get through it.” Thomas broke off from his reading, unable to hold back his own chuckles.
“Alexander….” Thomas growled, trying to seem threatening but they were both laughing. “WHAT the fuck is so funny?” he spat, snapping the book closed.

Alexander wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I-it’s the accent.” He wheezed between breaths. Thomas rolled his eyes and began to stand from the chair, fed-up.
“No, no, wait, Thomas, Thomas.” Alexander sputtered, leaning forward to catch him and pull him back down. “Lemme read it, here, come on.” he gestured for the book that Thomas handed him suspiciously, sitting back down.

Alexander flipped it to the bookmarked page, “One sec, hold on...” He giggled, finding the page and stopping. He straightened up and raised his chin like Thomas did, placing his finger on the line he was on.

“N eve’n SAHlence found a tung.” Alexander began voice positively DRIPPING with Southern accent. “To hawnt me all th’summer LAWng.”
He was cut off by the explosive laughter from Thomas, positively erupting from him.

“I do NOT sound like that!” He protested, leaning over the top of the chair pointing at Alexander as he roared.
“YES you do!” Alexander retorted, snorting uncontrollably as he too flopped forward, draping his body over the chair.

The two hooted over Alex’s imitation for a minute, finally coming down after what seemed forever. Their laughter echoed in the tall, domed ceiling of the parlor which was alive with light from the late-afternoon sun, warming them at the plush chairs by the biggest window. After their baths, Alex was cold, so he insisted on sitting by the warm summer sun, little table between them. It was Thomas who had pulled out the poetry book.

“Okay, okay, since this is your favorite I’ll let you finish.” Alex breathed exhaustedly, sides aching as he calmed himself.
Thomas paused, folding his hands over the top of the seat, leisurely.
“And how would you know this is my favorite?” he raised an eyebrow testily.

“It was bookmarked here when you brought it out and when I moved the bookmark, there was a deep indent in its place. Either it’s your favorite or you were reading the book and stopped after this poem and never read any further…”
“Ahh, an aspiring detective. And what implies that it cannot be both?” Thomas challenged. Alexander accepted willingly.

“The rest of the books in the library. If they have bookmarks, they’re at the end or the beginning, indicating that you finish every book you own, or someone in the house does. If this wasn’t your favorite poem, the bookmark would be at the front or the back if you’d finished. And if you were in the middle of reading it for the first time, there’d be no indent. In the first place.”

Thomas nodded, light smirk on his lips. “Not bad.”
“Lawyer.”
“That explains it. Also explains why you have no morals.”
“Says the politician.”
“We’re both politicians, fuckwit.”
“Read the damn poem. Quickly, us lawyers wither under refined poetry like vampires in daylight.”

Thomas scoffed and returned to the book, shaking his head at grinning Alexander who settled down in the cushy chair.
Thomas cleared his throat once more and began to read.

This time… something about his voice was different. His accent was in place, all the same, but the way he read the words, it was as if he wasn’t reading at all. The words were reading him, coming out of him.
Alexander was taken aback, gaping in shock for a few moments as he continued

“And even silence found a tongue... to haunt me all the summer long. The riddle nature could not prove…” He paused.
“was nothing else but secret love…” Thomas finished quietly.

He did not look up at Alexander, just at the last stanza like it was withholding answers it would undoubtedly hand over willingly. Thomas’s finger which was on the page, dragged across the lines slowly… and then off the edge of the book. Alexander looked on, completely at a loss as to what Thomas was thinking.

 

The Virginian coughed slightly, eyes shifting from the poem, to Alexander, to the floor as if suddenly aware he was being listened to, and embarrassed.

“Wonderful poem. Insightful.” He strained out, closing the book purposefully and rising, brushing himself off.

Alexander rose too, unsure of what to say. “Hey… Thomas-”
“How about some dinner?” The tall man cut him off curtly, putting the book away in the little table.

Alex forced a small laugh, “Yeah.” he spoke, quickly tucking some hair behind his ear.

**

“Why do you do this to me, Thomas. Why?” Alex whined, breathing deeply.
“You know you love it.” Thoms growled.

“Yeah but I’m gonna get fat. Do you want me to be fat?” Alexander unbuttoned his waistcoat under the dining room table.

“You’re not fat, you’ve gotta be the boniest person in the world; I feel like I’m fucking a pile of firewood.”
“Not tonight you don’t” Alexander mumbled disgruntledly, taking another forkful of his dinner. “You refused to touch me since the lake.”

“All a part of the plan.”
“I don’t like your plans. Never have.”
Thomas laughed through his nose and took a sip of wine daintily. Alexander watched him.

“Don’t mock me.”
“It’s your own fault you don’t get any. You handle your alcohol just as well as you handle national debt.” Alex kicked him under the table for that statement.

“You know the whole thing would be a lot easier if you and Madison would just provide the votes.” Alexander sighed longingly, wiping his mouth and staring at Thomas. He knew he was starting something but he didn’t stop himself.

Thomas knitted his fingers, allowing himself to be roped into the sudden politics, “And why would we betray our sentiments and ratify your plan without any cause?”
“Because there is cause. For the general welfare and common good.”
“Spoken like a true Classical Republican, Cicero.”

Alexander leaned in closer, now beginning to get wound up by Thomas’s words, “How do you not get it? You make me wonder, Jefferson, you really do. Your reticence will be the death of us all-”

“Shut it, Alexander.” Thomas set down his wine glass, growling deep in his chest.
“You know I’d try seeing things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up my own ass.”

“ALEXander!” Thomas barked sharply, bringing a palm down on the table. Alex’s eyes darted up to his, startled.

“We are NOT discussing politics at the dinner table.”
“Why not?!” Alexander spat right back, not backing down, “I can see it in your eyes, Jefferson. You know we’re going to have to eventually. You know it.”

Thomas’s eyes flickered for only a moment before his stone-cold glare persisted ruthlessly, “My course of action is none of your business, Hamilton.”
Alex leaned back in his seat roughly, crossing his arms, shaking his head incredulously, “Your business started being mine way back when you found the Reynolds Letter. When you made those fucking rules.”

Thomas seethed. “Those rules HAD to be in place; we had already done something that couldn’t be undone.”
“Yeah the rules that YOU broke. Fuck, you’re breaking them now by hiding whatever’s in that thick head of yours.”

“I’M hiding something!?” Thomas suddenly stood, chair skidding violently back as he threw his napkin down onto the table with force,
“Black eye, piss drunk.” Thomas spat in disgust, “You want to hear a piece of my mind? Where were you last night, huh? Where were you!?”

“That’s none of your-!”
“None of my business, right. FILTHY hypocrite.” Thomas spat, looking Alex up and down “Who’s that rodent you call a friend… Laurens?” He sneered, watching Alexander boil, “Probably sucked him off behind a whorehouse for your rent money.”

 

That’s what did it.

With a strangled battle cry, Alexander leapt forward, knocking over his chair, and crashed into Thomas sending the two thudding into the dining room wall.
“SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!” Alex roared, trying to claw at Thomas’s face as they wrestled. Snarls rang through the house.

Thomas dominated Alexander, slamming his front to the wall, crushing him. “How… dare… you… touch… me!” Thomas barked, shoving the side of Alex’s head to the surface with every word.

Alexander growled, baring his teeth and twisted, kneeing Thomas in the stomach. The Virginian didn’t feel much pain; it was the disrespect that made him seeth with the most rage he had felt in the time he’d known the little bastard.

Rounding on him, Thomas slammed wrists above his head, suspending them high on the wall. Alex roared, balling his fists uselessly and writing. Thomas rammed his hips onto Alexander’s, a knee on either side of him, holding him firmly in place.

“HOW DARE YOU!?” Thomas screamed in his face, canines showing threateningly, they were both panting against each other’s bodies, faces red and sweaty already.
“That’s IT Alexander.” His voice wavered with anger, shaking his head, “You’ve FUCKED up.” He slammed his hips into Alex’s roughly.

“Time’s up, cockslut.” He spat, wet lips impossibly close to Alexander’s as their enraged breath mixed.

“What’re you gonna do, huh?” Alex grinned mockingly, panting, “You can’t make me say SHIT.”

“I’ll make you say everything I fucking want.” Thomas leaned in, starting to fervently and savagely rip Alexander’s clothes off with his teeth.
“You’ll be begging for mercy before I’m halfway finished. You’ll be crying on your knees for pity but will I care?” Thomas yanked Alex’s pants to his knees, not giving him the respect of taking them fully off.

“No.” Thomas spun him around, jerking his wrists over his head again and pressing the little one’s front to the wall.

“Do… your worst, bastard.” Alexander panted, struggling to turn his head and eye Thomas, hatred crackling in scowl.
Thomas twitched his eyebrows darkly.

Challenge accepted.

 

Thomas was already hard, that was no secret as he viciously pressed his length up against Alex’s opening, his pants only at his thighs too. He kicked Alexander’s knees apart from behind, spreading him a bit.

“Bite something.” Thomas growled heartlessly into his ear, pushing his chest against Alex’s back as he leaned in. Their searing, sweaty skin pressed together. Tilting his head, Alexander got a bit of Thomas’s sleeve in his mouth, clamping down hard on the fabric before he felt it.

“FUCK!” He roared, head slamming into the wood. Thomas had thrust in, full length, full speed. His hole was so full, so tight. Thomas took no hesitation to begin his brutal thrusts.
“Watch. Your. Filthy. Mouth.” Thomas barked with each hammering, pounding Alex into the wall. His hips worked fervently with quick thrusts, immediately filling Alexander exactly how he liked it.

 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…!” Alexander chanted, squeaking in time with Thomas’s rhythm. He was so helplessly sensitive, so defenselessly turned on and he wasn’t going to last. He was already so needy from being denied his orgasm earlier… It was at the tips of his fingers, he needed it so bad but it was all up to Thomas, whether he liked it or not.

Thomas continued his deep, quick thrusts, changing angles slightly to rub Alexander’s sensitive bunch of nerves with every lightning thrust. And he knew exactly when he had hit it.

“SHIT!” Alexander’s knees buckled for a moment before he caught himself, forehead slamming the wall. He gasped for air, eyes rolling, mouth gaping wide open. “Thomas…!” He gasped, squirming uncontrollably.

“What?” Thomas spat emotionlessly, open, wet lips, brushing the back of Alexander’s neck as he pounded him. Alexander was rocked by another intense wave of pleasure, head knocking into the wood again as he fell against the wall.
“I- I... I’m gonna c-cum!” He whimpered, “I’m gonna CUM!” He screamed much more firmly, writhing now, clenching around his partner.

 

Thomas laughed and pulled out violently quickly, allowing Alexander no friction or contact as he took his pleasure away all at once.

“AUGH!” Alexander screamed an animal’s scream, voice cracking as his knees gave out and buckled completely. He collapsed to the floor, eyes rolling back into his head as Thomas supported his wrists above him, looking down to see the whole scene play out.

Making sure the helpless man was unable to touch himself in any way, Thomas observed how he breathed in shrill little gasps, tears streaming down his face as spasms twitched his body.
“Huhhhh...uhhhh…” Alexander whimpered between shudders, crossing his knees.

Thomas’s deep, throaty growl resonated through the room as he lowered himself to Alexander’s level, both of the men still hard. On his knees now, Thomas grabbed Alex’s chin, lips screwed up in rage.

“Tell me where you were last night.” He snarled, shaking the deprived man slightly as his eyes struggled to focus on Thomas’s face.
“I… not until you tell me what you’re… hiding.” Alex managed, heaving

Thomas snarled once again, leaning in to manipulate Alexander’s position. He wouldn’t let the immigrant rest until he was through with him, and he knew that his little toy was fucking loving it.
“Hands and knees like a filthy dog.” Thomas ordered, “You’re going to be sorry for being a dirty, pathetic, good-for-nothing liar.” he shamed as he watched Alexander struggled to rise on his weak, shaking limbs. Falling once and then finally gaining the position, trembling with pleasure and pain.

“You don’t fucking scare me, Jefferson…” He managed as strongly as he could between exhaustedly gritted teeth.
“Hngh!” he grunted as his words were immediately met by the punishing cock of his master, sending his elbows straight to the floor, “Ohhh…! fuck!” If Thomas wasn’t digging into his hip bones with an iron grip, he wouldn’t have been able to pull himself back up.

Wiping spit from his mouth, Alexander rocked repeatedly as he was fucked from behind, back arching appealingly. Thomas knew exactly what he was doing, pulling Alex’s hips back into him as he slammed his cock in and pulling him away as he pulled out was providing for the quickest, deepest fucking of his life.

Alexander never stood a chance.
He felt his cum rising up once more, the scorching tendril of heat pulling, nagging in his belly. He squeezed his eyes shut… slowly, slowly, sinking down from his hands to his elbows in melting submission, side of his cheek pressing to the cold floor as he was tossed back and forth.

“Je-sus... fu-cking... chri-st.” he gasped in short clips, sobbing deeply; he knew it was about to happen. There was no way to stop it.

Suddenly feeling his muscles clench and seeing his knees jump together, Thomas tore away once again, pulling out and stroking himself as he watched once more. Without any means of friction, Alex collapsed to the floor, too exhausted to scream.

All he could mage was a choked, strangled, guttural sob as little jerking spasms rocked his body once more, making him squirm slightly as he cried.
“Fuck!” He barely even heard Thomas's whimper, but he felt the splatter of warm substance on his back, proving that his dom had found his release… unlike his sub.

Thomas watched in cock-drunk ecstasy as Alexander shook, his third orgasm of the day passing above his head… just… out of reach. So fucking, fucking close that it was torture, but never able to give him any satisfaction, any relief. Alexander was ITCHING for it, anyone could see that.

“Tell me, Alexander.” Thomas whispered lowly, quietly, behind him. The tall man shuffled beside him, lacing his fingers in his sweaty hair and pulling his head up from the floor, neck exposed, “I could do this all night.” Thomas sneered darkly.

Alexander’s lips trembled, teeth gritted pitifully as he wept. “Oh-kay… oh-kay… oh-kay…” He choked in synch with his sobs, ready to do anything to end the orgasm-torture.
“I dr-drank at… the bar wi-th my fr-friends… and John walked me ho-o-o-me.” He cried, finally opening his eyes, and Thomas was immediately reassured that the immigrant was completely into this. "I hit my-y eye o-on.. my dresse-e-er." he sobbed.

He sniffled as Thomas lowered his head back to the floor, wiping the cum off his back with a napkin from the nearby dining room table.

“And that is the truth?” Thomas spoke more gently now, carefully cleaning Alex’s back as he shuddered helplessly.
“Yes.” he croaked feebly, finally able to keep his eyes open and manage a slightly-wavering tone.

Thomas hummed deep in his throat rubbing his hands down Alexander’s shoulders, massaging him, and then leaning forward to hoist Alex towards him. The Virginian lifted Alex into his lap, leaning against the wall and cradling the little frame.

“Daddy’s got you.” he cood, accent thick. Alex’s head fell back onto Thomas’s shoulder and the Virginian brushed his sweaty hair away from his face where it had been clinging. “Don’t feel so good, do you, hm?” Thomas pouted sweetly, making sure Alexander was comfortable.

“Please… Please Thomas, I’m begging you…” he persisted desperately.
Thomas ignored him, “This is what happens when boys are naughty to their daddy. Do you understand, Alexander?” he spoke firmly but gently.

“Yes, yes… I know… please, please, Thomas.” he urged critically. Thomas finally acknowledged him, looking down passionately into his deep, brown eyes. He cocked his head,
“you need to cum?” he asked, not looking at Alex’s impossibly hard dick.

 

“Please…” was all Alexander could manage, desperation growing in his eyes.
“Alright, mon jouet, I will allow it. How do you want daddy to reward you?” Thomas inquired, planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Want me to fuck your tight little ass again? Make you scream with my tongue?” He purred, pulling away from the kiss as he noticed the little man was… breathing much faster in his arms.

Looking down on him, Thomas noticed his condition changing… His breathing was picking up rapidly, his muscles began to tense up, he trembled very slightly in his arms. Gazing in his urgent face, the Virginian realized what Alexander was trying to tell him.

Wet lips quivering helplessly, gasping in shrill breaths, Alexander’s eyes brimmed with panic.
“I’m going to…!” he panted.

 

“Cum. Now.” Thomas spoke firmly, gazing deep into those desperate eyes. It was the only thing Alexander needed. Back arching to an impossible degree, eyes squeezing closed with the last tears, Alex just… cummed.

Without much more than little whimpers, his cum fell back down on his belly and Thomas’s.

 

“Goood boy… gooood boy, shhhh.” Thomas breathed, folding Alexander in closer and rocking him gently through his body-wracking orgasm. It ripped through him so violently.

“Shhhh…” Alexander jerked once again as another wave of pleasure slammed into him, making him gasp gutturally.
It seemed to last forever, the twitching and sighing as it tore through him. Thomas held him the whole time,

“bon garçon. C'est d'accord... Je t'ai eu... tu vas si bien.” he uttered quietly in his ear as Alex trembled.

Soon the whimpers ceased as he finally came down from his high, going limp in Thomas’s arms, head falling back.
The Virginian clucked his tongue, “Ah, ma chérie.” he purred, gently wiping the tears away with one thumb. “You were such a good boy, so good for me…”

Alexander nestled closer at the praise, “...good for you… always good for you…” he mumbled incoherently. “Yes,” Thomas responded, gathering the little man and getting ready to stand, “You cummed on command. Just because I told you to. Such good manners, mon jouet. Such good manners.”

Alex wrapped his arms around Thomas’s sweaty neck as he hoisted him up, carrying him through the hallways of the house and into his bathroom where the tub from earlier was still full and clean.
“I’m going to bathe you now, précieux chéri.” He mumbled, lowering him into the water.

“Très bien merci. Je suis si bon pour toi, Thomas.” Alex muttered, getting full of himself for the praise he was receiving and also wanting to remind Thomas that he spoke fluent French as well. It was just sexier when Thomas did it, the perfect mix of the erotic language and his slight slanted southern accent. It sounded like sex on the beach.

 

Thomas chuckled, and Alexander barely noticed anything as he let his mind float. By the time he had come fully back to earth, he was settled in Thomas’s bed dressed in a thick silk and fur bathrobe, warm and clean.

Thomas strolled out of the bathroom soon, tying his robe as he gently closed the door and approached the bed. “You’re awake.” he grunted, pulling back the covers and climbing in.
“Yeah. What, you thought I’d blacked out?” Alex laughed.
“You should’ve seen yourself. I wouldn’t be surprised.” Thomas scoffed settling himself in behind Alexander, spooning his small figure and stilling with a sigh.

“Christ, Thomas. You’re asking if I’m still awake, grandpa.” Alex snorted.
“I do all the work.” Thomas dumped a heavy arm over Alexander’s waist, pulling him closer, “I believe a nice, ‘thank you, Thomas’ is in order.” He demanded snootily.
Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Thank you Thomas.” he grunted, mocking the Virginian’s low voice like he was a neanderthal, “I really appreciate the obliteration of my ass. I’ve always been fond of not being able to sit down.”

“Well, you’re very welcome.” Thomas leaned in, planting a warm kiss on the nape of Alexander’s neck.
“Asshole.” Alexander grumbled, snuggling down into the covers.
“Twatface.” Thomas mumbled back, shifting his hips in line with Alexander’s.

 

The two men were silent for a while, all there was was the sound of deep breathing and the feeling of Thomas’s belly inhaling and exhaling rhythmically against his back.

 

“Thomas?” Alex whispered, stirring against him and trying to swivel his head around.
“Mm?” the Virginian grunted, inhaling deeply.

“Were you asleep?”
“Yes. Yes I was, Alexander.” Thomas sighed exasperatedly.
“Okay well now that you’re awake,” Thomas groaned, rolling his eyes, “-shut it- now that you’re awake, I have a request.”

Thomas couldn’t believe this guy.
“Fuck, Alexander, I’ll give you the pony you want if you just let me get one damn minute of rest.”
Thomas hooked a leg over Alex, anchoring him down as he tried to get out of bed, “Let me go, I need to read.”

“Read?”
“Read.”

Thomas hesitated for a moment to emphasize the ludicrousy. “What in the name of fuck do you need to be reading right now?” he guffawed, at a loss of words at this man. Sometimes he had no idea what the hell was going through his head.

“Have you read ‘Gulliver’s Travels’?” Alex asked, pressing to get out of Thomas’s restraints.
“No.” he responded.

This stopped Alexander dead in his tracks.
“I’m sorry what?” he laughed, turning around to face Thomas directly. On seeing the truth in his eyes, he turned serious and absolutely GAPED.
“You’ve NEVER read ‘Gulliver’s Travels’?!”
“No.”

 

Alexander rubbed his eyes with his hands, flopping back onto the pillows, taking a moment to comprehend. He looked back at Thomas, pointing.
“I knew there was something wrong with you, I just couldn’t put my finger on it until now.”

“Alexander I swear on God-”
“Do you own it?” Alex interrupted.

Thomas blinked, incredulously, “Probably, I don’t know. Alexander!”
The little man had squeezed away from him and trotted around the bed, out the door, bare feet padding on the polished wooden floors.
“Where are you going?” Thomas called, in disbelief at his partner’s sporadic, impulsiveness. He just wanted some goddamn sleep.

“Take a wild guess!” A voice rang quietly from somewhere in the house. Yep, definitely the library. “This shit in alphabetical order?” Alex called.

Groaning Thomas banged his head against the headboard several times in frustrated annoyance.
“Yes, but you need to know the alphabet to find it, Hamilton.”
“Fuck you!”

 

After a couple of minutes, the door creaked open and shut once again, Alexander turned around with an old, tattered book in his hands and a thrilled look on his face. His curly hair fell around his shoulders from the braid that had been released, kinking it.

He held it up and bowed. “Okay, get ready for the night of your life.”
Thomas propped up on his elbow. “Really? How are you going to give me a handjob while feeding me crème brûlée when you have a stupid book in your hand?”

Ignoring him, Alexander hopped into bed enthusiastically, bouncing Thomas and the pillows.
“Christ Alexander.” Thomas growled, re-placing the pillows fusilly.

The little man nestled himself back into Thomas’s warm body, wiggling his backside up against Thomas’s front. He got comfortable and opened the book to the first chapter, Thomas looking on over his shoulder.

The Virginian would have just taken the book from him and told him to go the fuck to sleep. Or read somewhere else and sleep on the couch. But… Alexander looked so excited, so thrilled to read to him, that it was unthinkable to say no to him, it might as well be a sin.

He grumbled, “Fine. One chapter ONLY or I’ll clock you out the old fashioned way. Using that book.”
Alex smiled, overjoyed, “This is my favorite.” he breathed, getting ready to begin.

 

Something... shifted in Thomas’s chest unexpectedly, startling him. He didn’t know where it had come from, or why it had so quickly, but he suddenly needed to curl his arm around Alex’s waist again.

“My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was the third of five sons.” Alexander began passionately.

Thomas listened to the words with rapture. He… had never imagined that Alexander could have this side to him. He was not the irrationally angry politician he had always fought with right now. He was filled with an almost childlike joy as his words painted watercolor stories into Thomas’s mind, weaving the threads of Gulliver’s life into the beginning of an elaborate tapestry.

Without even really thinking about it, Thomas’s fingers snaked around to his belly and worked at the knot of Alexander’s robe, slowly freeing it as the little man read.
Ever so gently pulling it away from his skin, Thomas let the robe fall down, exposing Alex’s shoulders and belly.

The Virginian was unable to explain why he was doing this; there was simply a tug. There was an urge to feel Alexander, but something about it was different than before… something more deeper set, like an ancient tug at his heart.

Thomas only touched Alexander with the very tips of his fingers reluctantly, his warm skin smooth on contact. He ran his fingertips up and down Alex’s upper arm, just stroking him with his feather-light touch. Testing the waters.
Alexander tried not to sigh at the peaceful feeling as he read.

After some time, Thomas dragged his fingers softly over Alexander’s collarbone, brusing each one lightly before skimming down his chest, ghosting over his nipples. He carefully stroked Alexander’s belly, memorizing the curves and dips of his belly button. He took extra care of his sharp hip bones, spending time to caress them and make Alex shiver slightly.

Thomas journeyed lethargically around to Alexander’s smooth back, mapping every curve of his spine with docile fingertips and tracing the edges of his shoulder blades over and over again. His deep brown eyes watched his own movement curiously as he caressed his body and his shoulders.
He was memorizing Alexander’s body. Mapping his skin so gently. He didn’t understand it, but somehow it was right.

“...allowed me to creep in, and lie at my full length in the temple.” Alexander finished the first chapter quietly, carefully closing the book to set it by his pillow. There was complete silence as Thomas’s fingertips brushed the back of Alexander’s neck lightly, over and over again.

Alex sighed and closed his eyes. “Please don’t stop touching me…” he breathed settling his head down to rest. Thomas did not respond, only continued his slow, gentle motion…

 

Alexander’s breathing found a deeper place in only a few minutes as the little immigrant fell asleep.

But Thomas followed his request long after his partner had drifted off, fragile eyelids twitching with dreams. The Virginian watched him carefully.
How could anyone be so peaceful?

He pulled him ever-so-slightly closer, needing an anchor as his own thoughts whirled through his head like a summer rainstorm, thunder and all.

 

And all at once, he stilled them.
They fell hushed, awaiting his next words.

 

“I love you too.” He whispered. So quietly that nobody could hear what he had said.

And that nobody ever would.

Chapter Text

Consciousness crept back into Thomas’s bones as the sunrise warmed his skin, illuminating the hairs. His ears tuned to the morning sounds of birds chirping in his gardens, insects singing. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed his face and hummed.

“Get up, Alex, I’m not letting you sleep in-” His groggy morning voice trailed off as he lowered his hands to see the white, crumpled sheets next to him completely empty. Looking over the pile of pillows he saw Alex’s robe discarded on the floor.
“Little shit…” He mumbled rolling his eyes.

He knew Alex hadn’t up and left. He’d been here before. The idiot was probably off putting his fingers on something fragile that was worth more than his house.

Thomas rolled out of bed, and stretched a sore left shoulder as he mosied to the bathroom, observing his broken lip from the day before as he brushed his teeth and his hair. He always had smooth hair.

He took his time on an outfit despite the fact that he didn’t have to work on Sundays. If the man ever looked shabby, the world would be falling into apocalyptic decay. Even then he’d probably still find time to place the whites cravat around his throat and the most handsome waistcoat on his attractive frame.

Now where were his shoes?

He pushed open the joint door between his study bedroom revealing the semi-circular space with windows looking over the west gardens. The red curtains were open revealing his desk and bookshelves. And…

 

“Secretary Jefferson.” Alexander sat leisurely draped on HIS chair, feet propped up on the desk like he owned it. “Come in.” he smiled sweetly.

 

Thomas started, confused. What…?
He played his signature collected facade.

“Alexander, what is this?” He drawled boredly, stopping inside the doorframe.

“It’s a meeting. Do sit down.”
Alex leaned back in his chair, THOMAS’S chair, and gestured kindly to the one across from it.
Thomas approached slowly, lowering down with a calculative air about him. Alex’s hair was brushed neat and pinned back. His outfit was the same as yesterday, of course, but clean.

“May I inquire as to what the fuck you are doing, Alex?” Thomas questioned eloquently, exhaling as he crossed his arms.
“It’s a meeting, Secretary Jefferson. Like I’ve stated before.” Alexander slid a piece of parchment across the desk with his fingertips.

Thomas glanced at it out of the corner of his eye, picking a tooth offhandedly.
“Compromise of 1790 Plan.” He read, boredly. “Never heard of it.”

“Ah.” Alexander lifted his feet from the desk, planting them on the floor deliberately. Staring Thomas in the eyes, he leaned forward in his seat, “That would be because it doesn’t exist yet.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow quizzically.
Alex sighed wistfully “But it will.” he studied his nails and then looked back up at Thomas, gaze sparkling with cunning mischief, “by the time we leave this room.”

 

Then Thomas caught onto it. This fucking kid.

His lips parted as he looked up at the ceiling in exasperated realization. The bastard wasn’t letting go of their discussion last night. He’d said that they’d need to deal with the politics eventually, but now Thomas realized he wasn’t bluffing.

“No.” Thomas laughed, playing it off as a ludicrous joke.
“Yes.” A quill was pushed towards him. He stared, shaking his head slowly, still smiling in disbelief.
“You think I’d sign over my whole party’s beliefs to you in one day with no precedent cause?”

“Read the title once more. What does it say, Secretary Jefferson, I implore you.”

Alex watched him devilishly as he read and looked back up, not answering the question with words as much as expression.
Alex pushed the quill again and Thomas reluctantly picked it up, twirling it boredly.

“And what do you possibly have to offer me in return?” he smiled, ready to amuse himself. He bit the end of the quill, smirking.

Alexander smiled in return, leaning back in the seat, “I’ve got weight with the boss. The big man, the only one who’s opinion will get you what you want.” Alexander crossed his arms slowly, “Washington.” He breathed.

Thomas looked on cooly, hiding his growing interest in this conversation. Washington.

Alexander stared on, flames smoldering in his eyes, “I see a beautiful marble city, Jefferson. Some quartz if you like, yes? Corinthian columns.” Alex looked up at the ceiling wistfully, painting the picture for Thomas. “A Roman-style Capitol, basilicas for Congress and one just for the State department.” He paused, letting Jeffeson mull that over.

“Monuments gazing out…” He lowered his gaze back down to Thomas’s, locking them, “over the shimmering waters of the Potomac.”

 

There was a long quiet pause.
Alexander watched, same grin on his face, as Thomas’s eyes darted down to the parchment and back, flickering.

“I put in my word with Washington. You get Madison to provide the votes for my plan.” Alex continued in slow deliberation, picking up his own quill, “It’s that simple.” He breathed enticingly, sweet talking Thomas into it as if he didn’t want to scare him away.

“I’m willing to give up the Capitol to break the stalemate. I’m willing to compromise for the good of the people.” Alex pushed the paper closer to Thomas carefully, “If you are.”

There was a silence.
The two stared at each other for a long time. Thomas slowly, meticulously spun his quill in two fingers under the desk. He was thinking. And thinking hard. The grandfather clock ticked.

 

After a considerable amount of time, Thomas exhaled deeply, throwing the quill onto the desk. Alexander started a bit, surprised.
“You’ve forgotten one important detail, Hamilton.” Thomas crossed his arms and leaned back.

“And what would that be?” Alexander followed up smoothly, cocking an eyebrow.
“Our… situation.” Alexander gestured for elaboration. Thomas’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek sexily, Alexander had to look away to keep up his professional stance.

“We put together a plan now and propose it to Madison, he’ll know we met without him. Alone. What kinds of questions do you think are going to arise from that?” He implored, slowing down to emphasize.
“Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton, the most notorious enemies of the century, suddenly sit down for a tea party and put aside their differences?” Thomas smiled, “I don’t think so.”

Alexander lifted his hands in an innocent, understanding gesture, “Alright, I see where you’re coming from; I do. So we re-do this whole thing with Madison. I can make that work.”

Thomas considered him, all power in his hands, as usual. He had to admit to himself… the temptation of the capital in the palm of his hand was mouth watering… God, he had such a thing for power, Alexander knew that.

“I can talk to Madison. See what I can do.” He grunted.
Alexander’s eyebrows twitched, an involuntary smirk flickering across his face, flashing his white canines. “So you’re in.” he breathed.

Thomas’s lips pulled into a slight smirk as he leaned forward against the desk, brown eyes cooly unwavering. “For the good of the people, Alexander. I am if you are.” he repeated Alexander’s own words, brows pulling in dangerously.

Alexander exhaled quickly, smiling. “Just put your glasses on, goddamn it.” he sputtered, shaking his head in wonder as he watched Thomas comply smugly, placing the sexy frames over his face.

“Fuck…” Alex whispered as he carefully, slowly, crawling up onto the desk and across it towards Thomas. Their brown eyes locked, Thomas keeping Alexander’s pace in check with his authoritative, dominant stare.
As he got close, Thomas reached up and snagged Alex’s cravat in a flashing moment of heat, a fiery standoff. Then he yanked the little man’s mouth to his, licking hotly into his mouth, lapping as far back as he could reach. A muffled moan was all Alexander could manage as he burrowed his tongue deep under Thomas’s, roughly.

Things had gone exactly as planned for the little Treasurer.

He smirked maliciously against Thomas’s hungry, wet tongue.

**

Glass clinked as Thomas poured himself another small glass of brandy. He didn’t usually drink brandy, a wine man, but tonight it would do.

He leaned back in his chair, grunting as the wicker creaked a bit. He lifted his feet up onto the porch swing and crossed them leisurely, shuffling to get comfortable again.

The Virginian held up his glass and swirled it, sniffing aristocratically at the contents before tilting his head back to down it in one go. Blinking vigorously for a moment, he exhaled; it was strong. But could handle his liquor like a big boy.

Thomas was holding the thick brandy bottle in the other hand and tilted it over the lip of the glass with a clink once more. Golden liquid flowed and Thomas stared into it. He hated to admit that he was doing this but at least he wasn’t drinking straight from the bottle, he reasoned with himself. Some dignity was preserved.

The Secretary of State sighed and downed the next glass. Swallowing, he licked his lips as he gazed out into the dusk falling over his estate. Crickets and cicadas were beginning their nighttime concerto.

For the evening he had been mulling over the events of the morning. After Alexander had left for the day, he had gotten up, read poetry by his gardens. Taken his horse for a ride in the woods. Had dinner. It was his usual version of the perfect Sunday, tranquil, calm. Sure, sometimes he’d have James over or some other friends, but the solitude was peaceful. At least it usually was.

He sighed once more turning the glass over in his hands slowly, observing the dips and curves. What had he just done?

Today he’d agreed to the most important political compromise of their nation. He’d signed over on debt assumption for the capital of the United States of America. This was huge… so huge. And now there was no backing out at he heard, through the house, the knock on his door.

 

“Shi-” he hopped up wondering how the time had passed so quickly, and frantically hid the bottle behind a pillow cushion. He straightened his clothes as best as he could. James couldn’t see him like his, nobody could.

And Thomas felt… off as he approached the front door through his manor. He’d felt off all evening. Why else would he be drinking-- drinking BRANDY-- alone on a particular porch swing? Only one answer was apparent, Thomas wasn’t stupid.

It was what he had said last night. What had slipped out of his lips as nothing more than a ghost of breath, but he had said it. He’d shoved it down, packed it in as much as he could, but as he had continued his day as normal it felt strange knowing Alexander wasn’t under his supervision.
His question now was, did he believe himself. Had he believed what he said?

Thomas stood tall, naturally. Shoulders back, chin in the air as he pulled open the door. His attractive, blonde influence in the House of Representatives stood before him, smiling lightly.

“Tom. You wanted to meet.” he inquired politely. Thomas opened the door a bit wider, smirking.

“Madison, come in.” he resounded crisply, Southern accent carefully put to the side,
“I have quite the proposition to introduce.”

**

There was a warm chorus of cheers and catcalls as the huge roast beef was placed in the middle of the table, smokey and steaming, the juices dripping off.

“Guys, for real.” John laughed in touched embarrassment as the waiter backed off but other milling members of the tavern took a look as they chattered.
“Don’t start with the ‘you shouldn’t have’, ‘let me pay you back’ bullshit, kay, John?” Hercules whined, mocking John’s voice. “It’ll distract us from eating.”

“Guys… this is so fucking nice.” John observed as Hercules, and Lafayette were already digging into the meat happily.
“Well, all joking aside. We are happy for you, man.” Lafayette looked him in the eyes seriously.
“Yeah bro. That’s a big deal. Head of Intelligence Committee in Charleston under fucking Nathanael Greene. You worked your ass off.”
“Yeah but,”
“Just shut up and let us eat.” The two laughed and started to cut off slices before Lafayette parried away Hercules’s knife with his own, looking up to John.

He paused. “Wait, what about Hams?”

Silence fell over the table.
John looked up too, eyes suddenly cold and walled-off. “What about him?” He said, his words coming out a bit harsher than he intended.
Hercules and Lafayette looked at each other for a fleeting moment before returning to John.

“Eez a beeg moment, no? Shouldn’t we wait for heem?” Lafs continued carefully.
“Yeah man, he’s probably just late. You know how Hams gets with his work.”

“Yeah.”John mumbled into the mouth of his beer, taking a sip, “I do.” He set it down and licked his lips, readdressing the boys.

“You know what, you’re both right. We’ll wait for him to show up. He will; this is important.” He spoke confidently, trying not to scoff. He didn’t really even know what he was trying to prove to himself.
“We wait.” he concluded, sitting back in his chair as Lafayette and Herc exchanged another quick glance and returned to their drinks. The awkward silence didn’t last too long, though.

 

“Gentlemen.” A cunning voice sounded through the clangs and cheers of the tavern.

“Burr.” John tried to restate some enthusiasm into his tone, failing miserably. The towering man stepped towards their table, pulling his hat from his head.
“Laurens. I came to say congratulations on your new position.” he smiled down at them, nodding crisply. He acknowledged the huge roast beef with rapture,
“And a good looking meal. Haven’t touched it, eh?” he inquired in a friendly manner.

“No. We haven’t.” John clipped, looking up with a tight, strained smile, almost begging someone to ask. He had no idea what he was after, why was he doing this? He wanted Alexander to show up... didn’t he?

Burr laughed nervously and coughed, looking around the table.

“Well.” He began turning his hat around in his hands, “I should be off.”
“No.” John, looked up again, slightly starling Burr. “Stay.”

Lafs and Herc looked at each other, surprised, and then John, but his eyes were trained on Burr.
“That seat is wide open.” he spoke coldly, gesturing to the one empty seat at their usual table. Alexander’s seat.

“If you insist.” Burr smiled his greasy smile and rounded the table as the other two friends were unsure of what to say. There was some silence as Burr settled and was brought a fresh beer. Herc sniffed. The regular activity continued in the tavern around them but there was silence at the usually most-vibrant table.

“So…” The snake began, setting his seidel down on the wood, “missing one if I count correctly.” Burr noted, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, man. Ham’s up in the Treasury office late or sum.” Herc wiped his mouth.
John audibly snorted, drawing the attention of the rest of the group who gave him curious looks. A silence fell over the friends.

“Is he... going to come?” Burr inquired slowly. He had caught onto a scent of something, a tiny ripple of blood in the water. He perked up at the hint.
“Yeah he’s just late.”
“He’s not coming.” John clipped shortly, picking up his beer. There was a harshness in his voice that had crossed the line, the other two just had to address it.

“What’s up with you man? Why you talkin’ on Alex like that?” Hercules spoke, voice edged with protection.
“Yeah, what gives.” Lafayette joined in, crossing his arms. John was calmer than they were, setting his glass back down at the table and looking at them in the eyes.

“He’s not coming.” He said again, louder this time, “Get the job of my life and he’s not gonna show.”
“Hams is late all the time.”
“Why’ve you got a stick up your ass?”

John looked as if he would lash back a retort, but he exhaled deeply instead, an icy calm settling on his face. A pained hurt flashed in his eyes, a resentful look of disappointment. Burr looked on with complete rapture, clinging into every word, every facial expression, every body movement. Something was close; he could feel it.

John finally spoke after long, agonizing moments of silence. His face was stone cold.
“You want the truth?” He sighed defeatedly, looking across his friends. They nodded reluctantly, almost hesitantly. What was this?

“Alexander is having an affair. He is cheating on his wife. And he has been all summer.”

Time stopped.

The silence was deafening.

The two friends' jaws dropped, John could almost see their stomachs wrenching. Burr was the only one who’s corner of his mouth pulled up into a light smile.

There it was.

“Alex wouldn’t-”
“He told me himself, man. Hate to burst your bubble.” John snapped at Lafs, somehow feeling better at their reactions, at their utter shock. Is this what he wanted? Is this what he was after? It… didn’t feel right.

“He always comes to Sunday dinner. For years. This summer he hasn’t done shit, so I went over to his house after the protest last weekend. He was gone at seven o clock. Come back the next day and confront him, and he cracks.” John shrugged as if the whole thing was obvious.

“Spilled it all and he said he’d tell you guys. I thought he would.” John put emphasis on it, hoping for some absurd reason that it would hurt Lafayette and Hercules that Alex hadn’t told them. The two looked down at their shoes, trying to take this in, trying to understand the shock.

“But he… who?” Lafs sputtered, falling apart a bit.

“Didn’t say. Must be someone important or wouldn't've been a big deal. And you know what?” John forced the two to look up at him once more. He smiled incredulously, crossing his arms, “He told me he’d ended it. That it was over.” He looked up at the ceiling and laughed, shaking his head.

“Good one Alex. Really got me there.”

Hercules and Lafayette both slowly looked in their laps like it held the answers they were looking for. Several minutes of silence passed… it was like everything was coming down around them but where they were, everything was still. Besides Burr.

His mind was anything but slow-motion. It was working at the most rapid pace wheels turning on greased gears. This was… this was what he had been waiting for. All that he had been waiting for. Living life off of Alexander Hamilton’s leftover scraps, this is the golden ticket of opportunity, sweet, sweet revenge already at the tip of his tongue.

And yet… something told the slimy man that there was something else… some other secret festering in the woodwork of this mystery.

 

“I… should go.” Burr began reluctantly, trying not to put any emotion with his words as he eased his hat back onto his head, glancing around. Nobody looked at him, they were still focused on their laps.

He stood quietly and opened his mouth to say something but decided otherwise. There was nothing to say. He needed to get home…
There was work to do.

The mysterious senator skirted back around the silent, tense, table and looked over his shoulder at the friends, one empty chair, and the cold meal that was never touched...

Chapter Text

Alexander groaned at his early wake-up time and moaned all the way down the stairs as he groped blindly, limply for a glass of water and some bread from the copper bread-pot. He was still groaning, head flopped all the way back as he dragged himself to the door to check the mail. He didn’t care if the neighbors saw how he was in the mornings, they could kiss his Caribbean ass if they had a problem.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, probably stupid…” Alex grumbled, eyes still half closed as he sifted through the letters, shuffled back into the house. He pulled the door closed behind him with his foot and hauled himself sleepily to the couch, flinging down on it gratefully.

He dropped the letters one by one, not reading anything more than the sender’s name as he yawned lazily. Too fucking early for this. Too early. He’d been up all night writing pans and ideas for the Compromise. But as the next letter fell away, the one under it caught his eye. He squinted in the early morning light to see the delicate, thin cursive that he recognized well.

He lurched with an unpleasant barrage of mixed emotions. It was from Eliza.
She tried to send him a letter every two weeks but he’d completely forgotten. Shit… why was he feeling so nervous? It was like she could see him right now through this letter, see everything he’d done. Exhaling shakily, he opened the letter gingerly and brought the parchment close to his face for observation.

“My dearest Alexander,

I apologize for the tardiness of this letter; the postal service was delayed because of the rain this past week, so I couldn’t get anything through. I know you are not upset, however. You love the rain, indeed I know that.

Things have been proceeding as usual up here; it is breathtakingly beautiful upstate. I wish you could have come, Alexander, you would love the lake. I take a walk every day around it and hate to admit that I always think of you. I miss you so dearly, Alexander, Angelica misses you too; however, she has quite the opinion on your decision to stay. My sister and her sharp tongue.

But this past week has been easier for me to cope with the longing, I must say. You won’t believe me when I tell it, but I have met someone upstate that I never would have thought I would run into.

My father’s house is surrounded by other large estates, as you know, and on a particularly long walk I encountered a woman about my age, fair and blonde and extremely well-spoken. Did you know that Martha Jefferson had come upstate for the summer?”

 

At these words Alexander’s heart had taken an intense lurch in an unexpected direction.
He scrambled to sit up on the couch, leaning towards the light. What the fuck?

Breathing shortly, he fumbled with the letter moving his fingers back to his place, wide eyes bulging. He read again, silently mouthing the words.

“Fair, blonde, and extremely well-spoken. Did you know that Martha Jefferson had come upstate for the summer?”

 

He leaned forward even more, heart rate quickening with every word as he continued to scan the letter, reading into every word frantically.

“I did not. Anyway, after our first meeting and round around the lake, we just… began to make it a little ritual every day. After our walks and deepening conversations, I invited her over home for some dinner. It was the most lovely time I’ve had in ages. She promised to return the favor with dinner at the Jefferson’s manor.

I know your feelings about Thomas Jefferson, Alexander. But think of the opportunities. Perhaps a nice dinner could settle some tension between you men? No matter what, Alexander, it would make your wife happy. I have met a friend who is quickly becoming dear to me, and if our companionship could ease some rivalries, would that be enough?

Thinking of you always, my dearest husband.

Love,
Elizabeth Hamilton.”

Alexander sat still for some long moments after he’d finished, letting each word sink into his head. The only sound was the ticking of his grandfather clock in his office down the hall. He set the letter down gently on the short table and ever so slowly leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees.

Hands cupping his nose and mouth, his foot bounced anxiously. What did this mean?
The Treasurer cast a glance down the hall, checking the clock. It was time to go to work, that was for sure, but he felt frozen.

He breathed in and out deeply, closing his eyes.
There was no doubt about it. He’d hid what he’d let slip to Burr from Thomas, but this… this was stranger than that, not so blatant and dangerous. But it could be…

The immigrant folded the letter carefully into his pocket, not looking at it as he did so. He knew exactly where he was headed after work today. This involved Thomas.

**

Thomas’s hips shifted expertly along with his horse’s rocking movements, holding the reins loosely and leaning back in the saddle. Thomas and his handsome black steed, Tarquin, both appreciated the loose control today.

It had been an extremely busy day at the State Department, there was no doubt about that. He had been up to his neck in meetings with rather insufferable people, but he was an incredibly collected man; he could tolerate uncivilized politicians all day if it meant a ride in the woods.

It was cool today, August had been growing cool as soon as it began, but the birds still twittered to each other in the canopy above, and sunlight still dappled the forest floor beneath Tarquin’s neatly smithed hooves.

Thomas patted his dark neck gently as the horse snorted rhythmically with every step. They were approaching the white-brick stables and the Virginian always made sure to praise him for a pleasant ride.

Dismounting with a grunt and some dust, Thomas slid off his strong stallion and regained the reins, leading Tarquin towards his spacious, airy stall, other horses whinnying, snorting and tossing their heads playfully at his approach.

He opened the white, wooden door and turned the animal around, following in and tying him. Thomas always untacked his horses, it was just something he always sort of took upon himself. He would think of it as peasant, stable-lad’s work if he didn’t have a special connection with the animals. Being around them was so peaceful and relaxing; they are so gentle and quiet. And when they are not, they are expressive, always up front with their intentions and fears.

“If only politicians were like horses…” he mumbled, hauling the leather tack to the tack room and returning with his state-of-the-art grooming set from France, reserved only for Tarquin.

“Hello my handsome prince.” Thomas praised, rubbing affectionately down Tarquin’s nose with a thick, firm hand. The horse nudged into his belly insistently, making Thomas laugh at his display.

“You love me buddy?” He asked sweetly, smiling with a twinkle in his eye as he scratched at his forelock between his ears.
“Or love carrots?” He jested, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out two large carrot halves that Tarquin took immediate interest in.

“I see how it is.” Thomas laughed as he offered them to his animal, who’s velvety wet lips nibbled them up in enthusiasm.
Thomas moved around his steed’s powerful, sleek body and began to brush, Tarquin still munching contentedly at his treat.

 

“Why don’t you treat me like that?”

Thomas spun around so quickly he almost careened over the stable door.

“A-Alexander?” He spat in disbelief. He was correct.
The little man was leaning, arm crossed over the stall door, watching him with a thrilled, twelve-year-old look on his face that said, “I’m telling everyone you talk to horses.”

“That’s my name.” He nodded, still smiling. Thomas scoffed, cocking his head haughtily.
“Sorry, but what the fuck are you doing at my house?” he sneered, still mostly in shock.

“Watching you treat that animal like it’s the King of France.” Alex shook his head, laughing.
“You talk to your horses often?” he asked, amusing himself.

“You trespass often?” Thomas retorted, returning to brushing firm strokes town Tarquin’s neck, already frustrated with the insufferable nuisance and heart rate thumping from the surprise. Alex stood from his leaned position, “Why don’t I get that treatment?” he half-complained.

“The horse costs more than you.” Thomas grumbled shortly, crossing to the other side. Alex hopped up to sit on the stable door, “So the animal gets hand-fed snacks and complimentary grooming service and I get a smack in the face and a rental carriage ride home?”
“Pretty much.”
“Fuck you.”

“If you’re gonna keep mouthing off, smart-aleck, I suggest you make yourself useful.” Thomas growled, approaching Alexander and smacking a brush into his hand forcefully. “Help out or piss off.” Alex looked down at the brush, then back up at Thomas.

“No fucking way.”
“Alexander.”
“Not a fucking chance in hell.”

“Alexander... are you afraid of horses?” Thomas interrogated, a mocking smile threatening the corners of his mouth.

“No.” Alex dismissed.
“Then get your whore-ass in here.”

“I just don’t like them.”
“Look at my face. Does this look like a face that cares?” Thomas sneered cruelly, returning to his horse. Alexander reluctantly realized he was going to lose this one, but he wouldn’t go down without forcing something out of Thomas.

“The price to do your dirty work is one kiss.” Alexander crossed his arms.

“No.” Thomas grunted shortly, lifting Tarquin’s hoof to pick it of stones. Alex sighed,
“Alright, have fun pulling the ticks off that fleabag.”

“‘It’ has a name. Tarquin. And insult the horse one more time and you’re scooping the shit.”
“One kiss and I won’t insult your ‘handsome prince’.” he quoted Thomas obnoxiously.

The Virginian stopped and stood letting out a snarl of rage and turned back towards the smiling Alexander.
“You’re an insufferable sack of shit and I despise you.” he hissed, approaching, “One kiss for you to close your damn mouth.” But Alexander still beaming happily in his small victory.

“Do it for me.” Alexander invited, gripping the edge of where he was sitting and leaning forward, finally taller than Thomas for one rare instance in his life. Thomas rolled his eyes and stepped forth, placing a hand on Alex’s thigh and pressing his lips that fit nicely onto Alexander’s. They stayed for a moment like that, but Thomas pulled away just as the little man began to lick hotly into his mouth.

“Asshole.” he grumbled, hopping down from the stall door.
“What was that? Can’t hear you over the sound of you doing as you’re told.” Thomas taunted coldly.

Alexander jumped a bit when Tarquin tossed his head, trying to see the little man better. Beginning to round the animal as if on eggshells, the horse nudged his nose firmly into Alexander’s belly.

“Thomas! What’s it doing?”
“You tell me.” his partner grumbled uncaringly, not facing him as he picked a back hoof leisurely.

“It’s attacking my stomach, I don’t know what it wants.” Alex had his arms up and out of the way, cringing, “Just come over goddamnit!”
“You have three seconds to calm the fuck down before I slap you into next week.” Thomas sneered, setting the foot down and approaching. He stopped to observe.

“For fuck’s sake, Alexander, he just likes you.”
“Likes me?!”
“Yes. Are you quite deaf?”

“It’s attacking me.”
“HE is nuzzling to show affection. God, get that fucking stick out your ass.” Thomas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Just stroke his nose to show him you’re a friend.”
“Hell no.”
“Alex…” Thomas warned in his dark, watch-your-attitude tone.

Alexander whimpered uselessly at the command, he knew the tone left no room for misbehavior. Thomas wouldn't allow it.

Squeamishly, Alexander reaches out his fingertips with hesitance, grimacing sharply as Tarquinius moved to meet him. The little man exhaled slowly as he began to run the velvety, soft nose, the hairs tickling his hand. Alex laughed.

“Hey there, fleabag.” He spoke sweetly, moving closer.
“Was that the fucking end of the world?” Thomas sneered.

“Yep. Sky falling.”
“Alex-”
“Going dark.”

Thomas smacked his butt playfully as he rounded the other side of the horse.

“Did you need something?” he spoke, brushing the horse with long strokes.
“What?” Alex quizzed, top of his head peeking over Tarquin’s flank.
“Let me rephrase that, what the hell are you here for?” Thomas leaned over his steed relaxedly.

“Do I need a reason to come over?”
“Yes.”
“You get to barge into my house and drag me over here for booty-calls.”
“Also yes.”
“So I can too.”
“Wrong.” Thomas came to the front of Tarquin and released him from his halter, not looking at Alexander as he picked up his grooming set and exited the stall. “You all quite aware at this point that you are my toy, Alexander. You’re insufferable but you’re not stupid. Why are you here.”

Alex followed, struggling to keep up as they approached the path back up to the house.

“Okay, you got me.” Alexander panted, falling behind. “I’ll tell you if you wait!” he hollered at Thomas ahead of him.

The tall Virginian rolled his eyes, and strode back to his little partner, scooping him up in his arms and trudging on forward.
“Prick.” Thomas spat quietly. Alexander only hummed and settled his chin on Thomas’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck for the ride.

When they entered the quiet house, Thomas carried him through the entrance hall and dumped him on a couch in the parlor, a little less-than-gently.
“Sit. Getting bread.” he clipped, strolling to the side door that connected to the dining room. He was back in a moment with a plate as he sat down on the chair facing him, leaning back and crossing his legs.

“Any for me, man?” Alex asked annoyedly.
“Collateral.” Thomas answered, “Be a good boy and make this quick and you get food.”
“You’re despicable.”
“And you’re quickly losing privileges.”

“Alright, alright.” Alexander held off Thomas’s banter with one hand and fished into his pocket with the other. He pulled out the letter as Thomas sat silently, tracking his movement with his cold, steely eyes.

Alexander sighed, “I’m going to need to warn you that this… It’s…” he looked for the right word, “unexpected. Shockingly ironic.” he spoke, unfolding it.
“Thomas, you’re going to need to be prepared for this.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth quickly.

“I’m prepared for everything, Alexander. Don’t insult me.” Thomas sneered, “Get on with it.”

Alex exhaled through puffed cheeks, keeping eye contact with the dominant gaze as he handed over the letter. “It’s from Eliza.” Thomas took the parchment slowly, “My wife.” Alexander spoke, the words sounding so incredibly uncomfortable on his tongue. Thomas’s gaze regarded Alexander for one more moment before pulling his glasses out of his coat and placing them on his face, reading the words slowly.

Alexander watched as his deep brown eyes scanned the page, not revealing the slightest hint of emotion as he finished. He placed the parchment down on his knee, knitting his fingers and cocking his head.

“And why are you so worked up about this?” Thomas drawled exasperatedly.

Alex gaped, “Our… wives met each other, Thomas. Not only that, they’re FRIENDS.” Alexander waited for a reaction. He scoffed when there was none, “How is this not of any importance to you?”

“So. What. Alexander.” Thomas enunciated every word, uncrossing his legs and leaning back, placing his index fingers over his lips. “You’re acting like a fucking child.”

“They want to have DINNER. HERE.” Alexander tried to move along his point desperately, gesturing to the space around them, “With us.”
“Oh, pull yourself together man, would it be so difficult for you to not beg for sex for one damn night.”

“But- but our wives met. Our WIVES… why the fuck is that so weird to say…”
“Alexander Hamilton stop talking.” Thomas ordered sternly, calm, steely eyes boring into his own. “Come here.” He commanded in exactly the same tone.

Speechless, mind still racing on his previous thoughts, Alex rose and approached.
“Up. Now.” Thomas patted his lap, letter on the floor now as he guided Alexander onto his body, facing him and holding the little one’s thighs gently.
He ran his hands up and down rhythmically, massaging.

“You need to fucking relax. Nothing’s happened anywhere but in your head.”

“But when they come back-”
“We’re not having that discussion.” Thomas cut him off incredibly quickly, digging his nails briefly into Alex’s thighs to make him gasp and stop talking.

“I don’t want to hear about it, am I perfectly clear?” he spoke ever-so-evenly, cold tone making Alexander shiver.
“Yes.” he whispered in response.
“Good boy.” Thomas praised tenderly, placing a feather-light kiss on Alex’s nose. The little man squirmed joyously a bit at the kind treatment.

“Besides, today is a day to be celebrating, no? Do you know what day it is, Alexander?” Thomas cooed into Alex’s ear, planting another kiss right in front of his ear.

“Monday, yeah?” Alexander breathed.
“That’s right. And what happened last Monday?” Alexander paused, pulling away from Thomas quickly, shockedly.

“No. No way.” he was smiling, thrilled.
“What?” Thomas looked about, confused. The man on his lap stayed trained on his eyes.

“It’s our fuck-iversary!” he exclaimed, completely seriously. Thomas stared at him for a moment.
“I’m going to pretend the words ‘fuck-iversary’ didn’t just come out of your mouth.” he warned in disgust.

“But it’s what you mean, isn’t it?” Alex asked the question rhetorically.
“Yes, but-”
“Fuck-iversary!” he exclaimed again now that he’d gotten his point across. Thomas face-palmed, struggling desperately not to laugh.

Alex reached behind him and grabbed a piece of bread, holding it in the air as if it was a glass of champagne, “A toast,” he wiped a fake tear, “to my dearest Thomas on this beautiful fuck-iversary. It seems only yesterday he was obliterating my asshole… oh wait ...” Alexander laughed out loud before Thomas swept him up and body slammed him down onto the couch, pinning him down and tickling him ruthlessly.

Thomas couldn’t hold back his laughing now as he watched Alex try to writhe and squirm away from him, screaming at the fingers under his shirt.
“Thomas! Thomas stop stop! Thomas!” he begged, laughing so hard no sound was coming out other than breathless wheezes. Thomas indulged himself for a few more seconds before letting up, now sitting on top of Alexander, straddling him.

Alex panted exhaustively under him, still laughing short, breathless giggles as he tried to settle down. “I-I-...” he panted.
“Take your time.” Thomas mocked. The immigrant finally was able to speak.

He sighed “I think I should get a little gift for today, hmm?” he put on his best pouty face for Thomas. The Virginian wasn’t buying it. He raised a dark eyebrow.

“For what? First prize ribbon for biggest bitch in the Tri-state area?”
“Compensation, Thomas, it’s only fair.”

Thomas squinted down at him, puzzled. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He'd thought Alex was just joking to flirt. The guy was serious.

“Don’t you think I deserve it?” Alex squirmed a little, trying to stir Thomas a bit, “I’ve been so good and you owe me.”

Thomas leaned back, considering him “Owe you. How do I owe you.” he laughed through his nose, ready to be amused.
“Good boys get rewards. I’ve been good for you, haven’t I, Thomas.” Alex bit his lip, making the man on top of him tense up a bit. It was working.

“I don’t consider anyone who needs to be belted into submission ‘good’.” Thomas sneered.
“Come on, Jeffs, please.” Alex fluttered his eyelids sweetly.
“Don’t call me that.” Thomas grunted emotionlessly.

“Please.” Alex spoke again, wiggling his hips in the slowest, smallest circles under Thomas’s.

 

There was a moment’s pause. Thomas considering Alexander coldly, looking down into his hot, flickering eyes. He squinted, slowly beginning to nod.

“Alright, have it your way today.” He drawled carefully, steely eyes glinting. “I’ll tell you what, Alexander. Today, and ONLY today…” he opened his arms up, gesturing widely, “You can have whatever you like. Your wish is my command.”

He saw Alex begin to smile.
“For. One. Day.” he emphasized. Alexander knew this would never, ever happen again. Now was the time to take advantage of it. He knew exactly what he was going to request.

Thomas watched Alexander’s face darken maliciously, ideas already whirling in his head. Mayhem was written in his eyes when he licked his lips, clearly having made his decision.

A smirk pulled the corner of his lip.
“I want the tables turned.” he growled quietly, “Just for tonight.”

There was a hesitation.

“What do you mean?” Thomas inquired, eyebrow cocked. He had a gut feeling that he already knew.
“You know what I mean. I’m in charge. I’m dom. I get to be…” his eyes burned into Thomas’s

“top.”

In that moment Thomas knew exactly what Alexander was doing, and it was sick. Alex didn’t WANT to be dom, he loved being forced to scream and cry, forced into submission. But this wasn’t about Alex, no.
Thomas nodded in slow understanding.

He was doing this just to get control of Thomas, to show Thomas some fire, a taste of his own medicine. It wasn’t about Alexander’s pleasure tonight, it was about proving a point, punishing his dom in the rare, rare instance that he was allowed.

But he’d already said yes.
Alright, Alexander. He’d tolerate it for one night.

Thomas smiled, “One night, Alexander.” He warned, slowly rising from Alex’s pelvis, eyes still locked. The little one was thrilled.

 

“What did you call me?” Alex raised an eyebrow, already enjoying this scarce rarity, mocking with his gaze.

“Daddy.” Thomas growled lowly. He’d let the immigrant have his fun while he was allowed. HE was in charge of whether Alexander was allowed to do this or not. No matter what, Thomas’s control was wrapped around the little man like an iron fist.

“Good boy.” Alexander smiled. He’d play along, take the stupid letter off of Alex’s mind, and after it all inform the man that he’d set a date with Madison for the three of them to write the Compromise. Everything would go as planned in Thomas’s mind.

He’d let him have his fun.
One night.

Chapter Text

“Take off your clothes.” Alex raised his chin in the air with the exact angle Thomas usually did.
“Slower.” he barked, watching leisurely from the coach, smiling uncontrollably from behind his knuckles. This was too good already.

The tall Virginian’s jaw muscle silently flexed and grinded as he slowly pulled down his clothing, seething. One minute in and he already needed to use every bit of self restraint in his body not to click right back into dom.

“Good boy.” Alexander’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Go get your collar. You have thirty seconds, back here on the couch, legs spread.”
Their eyes locked. A deep rumbling was emitting from Thomas’s chest, primitive and aggressive.

Alexander raised his eyebrows, “Is there something you’d like to say, Jeffs?” He inquired challengingly. Thomas only exhaled through clenched teeth and forced himself to abide by Alexander’s rules, getting to the library and back with the leather and metal collar in hand.

“Put it on.” Alexander sat up on the couch now, leaning back, legs spread, knuckles to his mouth lazily.
Alex’s eyebrows twitched as Thomas complied, strapping the cold leather around his throat, always sparring against Alexander’s fiery glower with his of ice. Thomas settled it nicely, the glinting “JEFFERSON” plaque right at the most vulnerable part of the throat.

“What did I say about how I wanted you?” Alex sneered, smiling as he crossed to the chair and sat down obnoxiously.

Thomas shot him the most loathing glance as they passed each other, Thomas taking the couch and parting his knees. He fumed at Alexander, awaiting more command. The little man was already hard as fuck; Thomas looked irrisistable. The dark collar matching his dark hair and eyes. He looked dangerous and frustrated. Perfect.

“Play with yourself, Jefferson.” Alexander spat, “And look in my eyes.”
Thomas shook his head slowly, screwing up his lips, “You really are enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” he spoke bitterly, taking his pretty cock in hand and stroking it slowly.
“Faster, bitch.”

Thomas moved to stand up right then and there to lunge across the space and strangle Alexander, but it took everything in him to hold back. The immigrant gazed at him tauntingly, lips parted and eyebrows raised.
“Careful, Thomas.” he breathed, “I wear a belt too.”

Thomas stroked faster as Alexander requested, propelled more by anger than anything else.
“The pure amount of self-restraint, Alexander….” He snarled, “God, you have no fucking idea. No fucking idea.”

“Language, slut. I don’t want to hear it.” Alex responded, knowing fully well that Thomas would absolutely kick his ass if he behaved this way at any other time. “Two fingers in. Eyes up.” Alex ordered shortly.

Thomas growled and complied reaching under his thigh to insert two fingers. He made a little squeak that Alexander had never heard before, and devoured it up hungrily.
“That’s a god boy.” He laughed. Alexander was having his fun, he was such a fucking a sub, three-thousand percent. But this was too good.

The little man had never seen Thomas finger himself before and it was absolutely delicious. He bit his bottom lip as he scissored his fingers, loosening himself up. But Alexander wanted to bring him closer.

“Deeper, Thomas, faster.” he ordered, crossing his arms, “Make yourself cum.”
“Are you serious?” Thomas sneered, following commands as he pumped faster, harder, finding his prostate expertly and toying the sensitive nerves, he panted a bit now, “All this opportunity and you’re going to waste it?” He scoffed, “Typical.”

“Don’t remember saying you could talk.” Alex said muffledly from behind his shirt, he was beginning to strip, clumsily as usual, as Thomas brought himself closer, frustrated now, panting faster.
“Come on, Thomas. Let’s see some effort.” Alex scoffed approaching ever so slowly, trying his best to look tall and intimidating. “I don’t think you’re trying.”

Thomas looked up at him, eyes simmering with hatred and agonizing self restraint as Alex lowered himself down beside him on the couch. Thomas’s muscles tensed as he continued to stroke, signaling that his orgasm was somewhere in his grasp.

“Not feeling like such an elitist little bitch now, are we?” Alex laughed, observing his fingernails lazily. He looked over at Thomas, smiling “You’re such a conceited asshole, you know that? An aristocratic piece of shit.”
Thomas channeled his anger into his hand, pumping his dick so hard, jaw muscles raw with clenching.
Suddenly, he felt that searing tug in his lower belly, his dick twitched in his hand, hips jumping forward only slightly.

“Ooh, you’re gonna cum.” Alexander observed, turning to Thomas staring straight into his lusty brown eyes.
“Alright, then. Hands off.” Alex sighed, shrugging boredly.

It took every fiber of living control in his body to do as his little bitch told him, pulling out his fingers and releasing his dick, gripping the edge of the couch instead with his nails. Thomas looked forward, panting, teeth grinding. His breaths were slightly shaking now. Alexander was finally feeding him a taste of his own medicine.

“How do you feel?” Alex laughed amusedly, stroking Thomas upper arm.
“Shut up.” Thomas spat, swatting the hand away on dominant instinct. Alexander was pushing his last nerve-

And then it happened.

His head snapped to the side with a “thwack”, pain tingling up the side of his face.

Alexander had slapped him.

No. Way.

Lips parted, he gradually raised his fingertips to his cheek. He ever so slowly turned his head back to Alexander meeting his eyes.
“How… dare… you.” He whispered, seething in utter outrage.

Alexander was positively beaming. “GOD, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that...” he spoke, shaking his head, relishing in the words. “On your belly. No attitude.”
Thomas didn’t move at first. There was no way he could comprehend the utter insult, the blatant disrespect of HIS own slut.

“Did I fucking stutter?”
Teeth clenched so hard they could shatter, Thomas shifted onto his stomach away from Alex, growling short clips of words.
“What’s that?” Alex inquired curiously, giving his own dick a couple of strokes and wetting it.

“I’m willing myself not to fucking kill you with my bare hands.” Thomas snarled, deep voice grumbling. Alexander only laughed, “Speaking of hands, I’m gonna want to see those over the arm of the couch, please.” He positioned himself behind Thomas’s smooth, muscular ass, cupping it in his hands. “You won’t be needing them.”

“You’re despicable.” Thomas spat, gripping the arm of the couch. Alex laughed through his nose, ignoring him.

“You have a pretty ass, Thomas.” he breathed, still mapping the curves with his fingers, “Very pretty.” he ghosted one finger over the crack which made Thomas jump a bit and shiver.
Alex parted his lips in surprise, “Sensitive? I didn’t know that…” He smiled wickedly, walking his hands forward, crawling up so that he was over Thomas. He slowly lowered his lips to Thomas’s back, kissing his hot skin over his spine.

Thomas was growing rather impatient.

The little man, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time, reveling in this. He glided his tongue across the edge of Thomas’s shoulder blades torturously slowly, leaving a sharp bite on the left one.

“Hmph.” Alex laughed, laying down delicately on Thomas’s hot back, both of them sweaty by now, “You want my cock?” Alexander whispered right into Thomas’s ear, hot breath rustling the hair.
The only response was a deep, low warning-growl from Thomas’s chest.

“Good. Holding your tongue. Who’s a good boy?” Alex purred mockingly. He placed his elbows firmly on either side of his tall partner, shuffling his hips so he was in position. Just barely touching his entrance. Thomas ever so subtly tried to shift his hips into the touch.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Alex pulled away half an inch, waving a finger. “If you want it you need to ask nicely.”
“Alexander Hamilton you are dead.”

“What’s the magic word?”
“So fucking dead. You’re dead.”

“Thomas.” Alexander sang sweetly, cocking his head, “That doesn’t sound like a ‘please, Mr. Hamilton’ to me.”

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Seconds passed as he raged silently, Alexander’s fingertips stroking the back of his neck around his collar. One night and you’re back in charge, he reminded himself. And he’d never have to bow to this bastard again.

“Please.” He spoke emotionlessly.
“I think a little whimper would do.” Alex scratched his neck under the collar gently. “A little crying. Show me how generous I am.”

“Please, daddy.” Thomas said again, whimpering helplessly this time. He was genuinely beginning to feel the urgency in his cock, he needed to have some sort of release.
“That’s better.” Alex cooed, satisfied, and placing the tip of his cock back up to Thomas.

He pushed the tip in, just enough to open Thomas up, make him feel the stretch, but not fill him up at all. Thomas’s panting continued, sides expanding with every breath.
“What do we say?” Alex whispered dirtily, licking Thomas’s ear erotically. Twice.

“Please. Fuck.” Thomas grunted, head down against the couch, Alex feeling the deep vibrations of his voice against his front.
“God, Thomas. I wish you could see yourself right now. I’m never letting you forget this.”

Thomas knew the insufferable prick was absolutely speaking the truth as he pushed in his inches one at a time so, so slowly. Thomas bit the corner of a pillow hard. Alexander’s pulsating cock filled him up so good; it was warm and rock-hard, leaking pre-cum into him. When his head stopped spinning a bit, he realized why Alexander was going so slow.

“So tight…. Holy fucking mother of God.” Alexander panted, squirming a bit; his eyes were wide open. There was a moment’s hesitation before Thomas laughed out loud.

“You’ve never done this with a guy before?” he wheezed, gently slapping the couch arm.
“I- stop moving.” Alex commanded desperately, more of a beg really.

“If I’d done this with other guys you’d hunt them down one-by-one, dickhead.” Alex complained. Thomas was still laughing gently, rocking.
“Okay, fair point, Alexander.” he reasoned. “If you don’t fuck me right now, we’re going to have a conversation later about your behavior.”

“Hey, buddy. I’m in charge.” Alex pouted, standing up from his elbows to his palms now, shaking a bit.
He exhaled slowly, swallowing as he pulled out his wet dick almost all the way and pushed back in.

“Really, Alexander? That’s all you got? I feel like I’m being fucked by your grandfather.”
“Okay, A: don’t put that image in my head when I’m trying to cum, and B:” he didn’t continue with words, but with action. He slammed back into Thomas, jolting both of them forwards.

“Ahnn!” Thomas moaned, the first time Alexander had heard him genuinely moan involuntarily. It was deep, throaty, and animal-like. Alexander definitely liked it.

“Ooh, what’s that? You moan like a little girl.” Alexander lied, thrusting in and out in the same manner, beginning a rhythm.
Thomas arched his back, trying to coax Alex towards his sensitive area. The immigrant laughed, having the absolute time of his life as he seized the collar roughly, pulling on it with pressure as he rawly fucked Thomas Jefferson.

Thomas choked a bit, coughing gutturally. The sounds was irresistible to Alexander.
“Jesus, Thomas. You’re not gonna last two minutes before you cum.” he laughed incredulously, planting his knees firmer so he could fuck Thomas even harder than he already was, pounding as quickly as his little body would allow.

“You wish.” Thomas spat, head down.
“Ya said it yourself, my wish is your command tonight.”
Thomas grunted with each thrust as they continued, he moaned every once in a while and Alex ate it up; he was always the one as loud as a she-cat in heat.

It was completely crazy for him to think that he was fucking his dom. He was fucking his dom! Quite honesly he had no fucking clue why Thomas had allowed this. Of course, he was only trying to prove a point; Thomas was still the more ruthless of the two, bigger, stronger, more dominant and authoritative. But Alexander was relishing every moment that he was in charge.

 

After a minute of panting, moaning, and grunting, Alexander realized that Thomas had turned his head a bit, looking out the window and was getting closer and closer to an orgasm. He looked there too to see what he was looking at but realized what it was all at once.

It had grown dark out, and the window only reflected what was inside. They could only see themselves.

Thomas was watching himself getting fucked.

 

Alexander gaped in faux-disgusted shock, “Thomas, you sick bastard.” he turned back to his dom, “You get off from watching?” Thomas only answered with a low moan, this one sounding more helpless than the others, needy.

“You’re disgusting. You like watching me fuck your tight ass?” Alex smiled, pounding faster, “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas groaned. Alexander would love to get him to cry, but he definitely wouldn’t. The only one there who always cried during sex was Alexander; he can’t handle pleasure, he has to resort to crying, whimpering, and squirming.

Thomas lurched forward once. Then twice, then again, now grinding back into Alexander with each thrust. This was a sign that he was getting closer, unable to take it just from Alex anymore. Alexander yanked sharply back on his collar, making him choke strangledly.

“What’re you rocking for, huh?” He spat, “Huh?” The man was so disgracefully obnoxious. Thomas made a mental note to give him a good spanking as soon as possible.
“Gonna cum.” He grumbled shortly, trying to grind into the couch again.

“Speak up, slut.”
“Gonna cum.” Thomas voiced even louder, voice filling the house.

“EXCUSE me?” Alex scoffed digging his nails into the scruff of Thomas’s neck, “I don’t think you’re going to do anything without asking permission.”

“Bite me, fucker.” Thomas snarled lowly enough so that Alexander could scarcely make out his words.
Alex sneered, “Ask me, Thomas. Ask me now or I’m pulling out this instant.” Thomas was trapped as he rolled his hips against the couch, desperate for release.

“Let me cum.” He requested, panting as Alex kept tucking his hips in to slam against Thomas.
“Well that wasn’t very friendly.” Alex pouted whinily, slowing down just enough to make Thomas need to scream.

“Please, let me cum.” He moaned, letting his forehead fall against the couch. “Daddy…” he whimpered, not because he needed to, no. Because it would absolutely give him permission.

“Therrrre you go.” Alexander positively purred, indulging himself so much, “Cum for me, Thomas.” Reaching one hand under him, it only took two strokes before the tall man clenched up, shoulder and back muscles rippling as a large shudder crashed through him, cum splattering on his belly and the couch beneath him.

He was completely silent as he only shivered once more, allowing his orgasm to pleasure him.
After a bit, he sighed, beginning to sit up as Alexander pulled out with a little whimper himself and backed up.

“You orgasm so silently…” Alexander breathed, leaning back on the couch, “It’s disgustingly hot.”
“Mm. You orgasm like you’re being murdered.” Thomas panted, dragging himself up into a sitting position, cum plastered messily to his belly. He ran a hand through his sweaty, dark hair.

“Oh, shut up.” Alexander whined, knowing Thomas was right.
“It’s entertaining to torture it out of you. You scream, you cry, you thrash around uncontrollably, your eyes roll into the back of your head.” Thomas breathed, catching his breath gradually, “It’s amusing to watch.”

“You’re a sick human being.”
“Hmm.” Thomas hummed contentedly, letting himself rest for a moment before leaning forward stiffly to get up. Probably wash his own cum off himself. Alexander cocked his head.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Thomas stopped, swiveling his head towards his little sub, dark brows furrowing in annoyedly.
“Does it LOOK like I cummed or are you just stupid?”

Another wave of fury burned through the proud Virginian. Thomas’s fists balled, white knuckled, nails digging into his palms as he maintained his self-restraint not to hit Alexander. God, he wanted to slap that smug face into next week.

“Honestly, Alexander, I have no idea how you didn’t cum in the first twenty seconds.” he growled harshly.
“I have my ways. But I know what I want now. I’m not done with you.” Alexander tilted his chin up, eyes glinting mischievously in the light, “Clean yourself up, Thomas.”

He leaned to get up once more, “Where the hell did you think I was going.” The Virginian sneered, shaking his head. “Jesus, Alexander…”
“With your mouth.” Alex finished darkly.

There was a deafening pause as Thomas froze.
He slowly turned his head to look at his little nuisance, lips screwing up in rage, fire crackling in his vicious scowl.

“I… NEVER… swallow….” He enunciated each word with complete emphasis, leaning in closer to Alexander to intimidate. Thomas was far too classy, too refined to do such a barbaric thing. His partner only smiled sheepishly in his face, clucking his tongue.

“Well, today’s your special day, then.” Alexander’s lip curled back a bit, evilly. He breathed on Thomas’s lips. “Start licking.”

They stood each other off for several long, excruciatingly drawn out moments. It was then that Thomas realized that in this rare instance, it was Alexander that had the ability to be the ringleader. Another fuming breath in and out of the Virginian.

Leaning back on the couch, not looking at Alexander, he opened up his lap as a vacant place. Alexander was confused at first, but then he understood, face lighting up. Even better. The little one crawled onto Thomas’s warm lap, their damp thighs and cocks pressed together as Alex wiggled down, settling in.

The Treasurer locked his brown eyes with Thomas’s as menacingly as he could manage.
“Open. Now.” he commanded.
Thomas’s glare was full of loathing as he despisingly parted his jaws, tongue curling out appealingly for Alexander. His lips were red and wet, ready for this act of degrading.

Alexander smirked, running his fingers tinglingly up Thomas’s thigh and over his hip bone, grazing the sensitive area. Thomas didn’t squirm at all, impossible to budge, as their eyes never left each other.
“Being difficult, are you?” Alex growled, genuinely frustrated at how he couldn’t make Thomas squirm. Thomas looked at him cooly, twitching his eyebrows challengingly, not speaking as his mouth was still open wide.

“Fine.” Alex complained darkly, sliding two fingers across Thomas’s belly scooping only a bit of cum onto them. The white, sticky substance was still warm. Thomas would hate it, Alexander thought joyously.
“Take it.” he sneered, raising his fingers to Thomas’s face. The Virginian only looked at it for a second before licking it off of Alexander’s waiting fingers, smoldering eyes expressionless as he did so.

Alexander was genuinely holding back from cumming on Thomas without any contact. It was a serious concern. Just watching Thomas lick up his own cum was agonizingly erotic, the sight of it coating his wet tongue.

“More.” Alexander snapped short-temperedly, taking the entire rest of his release from his belly, a great amount, and scooping it into Thomas’s gaping, waiting mouth. The man was good. It was so incredibly infuriating, he should be hating this, and yet his face showed no emotion but mockery as he took his cum into his mouth, swallowing without too much difficulty, even if it took a couple of tries.

“Brat.” Alexander snarled lividly at Thomas, climbing off his lap.

“What, Alexander.” Thomas sneered in disgust, “Wanted me to cry like you do?” He considered that for a moment and laughed through his nose, amused at the thought, “In your wildest wet dreams, baby boy.” Thomas mocked filthily.

“You know what, that’s it.” Alexander leaned back on the couch and spread his knees wide. “Yeah, that’s it. Come ‘ere.” he snapped and pointed down to the floor in the same movement.

Thomas didn’t move, glancing at him, then the floor, then back.

“What?” He drawled boredly.
“Shut the fuck up and get over here.” Alexander commanded brattily. His head was getting far too big for Thomas’s liking, but there was only so much he could do about it at the moment as he slid down from the couch, rolling his eyes as he settled on the floor between Alexander’s knees, looking up boredly.

“What?” he stated dryly.
“Suck.” Alex barked. Thomas only stared at him, a slight smile playing on his face as he raised a single eyebrow. Alex wasn’t having it.

“Are you fucking deaf, Jefferson. Suck.” He commanded even more harshly. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he spat, growing more frustrated with every second Thomas looked on contently.
“Oh nothing.” He laughed lightly, leaning in a bit closer, “I just find it funny how no matter what you do, you’re still dancing at the end of my fingertips.”
“Suck… NOW!” Alexander roared, knowing that Thomas was completely right and that he was PROVING Thomas right with every passing second.

His dom laughed through his nose again, shaking his head amusedly as he positioned his mouth above Alexander’s cock. He cast one last glance up to his desperate sub, smirking.
“Thomas…” Alexander warned darkly between gritted teeth.

Thomas smiled and began…

And he came down on Alexander, mouth wide open, deep throating him right down to the balls.

 

“OH! SHIT!” Alex screamed, bucking up as Thomas’s head bobbed up, cheeks hollowed, searing tongue stroking the bottom of his dick.
“Thomas, what the- FUCK! AUGH!” he screamed again as Thomas deep throated him once more, pulling Alex’s length far into the reaches of his mouth. It was so harsh and vicious… he didn’t even choke!

“Oh! Jesus fucking CHRIST! OH!” Alexander moaned and wailed as Thomas immediately began bobbing at the most violent pace, sucking down to the balls, nose touching Alex’s belly, then shooting back up to the tip faster than Alex thought imaginable. Alex’s hips squirmed, his feet danced.

Then Alexander was shooting cum everywhere, it spurted into Thomas’s mouth and his face. A bit fell onto his own belly as his dick sprang back out of Thomas’s lips.

“OH! OH! OH!” He panted, chest heaving as he cummed, orgasm tearing through him.
“ShhhIT!” screamed through gritted teeth, throwing his head back involuntarily and arching his back away from the couch, he shuddered and shivered, gasping.

He hardly had any time to let his unexpected orgasm rip him to shreds. Thomas was already on the job.

The taller one spat the cum out of his mouth violently onto Alex’s belly with a sneer; Alexander had cummed. He was in charge now. He could treat the little one exactly how he deserved to be treated.
Wiping his mouth roughly, he surged up from the floor, leaping up onto the couch, with a primitive snarl.

He thudded onto Alexander, skin on skin as he expertly pinned him down with his knees as they collided roughly. Alexander was still shivering with his orgasm, eyes struggling to focus on anything.
“Despicable… worthless… disrespectful.” Thomas barked, slapping Alexander’s face brutally with every word.
Pulling away from his red cheek, Thomas’s hand lashed out to grip Alexander’s delicate throat, making him hiccup abruptly.

“You…” Thomas positively fumed, unable to make out a single sentence with how outraged he was, his mind skimming over everything Alex had done to disrespect him. Sure, he had had permission, but Thomas wasn’t one for fairness.

“I ought to tie you down and flog you, Alexander.” Thomas slowly constricted his grip, feeling Alex strain to breathe under his hand. The power felt so much more comfortable, natural. “You think you can treat me like that?” He laughed. Alex was beginning to bare his teeth, breath cut off as he gasped strainedly.

“Bitch...” Thomas whispered, squeezing harder than ever for two seconds, seeing the critical urgency in Alex’s eyes before letting go. Alexander gasped in, choking as his lungs filled with air. He coughed.

“You… are… perfect…” He panted, coughing, smiling as his head fell back in exhaustion. He hiccuped.
Thomas grabbed the front of his hair, yanking his head back up to look in his eyes. Alex’s milky-brown gaze was tipsily cock-drunk, lips parted. There were nail marks on his neck.

“That, I am, Alexander. That, I am.” he sniffed, nose in the air. “Finally learning to praise your daddy.” Thomas nodded curtly at the satisfactory statement.

“Yeahhh…” Alex sang, tongue heavy, eyelids half-closed. “Need your mouth…” he mumbled breathlessly, sweaty hair clinging to his pink cheeks.

Thomas laughed through his nose, contented that Alexander was re-assuming his place in their hierarchy and smiled. He’d spank Alexander later. He couldn’t get away with this for too long. “You want my mouth?” He repeated sweetly.

“Daddy…” Alexander whined gently, searching blindly with his lips for Thomas. He laughed, deciding to grant Alex’s wish; he was being good and backing down. Thomas carefully tilted Alex’s head up for a deep, long kiss and stayed that way. The little one moaned a sigh, content as their lips opened and closed lazily, tongues lapping slowly inside each other.

All that could be heard were Alex’s low moans and wet licks as they slowly slid down on the couch, laying horizontally as they kissed. Thomas’s heavy weight pressed down comfortably on Alex, making him feel safe as his own hands rested softly on Thomas’s biceps, rocking gently back and forth as Thomas nudged into his mouth.

The two stayed like this for longer than either would admit, until their lips were red and swollen. Thomas slowed down opening his mouth wide, then closing it on Alexander’s at a crawling pace, conclusively pulling away from Alex’s lips with a hot breath. Thomas finally opened his eyes, looking down gently at Alexander.

The small man was breathing softly, he was falling asleep, Thomas realized.

 

Alex reached up feebly to rub his eyes, still closed. Something deep in Thomas’s chest shifted a bit.

“Alexander. How much sleep did you get last night?” Thomas furrowed his brows, standing up on his palms to hover above Alex.
“Enough.”
“Enough?”
“Enough.” Alex tried to nod, but ended up nodding off. He was so sleepy…

“Alright. Let’s go.” Thomas grunted, curling his hands under Alex and pulling him into his lap first so he could plant his feet on the floor.
“Nooo…” Alexander groaned sleepily, Thomas unsure of what he was even groaning at at this point. He hoisted him up into his arms, standing stiffly so he could walk him over to the bedroom and begin to bathe him; they were both a mess of sweat and cum.

Alex buried his face into Thomas’s neck, burrowing as he was rocked with the Virginian’s steps.

Thomas’s thoughts were lingering at the edges of his mind as he gently settled Alexander into the warm water, gliding the soap rhythmically across his tired back as he climbed in himself. He cleaned Alexander first, though.

What was he thinking? He could hardly even say. There was just… something in his chest. It was heavy, but not in a dragging way. Was there a name for something heavy that still lifts you up?

He shook his head slowly at his stupid thoughts as he cupped water into his hands and trickled it over Alex’s face. His eyelids fluttered closed, little water droplets slipping off his long lashes. Thomas stared down at his resting face as he ran his fingers over his forehead and jawline, brushing his cheekbones delicately. So gently ghosting over his fading black eye.
And he felt something.
He felt something.

He thumbed the little man’s lips before tenderly pulling him out of the bath, water streaming off the both of them as Thomas dried him on the edge of the tub and fit him into a long robe that pooled at his feet.

He blinked open his heavy, half-closed eyes.
“Genuine question.” he spoke for the first time in a bit. For some reason Thomas’s heart leaped into his throat

“What.” he said dryly, pulling on his own fur robe, no emotion showing. Alexander stood from the lip of the bath.
“Where’d you learn to give blowjobs like that?”

Thomas snorted out loud, grabbing his brush from a cabinet and running it through his wet hair. “France.” he spoke in amusement, yanking Alex around in front of him and holding the wiggling man in place to brush his hair too.

“France.” he laughed, “Ow, Thomas you’re yanking.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes. You are. OW! Now you’re doing it on purpose!”

Thomas only answered with a smirk in the mirror. “French whore…” Alexander mumbled under his breath, earning him a crisp slap in the butt with the brush.
A few seconds later Thomas put the brush away, walking out the bathroom door.

“Ay wait up dickhead.” Alex called sleepily, staggering over to him.

And interlaced his fingers with Thomas’s.
There was a beat of silence.

 

He didn’t make a sarcastic joke about it. He wasn’t pulling some stupid prank. He just did it. Thomas’s heart skipped a beat and he tried not to gasp. In any other world… In any other world he’d pull away with a, “What do you think you’re doing, Alexander?” Three days ago he would’ve done that.

Then why did he weave his fingers between Alex’s callused ones, squeezing gently as they slowly strolled to the bed?

 

Alex clambered in, taking Thomas’s spot as per usual, and Thomas hauled him out of the way, climbing under the covers and tossing them around, trying to get enough.

“Hogging, Alexander. We talked about the hogging.”
“I’m cold.”
“You’re under one-hundred pounds. You get less than half.”
“That’s not fair. I require warmth.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, impossibly far back into his head. Insufferable. Completely insufferable.
The taller man rolled over, basically on top of Alexander, smothering him.

“Thomas! Get off, you little shit.”
“It’s either me or the floor, bitch. I get the covers.”

Alex growled, but cut himself off with bursting laughter as Thomas kissed the most sensitive part of his neck over and over again, cruelly tickling him on his sides too as he thrashed.
“Okay, okay! STOP!” Alex wheezed, kicking Thomas. “I surrender! I surrender, I…” he trailed off as Thomas let up, falling back into his dead-exhausted state. He still managed one last kick at Thomas.

“That’s what I thought.” Thomas sneered, gathering Alexander up into his envelopment, spooning him.
“Asshole.” Alex grumbled quietly.

“YOU need to go to sleep.” Thomas commanded sternly, “Why the fuck were you up so late?” he interrogated.
Alex only sniffed, goofy smile still on his face as Thomas looked down on him. “The… Compromise.” He yawned, “Making notes. Plans…” he trailed.

Right! Thomas remembered what he had needed to tell Alex with a jolt of thrill.

“Ahh, the Compromise.” Thomas purred, planting a kiss behind Alexander’s ear, making him hum contentedly.
“Did daddy tell you about his little gift to you, mon jouet?” He gently tugged at the delicate pulse point with his teeth and let go, a tender gesture.

“No.” Alexander sang sleepily, “What?” Thomas laughed at Alex’s condition. Sighing through his nose as he shifted him a bit closer.

“Me. You. Madison, the day after tomorrow. Here.” he spoke, “Bring your quill, Alexander. You’re going to need it.”

 

At his words, Alexander lit up like a child on Christmas, turning his face over his shoulder a much as he could to positively gleam at Thomas. “Thomas!” was all he could manage in his thrilled state.
“What do we say?” Thomas prompted, expecting a proper ‘thank you’ from his sub. Alexander only dived in for a deep kiss, leaning in heavily.

They pulled away with a pop.
“That’ll suffice.” Thomas sniffed as Alex rolled back to his spooned position, purring. He was so happy. And Thomas felt something. He was definitely feeling something. It was there.
He’d known this news for a day, but seeing Alexander react to it made his heart soar. In any other day he would push it into the back of his mind, lock it up, deny it, hide it, shove it down.

But there was no way he could do that anymore. His ability to do that was over. It was... over.

This realization crashed down on Thomas like cold, cold water. Like wintry slush, igniting his senses all at once. He looked down on Alexander, breathing so gently against his body, eyes fluttering closed.

He felt something.

“Thomas…?” He mumbled.
“Yeah.” Thomas responded expectantly. What? What did he want him to say? A little voice in the back of his mind told him that he already knew.

“Will you braid my hair?”

 

And that was when Thomas decided.

That was the decision. Right there.

He did not answer in words, only ran his fingers gently through Alexander’s dark hair and began to separate the strands. Legs intertwined, he weaved a french braid into Alex’s hair, the soft, grooming feeling rocking the little one into sleep.

Thomas knew what he was going to do. He knew right then and there. And it terrified him.

After the Compromise. After it was written and done, he’d tell Alexander. He’d tell him the thing that they both knew. And... he’d ask him a question too. Because Thomas knew that they could be more than this. They had to be.

 

When the Virginian finished, he twirled a bit of Alex’s hair in his finger before letting it fall against his neck and curling is arm around the little man’s waist, sighing through his nose as Alex nudged closer.

Leaning in, Thomas planted a kiss on the nape of Alexander’s neck. And again. He slowly worked down all the places he could reach, gently kissing the hollow of his collarbone and over his shoulders. All the while, Thomas grazed the back of his fingernails over Alex’s belly, in lazy, tender circles.

Alexander was already asleep.

Thomas gazed at his content face. He was so peaceful, lashes twitching with dreams. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Alex’s ear for him and wished they could stay in this moment forever.
A Compromise in the making. Nearly a month of summer left. Alexander… It was perfect. Everything was perfect for once.

And he was going to ask Alexander to be with him.

Chapter Text

James Madison scanned over the inked-up parchment that he had just filled for any errors. He sniffed, pushing his glasses back up on his nose as he read over his words once again. Ah, there was a point to elaborate on.
He dipped his quill in his ink bottle with a clink, and leaned in over his desk once again, hovering over the paper and letting its contents envelop him.

The pendulum on the grandfather clock swung and the candles on his desk flickered. A cab driver hollered somewhere out on the street.

 

Ten minutes into a new sheet of parchment, there was a soft knock of knuckles on wood; his head peeped up from his work, body still curled over.

“George.” he smiled lightly, setting down his quill.
George Washington was leaning his head into the already-open door. He had knocked on the frame to announce his presence.

“James.” He spoke, his smooth voice as resolute and full as ever, even at this hour. “At the desk so late?” he inquired, straightening up to stand tall in the threshold.

“Yeah, House matters… bills coming up from Committee…” he mumbled, trying to put away his undried parchment as Washington strolled up towards his desk, not suspecting anything as his eyes fell down on the dark title of the essay.

 

His brows furrowed and he looked back up at Madison, “The Compromise of 1790?” he read. James’s face began to grow red with embarrassment. “George…”
Washington picked up the paper with his long, handsome fingers, blue eyes scanning the page. James could see the slight shock in his curious eyes as he read.

“I’m sorry, George. I really am; I should have told you sooner.” He stammered, unsure of what to do with his body right now, “I just didn’t want to say anything until it was set in stone.”

George didn’t look at him, just slowly placed the paper back down on the desk like it was very fragile.
“No harm done.” he spoke genuinely, pushing his coat back to place a hand on his hip, “Just a surprise.” he laughed a bit through his nose, making James force a strained laugh as well. Washington stood still, carefully regarding Madison’s face for a minute.

“Jefferson and Hamilton, huh.” He exhaled through his nose, nodding, “I don’t know if I was expecting that.”

 

Silence followed as Madison nodded gravely. He carefully stood from his chair with a creak, crossing slowly to the window that overlooked the street three stories below. Despite the lateness of the hour, carriages and people still bustled through the streets.
“Neither was I.” he whispered lowly, thoughts streaming through his head faster than he would like them to, “Neither was I…” he repeated.

 

The two were quiet as James placed is hands on the cool windows ledge, looking out over the city. Washington sighed and all that could be heard were his boots lightly clunking around the desk and towards Madison.

“You can relax, James.” George spoke crisply, placing both large hands on James’s shoulders, massaging deeply and carefully. James frowned and sighed, melting into the touch as he always did.
“This… Compromise of yours means good things for all of us.” George spoke, looking over Madison out the window too. There were a few moments of silence.

“I just feel like I should have told you about it.” James craned back over his shoulder to see George’s expression but he was calm as usual, gazing out over the city. George looked down to meet his eyes, “You are not required to do anything. Your work is yours, and yours only. I respect what you chose.” he spoke as eloquently as usual.

James closed his eyes and leaned back into George a bit, the tall, sturdy man supporting him easily as he continued to rub rhythmically. They listened to the sounds of the city for quite some time.

 

George finally stirred, breaking the silence, “Jefferson and Hamilton.” he spoke, deep voice rumbling in his chest, pressed against Madison, “How did you pull that off? I could use the advice.” he joked, but Madison did not laugh... He sighed.

“Jefferson proposed it, actually. I didn’t have to lift a finger.” Washington raised his eyebrows in surprise, frowning in consideration.
“Now that IS curious…” he spoke, continuing his motion on James’s shoulders offhandedly, thinking.

“How-” He began, cutting himself off to think of a better way to phrase it, “What do you think is the cause of those two being so willing to compromise?” he inquired, genuinely curious.

 

Madison was silent, able to see his weary reflection in the window. Moments passed as he considered himself. And the things that he knew.
“I haven’t an idea.” he breathed quietly, letting his eyes lose focus on his reflection. He’d lied again.

Washington exhaled deeply, allowing his hands to fall from his shoulders to trail down his back, and slip around the front of his waist. James was not about to give up the enemies’ secret; he couldn’t.

Washington held him gently around the waist and placed a soft kiss atop his head before resting his chin on top of James’s head peacefully. They stood contently together in the tranquility of the night, watching over New York city.

James allowed himself to rest gently against Washington, closing his eyes. He could not give up their secret, no.

Not when he had such a secret too…

 

**

“No way!”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Oh my God!” Laughter echoed from the treehouse into the night, over the mirror-stil lake that looked like the night sky above. Two young women were hidden up inside the four walls in the branches, one candle between them as they huddled close.

“I can’t believe you did that.” The brunette whispered in a hushed tone. The blonde across from her tried to hold down a smug smile, nodding pridefully.
“I said, ‘I know what I want’ and marched away from my father and went with that boy to New Hampshire. New Hampshire of all places!” She exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Why didn’t you marry him?” The brunette scooted in closer on her knees, careful of the candle but enthralled by the story. The blonde smiled and shrugged offhandedly, “In the end, I had to go back. I guess I knew I’d have to all along but at some point it just sinks in.”

The brunette thought for a moment and folded her hands in her lap, looking down at them quietly.

The blonde picked up on something. “What is it?” The she inquired, making the other girl look back up slowly, a bashful and innocent look on her face.
“Elizabeth?” the blonde spoke, voice rising at the end as she raised an eyebrow playfully, “What is it?”

Eliza blushed some more, glancing off to the side as she smiled lightly, lips parted trying to hide her face in innocent reticence.
“I just…” she began, trying to hold back from the vile thing that she was about to say.

“...I don’t think that’s why you came back.” She spoke slowly, choosing her words deliberately as she raised her eyes up to the blonde.

She laughed, “What do you think, Elizabeth?” she questioned in kind amusement. Eliza glanced off modestly again, trying not to smile.
“I think he wasn’t what you said. He wasn’t what you wanted.” she implied carefully.

 

The blonde gaped at her, a smile in her eyes as she spoke. “So she speaks her mind!” She gasped for dramatic effect, “I didn’t know you would ever challenge a word I said.” The blonde cocked up her chin haughtily.

Eliza only laughed, a little glint in her eye as she smiled innocently,
“But… I am right. Aren’t I.” She stated more than asked. The blonde lifted her chin as there was a pause between them.

“And what if you are?” She questioned hypothetically, gesturing with an open hand.

“Well,” Eliza looked down at her hands with calculative consideration, “I would ask you… What it is you DO want.” She decided, looking back up at the girl she was sitting so close across from. Eliza couldn’t believe what she was saying… Why were these things coming out of her mouth? She'd never felt so brave. Was that the word for it? Things seemed fuzzy.

The girl smiled solemnly, looking up into Elizabeth’s close brown eyes.
“I would not answer.” She spoke, curly lips decisive, as usual.

 

“And why not?” Eliza followed up timidly, for some reason feeling the urge to move in just a bit closer. Just slightly closer. Why…?

The blonde looked up, the gentle flame flickering in the reflection of her sad eyes. She gravitated towards Eliza ever so slowly, the reason indescribable for her as well. A few moments of tense silence played out, the world was nothing but each other’s eyes.
A question, an answer.

“Because... you would already know.” Martha whispered, breath falling on Eliza’s lips, her expression slightly surprised at her own words. And without any hesitation, they were leaning in closer to each other, heads tilted.
Eliza closed her eyes slowly, lips parting as she didn’t even think of what was happening right now. It was rare that Eliza didn’t think.

All that was left between their lips was one breath of night air…

 

“Eliza!”

The call rang and echoed once it hit the lake. It sounded from far below them, beneath the tree.

The two girls jumped apart, delicate lips never having touched. They looked, mortified, at each other, and then to the side, faces burning with embarrassment. There was an agonizing pause of silence.

“I think that’s Angelica.” Martha laughed solemnly, nodding her head and looking back up at Eliza. When she saw her expression, she furrowed her brows in concern.
“Eliza…?”
“I have to go.” Eliza cut her off, making a move for the small hatch and ladder, kicking the candle on the way by, sending it teetering dangerously for Martha to fix.

She gasped jumped to it, settling the candle and then quickly moving for the timid girl, snagging her by the sleeve and pulling her back.

“Martha…” she tried feebly to tug away, but the more witty girl had her in her grasp; she wasn’t letting go.
“Hey.” She spoke, gently, kindly at Eliza, “Just look at me.” She quietly slid her grip from Eliza’s sleeve to her hand, coaxing her with blue eyes to turn back towards her for one more moment.

“Martha… I…”
“It’s okay.” It was Martha’s turn to look down at her lap, voice shaking a bit, “I don’t… know what just happened either.” She looked back up, finding the other hand and weaving her fingers in between Eliza’s small, dainty ones.
“But you have to promise me you’re not going to disappear.” Why were these her words...? For some reason, it seemed like the most important thing to be asking.

Eliza’s face was tilted down; she was in shock, she was scared.
“Okay?” Martha spoke quietly. This conversation was so much bigger than it was forced to be here. Eliza wanted time, more time to think it through; this was too rushed. It was incomprehensible. All too fast...

So all she did was nod quietly. A weight was lifted off Martha’s shoulders. “Okay.” Martha stated again, straightening herself up and nodding, she was troubled too but the more stubborn girl wouldn’t let it show.

“Eliza I’m not standing in the cold for ONE more damn minute!” Angelica’s sassy, authoritative voice complained from below once more, muffed in the forest.
The girls looked at each other somberly for a moment; Eliza opened and closed her mouth indecisively. She had no words.

“You should go now.” Martha nodded, understanding, “I have a feeling Angelica might find stones to throw up here.” she laughed through her nose. Eliza managed a weak smile, slipping her fingers out from between Martha’s reluctantly.

A part of her did not want to go. Maybe most of her. Why was this so out of the blue?

She slowly scooted towards the hatch of the treehouse, the place built for her and her sisters as children. The only place she could feel like the world wasn’t watching. And when she was with Martha Jefferson, the world wasn’t watching.

She placed her foot on the rung, casting one last glance over her shoulder at the girl. Her wavy blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, modest scarlet dress pooled around her knees. A part of Eliza didn’t want to go, a lot of her didn’t.

And another part of her asked herself…
Would Alexander ever betray her like this?

 

**

Aaron Burr swept his hand across his desk, sending papers flying everywhere. An ink bottle shattered to the ground chaotically. He panted. In the moments after, there was stillness besides the man’s heaving breaths.
A connection… he thought. He needed to find a connection.

He ran his hands through his hair suddenly flashing in anger, kicking the desk leg in a short jerking movement. Why? It was so AGONIZING. There was something right above his grasp, right on the tip of his tongue. He needed to put two and two together.

Burr walked slowly to sit at his empty desk head down, eyes dark. He twirled a ring on his finger ever so slowly around…
Wasn’t the affair enough?

Burr watched the ink on the ground slowly crawl and expand, somehow looking like dark blood.
Blood in the water, he thought. Blood in the water.

The affair was enough to destroy Hamilton’s legacy. If he had proof. And he had no proof; this fact had been ingrained in the front of his mind since he found out and tortured him in all his waking hours.

No. The affair would not suffice. He needed more and he knew that there was more. Burr leaned back in his chair, hands cupped over his mouth as he stared on ahead, rubbing his face.
Alexander Hamilton had walked over him since the day they met. He’d taken everything he’d ever planned for; Hamilton never thought, he just DID. Hamilton was smart… And so were all the people surrounding him. All the people in the room.

 

Burr drew a shaky, livid breath. He... didn't want Hamilton gone.

He wanted to be in the room.

 

He slowly sat up, everything coming together in his mind.

He didn’t have to destroy Hamilton, no, he didn’t need to!
Burr placed both hands on the cold desk, slimy smirk playing on his face. Why would he destroy someone… who could be so useful?

The snake stared down at his hands, breathing quickly, licking his lips hungrily, making another plan.
He’d find out more, worm his way into discovering this… “arrangement” Hamilton had between himself and Jefferson. Once he had that information and the leverage of the affair…

He would have Jefferson and Hamilton at the tip of his fingers. Dancing at the end of his string.
Oh, how the tables would turn, Burr chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. He sighed contently, leaning back to cross his legs.

 

God, how long he had waited for this, he relished.

He could already taste the sweet tang of victory on the tip of his tongue…

Chapter Text

Thomas panted, wiping his mouth as he sat up in the bathtub. He leaned against the edge.
“That was disgusting.” He drawled, running a hand through his soaking hair.
“That was awesome.” Alexander sighed a shaky laugh, struggling to sit up himself.

Thomas looked at Alexander and pointed at him lazily, “You know what. I take that back, YOU’RE disgusting.” He decided contently, nodding in satisfaction.

“Am not.”
“Yes, Alexander, you are.” Thomas rolled his eyes stepping out of the bathtub carefully, long legs rippling with muscles as water streamed off. Alexander tossed his hair, flicking water droplets all over the place and onto Thomas.

“Ay!” He yelped, “You’re cleaning that up. Bitch. Get up.” He barked demandingly, grabbing a towel from a brass hook. He threw it at Alexander, nailing him in the face.
“Hey!” Alexander scoffed in surprise.
“Up.” Thomas drawled dryly. Alex rolled his eyes as he stood on shaky legs.
“Fuck. My ass feels like hell.”

Thomas snorted, “Shit, Alexander. I wonder who’s fault that is.” he sneered, drying his hair off in front of the mirror, “I’m not the one who begged for sex twice today.”

“Yeah well I’m not the one who caved.” The two had worked tirelessly for the whole day on the plan, getting it ready to present to Madison tomorrow. Alexander, though, gets horny when he’s made to sit for too long.
“I didn’t ‘cave’,” Thomas quoted in disgust, “I punished you. You act like a whiny little bitch, I get to treat you like one.”

“But you do it so hard…” Alexander whimpered, fighting for a place in front of the mirror next to Thomas, “That dick is too big to be gentle. What’ve you got, Jeffs, nine?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Answer the question.”

“Watch. Your. Tone.” Thomas spat, “And you don’t order me around, boy.”
“Older than you.”
“Shut up.” He clipped, smacking Alex’s ass, “We are not discussing my dick size.” He rolled his eyes, walking into his bedroom to pull open his French armoire, looking for clothes. Dry Alexander sat on his bed.

“I’m still naked, you know.” He pouted. Thomas paused and looked over his shoulder, an exasperated scowl on his face.
“Thanks for the news update, New York Gazette.” he scoffed, turning back to the dresser. Alexander scowled and shivered.

“You wanna know something Thomas?” Thomas pulled out breeches and a shirt and began to get dressed, not facing Alexander.

“I know plenty, Alexander. Is it that you’re staring at my ass again?”
“That’s beside the point,” Thomas shook his head, laughing through his nose sarcastically, “It’s that I stay here almost EVERY night. I put up with you breaking the ‘three nights a week’ rule.”

Thomas snorted, “You beg to stay, jackass.” Alexander ignored him; Thomas was right, as per usual.

“And every time I stay, I have to wear the same old clothes two days in a row and if they get dirty? You just say fuck it.”
“Like you don’t already wear the same clothes for a week.” Thomas taunted, brows pulled together. He was dressed now and turned to face Alex’s direction.

The little man scowled. “What I’m saying, buddy, is that I need to keep some clothes here for myself. I’m sick of putting on old shit.”

Thomas paused, heart swooping into his stomach. Alexander was asking to leave his things. Here. In his house.
For some reason Thomas was caught off guard. Wait, this is what he was going to ask Alexander anyway, wasn’t it? To be with him more. Thomas shifted his weight to the other foot; he was always the one proposing things, he didn’t like Alexander bringing it up.

“Why can’t you wear my clothes? You steal them no matter what the fuck I say.” he sneered, stepping toward Alexander, who stood up to face the challenge.
“Yeah, when we’re going to bed, not to work. I hate going all the way back to my place every fucking morning to change my coat. It’s ridiculous.” Alexander snorted, wedging up next to Thomas to pull out some nightclothes from his drawer. He knew exactly where these things were by now.

“Where’s the scarlet one.”
“Clothesline. Alexander, you’re seriously asking me for closet space?”

“Only if you let me, ma chérie.” Alexander batted his eyelashes, mocking Thomas’s southern accent on his French. Thomas stood still, considering him with cold eyes as the little man dressed. Thomas was leaning against the dresser, arms crossed cooly as he regarded Alex, who looked up expectantly.

 

“Alright.” Thomas nodded ever-so-slowly, eyes never leaving Alex’s. The little man paused and gaped up at him.

“Really?” He scoffed incredulously, lips parted, “Wow.”
“What?” Thomas spat, laughing, “I’d better see some gratitude, bitch.”

“No, it’s just.” Alexander shook his head, smiling at Thomas, “I expected some fighting and yelling. Throwing some fists, maybe a flower pot.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Thomas laughed through his nose.

Silence fell between them. The two stared at each other. Thomas still leaned with his arms crossed, steely eyes giving away nothing. Alexander regarded him very carefully, eyes slowly squinting.

“Why is your face doing that, Alexander.” Thomas drawled boredly, sighing.
Alexander kept squinting, and smiled sweetly, “Oh nothing.” He sang like a bird, turning from Thomas and walking daintily, almost dancing to the bedroom couch by the window.

Thomas rolled his eyes and stood up straight, used to Alex’s little stunts by now. “What are you so happy about?” he questioned, slightly annoyed. Alexander only settled down into the couch, eyes peacefully closed and a smug little smile on his face. He crossed his legs cheekily.

“Nothing, darling. Just the fact that I’m growing on you.” He nuzzled himself comfortably into the couch, self-satisfaction written all over his face. Thomas stopped in front of him, crossing his arms once again and raising an eyebrow at his words.

“Is that so?” he questioned amusedly.
“Oh, it is.” Alexander raised his arms up behind his head leisurely, looking up at his dom challengingly, getting pretty risky with his cockiness. Thomas still smiled lightly as his signature deep-chested growl rumbled from within him.

“Careful, Alexander.” He spoke calmly, nodding, “Your arrogance does not move me to be forgiving.”
There was silence as the two stared at each other, standing each other off. For a while there was nothing but brown, unmoving eyes at battle.

Alexander stirred, sighing. He exhaled as he stood, still smiling sweetly as he brushed himself off.
“Okay, Thomas. Tell yourself what you want.” He smirked, “You like me.” he hummed contently.

His peace only lasted a moment before the familiar white-hot sting spread across his cheek, jerking his head to the side with a sharp snapping sound.
There was the familiar pause.

Thomas brushed off his hands slowly as Alex whimpered, rubbing his jaw tenderly.
“Alexander, that is a light warning.” he said rather kindly, interlacing his fingers in front of him sighing happily.
“You need to watch your mouth. You know that, mon jouet.” he purred patronizingly, stepping closer to Alexander and brushing the back of his fingernails over his stinging cheek, making him grimace sharply.

“Aww.” Thomas pouted, clucking his tongue as he tucked a piece of hair behind Alex’s ear, tilting his chin up to look at him with his glistening eyes.
“Did that hurt?” He asked, cruel smirk playing on his face; he always had far too much fun with his little sub. Alexander tried to glower up at his daddy.

“No.” he grumbled. Thomas only laughed through his nose and brought Alex’s face gently to his, placing a light kiss on his lips and holding it there. Alex was difficult at first, but in the end he couldn’t resist Thomas and ceased his childish pouting, melting into Thomas’s embrace.

Alex’s fingers tangled in Thomas’s dark hair, the taller man lifting up Alexander’s shirt the slightest bit to rest his hands at his bare hips, running his thumbs along the bones and making Alex gasp pricelessly at the chilly feeling.

After a time of slow, rocking licks, they pulled apart. Alexander smiled, lips still ever-so-lightly brushing each other as their eyes slowly opened.

Alex whispered, breath mixing with Thomas’s, “You have a thing for hip bones, don’t you?” he squinted knowingly. Thomas only looked down on him and hummed.
“Hmm, how’d you guess?” he drawled, smirking as well.
“Just a hunch.” Alex nodded, slipping back down from his tippy-toes as Thomas settled his shirt back down, sighing.

 

“Alright, what’s to eat?” Alexander began to stroll past Thomas, lifting up the hem of the dragging pants.
“I made you dinner an hour ago.”
“Well, I’m hungry.”
“Alexander you’ve had two meals, three snacks, and two shots of my cum today. You can’t possibly be hungry.”
“Watch me.”

The two bickered all the way to the kitchen and continued as they raided the small building, looking for the perfect thing to eat despite Thomas’s complaining. The Virginian fussed over the organization everything needed to be in when they left, and not ten minutes later the two of them were staggering out, arms weighed down by bread, cheese, and wine.
(“You are going to drop something expensive, Alexander.”
“No I’m not. Hey-! I don’t want your hel- hey!” )

The odd pair headed back to the house on the gravel path, voices ringing out in the cloudy evening. And they weren’t even halfway back to the house when the sky opened up without a thunder’s warning, pouring fresh sheets of rain onto the estate.

 

“Fuck! The bread, Alexander, cover the bread!” Thomas commanded, shoving his own up under his shirt as he began to run, head down towards the house. Alexander did the same, following close behind as they sprinted. Water sprayed their faces, soaking their hair and clothes, making them cling to their skin.

Their feet thundered on the path, throwing up wet gravel as they practically dove to the door. Thomas grappled at the handle with wet fingers all while trying to hold the bread under his shirt by hunching over awkwardly.
“Stupid… piece of… shit…” He growled through gritted teeth, struggling to yank it open. Alexander waited behind him, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Come ON!” he yelled, and of course, right then, the door swung outwards, allowing Thomas and Alexander to stumble inside, practically on top of each other. Alexander slammed the door behind them.

 

There was a moment of silence as they stood in the quiet house, no longer able to hear the gushing of rain. It was quiet inside, and now it was chilly too.

They looked at each other, hair and clothes completely soaked, dripping onto the dining room floor… and they both burst out laughing at the same time.
“Oh my God.” Alexander laughed, dumping his amount of food on the table. “What are the fucking ODDS!?” he roared.

Thomas wheezed, flicking the water out of his hair, “The sheer bad luck surrounding you is astounding.” He slapped Alex’s wet back as they leaned over laughing for a bit. It took awhile for them to come down.

“Okay.” Thomas breathed, trying to hold down any leftover giggles. “You sort through this and see what we can eat, I’m getting a fire going.” He shook out an arm, water droplets sprayed, “To dry our things. Strip.”

Alex peeled off his clothes and handed them to Thomas, who headed off into the house. Alexander began sorting through what had been drenched by the rain and what was still salvageable. At this point, the man was absolutely freezing. Goosebumps raised on his arms and his teeth were chattering when Thomas came back, dressed in nightclothes. The Virginian gave Alexander a quick scan.

“What’s wrong with you?” he sneered. Alex hugged himself, scowling.
“I’m fucking freezing my ass off.” he whined, “Where’s my clothes?”
“Manners.”
“Please.”

“Good.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “I knew you’d be cold so I- uh- brought you winter nightclothes.” He only stuttered for a moment, but Alexander picked up on everything.
“Thanks.” Alex lit up, taking the thick pile from Thomas’s hands and beginning to dress.
“I’m taking the food by the fire.” Thomas took the wine and bread but Alexander hardly paid attention to him, busy on bundling up. It didn’t take long.

“Holy shit…” He gasped when he was finished, turning around slowly a few times. He was wearing the thickest, warmest, most comfortable winter nightclothes the face of the planet had ever seen. “Thomas Jefferson’s got taste.” he mumbled shaking his head and grinning as he set off at a jog through the door to the parlor, eager to show Thomas.

 

“Hey, look at…” he trailed off when he realized Thomas wasn’t in there. The clothes were drying in front of the fire, but the Virginian was nowhere to be seen. Head cocked, Alex frowned and walked to the bedroom, peeking his head in first to look around.

“Thomas?” There was no response.

But... a drifting scent curled under his nose, one unusual for a bedroom. Alexander did a double-take, walking into the room, enticed. It was the most pleasant smell he’d ever had the privilege of scenting. Summer rainfall on wet earth; dry, smoky firewood; and old wine… he took a deep whiff, immediately following the trail.

To the far left of the bedroom couch, there was a door that Alexander had never even noticed before, it was wide open to the dark evening; the closer he got, the more he could hear the rushing white-noise of rain and the crackling, popping of a fire.

He stuck his head out, mouth open to speak, but he shut it as soon as his eyes fell upon the sight.

His eyes widened in awe. There was a small, yet beautiful, covered porch, one he’d never been on before, with wide beams all the way up to the rafters giving it an open, log-cabin feeling. There was a raised fire pit in the middle, warm flames were already flickering in its hearth, sparks popping. In front of it, facing out into the night, was a piece of porch furniture that could only be described as a couch-bed. It was packed with deep pillows and the thickest fur blankets Alex had seen.

Right next to the couch-bed, the table had been pulled up, food spread out on it. Thomas was standing with a lit candle, face full of indecision.

With an ache in his heart, Alexander realized that Thomas… was debating where to put it. He went back and forth between places, standing back to look at it and then diving to shift it just the smallest amount.
Alex’s eyebrows swooped in as his chest felt a little wash of warmth.

 

“I didn’t know there was a porch out here.” Alex finally spoke, causing Thomas to jump in surprise. He put a hand to his heart, inhaling sharply and then letting it out slow.
“Christ, Alexander. I feel like you sneak up on me three times a day.” he breathed, picking up the wine bottle and rounding the table towards the bed. He threw his legs in, getting comfortable, and turned his head over his shoulder.

He paused. “You… coming?” Thomas asked condescendingly, Alex snapped out of it.
“‘Course. There’s food.” He climbed over the back of the sofa-bed and in, sighing contently.

He lifted up the huge fur blanket and pulled it over him. Now that he was in the bed, the warm heat of the fire brushed his face and made him hum; the blanket was also pre-heated from the fire.

“Oh my God…” he sighed, nuzzling in deeply, completely enveloped all the way up to his nose. It was so impossibly comfortable all bundled up; he could fall asleep right then and there from the exhaustion of the day, all the planning, writing, and aggressive sex.

Alexander turned his head, sleepily, looking up at Thomas.
“What’re you looking at?” He smiled, realizing that Thomas had been looking down on him the whole time, a light smile on his lips and something warm in his eyes.

He laughed, shaking his head slowly “You look adorable.” he spoke, still staring. Alex growled, trying to look mean but it was a lost cause as the larger man extended his strong arms, seizing him under the armpits to haul him closer.

Thomas manipulated him so that his arm was possessively around Alexander, the little one’s head resting on his chest.
“I don’t like you.” Alex murmured, nuzzling as close as possible into Thomas’s embrace, hooking a leg over Thomas’s to get as much contact as he could.

“I don’t like you either.” Thomas laughed, nudging into Alex’s neck so that he could gently lick at the sensitive, fragile skin, coaxing Alexander to open up for him.

 

The little man didn’t even try to stifle the shameful moan that escaped his lips, tilting his head gradually to expose his neck to his dom.
“Mmm… Good boy.” Thomas mumbled, hot breath buffeting his delicate area, “Daddy gets you moaning without doing anything, huh?” he mocked, licking the spot again as Alexander whined once more.

Thomas smirked against his skin, flicking his hot tongue around and sucking the wet place in. He bit and sucked slowly, deeply, creating a hickey that was sure to last, and creating it agonizingly more sluggish than he needed to. Just to hear Alexander try to hold back his little choking noises.

Thomas pulled away with a wet sound, opening his eyes to observe his work. A dark bruise was already emerging as Alexander flopped his head to look at Thomas, panting.
“More…” he whimpered, lip quivering. Thomas didn’t even have to TRY to get Alexander like this, all needy and squirmy. He could’ve sworn Alex was ready to cry.

“You horny again, baby?” Thomas spoke gently, pulling Alexander closer to his embrace.
Alex looked up at him, watery eyes wide and hopeful, “Yeah.” he breathed quietly. His dom only laughed gently through his nose, reaching to the side table and exhaling, now holding some bread.

“Hungry?” Thomas offered.
“Always.” Alexander responded, reaching to take it but Thomas pulled it away just far enough so he couldn’t. One look in the Virginian’s smug eyes and Alexander knew what to do. He just opened his mouth and stood still as Thomas placed it on his tongue, nodding in satisfaction. DAMN he was a sucker for control.

“There you go, now.” he spoke approvingly. Of course it was delicious, but not as delicious as the next course.
Thomas held his chin while he swallowed, tracing the outline of his lips gently, like he was a piece of art, and when he was finished, slipping it in past his lips. Alexander accepted it willingly, sucking gently and flicking his hot tongue over it, drawing it in as much as possible. God, Alex couldn’t get enough, and Thomas couldn’t keep his hands off the man.

Alexander’s eyes fluttered closed as he licked at Thomas’s finger, the taller man stroking the flat of his tongue and the insides of his cheeks lightly. After only a minute, Thomas pulled away and watched with rapture as Alex tried to get it back, eyes slowly opening and focusing on his dom.

“Fuck you, Jefferson.” he whispered, curling himself further into Thomas’s warmth. Thomas chuckled,
“You’d like to, Alexander. You’d like to.” he taunted cruelly, planting a kiss on Alex’s temple. The little man only whimpered the most pitiful sound he’d ever heard.

“Please. Have you not noticed how fucking good I’m being?” he squirmed to look up at Thomas, “I haven’t back-talked or touched myself without permission.” Thomas only looked down passively.
“You’re making yourself hornier saying those naughty things, Alexander.” he spoke matter-of-factly, observantly. God, his voice, his cold, calm tone. Alexander wiggled a little more desperately this time, feeling the warm splash of heat now curling at the bottom of his belly.

“Oh…” he breathed at the feeling, swallowing.

Thomas read the situation like a book and carefully reached under the covers, slipping under the waistband and placing a palm over Alex’s lower belly. He pressed ever so lightly, awaking the nerves there uncomfortably, not too much but not enough.

The little man squeezed his eyes shut, head flopping back into the pillow as he choked down the first sob. Fuck, he cried at pleasure every time and Thomas fucking loves it. Alexander was so desperate; he tried to hold back but abandoned the effort as he grinded up towards Thomas’s hand.

The fucking bastard lifted it exactly with his pace, palm still resting gently on his hot area, curling up perfectly to not give Alex any friction. Bastard. Fucking bastard. Alexander breathed short little breathless gasps, eyes still squeezed closed as he twitched, first tear leaking down his cheek.

“Thomas…” he whined between choked-off whimpers, “Stop it…”
“Stop what?” Thomas rumbled calmly, moving his face closer to Alexaners. He pressed and rubbed his palm in deep slow circles on Alex’s lower belly, watching his face closely for his reaction. Eyes still closed, he only clenched his teeth, lip quivering helplessly.

“Stop teasing me.” he whimpered, tear rolling down from the other eye, Thomas wiped it away with a warm thumb, spreading the wetness across his cheekbone.

“Oh, mon jouet.” he rumbled deeply, “You need to remember who you’re talking to.” his hand trailed down to rest at Alex’s warm throat and settled there gently, but still threateningly. Alex only grasped blindly for Thomas’s forearm holding to it lightly as well, like an anchor. Thomas smiled.

“You are being such a good boy for me, Alexander…” he purred, brushing his throat like a prized possession, “Such a good boy…”
Alex laid still and fucking-fuck just TAKES it. He was on the edge. On the very, very verge of rolling to grind on Thomas like a bitch in heat, demanding it. He needed it and he wanted to TAKE it. He only held his tongue agonizingly.

Thomas hummed as he pulled his hand away, “You don’t get to cum whenever you want to. You cum when daddy says so.” he stated sweetly.
“You’re not allowed to cum a third time today.” he spoke evenly, like he was reading an address. Alex’s head fell back once more in devastation, one last sob wracking his ribcage.

“NOOooo…” He groaned pitifully, grinding his hips up into nothing and then going limp on the bed, breathless. Thomas watched unmovingly; it was hard for him not to get turned on at the sight of Alexander so helplessly horny with absolutely nothing he could do about it.

“Tomorrow, mon jouet.” he whispered kindly, placing another quick kiss on Alex’s temple as he reeled him in, kissing his jaw quickly as well.
“Don’t touch me, Thomas. I don’t like you right now.”

Thomas laughed through his nose, “Your rock-hard cock says otherwise.” he retorted playfully. Handing a roll of bread to Alexander while taking one for himself, also working at the cork of the wine bottle.

Alexander flopped exhaustedly, frustrated, on the bed, taking the roll from Thomas in an “I’m going to enjoy this but hate you the whole time” way, biting into it. The cork came off soon enough, and Thomas waved the bottle under his nose, smelling it.

Alexander was still moping in hot sexual frustration as he chewed his roll, scowling at Thomas’s actions.

 

“New bottle? Why?” he commanded.
“Tone.” Thomas reminded, rolling the bottle around a bit, swirling the insides. “I thought we should pop open a new one for tonight.” he spoke, turning to Alexander on the bed, gripping the bottle loosely, “a celebration.” he raised it, “To a shining capital city.”

“And debt reversal throughout the states.” Alexander reminded, scooting closer. It was fragrant, that was for sure. Definitely old.
“And debt reversal.” Thomas repeated. “Would you like to taste first?”

“Whatever. It’s rich boy alcohol, and it’s free. Hit me up.” Alexander clipped, reaching for it. Thomas pulled it away.
“Hey!”
“Hello. This is very expensive and old, Alexander. I’d like to see some class.”

“You swagger around enough class for the both of us.” Alexander snorted, obeying nevertheless. Thomas cocked his eyebrow at Alex’s obedience in a “that’s what I thought” sort of way, slowly bringing the bottle back towards him.

“Here, Alexander. Be nice.” he handed it over slowly, watching his expression carefully. Alex seized it by the neck and tilted it back, taking a swig like he would some whiskey. As he put it down his eyes widened involuntarily.

“Like what you taste?” Thomas chuckled, pulling Alex back into his arms, shuffling back down into the blankets and pillows with him so that they were comfortably lying down.

“Uh.” Alex spoke, taking another small sip, “It’s okay.” he shrugged, completely failing to hide that it was the best wine he’d ever tasted. Thomas only laughed and took the bottle back, pressing it to his lips casually, leisurely, as Alexander shifted closer, getting comfortable on Thomas. He settled his head to rest between Thomas’s shoulder and chest.

Alexander sighed as he cuddled up close, making sure the blanket was up to his chin as he nestled. Thomas tightened the arm around his waist, kissing him lightly on the top of the head as he held the bottle loosely in the other hand.

The two were quiet for quite some time, passing the bottle back and forth once or twice. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence at all. There was no tension, no forced words. Just… them.

The rain continued to patter and cascade all around them, the warm light of the fire dancing on their little scene, warming their feet; it popped and hissed. There was nothing in the night except these white noise sounds… and the rhythmic breathing of the enemies. Until…

 

Alexander’s ears perked up, alert. There came a sound, a sound nature couldn’t produce on its own, a beautiful clear note that held. It was joined by another and then another, all holding the same note. After a few seconds, he realized it was violins tuning.

“Thomas.” he poked his partner in the ribs, who turned his head to him.
“Um. Ow.” Thomas scoffed.

“Are your neighbors having a party of something?” he asked eagerly, eyes leaving Thomas to scan the darkness.
“How the hell would I know?”
Alexander saw nothing through the thick tree coverage. But he could hear it.

“They’re playing music, Thomas. They must have a string quartet going on over there.” he craned once more but settled back down in the blankets when he saw nothing. There were a few moments of silence where Thomas just looked at him blankly. And then the music began.

The strings commenced together, beginning to play a warm, light-hearted melody. It only took a moment for Alexander to realize that it was a waltz. His face lit up like Christmas.
“Thomas!”
“What.” Thomas spoke blandly, blinking in boredom.
Alex smiled, wanting Thomas to understand his excitement, “Music.” he laughed, face falling a bit when Thomas only raised an eyebrow boredly.
“And?”

That’s when Alex realized that Thomas could hire music whenever he wanted. Hell, He probably had his own string quartet waiting at his beck-and-call. Unlike Alexander.
“It’s pretty.” Alex settled back against Thomas, closing his eyes.

 

There were only a few moments of stillness before Alexander began to sway. He was swaying pretty passionately, moving his arms as well like he was conducting. Thomas’s brows knitted; he watched for a minute.

“Are you well?” he spoke, looking down. Alexander didn’t stop at his words.
“I’m dancing.”
Thomas snorted. “That’s dancing? My apologies, I mistook it for a stroke.” Alexander pretended not to hear him, sitting up from the warm bed, pulling away from Thomas as the taller man tried to snag him back down but missed. Alex turned his head enthusiastically, grinning.

“Let’s dance.” he spoke, thrilled. Thomas rolled his head back, groaning a bit.
“Alexander Hamilton we are not dancing.” he said dryly, placing the wine bottle on the table.

“Oh come on, why not.” Alex whined pulling the blankets aside and clambering out of the bed, bumping Thomas a bit. “You can’t dance?” he asked teasingly, pulling the covers off of him too.

“Of course I can dance. You don’t think my education covered these areas?” he sneered aristocratically.
“Well, I can’t dance.” Alexander admitted; he was swaying and spinning to the music now, “So you won’t be shown up, don’t worry.” Alex mocked as if he always showed Thomas up.

“Oh,” Thomas scoffed, nodding, “I’m not worried.” he affirmed as he watched Alex’s movements.
“Then get your ass up.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, only hesitating for a moment. He exhaled annoyedly and groaned as he swung his legs out of the bed, only doing this to appease Alexander. The man would never shut up if he didn’t cave. He had no choice.
“One song only.” he growled.

“Two.” Alex said, and Thomas shot him a warning glance, cocking his eyebrow.
“Please.” Alexander added politely, bowing his head in submission. He was really sucking up to Thomas for this one.

“Fine. Come here.” Thomas commanded, beckoning.
And Alexander’s reaction was priceless; he lit up like a Christmas tree and hopped to Thomas immediately searching to interlace their fingers, a bit breathless.

 

Thomas’s heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat momentarily. God his own reaction surprised him more than he’d ever thought it could. Thomas exhaled slowly.

“No, only hold left hands, Alexander.” he ordered, letting go of his right.
“Kay, what I do with the other arm?” Alex inquired curiously, holding it out awkwardly.
“Yours goes up here.” he narrated, gently taking Alex’s elbow and guiding his arm to rest on the tall man’s shoulder. Alexander looked up at him with his milky-brown eyes, making Thomas’s heart flutter.

“Mine goes here.” Thomas narrated, slower now, slipping his right arm around Alexander’s waist and back.

Alexander was still gazing at him, happy little smile playing on his face. Thomas held back the need to gulp as he stared right back, mapping the brown of his eyes. Why was he acting like this? Get your shit together, Thomas.

“The steps.” he tried to pull himself back on track, but he was lost in Alexander’s eyes by now.
“A waltz is six steps. I’m going to start and you follow my lead, got it?” he dictated carefully, pulling Alexander a little closer, pressing his hips against his body.

“This is one.” Thomas stepped forward, so Alexander stepped back.
“Good.” he breathed, looking down at him, “Keep following my steps.”

Thomas moved with the music now, placing his feet in time with the three-beat melody. The aristocrat glided gracefully, clearly knowing the steps and posture like second nature. Alexander followed as best as he could; he was adorable to watch. The tip of his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth as he squinted in deep concentration with his task. Taking every step extremely deliberately.

Thomas gazed down at him warmly the whole time that Alex only looked at his feet, focusing. As the song continued, the strings kept up their warm, cheerful melody. It was a beautiful sound, even through the sheets of summer rain that fell to the dark earth. Alexander and Thomas looped and glided across the covered porch.

It didn’t take too long for Alexander to get the hang of it, memorizing the steps, following Thomas’s reliable guidance at his waist so that they were stepping in perfect synchronization.

The little man laughed as Thomas spun him around once.
“Stop it, asshole, you’re trying to mess me up.” he gravitated back towards his partner for the next steps. Thomas grinned amusedly, pulling Alex’s body as close as possible. The strings built up, signifying the end of the song.

Thomas swept Alexander through the last few steps, and as the music concluded on a long, strong chord, he wrapped both arms snugly under Alex’s shirt, leaning forward to dip him low and deeply.
Alex trusted Thomas’s movements, falling back into the dip and closing his eyes. Silence fell after the strike of the chord, both breathing heavily from the dance. There was nothing but rainfall.

 

Thomas’s face was close to Alexander’s, and Thomas hesitated only for a moment, leaning forward ever so slightly to press his lips to his partner’s. They stayed like that for a long time, quiet.

Thomas pulled his lips away slowly, opening his eyes as he deliberately lifted Alexander back to standing.
Alex gazed up at him, laughing just a bit, “Showoff.” he breathed. Thomas smirked, stepping forward to press their pelvises together and he wrapped both his arms around Alex’s middle.

“One more. You said so.” Alexander reminded, reaching up to rest his hands behind Thomas’s neck. Thomas’s heart thudded in his chest. He felt something; God, he felt something and it was strong, so fucking strong. He didn’t like how vulnerable it made him feel, how raw and unpredictable it made him. He was never like this, and for once he was scared. But as he gazed down into those eyes… the WAY Alexander looked at him…

 

“Alexander…” He breathed. No. Stop, where were these words coming from?
“Yes.” Alex blinked up at him, wide eyes full of… something.

“Alexander, I…” he began once again. His tongue was twisted, his heart was pounding, his insides felt all mixed up.
“You what?” Alex prompted, laughing a bit. He cocked his head. Thomas took a deep, slow breath, exhaling shakily.

“I…” No. Stick with the plan. Tell him, but tell him when you planned to. Not now. Not now. He swallowed, shaking his head a bit to clear it.
“I think we should go out to dinner tomorrow.” he spoke cooly, in control once again, thank God, “After the Compromise is signed and done.”

“Why?” Alex blinked up at him, confused.
“To celebrate. Come on. You love food and…” You love me, you love me, you love me… “You love expensive wine. You’re going.” Of course, it was more of a command than it was an offer, but either way, Alexander grinned softly.

“Okay.” That was all the response he needed to give to Thomas. Alex nuzzled closer, resting his head on Thomas’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat. It was thudding deep and fast.

“You alright?” He spoke, voice muffled as he snuggled into Thomas.
“Of course.” Thomas hugged Alex closer, planting a kiss on his head. The music had started up again, this time a deep, slow, bittersweet melody.

The two began to sway ever so slowly holding on like nothing else was real. Alex nuzzled his face up to Thomas’s searching for his lips once again. With an ache in his heart, Thomas accepted, pressing gently into Alexander.

Their mouths opened and closed at a crawling pace as they swayed. The rain thundered around them; the sad hymn of the strings carried through the night. And Thomas’s heart cried out as loud as it could.

I love you. He wished that Alexander could feel it against his chest, screaming out the words. Oh, it would be so much easier if Alexander just knew. Just woke up tomorrow and knew. But that wasn’t an option. Tomorrow, Thomas would have to tell him; he had to. He must.

Pressing deeper into Alex’s mouth, he could see the scene right now. Candlelit dinner, warm hand in his. “I love you, Alexander Hamilton.” Nothing but warm, brown eyes. Tomorrow… Tomorrow…

Until then, he held Alexander close to his chest as his heart softly chanted.
I love you, I love you… I love you…

Chapter Text

“It still won’t go down.”
Thomas came up behind him in the mirror. “I can see that, Alexander.”
“Well, what the hell, Thomas. Offer a solution or something.”
“You’re not doing squat-shit, Alexander.”

Alex whimpered a frustrated sigh, turning his head in the mirror. He grimaced at the sight of his intensely curly hair. They’d been braiding it and leaving it in too long now, leaving the brown locks with a beach-wave and no explanation for it.

“We could try wax.” Thomas suggested boredly from behind him, tying his cravat, reflection visible as he towered over his little partner. Alex patted the top of his head, resting his hands there.

“I am NOT putting wax on my fucking hair.” he spoke, not looking at Thomas as he tilted his head back and forth.
“Here.” Thomas reached around Alex’s waist to the washbasin and dipped his hand in, slathering it on the immigrant’s dark hair that curled around his head like lion’s mane.

“Hey!” Alex protested, wiggling away.
“Stand still.” Thomas held him in place, running his fingers through his hair thoroughly.
“You’re gonna drip on my only clothes.” Alexander pouted, grumbling, “If you’d just let me keep clothes here…”
“Oh shut it, Alexander; we already solved that.” he sneered, gathering Alexander’s hair behind his head.

“Ribbon.” Thomas requested, and Alexander handed it to him over his shoulder, crossing his arms exasperatedly. Thomas pulled his hair into a ponytail, tying it up neatly.
“There, see. The world didn’t implode.” Thomas rolled his eyes, patting Alex’s head in satisfaction with his handiwork.

“It’s curling at the bottom.” Alexander grumbled, but Thomas was already strolling out of the bathroom, fully dressed in his finest outfit which probably cost more than Alexander’s land.

“Hey,” Alexander called, catching up as they entered Thomas’s study, the Virginian gathering up all their paperwork, “When Madison gets here, where will I be?”

Thomas didn’t pause his movements, collecting the parchment into a neat pile and lifting it with dainty grace.
“You’ll be waiting in the stables and when you see him come in, wait, and then you can come.” Thomas lifted his head and began to stride back towards the parlor, past Alexander. The little man gaped in offense.

“Ay wait one fucking minute, jackoff.” Alexander scowled, lunging to snag his coat sleeve and pull him back.
“Don’t touch me.” Thomas snarled, whirling back around. His dark eyes were already full of hostile warning. Back down, Alexander.

Alex only stood taller, crossing his arms. “So I’m just going to wait outside like a dog for that walking pneumonia to show up?”
Thomas curled his lip to bare his canines, “Precisely. Now, where was your confusion, Alexander?” he enunciated clearly, voice calm despite his bristling attitude.

Alexander only scoffed, rolling his eyes. He knew he’d have to do as he was told; there was no time to protest, but that didn’t mean he had to be nice about it.
“Fine, Jefferson.” he sneered, stepping closer to get all up in his face. Thomas only twitched his eyebrows down at Alex, approving at his submission and warning him to stay down.

“I just find it extremely irksome that you always make me wait to come.” Alexander couldn’t help but smile as he growled his words.
Thomas blinked down slowly, ENORMOUSLY unimpressed.

“Wow, Alexander.” he drawled, sighing, “Your puns are always ass but that was another level of ass.” he spoke, turning from Alexander with a little smirk of his own as he continued towards the dining room.

“I saw you smile.” Alexander mocked, following him through the halls and into the room. Thomas laid out all the papers in a perfectionist manner, making sure everything was perfectly in place for the crucial meeting. They had already spent half the morning baking the bread in the pretty basket at the table center. It had been done mostly without too much throwing of flour and totally not a wooden spoon and matching bowl.

Thomas stood back, knuckles to lips to observe his work, nodding slowly.
“Good. This is adequate.” he nodded in self satisfaction. Alexander crossed to the other end of the table to stand next to Thomas, taking in the setup too.

“Adequate!” Alex scoffed in mock hurt, turning his shocked, pained face up to Thomas, “I worked hard on that bread, did you see me knead the dough? I was good at kneading the dough.” he spoke, wide eyes trying not to smile as Thomas laughed down at him, stepping close to take his hands.

“Alexander…” he breathed, smiling the sweetest, most loving smile he could muster. He intertwined their fingers, pulling Alexander a step closer. The Virginian sighed, gazing down into those warm, brown eyes. “You absolutely sucked.”

“Bitch-” Alexander sneered, bumping his shoulder into Thomas’s, more playful than rough as Thomas snickered to himself cruelly. Thomas tried to step back to Alex but the little man turned a cheek, loftily.

“No, no.” Alex clipped quickly, raising a hand, “I’m not talking to or making bread with you ever again. That’s my final word.”
Thomas ignored him, pestering him relentlessly into his arms for a firm kiss on his forehead.
“Thank fucking God.” Thomas snorted, shoving Alexander into his embrace, “I’ve been waiting for the day you close your rather unfortunately-sized mouth since I came back from France.”

Alex broke away, crossing his arms and raising his chin, refusing to speak. Thomas only laughed at his behavior, that uncomfortable warm feeling spread through his chest as he watched. God, he wished it would go away, but there was no chance. Or maybe there was.

Three feeble thumps sounded from the front of the house, making the pair’s heads turn. There was a hesitation.
Alex chortled, “Let me guess, that knock sounded like a half-dead child with scarlet fever, so it must be Madison.”
“Be nice, Alexander.” Thomas warned cooly, straightening his cuffs daintily.

“Out you go.” Thomas steered Alex’s shoulders towards the dining room door, reaching around him to open it. “M’lady.” Thomas bowed and gestured outside, releasing his deepest southern accent.

“Flattered.” Alexander monotoned, stepping outside as Thomas propelled him a bit with a swift kick to the ass. This was going to be fun. He turned around one last time.
“Don’t forget to act like you hate me.” Alexander reminded, stepping back to put a hand on the door. Thomas only laughed slightly through his nose.
“'Act'.” Thomas snorted with air quotes.

“Fuck you.” Alex breathed as they both leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Run along now, my little stable boy.” Thomas chirped in taunting cruelty.
“Mmph.” Alex grunted, flashing the middle finger over his shoulder as he trudged away from the house. Despite the obscene gesture, he felt this uncomfortable warm feeling expanding slowly in his chest. As the door clicked closed and he strolled through the cool morning, the warm feeling still stayed.

He had to admit… he’d been feeling it so much more than he should be. And it just kept getting more and more powerful. He’d embraced it; he’d let it fill him up and carry him away but…
that was before Eliza’s letter.

Alexander rounded towards the white stables, shoes crunching on the gravel as he approached the stalls. Birds twittered in the morning breeze. The letter had made him realize that this whole thing, it was real. And, fuck, Eliza was involved now. And Martha Jefferson. And since the night at the tavern, Burr was too.

Alexander stepped up towards Tarquin’s stall, the horse eagerly emerging to the front to greet him, snorting. Alexander rubbed his nose solemnly.

 

The letter had put everything painfully into perspective. And that was why he had done the unspeakable to Thomas without him even knowing.

The US Capital could go wherever the hell Thomas wanted. Because Alex’s financial plan unwittingly gave him the power to keep the banks right here in the same spot. The decision was obvious at first, ingenious. It was the night he had spent awake, planning, where he realized the unchecked power in his hands. He had won; he had gotten the best of the other man. He had won…

But as time continued, it didn’t feel like he had. Now, as he walked, he was stabbed by a pang of guilt in his chest. He shoved it away, not allowing himself to feel it, not now.

 

Alexander sighed, drawing his hand away from the horse’s soft nose. He walked down the side of the stable quietly and willed the fire to burn in his eyes once more, where it belonged. Thomas Jefferson would do the same thing to him. Thomas Jefferson would backstab him and betray him if he could. It was only right that Alexander did this. Thomas would do the same.
Wouldn’t he?

And a part of Alexander Hamilon wished to turn his back and run right then and there. Leave Madison, leave Congress and the Cabinet and compromises and plans and Burr and the guilt around Eliza. He wanted to run. God… if he could just grab Thomas’s hand and run.

Alexander sighed once more, a hurricane of guilt, fire, fear, and ferocity whirling inside of him.
And then it stilled

In the end there was only one person on his mind as he strolled back up around the house, fire slowly rekindling in his eyes. Himself.

Thomas was his world. But Alexander was his legacy. He knew what he needed to do. There was such a difference between what he could have and what he could keep.

**

“Madison.”
“Jefferson.”
“Come in.” Thomas smiled at the man who smiled right back, a bit strained, as usual. The two clunked through the house, expensive leather shoes on wood as they navigated the hallways towards the dining room.

Thomas rounded behind a chair once he entered the room, sighing and gestured towards another for Madison.
“Please, sit.” he exhaled as he lowered himself down into his own, tossing his coattails out behind him. James set his work case on the table, clicking it open and sighing.

He began to unload his notes. “You know, Tom, I will say I’m appalled you are agreeing to this.” he mentioned offhandedly as he shuffled his papers.
Thomas placed his head on his knuckles, cocking his head haughtily. “And why is that?” he prompted, curious.

“Is it not obvious?” James laughed slightly, which quickly turned into a cough. Thomas leaned to hand him a napkin casually as though it was normal procedure, but Madison waved him away, determined to fight this one off.

“I assure you, James, that what may appear as a radical change in view is solely for the common benefit. A stalemate in Congress won’t help shit.” Thomas explained cooly.

“Oh no, not that.” James, waved it off, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over his belly, “I knew you’d come to your senses and compromise eventually, Tom.” he spoke with complete assurance, “But I thought you’d be more difficult with Hamilton.”

Thomas blinked, “Difficult?” he waved a hand, motioning for elaboration. James only chuckled.
“I thought you’d need my motivation to sit down in the same room as that man. Apparently not.” he smiled lightly. There was a strange tint in his eye for a moment… almost... Knowing. Thomas didn’t let his face give up anything.

James sniffed, grabbing a piece of bread from the table and reassuming his regular nature, “Quite frankly, Tom, I’m glad. I didn’t want to coax your stubborn ass into the logical solution.”
Thomas laughed through his nose, face still unmoving and emotionless. Madison was the only man besides Washington who was allowed to speak to him like that.

 

There was a knock on the door. And then another, loud and vigorous. James made eye contact with Jefferson.
“Thinking about opening it?” James spoke, raspy sick voice as usual.
“He’ll come in.” Thomas shook his head in annoyance. And he knew Alexander too well to be wrong as they heard the door swing open and close.

Alexander’s confident footsteps approached the hall, getting louder. The closer he got, the more Thomas had to hide his growing smirk.

With two clunks, he was there. The immigrant stopped in the doorframe, standing firm and arrogant as he always did. His fiery eyes glinted as he gazed in the room, burning into each of the men.

Thomas met the insufferable little politician’s eyes coldly. Alexander tried not to smirk back, upholding his cocky facade that was so natural. Something in his heart panged and he smothered it out.

“Secretary Hamilton.” Thomas spoke formally, nodding deeply and gesturing to a chair across from him. Their locked brown eyes never strayed,
“Come in.”

**

“And I did not fancy your little comment on my ‘unbearable lack of assertion’, Alexander.” Thomas growled, continuing his long list of complaints from the day. The only response was a sloshing sound from the bathroom and a muffled voice.

“Well at least I ain’t a liar.” Alex called. They were in Alexander’s house now, preparing to go out to dinner at the restaurant Leonne, that Thomas had visited before. Of course, the Virginian had to approve the immigrant’s outfit before they went anywhere.

“Alright, that’s it.” thomas sighed, standing from the bed and brushing off his coat. He observed himself cockily in the mirror, chin tilted up, “Come out. Now.” Thomas snarled, straightening his cravat.

The door opened and Alexander stuck out just his head, fully dressed in his fanciest outfit.
“What?” he sneered rawly.
“Pants down. Over my knee.” Thomas drawled dryly, returning to the bed and lowering himself onto it. “I can’t have you talking like this. You know that.”

“Fuck you. We have to go in, like, five minutes.”
“Since when does your whore-ass care about being late?”
“Since when does yours not?”

Thomas’s mouth screwed up as he seethed, getting himself angry far quicker than he would have imagined. He could fit in a good spanking in, oh definitely. Alexander had been asking for it all day; he had it coming.

Thomas reached forward and snagged Alexander’s hair, pulling it roughly. All the little immigrant could manage was a strangled little yelp.

“Alexander Hamilton, what am I going to do with you?” Thomas shook his head in exasperation, twisting the hair. Yes. There was time.
Alex scowled up, “I have a couple of guesses.” he retorted.

Thomas slapped him across his dirty mouth, “Alright, now we are. Definitely. Going to be late.”

**

Alexander grimaced as he sat down at the table for two, trying to hide his cringing as the waiter greeted them. As he left to fetch water, Thomas looked across the table at Alexander and smirked in amusement.

“Something wrong Hamilton?” his brown eyes glinted.
“Oh go fuck yourself.” Alex grumbled, shuffling in his chair and wincing Thomas laughed and placed his napkin on his lap loftily. Once Alexander was finally comfortable, he looked around at the place. It was a complete marvel, a work of art.

Hushed voices filled the dimly candlelit space, its dome arching high into the night with a skylight above, revealing the starry New York City sky. A Renaissance-style mural decorated the dome, but it wasn’t too visible in the evening, and a group of eight musicians played strings and piano softly. Candles flickered at each table, glinting off the golden cutlery and glasses.

The waiter returned with a bread basket covered in cloth, and water. He bowed after setting it down, addressing Thomas almost nervously. He coughed.
“Secretary Jefferson, I pray not to disturb your evening but I just have to say that it is an honor to meet your presence, sir.”

There was a pause as Thomas’s lips parted mischievously, slowly turning his smug, positively delighted face to Alexander as he spoke, “Thank you for your compliment sir. I am most flattered.” Alexander gaped for a moment and smiled a taut smile, utter outrage and a playful “I see how it is” on his face.

He coughed slightly, “Yeah, uh, Secretary Hamilton here. Hi.” he spoke up obnoxiously, leaning back in his seat to smile at the waiter. “I’m that guy that’s in charge of your wallet, so how about your finest bottle of wine, kid.” Alex suggested brattily, making the waiter’s eyes go wide.

“Of course, Secretary Hamilton. My apologies.” He bumbled, Alex only hummed and turned his head back to Thomas as the waiter skittered away through the tables. The two’s brown eyes met each other, both glinting in amusement and mischief.

“Real smooth, Jefferson. You pay him to do that?” Alex hummed, placing his head on his fist.
“In your dreams, Alexander.” Thomas smirked, laughing at this perfect, perfect situation. Alexander only mocked Thomas’s laugh like a twelve-year-old, rolling his eyes and sneering.

“Alexander you are a child.” Thomas spoke, handing him a piece of bread, “An overgrown child with the nation’s finances in his hands. Try this, you’ll like it.”
Alex took it reluctantly and tasted, still bitter at his partner.

“Not as good as my bread.”
“OUR bread.”
“I did most of it.”
“You kneaded the dough, Alexander. I literally gave you the only part that you couldn’t possibly fuck up.”

Alexander looked down at his feet, swinging them, and gazed back up at Thomas with those puppy eyes.
“And I didn’t, right?” he stuck out his bottom lip, pouting. Thomas only rolled his eyes at Alex’s search for praise, snorting.

“Yes, Alexander. You did great. Without your skill I daresay the bread would be ruined.” Alexander beamed exaggeratedly at Thomas as the waiter filled up their wine glasses a bit shakily.

“To our bread. And our compromise.” Thomas raised his daintily from below, a true aristocrat.
“To us.” Alexander spoke in agreement, gripping his like it was whiskey and touching it to Thomas’s.

 

As Alexander tilted his head back, taking the wine like an obnoxious college boy, he hardly even noticed Thomas twitch, take half a sip and then set his down slowly. He tapped his fingernails on it, licking his lips before he looked back up to Alexander.

“What’s wrong with you?” Alexander slurred rudely around a large chunk of bread, chewing it like a fucking horse. Thomas, who would usually scold him for such manners, only licked his lips again, lacing his fingers.
“Uh, Speaking of ‘us’, Alexander,” he began, reaching into the folds of his jacket, “I… Have something I must return to you.”

“Yippee is it my anal virginity?” Alex drawled boredly, picking at a tooth. He was so calm, so natural like usual. Why was Thomas all fidgety?
Thomas shot him a cold, warning-scowl, as he produced from his coat a thick piece of paper.

“A puppy?” Alexander guessed again as Thomas set it on the table, sliding it over towards his partner with his fingertips.

Alexander paused, looking at it, and shot Thomas a curious glance as he hesitantly picked it up and turned it over. The blood red seal glinted in his eyes, making his jaw drop at the sight.

No.

“Thomas…?” he spoke, slowly lifting his head back up from the parchment.

“The Reynolds letter. Seal, envelope, and all.” Thomas listed, nodding deeply. Alexander remained in a bit of shock, turning it over, still gaping. “… Why?” he asked, genuinely confused. What was Thomas up to, why was he giving this back to him?

“Because I won’t be needing it anymore.”

 

Alexander looked up at him, face completely blank.

Thomas sighed, lacing his fingers on the table and leaning forward, licking his lips as he searched for words.
“I kept this with me as leverage against a political enemy.” he began. Alexander looked on, wordless.
“I kept it as a safeguard so that you couldn’t dream of breaking the Rules or deceiving me politically. And now my statement stands: as of today, I don’t need it anymore.”

Alexander’s brown eyes reflected the flickering candlelight, a very unnamable emotion hidden in them. He blinked. “What are you talking about?” It came out a bit quieter than he meant, and he coughed slightly to try and cover. Thomas didn’t seem to notice.

“Look, you made the Compromise. If that isn’t a reason to be giving this back to you, I don’t know what the hell is.” he finished, “You proved to me that I don’t need it. So if you want it back, here it is.”

Alexander’s heart fell. The feeling was one of the worst he had ever experienced, a sharp pang of emotion stabbed in his chest... Guilt. He had cheated Thomas with the Compromise. But Thomas didn't know that.
He nodded solemnly. Do the right thing, Alexander. Do the right thing, goddamn it!

Instead, he looked at his hands.

“You’re right.” he spoke softly, laughing a bit through his nose. The immigrant shoved away the pang in his chest, the icky, clinging feeling of guilt. Just focus on Thomas, this is about Thomas. Alexander forced his eyes back up to his partner’s brown gaze.

“Thank you. Thomas.” he nodded, slipping the letter awkwardly into his coat pocket. Thomas only nodded calmly, his eyes stern as usual as he took another casual sip of his wine. It was Alexander’s turn to be the fidgety one. The letter felt so wrong in his front pocket against his chest. It felt like that affair was a million miles away, and yet everything came back to it no matter where he turned.

 

Thomas coughed slightly, looking around a bit before settling back on Alexander.
“Hamilton.” he spoke, chin in the air as he reached across the table for Alex’s smaller hand. Alex’s eyes darted to his, shocked by the touch at first, but he slowly interlaced their fingers.

Relax. This is Thomas, just Thomas. He needed to chill the fuck out; tonight was supposed to be fun. He would make it fun. Just relax.
Alexander smiled, easing up and loosening almost immediately at Thomas's touch.

“Jefferson.” he responded in the exact same tone, mocking his deep, southern twang adorably. Thomas grinned and leaned in just a little closer, exhaling a deep long breath as he looked down at their hands for several drawn out seconds.

He finally lifted his gaze to Alexander’s, squeezing his hand just a bit.
“Alexander, there’s something I need to ask of you.”

But at that exact moment, Alexander’s attention leaped to something else in the restaurant. He didn’t even hear Thomas’s words. Alexander’s stomach lurched; an icy wave of alarm washed over him.

“It’s something that I-”
“Thomas…” Alex gulped. His partner growled and rolled his eyes.

“Alexander could you not interrupt me for two fucking minutes?” The immigrant ignored him, pulling his hand away and sitting up tall on his chair craning to the other side of the restaurant by the entrance. Thomas scowled at his partner, irritated.

“What the hell are you staring at?” Thomas snarled, making Alexander turn back to him, eyes wide and full of dread. The Treasurer gulped.
“Thomas… Either I’m fucking hallucinating or President George Washington and James Madison just walked in…”

No…

Thomas’s heart swooped into his stomach with panic, but he didn’t let anything show on his face. There was a deafening pause as they both turned their heads to look at the front of the restaurant.

No fucking way. Madison and Washington were, indeed, standing together getting ready to be seated. Alexander’s head whipped back to Thomas, panic written all over his eyes.
“Shit. We have to get out of here.” he breathed, “They can’t see us.”
Thomas crossed his arms, trying to hide his growing anxiety, “Why?” he drawled, gesturing with his head for an explanation.

“Thomas.” Alex scoffed, laughing incredulously, “We’re dining alone at a table for two. What the fuck do you think this looks like? A business meeting?”
“Hey, wise guy, calm the fuck down.” Thomas snarled, silencing Alexander. “We can’t just fucking leave. We haven’t paid or eaten a damn thing.”
And I haven’t said what I was trying to say, Thomas continued in his head.

“Ever heard of dine and dash?” Alexander breathed, looking around quickly. Thomas sneered at the phrase.
“That is for children and criminals, Hamilton, of which I am neither.” he spoke pompously, leering as his lip curled in disdain.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, your highness, but If you don’t want the fucking President asking why the enemies of the century are on a goddamn date, we’re gonna have to haul-ass out of here.” He looked around to the front, Madison and Washington were being led in their general direction; they hadn’t noticed them though.

Alex’s panic bubbled over, “And quickly, okay, let’s go.” he stood hastily, tossing his napkin onto the table and pushing his chair back. Thomas shook his head in complete disbelief over what he was about to do, but pushed his chair back as well, standing.

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you for making me do this, Hamilton.” Thomas growled lowly, striding to catch up to and follow Alexander.

“I know, come on.” Alex urged, grabbing Thomas’s hand to pull him along. Despite everything, Thomas’s heart still leaped at the feeling. They weaved through tables.

 

“There’s gotta be a backdoor by the kitchens…” Alexander reasoned, steering them both away from the crowd towards a back hallway.
“Done this before, lowlife?” Thomas sneered the rhetorical question sarcastically.

“Yeah, I always prefer the backdoors, if you know what I mean.” Alexander winked over his shoulder as they jogged down an empty corridor. There was an exit at the end of it; thank god. Alexander knew his stuff. Relief flooded the Virginian as he realized they were going to get out.

And now that they were in the clear, somehow this was… not so awful, even fun. Recklessly running around, breaking some rules, dodging trouble. Something about it was exhilarating. Thomas snagged Alexander’s hair, yanking him back with a yelp.

“Hey!-” he was cut off as Thomas pinned him to the wall, devouring his mouth with his own hot tongue. Alex dug his nails into Thomas’s scalp, ruffling his hair.
“Thomas stop.” he smiled against the taller man’s mouth, “You’re going to get us caught.” he grinned, as Thomas grinded him against the wall.

“Mm.” he grunted, not letting up as he ravaged Alex’s mouth, “You like the idea of us getting caught, though. Don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. Thomas pulled away, biting Alex’s pulse point for a second before watching the little man lean against the wall and run his fingers through his hair, panting.

“You are evil, Thomas Jefferson.” he pouted as Thomas pulled the door open, the cool night air brushing their faces.
“My pleasure.” Thomas responded, walking out. He stopped once they were on the street.

“Where the hell are we supposed to go now?” he turned to Alexander. “Not to that ungodly pigsty you call a house.”
“Ha. Ha.” Alexander rolled his eyes, bumping into Thomas as he walked by.

“I know a place. The best tavern in New York City.” he lifted his chin, leading the way, “We can walk. Come on Thomas, darling, you’re falling behind.” he taunted.

 

Thomas shook his head in hilarious disbelief. A tavern, for God’s sake. He was going to a tavern. Nevertheless, he ignored the ironic hilarity of this whole situation and followed the little immigrant. He had to reason with himself.
No matter where they were going, he was telling Alexander tonight. No excuses. Thomas Jefferson was a man who knew what he wanted, and tonight not amount of doubt could stop him.

**

George and James stepped into the restaurant, warmed by the cozy building and sheltered from the chilly night. The President motioned for James to step forward so he could free him of his coat, and removed it tenderly.

“This place is beautiful. What a splendid choice, James.” George smiled, handing their coats to the waiter that had just approached them.

“Good evening Mr. President, Mr. Madison.” he nodded deeply, face glowing with utter honor to be in their presence.
“Will you be joining the Jefferson-Hamilton party tonight?” he inquired, gesturing forward politely for them to begin walking into the seating area. George and James paused, exchanging glances.

What…?

“No sir, just a table for two please…” George requested skeptically, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Of course, Mr. President.” The waiter bowed, face glowing red with humiliation as he led them to a nicely positioned table by the string octet.

When he had left them with the wine list, George looked over his menu to peer at James. They were silent for a minute.

“That was… curious.” he spoke slowly, prompting James, coaxing him to say something. The Virginian representative only nodded quietly, slowly setting down his menu.
“Very curious.” he responded frailly, pulling out his handkerchief to cough. George looked on, a pained sympathy in his eyes.

He waved for some water for his partner, who took it gratefully, sputtering as he finished his fit.
“You alright?” George spoke softly, tenderly taking James’s hand. James only managed a feeble nod. They stayed like that for a few moments.

But George could not get the notion out of his mind.
“Do you truly think Hamilton and Jefferson came here together?” George whispered lowly, eager for an answer. Madison only shrugged.
“I haven’t a clue.” he rasped, “They didn’t mention it today…” he trailed off as George only nodded, thinking.

They were still and quiet as the restaurant buzzed warmly around them. Was it possible…? What were Hamilton and Jefferson doing? Why did they keep doing it?
If it was what James thought it was... didn't they know it was dangerous?

But as James looked up into those careful, thoughtful blue eyes… the blue eyes that were just for him to keep, he understood.

He realized that anyone could ask them just the same question.

Chapter Text

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks as Alexander motioned towards the door, the most delighted and entertained smile spread across his face. Thoms stopped and positively leered. He’d been leering for the past ten minutes of the walk but now he REALLY leered.

“No.” he spoke authoritatively, “Not a chance in fucking hell.” he spat. Alexander only smiled and walked back towards Thomas taking his hand.
“Ohhh come on baby boy.” he purred in exaggeration. Thomas couldn’t slap him or discipline him in the middle of the street. Alexander could do as he pleased,

“You need to get your head out of the mansions of uptown life and experience the TRUE New York City. And maybe some rats, depends on the time of night.”
“Alexander…” Thomas’s voice was dripping with dark warning as Alex only pulled.

“Come on Jeffs.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’ll suck your dick?” Alex stuck out his bottom lip. Thomas rolled his eyes, sneering.

“Why would I reward you?” he reasoned, confused. The asshole was so damn egotistical and had no fucking idea. Alexander rolled his head back in frustration, he couldn’t wait to bring him inside and watch what would be a hilarious show out of Thomas. Thomas fucking Jefferson in his favorite tavern. It would drive him damn crazy, he thought with a smile.

“Come ON.” he pulled, and to his exasperated relief, Thomas complied.
“THANK you.” he huffed, pushing open the door and holding it for Thomas, who firmly refused to touch it.

Of course, it was bustling as usual. The piano was being played joyfully and a group of people were gathered around it, singing heartily. A crash sounded as a bottle shattered somewhere. Alex looked over his shoulder to Thomas, absolutely relishing this.

Thomas’s entire face was positively GAPING in a horrified expression; he was dumbfounded. Alex smiled even brighter and waved over to the bar, greeting his friend in the usual way.
“Oi sam! Over here will ya, you great donkey’s ass.” Sam’s head popped up from behind the bar and grinned as soon as he saw Alexander.

“Oi Hams! Who dressed you today, trench warfare?” He taunted Alex’s appearance affectionately. The immigrant felt Thomas tense behind him, readying to possibly defend his counterpart, but Alex calmed him with a hidden touch to the arm and laughed at Sam’s usual jesting.

“Get us a table, you lazy good-for-nothing meat beater.”
“Will do, ya mangy alley cat.”
And with that Sam pointed to a table for two close by the roaring fireplace.

Alex strolled over and plopped down, propping his feet up on the table at an angle that he could still see Thomas. The wealthy Virginian swallowed his blatant disgust and slowly inched down into the chair, trying to touch as little of it as humanly possible. Alexander watched, knuckle to mouth to hide his smile the whole time.

“Enjoying yourself so far?”
Thomas only stared at him with the most loathing glare he could muster.
Alex looked around, confused.
“What?” he asked at Thomas’s scowling. The Virginian looked across the small table.

“Who is that.” It was more of a command than a question. Alexander was perplexed at first but then pointed over his shoulder with realization.
“Sam? The bartender?” He scoffed, laughing. Thomas squinted.

“Looked a little friendly with him. Any comment on that?” he cocked his head, crossing his arms slowly. Alexander positively laughed. Thomas was unbelievable!
“Sam’s been my friend since the war; we’ve never done shit.” he shook his head incredulously, “What, ya think he looks like a power dom to you?”

“Definitely not.” Thomas sneered in disgust, “More like a passing carriage might blow him away.” They sat silently, standing each other off.

Alexander squinted at Thomas, crossing his arms very slowly as well.
“What?” Thomas spat. Alexander only squinted.

“You’re jealous again.” he stated, training his dom’s eyes. Thomas’s flared, but his tone remained as calm as ever.
“I am not ‘jealous’, Alexander.” he spoke cooly, “I simply prefer my men how I prefer my coffee, without several dicks in it.”
“Clever, Jefferson.” Alexander laughed, uncrossing his arms to receive their whiskey gratefully from Sam.

“Thanks SAM.” Alexander gazed up at him, putting extra emphasis on the name. He blinked dreamily up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The young bartender seemed unfazed by Alex’s behavior.
“‘N I don’t know what we’d do w’thout you, Hams. Who’d keep us ‘n rent all year?” Alex laughed as Sam disappeared back into the tavern and turned his head back to Thomas.

The man was already staring at him, eyes dark as he quietly seethed. He shook his head impossibly slowly.
“Alexander Hamilton you have some nerve, you know that?” his low voice growled darkly.

“I do.” Alexander stated, taking a swig of his whiskey and putting it down with a sigh.
“You could show me some manners.” he suggested, “There’s a back room and I’m horny.”

Thomas stared at him, incredibly unimpressed with his straightforwardness.
“How classy of you.” he sneered.

“Come on, please?” Alexander whipped out the puppy eyes and stuck out his lip, pouting. The little man reached his foot across under the table, gently stroking his calf across Thomas’s
“For me…?” he pouted, trying not to smirk.

**

“This… Wasn’t… How… It was…. Supposed to… go.” Thomas growled with every thrust, teeth gritted. The storage room was actually cleaner than he’d thought, but it was smaller than he’d thought too.
Alexander didn’t seem to hear him through his breathless moans.

“Oh yes, Thomas… A little to the right… right there…. Oh fuck…” his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he smiled, fucked silly by Thomas’s punishing dick. He was so cock-drunk, melting as Thomas had to force him to keep standing.

Alexander was standing by a pile of grain sacks, one leg propped up on it as Thomas fucked him mercilessly from behind, pressing the side of his face to the wall with one unyielding hand. The other arm was digging into his hip bones, holding him upright so Thomas could nail him viciously.

“This is why I can’t fucking take you anywhere, dirty whore.” He breathed, panting into Alexander’s ear as he leaned in to give it a hot lick.
“Of fuck… Oh Thomas…” Alexander’s hips grinded messily back into Thomas’s now, trying to match his thrusts but slowly failing as he lost control of himself more and more.

Thomas hammered him way too hard for three thrusts, lifting a hand to cover his mouth roughly as he screamed, and then slowed down to deep and long thrusts, inching impossibly slow.

Alexander screamed into Thomas’s hand again, back arching away from Thomas, making the Virginian cup his mouth even harder.
“Shut up, bitch.” he barked, pushing in torturously slowly once more, Alexander’s knees jumped together as he made those cute little gasps, whimpering at the lack of speed.

Thomas did this to him until he was crying, legs and ribs shaking as he sobbed, trying to push back into Thomas. But for every inch Alex tried to take him in, Thomas would pull away agonizingly.
Thomas bit the delicate place where the shoulder meets the neck, gently at first, but then deeply enough to leave a lasting mark. Alexander squealed.

“I said shut up.” Thomas licked up to the dark hickey he’d made last night and pressed on it with his tongue, a deeply painful ache making Alexander silently cry harder as Thomas slid in and out of him at the most agonizing pace.

“T-T-Thomas PLEASE…” Alexander sobbed from behind Thomas’s hand, jerking just a little bit from the torture, twitching. Thomas sneered, pressing his hand tighter over Alexander’s mouth, making him “Mmph!”

“Why the fuck should I even consider letting you cum?” He spat, his tone making Alexander cry harder; Thomas rocked back his hips to drag painfully over Alex’s sensitive area as he pulled out. Alexander squeaked.

“No really, disgusting bitch, why should I? I bring you out to dinner and you can’t behave for forty minutes? Fucking pathetic. You need me to pleasure you all day or you’ll whine and whimper with how fucking horny you are.” Thomas pushed back in and stopped, letting his cock throb against Alexander’s bunch of nerves. The little on only breathed extremely quickly, squeezing his eyes shut and fucking FUCK just TAKES it.

They were still for thirty seconds as Thomas pressed against Alexander, cruelly watching for his reaction. Thomas didn’t need to do it this long, but he relished in Alex’s little gasps. The immigrant quietly trembled, trying not to scream or grind back into Thomas.

Thomas’s eyes glinted at his struggle for submission, tilting his head coldly.
“I’m not touching your cock, if that’s what you’re thinking, slut.” He whispered, pulling out and slamming back in, making Alexander bang against the wall they were at. Alex whimpered pitifully, a tear rolling down onto Thomas’s hand.

“Have something to say to me? Speak up, cockwhore.” Thomas sneered, ripping is hand from Alexander’s mouth and clamping it on his throat.

The little man gasped, sputtering a bit before he could speak.
“Please, Thomas… Please I need it so badly, I’m going to…. You’re going to make me…”

“No you’re not.” Thomas began thrusting into him once more little ones, halfway and quickly. Alexander only cried harder, sobbing.
“Let me cu-u-um… Plea-a-ase…” he choked each vowel, weeping as he slowly sank in Thomas’s embrace, melting from pleasure.

“Daddy…” he whimpered so quietly.
That’s what did the trick, Thomas smirked and gripped Alexander tighter, giving him the full length, and speeding up gradually so that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed and scream.

Of course, he screamed anyway, and Thomas had to clap his hand over the little man’s mouth once more.
“Shut the FUCK up.” he pounded him with every word, harder and harder, “Do you want the whole tavern to know what you are doing? That you’re going to cum helplessly in a cellar like the fucking slut you are. Crying and squirming like a bitch in heat.” he snarled hotly, hitting Alex’s prostate head on faster and deeper each time.

Now Alex was squeaking with every thrust, getting impossibly close. Thomas could feel him tensing against his body, clenching up around him.

“Mm! Mm! Mm!” Alexander whimpered with critical urgency, eyes wide open as he jumped and jerked around. It was clear as day what he was trying to tell Thomas.

“Cum…” Thomas breathed erotically, deep southern accent making Alexander arch and shoot all the way up to his chest, wailing into Thomas’s hand that was gripping so hard it hurt, just to try to keep him quiet. Alex’s eyes rolled back into his head as he smiled and gasped, fucked-stupid.

Thomas growled and bit Alex’s shoulder violently as he came, filling Alex up to the max as he panted. They stood like that for a few blissful moments, Alexander taking far longer to come down, as usual, from his ecstasy. He twitched and sighed, shivering, squirming his hips in slow circles as he coped with the pleasure.

After they had both caught their breaths, Thomas pulled out, making Alexander whine.
“Fuck…” He whimpered, leaning against the wall and covering his face with his hands as he grinned, panting.

“Still trying to handle the pleasure, Alexander?” Thomas snorted, reaching for the clothes he had neatly folded and tried to place in the cleanest area possible.
“Ohhh fuck…” was all Alex could manage, shaking his head vigorously and dropping his arms.
“You’re trouble, Thomas Jefferson.” he pointed feebly, laughing. Thomas scoffed.

“I am nothing of the sort. You’re a whiny, horny bitch and I put you in your place.”
“Hallelujah for that.” Alexander placed his hands on his knees, still panting for air just a bit.

Thomas rolled his eyes, stepping into his pants. “Get dressed.” he ordered, buttoning up his waistcoat with dainty precision, chin elegantly in the air as if he hadn’t just fucked a married politician in the ass. Again.

Alexander moped, standing up to walk to his clothes.
“Mr. Bossy…” he complained, scowling at Thomas as he pulled on his pants. The two dressed in silence for a few moments, tugging on shoes and shirts hastily.

Thomas’s thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour as he clothed himself. Time was running out tonight. God, there had been so many obstacles already, he’d been trying to tell Alexander the whole fucking night. If only Wasington and Madison had chosen somewhere else to eat, Thomas would have just fucked Alexander in his clean home; given him a romantic, candlelit, rose petal bath; and kissed him until he’d fallen asleep. He’d be his… all his.

But fuck, they were in the cellar of a tavern in the City. Things could not go LESS according to plan, and Thomas hated anything that went in another direction besides: Thomas’s way. It had all been planned out, give Alexander the brand new key to his house that he had had made for him. All sealed up in a beautiful box with satin insides…

 

Thomas was lost in thought as Alexander couldn’t help but play around a bit. The immigrant reached into Thomas’s pile, pulling out his lavish, expensive coat.

“Thomas look, I’m you.” he laughed, pulling it on. Thomas was prepared to snap at him and scold, but with him looking so excited and cute it was probably a sin.
Alex cleared his throat, the sleeves long surpassing his hands and the hem far below the back of his knees.

“Alexander, don’t you dare…” Thomas warned half-heartedly, grinning as he watched Alex straighten himself up and throw his nose haughtily in the air.

“Heeee Haw, I’m Thomus Jeff’rsun.” he drawled, “I la-yuk France ‘n horses, giddy up. Don't do that Alex'nder, don't touch that, Alex'nder. Ding dang dong, cows, cows, crops.”
Thomas couldn’t help but wheeze at the impression, falling apart with hilariousness.

“‘Ding dang dong, cows, cows, crops?!” He roared, hardly able to find air to breathe.
Alexander was giggling too, “Yes.” Was all he could manage.

Thomas finally caught his breath, wiping his mouth, “G-give that back, Alexander.” he chortled, still laughing a bit.
Alex stripped it off, smiling as he chucked it at Thomas, hoping to make him miss but with Thomas’s athlicity, he snatched it with one hand over his head.

And that was when it happened. God, if Thomas had only thought this through.
But nobody did. As the beautifully carved little box fell from the inner coat pocket, fell on the ground, and bounced, landing right at Alexander’s feet.

 

When he comprehended what had just happened, Thomas’s. Heart. Stopped.
And as Alexander shot him a curious glance and bent down to pick it up, time slowed down. He couldn’t move.

 

“Hey Thomas, what’s this?” he asked innocently, brushing it off a bit and bringing it close to his face. His eyes widened.
“Oh my God… It’s beautiful, who the fuck carved this?” Thomas panicked, heart thudding in his chest. Say something!
“It must’ve taken ages…” Alexander kept talking, gliding his fingers along the edge to lift the latch and open the box. Thomas finally snapped out of it.

“Alexander put that down.” he spoke incredibly sternly, his tone hard enough to break diamonds, but Alexander didn’t listen, of course. It was too late as he pulled the lid of the box open and peered inside.

 

Thomas felt like he was watching through the eyes of someone else. This wasn’t happening to him. It couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to people like him; things weren’t supposed to go this way.

 

Alexander’s eyes widened and his head slowly lifted to look up at Thomas, brows furrowed.
“Thomas…” he spoke, an edge of skeptical confusion in them, “...What is this?” his brown eyes had an indescribable emotion playing in them.

Thomas stepped forward, come up with something, goddamnit!
“It is just my house key, Alexander. Now give it back.” he requested, making a reach for it, but the pesky little bastard fucking pulled it away, knitting his brows even more.

“What’s with the box? You don’t carry your key in a box.” He recalled accurately, “And wait your key is old, this one looks, I don’t know, maybe a week.” He glanced at it and then back to Thomas. “What is this?”

“I got a new key, alright? and if I were you, I'd seriously consider handing it over.”
He lunged for it, but Alexander leaped a step back, holding it close to his chest.

“No.” he spoke simply.
“Alexander…” Thomas was growling now, closing in on Alex quickly, but the little man ducked under his arm, swooping past him and standing his ground. The immigrant stood still, little box in his hand and stared deep into Thomas’s eyes. They didn’t move for a few moments.

“You’re lying.” Alexander spoke quietly, simply.

 

And it was then that Thomas realized.
That this was how it would go down. Fuck, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen but it was out of his control. Something that never happened to him; it shouldn’t. But this is how it was going to happen. Right here. Right now. There was no other choice.

 

Silence continued for a few more drawn out seconds as Thomas took a deep, shaky breath, gazing back into those eyes. Those eyes…

“Alexander…” he began. He had practiced this, he fucking hated to admit. But now nothing was coming to him. Nothing was coming together in his head. He wanted to think… but was thinking the right thing to do?

His body took the lead, stepping carefully towards Alexander. The little man looked up at him, warm eyes wide and expectant.
“Thomas…” he responded, giving him full attention.

The Virginian stopped, looking down on his partner and trailing his fingers down the little one’s arms, finding his hands. Alexander accepted and laced their fingers together. “Thomas, what?” he laughed slightly, quietly. What was going on?

This was the moment. This is where it was going to happen. All of the emotion swirled around him, a hurricane of thoughts.

“Alexander, you’re right.” he spoke softly, meeting his stern brown eyes with Alex’s.
“Never thought I’d hear that.” Alex responded, pressing closer just a bit. Thomas exhaled shakily once more.

 

“Look,” Just say it, just say it, just… “The dinner, the key, tonight, all of it; it,” He looked around the room searching for words. Alexander kept his eyes on Thomas’s, unrest rising ever so slowly in his chest.
“I did it because I’ve been trying to tell you something. But you keep fucking running away.” Thomas kept talking; that was the only way he’d ever get it out. Now his words were tumbling out without any proofreading by his head.

“I had it all planned out but it went to shit, and now we’re in a goddamn cellar with what I’m pretty sure is a rat, and…” he squeezed Alexander’s hands, looking at the ground then back up at Alexander.

“And what I’m trying to say is that I…” He couldn’t find words.

 

And then... something shifted into place.
All of his emotions went still. Everything was suddenly… clear.

 

“...I… don’t care.” he spoke, the note in his voice was one as if he’d only discovered this thought after he’d said it. Alexander was beginning to panic, for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on.
“What…?” he prompted Thomas, but Thomas was already going.

“I don’t care.” Thomas repeated, looking back into Alexander’s eyes, “That’s the thing, Hamilton. I’m in a fucking filthy cellar with rats and dirt and there’s people above me drinking heinously cheap whiskey and I don’t care.” he held onto Alexander like he was the only thing that was real
"Because… I’m with you.”

And time slowed down. Everything was completely stilled, as if the world had stopped to watch this moment. Alex wasn’t talking, and Thomas wasn’t stopping.

“This key,” he motioned to it with his head, “I made it for you, Alexander. It’s a key to my house because fucking hell, whenever you’re not in it, it doesn’t feel like my damn house anymore.” He just couldn’t stop himself now. For the first time his brain wasn’t the part spilling out the words.

“That one night you were gone, I sat on the porch drinking bourbon on the rocks. If that doesn’t fucking say something, I don’t know what does.”
He looked around again, shifting to the other foot,

“I want to run to the lake with you, goddamnit. I want to take care of you when you’re drunk and stay up with you on that stupid porch swing in the middle of the night if I have to. I want to braid your hair and read dumb poetry and run through the rain like fucking idiots trying to get the bread back to the house safe.” he was still looking anywhere but Alexander, the words positively pouring out of him in a flood.

“I want to dance the waltz with you even though you suck and I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. Because…” He dropped his head to his chest briefly, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

This was it.

He raised them to Alexander.
“Because I love you.”

 

And now the whole world watched.
As if the moon hushed the entire planet, wanting to see this too. New York City froze in time, only two hearts still beating. Thomas searched Alexander’s deep brown eyes. Those damn eyes… And there was silence.

Why couldn’t he see something? Why wasn’t there anything there? Moments dragged on. Why wouldn’t Alexander say something?

 

Alex’s eyes dropped to the ground, his lips trying to move, but no sound came out at first.
And then it happened.

“...No.” he spoke, almost as if it was a question.

The Virginian’s pounding heart lurched into his stomach; his brows swooped down.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” he shook his head, laughing nervously, looking for an explanation. He took a step closer but Alex took a step back; he furrowed his brows, looking back up at Thomas with the strangest look in his eyes.

“I mean: no.” he pulled his hands away from Thomas’s, making the Virginian’s stomach clench with a nameless emotion.

Thomas shook his head, “I don’t-”
“Thomas, what the fuck is going on with you?” Alexander said on the border of a sneer, “Do you even hear yourself right now?” Alex gestured at him in disbelief with his hand, scoffing. Thomas took a step closer, trying not to get angry, heart still thumping madly.

What? He couldn’t comprehend this… This wasn’t supposed to be the reaction. Alex was supposed to leap in his arms and kiss him and say it too.

“I know how I feel, Hamilton, and it took a damn lot to say it.” he pointed passionately at the ground, defending his position. He shook his head; he was the one sneering now.
“You’re putting on this bullshit mask like you always do. The ‘I don’t feel; I’m emotionless’ horseshit. Just come off it, Alex, can’t you fucking see that I’m,” he licked his lips, taking another breath. It was so hard to do this, “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Oh cut the shit, Jefferson.” Alex scoffed, really getting heated now, taking a sideways step, towards the stairs, “Don’t go making this some sentimental bullshit about my ‘feelings’.” he jabbed an accusing finger in Thomas’s direction, leering, “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you.” he spoke running a hand through his hair.

“I mean why would you do this, man?” he gestured openly with his hand for a response, “Did you even fucking think this through in the slightest?” he bashed. Now Alexander was the one who’s words were spilling out, the flow unstoppable as he bashed Thomas.

The Virginian seethed and opened his mouth to retort but Alex cut him off, on a roll now.
“You didn’t. You don’t think. What? You think that when our wives, let me say that again, when our WIVES come back from their little hay day they’ll be fine with this? You think we can hide this?”

Alex scoffed in disbelief. The unfiltered, aggressive politician part of him was out now, taking the reins.
“But hey, say you become a genius overnight and dream up some solution to this headfuck. How long do you think before Madison finds out, before Burr finds out, before fucking George Washington finds out. We can’t avoid it. Thomas. We’re in the Cabinet. Open you’re fucking eyes; this was supposed to be a one-month sexcapade.”

“But it’s not. Alexander.” Thomas spat, yelling now as his voice raised , “YOU open your eyes, goddamnit, whether you like it or not this shitshow turned into more than that and you know it.” He pointed an accusatory finger this time, stepping towards Alex.

The little man only took a couple of steps up the stairs.
“You KNOW it Alexander.” Thomas repeated, louder with rage. Alex ran a hand through his hair and laughed.

“You know what, you’re crazy. You’re crazy!” he exclaimed cheerily, dropping his arms to his sides. He shook his head, reaching for the door.
“This is ridiculous…”

“You said you loved me!” Thomas called the last thing that he could think of.

 

Alexander froze, fingers on the knob as he slowly turned his head over his shoulder.
“What?” he spat, lip curled.

Thomas exhaled, “Before any of this. YOU said it first. That night when I came to your house.” Alexander slowly turned around; Thomas couldn’t stop himself.
“You know that it’s true but no matter how fucking true it is you cast it aside like dogshit because you’re too obsessed with your legacy to let yourself actually love someone, Alexander.”

 

Thomas’s words echoed in the cellar. There was stillness.
Alex shook his head slowly the entire time, the darkness hiding that they were watering just the slightest bit. Everything Thomas was saying was true… every word.

 

“I can’t do this anymore, Thomas.” he spoke firmly, voice icy and void of emotion. The little man reached inside his coat and pulled out the pretty key box, tossing it down the stairs to Thomas who narrowly caught it.
“And you can keep that. I won’t be needing it.”

“Alexander...” he spoke slowly, as Alex shook his head, opening the door.

“Alexander!” he called roughly. But he was already out of the door, closing it sternly behind him.
And there was nothing but silence.

 

For a long time, Thomas just stood there. He could faintly hear the sounds of the tavern above. The piano playing. People talking. But down there, he was alone.
No...

Thomas lowered himself to the stairs, so quietly, so collected, calm, and cool.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this…

 

The Virginian opened his hand to see the little box.
He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d spent hours and hours on it, making each and every carving by himself. And now Alexander would never know how hard he had worked. And that the carvings were of their adventures.

Thomas’s heart was doing this strange thing where it panged with every beat as he turned it over, remembering each day he had carved. The lake… the porch in the rain… dancing in the dark. It was all there. All there.

He quietly placed it back into his coat pocket and was still. He stayed still.
After what felt like a thousand years, he stood, deciding it was time to go home. Time to go home.

And... no.

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, fingers on the cold knob as his breath caught in his throat.
No.
He would not go home.

Thomas closed his eyes taking in the air and letting out, letting it go. And as soon as he opened them… there was FIRE within those brown irises.

 

One hand yanking open the door, the other touched the bulge at his pocket where the box was resting. He strolled out of the cellar, confident, calm, determined.

He wasn’t fucking going to give up the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Not like this. He would never go down like this. Alexander loved him, and he loved Alexander. To hell with the millions of reasons that the world had made up, to hell with the world. It was written in the stars and Thomas knew that.

He was going to get the man that he loved.
And to hell with anyone who tried to stop him.

Chapter Text

Alexander strode quickly down the street, arms wrapped around himself, shoulders rounded against the chill as he buckled down and trudged forth. He had to distance himself from that, from this.

He quickly rubbed a silent tear off his face with the heel of his palm, denying its existence as he gritted his teeth in pained fury, plowing onwards. Everything was so perfect. The night was so perfect and Thomas had to go and screw it up, mess everything up that was in place. Why the fuck did he have to do this?

He turned the corner away from the tavern, eager to get away from the place. The night was chilly as usual, September threatening playfully at the end of each passing day, a jealous reminder of her presence. As Alexander shuddered deeper into his coat, he wished that September would never come, he was cold and… maybe other reasons. But it didn’t matter now. It didn’t. Thomas had made sure of that.

The immigrant rounded the corner with speed and resentment, hunching his shoulders to keep out the cold and all the emotion desperately trying to burst out of him. And a good thing he was rounding his shoulders, too. For as soon as he turned the block, he slammed right into somebody with a ringing “smack!”

 

"AUGH!" He roared with pain, their foreheads having collided, and stumbled back a few steps, groping for the side of the building to hold on to.
“ShhhIT!” he hissed, hand over his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he saw sparks in his vision. The other man moaned in pain as well, but it took Alexander a few more seconds of outraged pain to open his eyes and yell at the bastard.

“Watch the FUCK where you’re going!”
There was a reluctant hesitation, some panting. Was this person even going to pipe up? Shit, maybe they'd start a fight; Alexander hoped they would.

“Hams…?” The person spoke
No.

 

Alexander lowered his hand from his face, gingerly peeping out from behind it to see the other man doing exactly the same.
John Laurens. No fucking way.

He didn’t need this. Not tonight. He couldn’t. He had to get out of this fuckshow of an evening. Right. Now.

“Sorry John,” he grumbled trying to breeze by him, but John sighed, snagging him by the sleeve.
“Alex wait.” he tried to pull him back but Alex yanked his arm away, whirling around in irritation.

“Hey bud, don’t take this the wrong way but I really can’t deal with you tonight.” Alex growled, straightening his sleeve, and moving to leave. John’s lip curled at the aggression; he recoiled, and rightfully so.

“Wow, then. No offense taken.” he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief at the insult.
Alexander groaned, utterly frustrated. He wanted to scream. Nothing was happening right, nothing. He should just apologize, just tell his friend that he was sorry. But he was far too proud for that.

John shifted from one foot to the other, looking extremely uncomfortable. Alexander observed him, looking him up and down. It seemed as though John was searching for words, but Alexander didn’t care. He needed to get home and if John had something to say he wasn’t going to wait for it to develop, not today he wasn't.

“What do you want, man? Seriously, if you’ve got something to say to me just spit it out; I’m not in the mood to have a conversation right now.” he lifted his arms and let them flop down to his sides in exasperation, shaking his head. John only ran a hand through his hair.

“I went to your house, man. You weren’t there.” he exhaled quickly, looking around anywhere but Alexander. Alex rolled his head back, not holding in anything. Tonight seemed like a night that he would be brutally honest, and no matter how shitty it felt he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fucking Christ, Laurens, you’re not my mother. Stop fucking monitoring where I am.” He scoffed, gesturing towards John with his hand.
John’s brows swooped down in defense, ready to protect himself.

“Hey, I never said I was checking where you were going; you’re the one that just implied you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been.”
“Who the hell are you to even say that to me?” Alexander spat, taking a few steps backwards with open arms. “Look, I’m going home if you’re just going to argue with me like a fucking two year old.” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning away from John to get the hell out of there.

“Wait, Alex.” John clipped, rounding in front of him and blocking his path. Alexander stopped short, irritated. They were in front of an alley near the tavern now. Thomas could still walk this direction and find Alexander, which made him even more urgent to get home.
“What, man? What?” Alexander scoffed once more, exhausted and exasperated. He was ready for this night to be over; he just wanted to go home.

“Dude… I…” John began, doing the same thing and running his hand through his hair, noting how impatient Alexander was. He had to get this out quickly. He exhaled.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry I got all up in your personal life. I’m sorry.”

“Gee thanks.” Alexander shoved his hands into his pockets, too stubborn to admit that John was just looking out for him.
“I was just worried about you. I worry about you, Alex; you’re the closest friend I’ve got, I don’t have much else.”

Alexander was silent, just looking at his feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world. He could apologize too. No, he SHOULD apologize too. For telling John that he was less than himself and pushing him away for taking care of him. But Alexander was silent. Maybe if he said nothing he could get out of this pity party

John bit his lip, and for a moment he looked as if he was going to cry. He wouldn't cry, would he? But as he shuffled to the other foot looking up at the sky for a brief moment, Alexander realized that it was a much different emotion.

John looked guilty.

The South Carolinian, looked back at Alexander, opening his mouth to say something and then looking away.
“Alexander.” he spoke, face cringing at his own words. Alex was catching on to something now, and he began to feel his heart pump just a little harder, his gut feeling telling him that there was something wrong here. Something definitely wrong.

“John....” Alexander said slowly leaning his head forward in anticipation, “What is it?” he prompted. The anxiety built even more in his chest as he watched John’s reaction. The man ran both hands through his hair, exhaling very shakily.

“Alex, I-” John swallowed and looked up at the sky again. The immigrant's heart was thudding in a steady, nervous rhythm now. “I did something terrible, Alex. I was so angry and hurt about what you said; I did something terrible.”

Alexander felt the panic rising in his chest rapidly. He took a step towards John, looking intimidating.
“John…” he spoke again in the exact same tone as before, seizing the front of John’s collar to make him look in his eyes, “What did you do?” he asked very slowly.
The South Carolinian’s pained, guilty, eyes looked almost pleading as his lips searched for words.

“You have to understand, Hams, I was hurt; I wasn’t thinking straight.” He looked around, pleading with his gaze, “I was so… angry that you wouldn’t tell the guys and that you fucking missed my promotion party so I…” he squeezed his eyes shut, an outpouring of regret written all over him as he cringed at his own words.

“I told the guys, Alex. I told them.” John timidly, reluctantly looked back into Alexander's eyes.

Oh God… He watched the immigrant slowly, so slowly, get more and more livid, fury building up in his eyes. His face screwed up as he breathed enraged breaths.

 

“You…” he seethed, voice teeming with rage, “WHAT?” he positively roared into John’s face. His friend cringed.
“I know, I know, God.” he breathed, looking so mortified, “Dude, you’ve gotta understand.”

Alexander shook his head in complete outraged disbelief, “Alright, you know what.” Alex grumbled, pulling John into the alley with his iron grip.

“Don’t fucking push me around, asshole.” John growled, still maintaining his spunk despite being in his position of vulnerability. Alexander completely ignored him, shoving him up against the grimy wall. The alley was mostly crowded with old barrels and some empty crates, the sound of their voices echoed through it and but didn’t carry out into the bustling New York City streets.

Alex panted.“Who did you tell.”
“What?”

Alex shoved him into the wall a bit, jarring him in frustration.
“I said who the fuck did you tell, goddamnit!” His urgent desperation was bubbling over very quickly. This only made John agrier too.
“Get your hands off me.” He spat, and jerked his arms in a quick, aggressive motion to push Alexander off. Alex stumbled back a step and snarled, John brushed himself off, leering in disgust.

“John…” Alexander warned very darkly, panting. “Tell me. Who you told.” he breathed.
“If I tell you will you back the fuck down?” John sneered. Alex only glowered.
“No fucking promises.” he spoke dryly.

There were a few intense moments of silence, the absolute tension almost tangible in the air. John didn’t move, Alexander’s fiery eyes burning into him.

“Lafs, Herc.” he said, “...And Burr.”

 

Two words and Alexander Hamilton’s heart literally stopped beating in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped for air.

“Burr…” he sputtered out, taking a clumsy step towards John. It felt like his entire brain was glitching out. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend this… This night… anything.

“Did you say BURR?!” Alexander roared, making a reach for John’s collar but the South Carolinian shoved his arms away, scowling.
“Yeah. Burr.” he sneered, cocking his head, “Cause you know what, Hams, BURR showed up that night. The night when we were celebrating the biggest achievement of my life.”

Alexander took no hesitation in shoving him back, MUCH harder.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” he growled, voice slowly rising, “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to that bastard.”

“What, Alexander? What do you have against Burr? What?” John opened his arms, shaking his head incredulously. After a moment, he dropped his arms in frustration.
“Or would I ‘not understand’, Alex. Am I too lowly to comprehend a politician’s life.” he quoted Alexander from their first argument, mocking him brutally.
“Would I ‘not know what it’s like’...”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Alexander barked, positively fuming. John only laughed at him.

“Every time you rose closer to the top, I was there. Not cause I felt like I had to, because I WANTED to, Alexander.” his face was completely straight as he spoke, “And where were you the one fucking time I ask for the smallest thing? Fucking somebody’s wife.” his eyes were void of emotion, “‘That bastard’ has been ten times the friend you are.”

 

That was it. Alexander’s rage boiled over, and with a guttural battle cry, he lunged forward to attack John. The short tempered little man had finally had enough; the night had tolled on his ability to reel himself in, and now he was finished trying to.

With a burst of speed, he slammed into the wall with his friend, making it reverberate against them. John made an “oof” sound, but grappled feverishly for Alex’s shoulder, snagging the small man and whirling him around. He rounded on him and turned the tables, pinning him roughly against the wall now.

“Alex, I’m serious.” John strained through gritted teeth, trying to hold him in place, “Back down; I don’t want to fight you.” Alexander completely ignored his ample warning, snarling again and kneeing him in the groin.

John roared in pain, quickly letting him go. Alex wiggled out of his grip, reeling back an arm to punch John in the side of the jaw, but the impact wasn’t too hard as he missed a bit in his clumsy, careless rage, tripping a bit over his own momentum.

John, still hunched over in pain, took advantage of Alex’s off balance position to grab him by the waist, driving him into the wall on the other side of the alley. John didn’t want to fight him; he didn't. But the little man was not going to let up so easily.

**

Thomas ploughed through the traffic of the tavern, ignoring the odd glance of that irritating little bartender as he broke through a group of people. They parted for him, giving him weird looks as well, but Thomas didn’t care. He had his mind already locked forward. He wasn’t about to let anything change it now.

Pushing the creaky door open, the tinkling bell rung into the night as the cool air brushed his face, clearing his head a bit. It was definitely cold for August, he thought as he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a right turn onto the ambling street.

Where would Alexander have gone? A bit turned around, Thomas took a moment to remember where he was in the city. Right. They had come from Leonne. Alex’s house was in the direction he was heading, he decided with a curt nod, striding authoritatively down the narrow street.

He glided faster, knowing that Alex could’ve gone a good distance whilst he was in the cellar, but not too far with his little tater tot legs.

But as he continued down the street, he was distracted by something. He cocked his head, curious to detect the noise. It was a muffled disturbance enveloped in the usual city sounds. Brows swooping in, he inched closer to a break between buildings, an alleyway and perked up his ears. Now that he was closer to whatever it was, it sounded like trouble.

“Back down; I don’t want to fight you.” One voice growled. The speaker was unknown to him, a man.

Thomas curled his lip; it wasn’t his damn business if some filthy hoodlums were getting in a scrum about ladies of the night. Pathetic. He straightened himself up to continue; he had to find Alex. This part of the city was such a disgraceful stain, he thought in disgust.

And that was when he heard the sound that made him stop dead in his tracks. He halted right before the alley, freezing. He didn’t take a breath as his ears strained and his stomach lurched.

All he had heard was a snarl, but God knows that he knew this one. He knew it like he knew his own mind.
Alexander…

Panic rising in his chest, Thomas didn’t wait another second before stepping around the corner, peering down the dim alley. His heart plummeted into his gut.
A man had Alexander pinned to the side of a building, the little one writhing before kneeing him in the groin. Alex tried to step in to punch him, and the other man grabbed his waist, slamming him into the other wall.

Thomas couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe at the sight.
A primal instinct tugged powerfully in his gut… It was SO fierce, so forceful. His lips screw up with rage as he moved forward without any hesitation. Without any second thought.

 

“Back down, Alex. Don’t make me hurt-”
SMACK!

With an impact so fierce that it made Alexander’s teeth rattle, some… thing just hurtled into them with the most primitive yowl he had ever heard. Alexander saw a flash of light as the thing’s --which he identified as a large person-- shoulder smacked into the side of his head, making him dizzy with how hard it hit.

He had to be ready; he was in danger. Getting prepared to defend himself again, the immigrant raised his fists clumsily, vision a bit blurred. He’d never be able to fight against John and this strange newcomer, probably a filthy mugger, by himself.

But as he blinked, desperately trying to focus his spinning head, his vague vision could tell what was going on. And his jaw dropped as his heart skipped a beat.
Thomas…?

 

The tall politician, still wearing his smart, expensive, high-end clothing, looked completely out of place as he careened into John, sending them both slamming into the wall. A crash sounded as a pile of crates tumbled down around the two scrabbling men, snarling and spitting.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM! DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” Thomas screamed, his usually composed, calm voice cast to the wind as he roared in John’s face. The South Carolinian only went for Thomas’s hair, scratching at him with his nails but slipping on a slick slab of cobblestone. With a growl and a yelp, the two crashed to the ground, Thomas twisting expertly to land on top of John.

Alexander could only watch in horror.
“Thomas NO!” he shrieked, watching as the larger man pinned John down with his knees, raising a fist to punch him square in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, smacking on the ground with the most sickening noise. Thomas only seethed, panting with rage.

“Never…! Touch…! Him…! Again…!” He spat every word viciously, dishing a blow with every single one. By the last punch, blood splattered the pavement with droplets of red.
The horrid sight kick-started the petrified Alexander back into action.

“Thomas! Stop it!” he practically screamed, lunging forward to stop Thomas in any way he could. He was going to fucking kill John if he didn’t stop him! Alex skidded to his knees, seizing Thomas’s raised arm and holding it with all of his strength, just trying to prevent him from bringing it crashing down on his best friend another time.

“Thomas don’t.” he strained, holding Thomas back with all of his might. “He didn’t hurt me, I started the fight.” he scrambled for words that would calm him, make him understand quickly before he did anything terrible.
“Look at me, Thomas. Look.” he panted, breathless.

Thomas’s livid eyes were trained on John’s face, but at Alexander’s insistent pleading, they slowly turned to Alex. Oh... Thank God.
“See, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” he repeated, getting his point across quickly.

Thomas scanned him with brown eyes, trying to hide the worry, anger, and… fear in them. He looked back to John, not wanting Alexander to see how protective he had gotten.
“Thomas…” Alex spoke slowly, coaxing his counterpart, “Let him go.”

“Who the fuck is he. Why was he attacking you.” Thomas commanded harshly, voice calmer than before but still edged sharply with aggression.
“John Laurens, he’s my best friend.”
“Answer the second question, asshole.”
“He…”

Alex’s mind raced. He had to decide what Thomas could and couldn’t know, but at this point it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore when everything was falling apart. How the fucking hell did he even get here? How did he manage to get himself in this situation? His enemy and lost lover beating up his best friend over an affair with another woman. So fucking ruinous. He shook his head.

“He told my friends about the affair. The Reynolds affair.” Alexander whispered, clarifying.
“You’re safe.” he mumbled bitterly, as if that was the thing that Thomas would care about.

Thomas was still for a few moments, watching John Laurens’s vague expression as his lip and nose leaked tiny streams of blood onto the ground. John was silent, not daring to say a word.

Thomas suddenly snapped back into reality, jerking his arm roughly out of Alex’s grip.

“Get off me.” he murmured, stiffly standing from John and brushing himself off in complete disgust. Disgust with himself, disgust with this stupid fucking alley.
“Thomas…” Alexander tried to begin, still sitting on his knees below the Virginian. Thomas only peered down at him with emotionless, cold eyes.

“What. Alexander.” he spat dryly, shaking his head slowly, “What do you possibly have to say to me?”
There was no response, nothing to say. He was right.

The taller man scoffed when there was only silence from the speechless little immigrant.
“That’s what I thought.” he brushed by Alex, slowly going back towards the street, not bothering to pick Alex up from the floor.

Alex’s head turned to watch Thomas go. So many words fighting to explode out of him, but none of them made a sound.

 

Thomas stopped.
And for a moment, just a moment Alex’s heart fluttered. A little whisper of hope lighting itself in the darkness. A sliver. He turned around, his face now as it usually was. Completely calm. Completely in control. He spread his arms, opening them widely.

“Congratulations.” he spoke cooly, “You’ve chosen your legacy.” His icy eyes stared into Alexander’s and he smiled.
He actually smiled in amusement and shook his head in relish.
“And you don’t even know that you’ve lost.”

Alexander had no words, he couldn’t look away from those eyes. They flared up in passion and anger.

“I hope that you burn, Hamilton.” he whispered, shaking his head slowly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He gave him one last glance over his shoulder as he turned away,
“I hope you fucking burn in hell.” He spat, rounding his shoulders against the chill and turning onto the street.

As Thomas Jefferson walked away, he blended in with the rest of the faces in the New York City traffic, disappearing into the night. Alexander watched Thomas slip right between his fingers. He had chosen his legacy. He had chosen his legacy over Thomas.
And he was alone.

**

John coughed, sputtering a bit as blood sprayed the table once again. Not as much as earlier, though. Alexander handed him the wet rag they had been using, pausing on his bandaging for a moment for John to wipe himself and the countertop down.
“Good?”
“Yeah.” John grunted, setting the rag down as Alex finished wrapping up his nose and stepped back a bit, exhaling slowly. He paused to take it in.

“Well,” he huffed, trying to seem at least a little alright, “Let’s just say it covers your nose. All of it.” he shrugged. John sighed too, exhausted.
“It’s huge, isn’t it.” he stated blandly.
“Well, so is your nose.”
“Yeah, that’s fair.”
The two laughed quietly through their noses, both looking at some unidentified spot on the floor. Alex shifted uncomfortably in the silence.

“Hams…” he started carefully, looking Alex in the eyes only for the other man to not return the favor. He continued anyway with a sigh,
“You know I have to ask you about Thomas Jefferson, man.” he spoke. Alex only kept looking at the floor in silence, nodding and pursing his lips in understanding.

“I know.” he spoke quietly in acceptance, “You deserve to know.” his gaze finally darted up to John’s, his friend looking at him sympathetically, patiently waiting for a response.

It took some time for Alex to be able to say anything. And that was okay. He exhaled shakily, looking back up into those careful blue eyes. His best friend...
Maybe he didn't want to lie anymore.

And from there, he was pouring out everything. Starting at the very beginning with Maria and how Thomas had figured out the whole situation. He told him about their rules and the Compromise and their dinner tonight. How Thomas had told him he loved him. John didn’t stop him; he probably couldn’t if he tried. Everything was just coming out of him. It felt so relieving, to tell someone this huge secret that rested on his shoulders day and night.

 

When Alexander finally finished, he went completely quiet, just nodding at the floor. He pulled out a chair at the dining room table and flopped back into it, completely exhausted and drained. Like the story had sucked the remaining life out of him for the night. The immigrant covered his eyes with his hands, leaning back.

 

John only gazed at him, his best friend, considering him so carefully. Time passed by, and they stayed like this for a long time. The only sound in the quiet house was the clock in Alex's office, ticking with every second. Almost to remind him that when it came to his work, to his legacy, he was always running out of time.

Finally, John found it in himself to speak, he knew he had to.

“And are you happy?” he asked quietly. Alexander slowly pulled his hand down from his face, rubbing it over his features.
“What?” He asked, voice smaller than he had intended.

John just looked at him and repeated his question calmly, “You made your decision, man. Are you happy?”

Alex took a moment to let the question sink in. He looked down quietly at his hands, lips moving as if to say something but no words came out as he gave up on the effort.
A single silent tear slipping down his cheek was all the answer that was needed.

**

Tarquin’s hooves thundered on the forest floor, deep thumps of his footfalls echoing through the trees and up into the moonless night. The horse snorted with every stride, nostrils flared for breath, but Thomas urged him onwards nevertheless.

“Come on, Tarq.” Thomas tapped his heels rhythmically against the horse’s sides, making him surge forward even faster, powerful legs pumping in the dark forest.

Thomas was caught a bit off guard as Tarquin leaped to clear a log he hadn’t even seen, but he stayed firmly to his back, only jostled a bit. They thundered on, not following any trail in the pitch night. The horse himself seemed to know that something was not right: his master coming to his stall at ten-o’-clock at night, hastily tacking him up, and flinging onto his back for an aimless gallop through the woods. But they galloped on nevertheless.

Sweat streamed down the dark steed’s sides as he snorted; Thomas only pushed faster. He didn’t know where he was going, but he wanted to block out his raging thoughts, block them out with wind in his hair and hooves pounding beneath him. Leaning flat and forward for speed, Thomas glanced over his left shoulder, noticing that they had were streaking alongside the lake, starlight reflecting off of the impossibly still surface.

He tried not to think of the last time he was there as he sternly turned his face away from it. He wouldn't.

And that was when it happened.

Without any warning whatsoever, no indication, no signal, Tarquin dug his hooves into the damp dirt, muscles bunching underneath him as he whinnied a high-pitched screech. The horse skidded to a teeth-rattling halt, turned and twisted its body, changing direction out of nowhere.

Thomas yelped in surprise, desperately grappling for the horse’s neck as he careened forward, the momentum far too much for such an abrupt halt. But it was no use; it was just too sudden. Thomas was flung fiercely off the front of his horse.

He spent a few terrifying, timeless moments flailing in the air. He felt completely weightless, like the world had frozen in that moment, heart thudding in utter terror. And then he hurtled to the ground, leg crashing against a serrated-edged rock by the lakeside as he thudded heavily to the forest floor.

“AUGH!” he roared, voice echoing off of the lake and coming right back to him. A fiery pain spread up his leg, but his head had hit the ground too hard too. The Virginian faintly heard the thundering of Tarquin’s hooves as he took off fleeing into the night.

Mouth wide open in shock, Thomas breathed. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.
He was going to black out.

“Hngh!”
He rolled over in pain, voice cracking pitifully as the agony in his leg shot up all the way through his body. He could feel the warm dampness of blood. As his head turned, he caught one glimpse of the harmless, common Black Snake that had spooked Tarquin slithering off into the grass…

And then he fainted off.

Chapter Text

Alexander didn’t sleep for the entire night. He tossed and turned, mind never resting as he thought. The quiet patch of moonlight crept agonizingly slowly across his bedroom floor, as if to mock him. Morning is never coming; this night will last forever.

No matter where he drove his thoughts, they would always find their way, crawling, right back to Thomas. What was he doing right now? Was he awake? Was he thinking of Alexander?

Alexander sighed because… he knew it. He knew he wouldn’t be thinking those thoughts if he truly didn’t want to be with Thomas. And when John had asked him, asked him in his most vulnerable position, if he was happy, he had no answer. He had no words.

And the silence spoke more than anything else.

 

Alex turned over one more time, facing the window. Thomas’s empty spot in his bed felt so incredibly wrong. It didn’t feel real as he slowly, weakly ran his hand over the cold sheets.
Alexander whimpered, closing his eyes, and willed himself to pretend. Pretend that Thomas has just run downstairs for a glass of water and he’d be back in a moment. He’d set it down all quiet, thinking Alex was asleep, and then Alex would turn to him, blinking happily as his partner. Thomas would wordlessly pull him into his arms, breathing in his hair and mumbling those words as they shuffled closer, nodding heads into each other as they got comfortable.

It was so vivid in his mind. So strikingly lifelike that he could literally see it. He could FEEL the emptiness where Thomas should be. He squeezed his eyes shut, hard. And the agony built up slowly in his chest, gradually, incrementally until it was unbearable. He gritted his teeth, hard, and finally sat up in his bed, panting.

He sat. The night was so quiet. He could hear the hushed, sleepy street below.

What was he doing? Alexander looked at his hands, breathing.

Why was he doing this to himself? Why? As he slowly ran a hand through his hair, everything became clear to him.

This was wrong.

 

The immigrant ripped aside the covers, swinging himself out in a haste. He didn’t even bother to change from his ordinary clothes, just swept by his dresser, snagging the overcoat off the door as he whirled past.

There had to be a way. A way to protect his legacy and his love at the same time. If there was a way, he’d fucking find it, and he was going to do it now.
How could he have been so goddamn stupid?

He shook his head at himself, thudding down the stairs too quickly to not be haphazardous, trying to tie his overcoat messily as he did so. When he’d reached the bottom of the staircase, he only hesitated to wedge on his shoes, tipping over once, before flinging open the door and walking down towards the street. If he took his time he’d find a way to talk himself out of this one; there was no changing his mind now.

Alex hailed a cab after a few moments, the first one he saw. It was shabby, that was for sure, but it didn’t matter to him; at this moment, a cab was a cab.
“Jefferson manor. Please.” he panted breathlessly to the cab driver. The driver looked lazily over his shoulder.
“Mm.” he grunted, lurching the carriage into motion.

The immigrant flopped back into the seat.

The entire ride, Alexander willed it to go faster, but of course he really had no say in it. Dark silhouettes of trees stuck out against the dim sky, hinting at dawn towards the east with a rosy tint. It had to be around six o'clock in the morning; birds weren’t chirping, and the crickets were scarce, heading back to sleep as well. The wheels rolled along the dirt and cobblestone roads, every mile an eternity.

Finally they turned onto that familiar, long lane. The towering oaks and fine-trimmed shrubbery. Alexander could wait no longer; he was bursting.

“I’ll walk from here. Thanks.” Alex clipped, shoving the money into the drivers hand as the man sputtered, surprised. However, the immigrant didn’t wait for more of a reaction, he hopped down onto the gravel, feet slipping, and took off in a full sprint up towards the house.

 

The sun hadn’t risen yet. It was just a cool, surreal place between night and day, where faded stars painted the sky above him as he ran. Wind whipped his long, dark hair as the gravel grinded and crunched, echoing in the morning silence.

Alexander cleared the steps in two large strides, heaving for breath. And as he finally skidded to a stop at the doorstep, he smiled, grin overtaking his entire being as he placed his hands on his knees, knocking confidently on the door. He could imagine it now as his hear hammered in his chest, gasping for air.

Thomas would open it and he’d leap into his arms, making him stumble backwards, but the Virginian wouldn’t have time to scold or complain. Alexander would kiss him all over, “I love you, I love you, I love you, stupid Thomas fucking Jefferson.” And he’d say it some more just to hear himself say it.

 

But as he stood, panting, letting this all play out in his head, there was no answer to the door. Not even the vibration of approaching footsteps inside the house. His face fell with concern. Not giving it another moment, Alex backed up, brows knitted skeptically. Looking up at the towering manor, he realized that there were no candles at all. No fireplaces casting light out of windows.The house was completely dark.

“What the…?” He breathed, backing down the steps to take it in. Yep, the place was vacant. The little man’s heart began to gradually pick up with anxiety. Brows still knitted, glancing over his shoulder several times, he nervously began to walk around the back of the house, a route he knew well at this point.

He followed the narrow footpath until the gardens, back porch, and stables came into sight, the usual landscape of the Jefferson household. Alex swiveled his head around, scouring the place for any sign of Thomas. The porches were empty, the porch swing swaying gently, almost eerily in the morning silence. Alexander gulped and knew.

Something was wrong.

 

“Thomas?” He called in a normal tone, turning and trudging towards the stables. They were closer to him than the porch was; he would check.

Hauling the heavy door stable door with a grunt, it screeched open and Alexander stood in the barn door as silence fell. It was dim for the early morning. He stood, alert for any sound.

His ears perked up when he heard a soft little whine.

“Hello?” He called nervously. There was no response but a draft of wind curling around his ankles from the other direction. Head shooting up, he realized that the door on the other side of the barn was wide open, letting in the smell of earthy grass.
“The fuck…”

And then there was a clopping sound, like hooves on the floor. Alex’s heart leaped into his throat, God, he hated horses. But when one walked, free of any stall, into the corridor of the stables, he cocked his head.

“Tarquin?” he spoke, jaw dropping.

The beautiful black steed was standing timidly by the door, pawing and scraping at the ground with a front hoof. His reins were trailing on the ground in front of him, caked in mud. Alexander swallowed and took a deep breath.

Going against every screaming instinct in his body, he moved forward.

“Hey buddy, h- woah.” he spoke, trying to sound as calm as possible as he inched towards the nervous, jittery horse, hands out in front of him in caution. It looked spooked as it looked down on Alexander, whites of its eyes rolling while it tossed its head once, ears laying flat on the back of its head.

Tarquin whinnied and Alexander flinched, stopping.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He spoke soothingly, voice shaking a bit. To be honest he was trying to convince himself more than the horse, but when he reached him and extended a hand gingerly, Tarquin appeared to relax a little. Alexander puffed out a relieved sigh.

“Buddy, where’s Thomas?” He spoke, knowing full well that he sounded like a maniac. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline already pumping through him like an icy river.

He already knew the answer to his question.

Hands numb, he trailed down the reins, absentmindedly finding the ends.

All of the signs pointed to one terrifying conclusion. The stable empty, the horse tacked and terrified, the house dark and vacant…
Thomas was in trouble.

Alexander cast a glance out the open end of the stable, where the dusky woods loomed, mist hovering sleepily between the wet bark. He was somewhere out there.

Alexander turned back to the horse, closing his eyes for one deafeningly still moment, letting the fear invest itself in him, rising in his chest like a tidal wave. He was so afraid for once in his life. The immigrant opened his eyes, exhaling ever so slowly.

“Alright, Tarq.” he spoke unsteadily, running his hands up to the top of his powerful neck. Alexander held his breath and lifted a leg high to set in the stirrup, hopping up clumsily and swinging his other leg up and over the back of the dark stallion.

He paused for a moment, never feeling more unnatural and uncomfortable in his life as he gathered the reins in his hands, shifting himself into a saddle designed for a man far bigger than him. But it didn’t matter now as he stared back out at the forest with fearful, blazing eyes. He let go his breath.

“Take me to him, Tarquin.”

**

Alex laid flat on the back of Thomas’s horse, gripping impossibly tightly with his knees as he slid in the saddle. Tarquin knew this wasn’t his master upon his back; the rider was small and unaccustomed to a horse’s movements, but he streaked on nevertheless.

They thundered through the forest, hooves pounding the ground in a frantic pattern like torrential rain on a shed’s roof.

Alexander buckled down tighter, eyes scanning between the trees, scouring them rigorously for any possible sign of Thomas. He saw nothing.
“Come on Tarq, come on.” he urged the horse faster, turning onto the only path out there that he knew, the one that led to the lake.

Regathering the reins, he steered Tarquin closer along the bank, looking out over the gray waters. Nothing.

 

“Wh- Hey!” Alex jerked forward a bit, gathering the dark, coarse mane in his hands to hold himself up as the stallion trotted to a walk and then to a dead stop, refusing to move. The only sound was their panting and the twittering of birds beginning to awake. For a few seconds, the wind-swept man just sat there on the still, heaving horse, unsure of what to do.

“Uhh… hello?” Alex tapped his heels lightly. Tarquin didn’t move, only chewed on the bit some and snorted. He shook his head in annoyance.

“Come on stupid animal.” Alex lambasted frustratedly, kicking his heels sharply into his powerful sides. He STILL didn’t move, only tossed his head aggressively, yanking the reins from Alex’s hands and pawing at the ground.

It took a couple irritable moments of exasperation for Alexander to realize that the horse was trying to tell him something.

“What? What?” he growled in frustration, fully aware that it couldn’t answer back, but as he scanned the landscape he knew why the intelligent beast had stopped. Heart plummeting into stomach icily; Alexander slid down the side of the horse, dismounting in a clumsy manner, eyes trained on one spot on the ground.

He kneeled down a few steps in front of them, gliding his fingers over the tracks in the dirt. They were deep gouges, Tarquin’s. Hooves that had dug into the ground fiercely to a violent halt.

Shit…
He tried not to let the panic bubble over. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

Knowing where the momentum would throw something... or someone, Alexander’s breath sped up, his heartbeat thudding out of his chest. With one last glance over his shoulder at the intelligent-eyed creature, he gulped and stepped slowly around the sharp boulder in front of him.

The first thing he saw was a leather boot. And then another. And then he saw the pale face and dark hair.
And then the blood.

 

His vision clouded up into one narrow line of sight as he heart his heart pound, heard the blood roaring in his ears.
No...
“Thomas!” his voice cracked, the most tortured sound erupting from his chest as he impulsively surged forward, falling painfully to his knees beside the tall man on the rocky soil. This couldn’t be happening.

“Thomas, Thomas, hey wake up.” he gasped and gulped for air, frantically rolling him over so that he laid flat on his back, face up now. His eyes were closed.

“Thomas. Come on. Oh shit…” he climbed close to his partner, trying to decide what to do. His fingers fumbled open the Virginian’s coat and reached inside, searching the pockets.
“Come on, come on, come one.” he mumbled feverishly, absolutely panicking. He groped around, finally finding something hard and pulling it out. Thank God Thomas wasn’t a complete idiot.

“Okay, alright.... Fuck...” Alexander continued to breathe to himself, leaning over with the tiny pocket-knife in his grip embedded with the initials “TJ”, and proceeded to cut the fabric around Thomas’s left leg, ripping away the bloody pieces frantically.

When he was finished, his eyes widened at the sight of the wound, a jagged gash right up his thigh that was a nasty mess of dried blood and fresh too.
“Ohhhh Jesus…” Alexander gasped, running a shaky hand through his hair as he evaluated. He wasn’t stupid. He had fought in a bloody war, and this was no unfamiliar event to the past soldier, but this wasn’t a batallion. This was Thomas. Oh God, please not Thomas.

The little man scrambled to his feet, slipping on the soil and running to the lake, heaving for breath. He cupped some water carefully in his hands and strode back to Thomas, his mind roaring with panic. He let the ice-cold water stream over his face as he pulled Thomas’s head into his lap and awaited any affect, any whatsoever. His full lips still had color, a good sign.

“Come on, Thomas, Come on…” Alexander gulped for air, brushing Thomas's hair out of his face desperately, rocking him “Come on…”

There was a pause. And then Thomas choked once. Then twice.

“Yes! Yes! That’s it.” Alex cried in pure joyful relief, pulling him closer and lifting his head up more. The man’s eyes only fluttered, not focusing on anything in particular as they scanned around aimlessly and fell shut again. He hacked a cough.

“You’re fine, you’re fine.” Alex spoke once again, convincing himself of that truth as he brushed more hair out of Thomas’s eyes. He half-opened them again.

“Alexander…?” the name died weakly on his tongue as his head fell back, going limp in Alex’s arms. Thomas’s lost consciousness once again.

“Wh-” Alexander pulled him closer, shaking him a bit, “No.” he gulped, jerking Thomas in his arms, “No, come on Thomas, stay with me here!” But there was no response; he was out cold.

“Shit.” Alex spat, wiping his mouth messily and moving to stand, pulling Thomas with him. He had to get going, get help. He’d never be able to hoist Thomas onto Tarquin. Alexander grunted and gritted his teeth, trying his best to haul Thomas over his shoulders but the man was so tall and Alex was so small. If it weren’t for the pure power adrenaline it never would’ve happened.

“Hng! Fuck…” Alex panted, staggering off in the Western direction. He’d never get back to the Jefferson manor in time. He’d have to find a neighboring one before his legs gave out.
He put his head down and trudged along, ploughing through the woods at the fastest speed he could. Jaw clenched, holding onto Thomas with every ounce of strength he contained, he lumbered on, gaining ground.

 

He didn’t even know how much time passed before he finally caught sight of the white wall of a towering manor between the trees. Oh God… he had made it. By now, angry, terrified tears were streaming down his face.

“HELP!” He wailed, hoping his high voice would carry, that someone would hear his plea for assistance.

That was when his knees, far too exhausted now, gave our and buckled beneath him. He came crashing down to the forest floor like a pile of bricks, completely falling apart.

Thomas tumbled down on top of him, landing on his side next to Alex in a crumpled heap.
“Help!” Alexander sobbed, moving towards Thomas and pulling him close, holding his head against his chest and wrapping the other arm tightly around his back. He choked and gasped for air in pure exhaustion, drained of all energy.

“Thomas…” He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the Virginian closer into his embrace. He could feel him breathing against his body, and that was enough. All Alexander could do now was listen. And wait.

He heard the slam of a door being flung open somewhere, and it wasn’t long before a woman’s voice was shrieking for a man named William to come outside, quickly! Alex heard Thomas groan softly against him, and held him closer.

“Shit. It’s okay, it’s okay.” he mumbled into Thomas’s hair, unsure if he could hear him or not.
“I love you…” Alexander muttered. Thomas may have heard it, he may have not. It wasn’t really important at this point.

Soon, men were crashing through the forest, directed by the woman who had called until they found the two laying together. Alexander sat up on his knees, protectively close to Thomas.

The men were dressed in nightclothes still, the sun was just peeking over the horizon now, sky rozy and pink.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“What’s happened here?”
“What’s your name?” The questions all hit him at the same time as he shook his head frantically.

“Alexander Hamilton.” They exchanged glances in surprise but Alex ignored them, he wasn’t what was important, “Thomas Jefferson, he’s hurt. Thrown by his horse; I found him in the woods, leg. Hurt.” he sputtered, unable to convey all his thoughts as the men nodded, carefully squatting to lift Thomas, his head falling back, mouth open.

“His head.” Alex spoke firmly, fire returning, “Hold his head, goddamnit, it could be hurt.” he wiped his wet face with the heel of his palm frustratedly, following the men closely as they entered the plush house.

The woman had prepared a couch that they gently laid Thomas on, and a young man was already composing a quick doctor’s letter at a small desk in the corner. Everything was so hushed and rushed. He felt like he was in another world as he stood there, covered in mud, some scrapes on his face and clothing, unable to do anything. He was helpless.

He only got one last glance at Thomas’s unconscious face as he was ushered away into the tea room, two young girls trying to feed him some angel cake, but he couldn’t think of anything but Thomas. Thomas was hurt. Thomas had went riding last night and been a fucking idiot. He was such a fucking idiot and it was all because of him. Thomas wouldn’t have done that if Alex hadn’t been a conceited douchebag in the first place.

Fuck, he had to get out of there.
He excused himself carefully, thanking the girls and then the people in the parlor helping Thomas. They said a quick goodbye, occupied, and Alexander slipped out. He had to get out of there. Take Tarquin back to Jefferson’s. Just… get out.

And so with one last glance at the unconscious, injured man, the man he loved, Alexander Hamilton slipped out the door in a quiet, unnoticed manner.

**

 

Three days passed in the completely usual style. Alexander got up from bed, got dressed. He gathered his papers and went to work at his Treasury office, doing his meetings. He put the Reynolds letter back in its locked little drawer at his desk where it was supposed to be.

He also had a meeting with Washington every day, discussing with him the logistics and detailed benefits of their compromise and having the Capital in Virginia. And Washington, though not as surprised as Alex expected, accepted the offer, working with him to undertake some basic plans to present at the next Cabinet meeting soon. One that Thomas would hopefully be able to attend.

Alex tried not to mention the night that he was out to dinner with Thomas. How would he be able to explain that to the President? But why was Washington going out with Madison? What business did those two have with each other? It was impossible to say at this point, and if he asked George, George would know that Alex was there as well. So oddly enough, they both avoided the subject.

Every day after work, Alexander would make sure everything was in order in his office and walk back to his house through the busy streets, City life going on around him. He’d arrive home, greet the handmaid if she was there, and then head upstairs.
The immigrant brushed his hair back neatly, no matter how much he despised the chore, and freshened himself up, taking a deep breath in the mirror and smiling before heading right back out.

Every day, at the exact same time, he was on the Jefferson doorstep, proud head high and waiting to come in. And every day, he was turned away. That was MAYBE owing to the fact that he had cursed out Thomas’s cousin when he’d told Alex that Thomas needed to rest, but Alexander would prefer to think that ALL the Jeffersons were just assholes.

And now, on the fourth day, he hopped up the wide stairs to the columned front of the house, warm sunlight brushing his face and illuminating his hair as it was on its way to set. The trees swayed calmly in the gentle breeze.

Alex stood impatiently after he had knocked, shifting from foot to foot as he kicked at the ground, mumbling annoyedly at how inconsiderate the family was, the whole lot of em. It didn’t take too long for someone to carefully crack open the door, and then pulling it open fully.

 

Alexander’s heart took an unexpected swoop in his chest, making him sputter a bit and swallow. No. Way.

 

The short woman in front of him was small in stature, but the opposite in manner. She stood, chin in the air, blonde hair pulled back away from her sharp blue eyes and deep-red lips.
Martha Jefferson, he knew as soon as he saw her. He’d never met her but he knew. Martha Jefferson was back.

She looked him up and down, an almost inconvenienced look in her eyes.
“Can I… help you, Mr. Hamilton?” She prompted, witty gaze still scanning him. Alexander coughed slightly. She had some tongue on her, a lot like Angelica. This was so weird, so fucking out of place.

“Secretary.” he spoke carefully, meeting the challenge; she only smiled stiffly in this perfect way that precisely mocked him and complied at the exact same time. She didn’t answer, only stood resolutely in the doorway.

Alexander took a step closer, growing impatient already.
“Well I’m here to see Secretary Jefferson, so it’d be great if you could make that happen.” he sniffed, shrugging his shoulders entitledly. She only looked him up and down again like he was a stray cat that’d dragged up something dead onto the porch.

“I’m afraid he can’t be bothered with your politics at the moment, ‘Mr. Secretary’.” she raised her chin. Was it possible to HEAR air-quotes?

Alex leaned against a pillar, gesturing at the small woman. He was getting fed up, quick, and he wasn’t known for being particularly polite. Ever.
“Look, if I swear to not say a word about politics would you let me the fuck in for…. Ten minutes.”

She squinted her eyes narrowly at him. Alexander was gaining more and more dislike for this stubborn girl. She was, apparently, completely unfazed by his cursing, and there was a short pause where they just stood each other off.

“Five.” She spoke shortly, opening the door just wide enough so he could get through. She didn’t even move out of the frame, just held her place. Fucking insufferable and he’d just met her.
“Five?” Alex scoffed, shaking his head incredulously.

“He’s in our bedroom.” She nodded curtly, turning rigidly on a heel and walking into the house, not even addressing Alexander’s disdain. Alex sputtered in outrage as he followed her into the familiar manor, turning behind the well-postured little woman towards the bedroom. The bedroom that she had referred to as “our”, sending a shot of anger up through Alexander’s gut.

He shook it off as they glided through the wide open door, the door he’d been through many times, the one that usually hid the two enemies.

People were milling about, whispering in hushed voices as they spoke to one another. Some doctors in long coats were around the bed, blocking the scene, and two men chatted whilst another wrote a letter quietly in the corner.

 

Martha cleared her throat, making the hushed voices drop to silence, heads turning to look at her.

“Thomas, dear.” She spoke clearly, stiffly, “You have a visitor.” All that could be heard was a pause. Then a deep, exasperated sigh.

“Tell them to kindly fuck off.” He drawled dryly.
Alexander shifted from one foot to the other, coughing slightly.

“Thomas…” He spoke, grimacing at his words, “It’s me.”

 

The pause that followed was agonizing. A very tense hesitation as Thomas realized who it was, breath catching in his throat silently. Alexander had come to see him. Why was he here?

He kept his voice even and cool, “Leave us.” he twanged, earning a curious look from Martha but she only looked away from him and strode out, nose in the air followed by the doctors, shuffling out quietly. The doctors looked at each other, confused as they filed out and then were gone.

When the door clicked shut, it was completely silent. Just Thomas and Alexander standing in the familiar, noiseless room, a patch of sunlight on the wooden floor

Alex didn’t second guess himself this time, just stepped carefully towards Thomas’s bedside to catch his first look at the Virginian. He swallowed a gasp as he halted, close to Thomas.

It wasn’t pretty. Alexander exhaled very slowly.
“Shit….”

Thomas softly laughed, “Nice, isn’t it?” he chuckled morbidly, “That’s gonna leave a mark.”
Alexander only shook his head, trying not to let his eyes fill with tears as he stared. Thomas’s leg was propped up on pillows, the gash scabbed in some places, open in others. Thomas himself looked exhausted, eyes red like he hadn’t been sleeping. Thomas stiffly reached down, grimacing in pain as he wrapped the bandage closed.

Alexander gulped down his utter shock, “How do you feel?” he looked back to Thomas’s brown eyes; they locked on Alex’s.
“Like how I look.” he drawled.
“So like complete shit?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Thomas spoke.

They were quiet for a few more seconds as Thomas shifted himself, trying to sit up in bed and look at Alex. The little man was still staring at his leg, face white. Thomas knew what Alex was thinking.

“Is it…?”
“Infected?” Thomas finished his sentence, crossing his arms, “No.”
Alexander paused, looking for words.

“Then why isn’t it… you know… healing?”
“Well that’s the fucking question of the week, now isn’t it?” Thomas scoffed morbidly, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

Alexander looked at him in silence as the Virginian closed his eyes. The only sound was the wind outside in the trees. Alexander looked around and then back to Thomas.
“You’re a fucking idiot, you know.” Alexander sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He would stay in here for more than five minutes, fuck what that stubborn girl had said. “A real genius.”

Thomas’s eyes snapped open in aggression; his head whipped around to scowl at Alex.
“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said you’re a real fucking moron.” Alex looked down at Thomas with a straight face.
“Why the hell would you go out riding in the middle of the damn night on a black horse through the woods?”

“Sounds like some shit you would do, Hamilton.”
“Exactly my point.” Alex breathed, laughing a bit, “So why did you do it?”

Thomas didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t going to give up his answer so easily; Alexander already knew, but he’d be an asshole just to hear Thomas say it himself.

“And why did you come back?”

Checkmate.
The man was too good.

Alexander laughed lightly through his nose, looking at Thomas who was raising a dark eyebrow challengingly like he always did.

“Touche.” Alex nodded, frowning in consideration at the question, licking his lips. Thomas only smirked at him for a moment and then let his face fall, remembering that he should be resenting Alexander right now.

“You gonna answer the question?” Alex spoke rudely.
“Are you?” Thomas shot right back. Alexander only squinted at him and hummed in false content, used to his stubborn reticence.

“Lovely wife you have. Sure you’re not twins?” Alex poked the snarky question at the Virginian, still smiling tightly. Thomas blinked slowly, immensely unimpressed.
“Going for wife jokes now, Alexander?” Thomas nodded lazily, “How mature of you.”

“Well, not known for being so.”
“You have that right, Hamilton.” The two looked at each other and then quickly off to the sides.

 

After a moment, Alexander’s eyes landed on the small table near the bedside as they sat in silence. Thomas inched his gaze back to Alexander, watching carefully as the little immigrant caught sight of the box that lay there. At this point, he didn’t care if Alexander saw it. It wasn’t Thomas that had anything to hide anymore.

He watched his partner pause… and then reach out and gingerly touch the smooth wooden top with his fingertips, running them hesitantly along the edges. The immigrant's smart brown eyes glided over it from a couple feet away. Thomas blinked.

“You can hold it, you know. It doesn’t fucking bite.” Alex picked it up like he was already planning to do so. The proud little prick.
“I know.” he snapped defensively, shooting smug Thomas a look before continuing to observe the box like it was too fragile to be held.

 

Thomas just watched him.
“You’re holding your breath.” he stated blandly.
“No I’m not.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Alexander Hamilton, you think I don’t know when you’re holding your breath?”
“Shut up, I’m not.” He retorted, laughing, “And who’s the one with the immature jokes now, huh?”

“That was not dirty, Alexander. You made it dirty.”
“Screw you.”
“Likewise.”
“Asshole.”
“Go fuck yourself.”

Alexander smiled stupidly as he turned the box over in his hands. God, he missed this, all of this. The incessant nagging and non stop bickering. The banter that had become so natural between the two, it felt like they had been going like this forever.

“So you make this or not?” Alex poked his tongue at the inside of his cheek, talking rudely around it.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Thomas scolded with disdain.
“Did you?”
“Yes. Alexander. I made it. Stop doing that with your tongue.”

Alexander nodded slowly, regarding it once more. He squinted carefully.
“And… what are the carvings.”

Oh…

Thomas’s heart lurched when he realized the little man hadn’t looked close enough to discover what the carvings were of. Shit…
Well he couldn’t tell him now. Not after everything. Not after three days ago and how it all went down. Panicking a bit, floundering for words, he managed a calm face nevertheless.

“I doubt that you want to know that, Alexander.” he spoke extremely stiffly, voice as even as ever. Alexander didn’t lift his head, just gave him a weird sideways glance.

“Well what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, putting the box close to his face and squinting, his warm eyes darting back and forth over the engravings. Thomas watched his reaction carefully, his eyes slowly widening in understanding.

“Oh.” Alexander breathed quietly, nodding and biting his lip as he swallowed a bit.
Thomas just watched him.
“That’s…” Alex set it gently down on the table once more, hesitating awkwardly.

 

Thomas only let out a slow, exhausted sigh, “You don’t have to say anything, Alexander.” he stated blandly, looking up at the ceiling as he let his head rest back on the pillows a bit.
“Seriously, you don’t have to do all this shit cause you feel like you have to. We can just agree to forget this. I don’t need your apology.” He shrugged.

 

Alex shook his head, faster now, eyes welling up with emotion. It all seemed to hit the man at the same time, coming down on him like an icy avalanche of snow. This was where he had to say something. This was his only chance to do it.

In that moment, Alexander didn’t care if Martha busted down the door, if Washington strolled in for some tea, if the goddamn King of England decided to pay a visit. Alexander Hamilton knew what he was going to do but not the slightest fucking idea how to do it.

“No. No.” Alexander clipped, shifting himself on the bed, twisting so that he was fully facing Thomas. The Virginian, squinted, confused at this reaction. His eyes were welling up, his cheeks getting pink with emotion.

“I DO have to say something. Shit, I have to say a lot more than something.” Alex rambled, voice constricting a bit as he choked down his voice.
“Alexander…”
“No. Thomas. Shut up, I have a fuckton of shit to say and not enough time to say it.”

For once Thomas didn’t jump on Alexander for saying that to him; he just looked at him, taking in this moment before it was over. Alexander looked up at the ceiling in the “I’m trying not to cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry” kind of way, anger and frustration painted on his face.

Thomas only gently, patiently coaxed Alexander’s hand into his, giving him the time he needed. The little one just kept shaking his head.
“Shit…” He breathed, still trying not to cry. After a moment of breathing deeply, he could continue in a shaky manner.

“You want to know why I came out in the woods at-- what’d it have to be?-- four in the fucking morning to ride a goddamn horse. A horse. I actually got on that THING, in case you didn’t know.”
“So I’ve heard.” Thomas remarked. Alex continued anyway.

“Because..." He gulped shakily, "I literally COULD NOT sleep the night before. I kept waking up, and waking up and feeling like I was in--I don’t know-- uh, Ethiopia or some shit.”
“Ethiopia.” Thomas drawled; Alex ignored him.

“I kept reaching over and thinking, like.” He looked at the ceiling again, willing himself not to cry, but at this point it was inevitable, he swallowed, taking a shaky breath,

“This is Thomas’s spot, like, this is where Thomas should be.”

And that was when Thomas realized what this was going to be.
He felt his own heart stir, hopefully, pleadingly. Beating in his chest for the first time in three long days. This wasn’t going to be just a big apology or excuse.

He... was going to say it.

“I got here and the damn house was dark and I got… scared.” he shook his head, “No, that’s not a good word. Fuck.”
Thomas just squeezed his hand, willing him to go on, and Alexander exhaled very slowly, taking a minute to be able to settle down once again. Thomas waited patiently. He’d waited this long. He could sit with Alexander a minute more.

Time passed as Alexander just breathed. It was peaceful in there. The only sound was the trees swaying in the summer breeze, the patch of light on the wooden floor flickering because of it.

Alexander opened his eyes and looked at Thomas, the first tear spilled out over his overflowing eyes, rolling down his cheek and falling onto Thomas’s hand. Alexander laughed, smiling as he let a sob break out.

“I actually don’t know how to say something for once.” He laughed, nodding in disbelief as another tear slipped out.
Thomas only let a smile flickered across his face, reassuring Alex. The immigrant looked into those eyes… those eyes. And gulped. It was all coming on him at once. He was completely in love with Thomas Jefferson. And in this moment, he finally understood what Thomas had been trying to say. He understood.
He didn't care how imperfect things were. The world could come down around him and the only thing that would matter would be... Thomas.

He DID know how to say it. Because Thomas had already said it for him.

 

“I want to run to the lake with you, goddamnit.” He laughed quietly, meeting Thomas’s gaze. The Virginian’s eyes flashed with some unnamable emotion.
He understood.

Alexander was using his words.

“I want to…” he looked down at the floor, swallowing, and then back up to Thomas, “I want to dance with you even though I suck.” he laughed a bit as he sniffled messily. And Thomas laughed too. After a moment, they both looked at each other again.

This was Alexander’s moment.

The little man’s heart beat breathlessly in his chest.
“I want to read your dumb poetry and run through the rain like fucking idiots. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night.” He shook his head slowly, speaking so quietly. This was it.

The next words were so quiet that Thomas could barely hear them. But he didn’t even need to hear them to know what Alexander was saying. Just his face was enough.

“Because I love you, Thomas.”

And there it was.
Thomas couldn’t even think now. He didn’t want to. The Virginian was already leaning in towards Alexander, a helpless smile spreading across his face.

“Say it again, Alexander.” he breathed, eyes darting all over Alex’s face, running a hand repeatedly through the immigrant’s dark hair, messing it up as if he was trying to make sure the man was real, that this was actually happening, his heart drummed in his chest.

Alex smiled bashfully at his feet.
“Now you’re just rubbing it in.”

Thomas didn’t answer as he pulled Alex carefully on top of him, conscious of his leg as he never broke eye contact. Like if he did Alexander would simply disappear.
“I said, say it again.” Thomas spoke evenly, Alexander’s face level with his as they both sat up on the bed, the little man in the taller’s lap.

Alex smiled, gravitating in closer.
“I love you, Thomas fucking Jefferson.” He breathed. The grin on Thomas’s face spread without his consent; he couldn’t help it.
“Again.”

Thomas couldn’t break free from Alex’s eyes as he unbuttoned Alex’s waistcoat, fingers fumbling at the buttons. The little man only smiled, shrugging it carefully to the floor and pulling off his shirt under that. When his torso was bare, he pressed against Thomas, letting his hands find his shoulders, Thomas’s immediately snaking around Alex’s warm waist.

“I love you.”

Thomas shook his head slowly, relishing every second like he couldn’t believe it. But as he felt Alexander’s body, he knew that it was.

“Okay. Shut up now.” he spoke as he pressed deeply into Alexander’s mouth, not bothering to make a buildup. He had waited long enough, his patience had run out. Thomas didn’t care that it was messy and awkward and sloppy. It was perfect.

Alex lapped far into Thomas’s mouth, taking him in as well as the two kissed. Everything was clumsy and dirty and he didn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Fuck…” Thomas mumbled, breaking off but immediately moving to kiss his jawline, his pulse point his throat. The kisses were hot and quick, he just NEEDED to feel Alexander, to kiss him all over. He was his, he was his, he was all his.

Alexander only smiled and breathed quickly as Thomas pressed his lips to his shoulders and collarbones, and all down his chest, leaving a hot trail.

“Hey, buddy, two way road.” Alex breathed, laughing, “You gotta say it too.” he poked Thomas sharply in the belly. The Virginian didn’t even flinch as he gathered Alexander into his arms, the little one nuzzling into the side of his neck to kiss it.

“Would that make you shut up?” Thomas grumbled, finding Alexander’s hip bones that he was so fond of and mapping them with his thumbs.
“It would make us even.” Alexander responded arrogantly, trying not to sigh at the touch. Thomas only laughed through his nose.

“Fine.” he grunted, ghosting his fingers up Alexander’s back, making him shiver, “I love you, Alexander. You’re mine.” he grumbled in a way that was both romantic and dirty at the same time as he traced his light fingernails down Alex’s back, toying JUST under his waistband.

“Stop it, Thomas.” Alex laughed, squirming at the touch.
“I'm not going to let you go.” Thomas ignored him, gently brushing his fingers under the waistband. He gazed in Alexander’s warm brown eyes, the eyes that were his to keep.

“Okay.” was all Alexander whispered, the most adorable smile flickering across his face. The two just looked at each other for a long time. Trying to comprehend this wild ten minutes that had changed everything.

“Say it again, Alexander.” Thomas spoke evenly.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Alexander rolled his eyes as Thomas tangled a large hand in his hair, messing it up as he pulled him to his lips, devouring him once more.

“I love you…” Alexander spoke into Thomas’s mouth as he closed his eyes, Thomas’s tongue flicking over his.

**

Aaron Burr read over the letter once more as he leaned back, exhaling deeply into his porch chair. The balcony overlooked the street as heads passed below in the darkness of night.

He puffed on his cigar, letting the smoke out in one long breath into the night air, hanging there before dissolving into nothing. He watched for a few long moments, letting things sink in

The greasy man folded the letter from Washington into his lap and set it there carefully, self satisfaction rising in his chest. A Cabinet invitation, he thought pompously. This was his opportunity to be in the room one more time with the two enemies. One more time before he put his plan into action. This was all he needed.

The man crossed his legs, taking another draw on his cigar and letting it out slowly. He chuckled to himself, sighing comfortably.

“There’s nothing like summer in the city….” He mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning back into the seat.

He smirked a snakelike grin towards the city sky.

Chapter Text

It had taken Alexander a lot of coaxing and nagging from Thomas to be able to get out of his room. People were going to get suspicious, but Alex kept taking advantage of Thomas’s lack of mobility and shutting him up with his tongue. He was relentless. But after a considerable amount of whining and grumbling, Thomas had helped him back into his clothes, buttoning them up for him as Alex sat on his lap, pouting.

Thomas finished the last button on his waistcoat and let his hands slip down to hold his thighs. He looked up at his boyfriend.
“What?” Thomas sneered when he looked up and saw Alex crossing his arms, moping on top of him.

“This is so fucking unfair.” he grumbled as he swung his leg up and off Thomas, lowering his feet to the ground to pull on his shoes.
Thomas only folded his hands on his own lap sophisticatedly, “You’re going to have to be more specific.” he drawled as Alex pulled on one shoe and then the other, sitting back up on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

“After all that shit I just have to leave?” he spoke exasperatedly, turning to Thomas, “We should be having wild sex and then eating way too fucking much.”

Thomas scoffed, “You mean YOU would be eating way too fucking much of what I cook for you.”
“Oui.”
“Tu vas être gros.”
“I’m not going to be fat, your COOKING will make me fat.”
“Not if you didn’t eat twice your bodyweight every damn time, Alexander.”
“You know what, bye.”

Alexander stuck his nose in the air and tossed his hair out behind him, shrugging his coat arrogantly onto his shoulders.
“I am hereby withholding sex from your cocky ass.”
“Mmm.” Thomas nodded slowly, squinting lovingly at Alexander, “Close the door on your way back in, love.” Thomas hummed arrogantly. Alexander rolled his eyes, standing up.

“I hate you.” He growled, buttoning his coat.
“You love me.” Thomas tilted his chin up haughtily, beckoning Alexander in for a kiss, and the irritated man complied.
“I know.” he mumbled disgruntledly and gave Thomas a quick kiss on the lips before getting on his way.

“Love you too.” Thomas said in response as Alexander straightened his cravat in the dresser mirror before clunking to the door on the wood floor. He turned his head over his shoulder to smile one last time at Thomas, looking impossibly, stupidly in love but unable to really hide it at this point.

“You’re a mess.” Thomas blinked, unimpressed, but always slightly amused with Alexander’s little tidbits.
“Shut up.” The smaller man smiled at his feet before pulling open the door, trying his best to shoot Thomas a scowl over his shoulder, and was met by the same haughty, arrogant smirk.

“Stop it.” Alexander laughed, blushing uncontrollably.
“Stop what?” Thomas just kept smirking at him with that damn face.
“That!” Alex gestured impatiently at Thomas’s whole being, annoyed.
Thomas only gave him those cool brown eyes.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” he spoke, grinning, making Alexander shake his head and give up, stepping out the door.
“You’re impossible.” he growled as he closed the door behind him, forcing himself not to catch another glimpse of Thomas on the way out. The Virginian was already far too cocky about how needy Alexander was for him; his head didn’t need to get any bigger.

Alex straightened his little stature up taking a deep, satisfied breath, and striding towards the entrance hall. His feet clunked on the wooden floor as he passed the parlor on the left. He could hear the hushed chatter of the doctors and other visitors within. Maybe he could slip out unnoticed. God, he didn’t want to deal with Thomas’s insufferable little wife, or any other Jeffersons for that matter. He could hardly even handle one.

As he sped up a bit to hop past the room, he peeked in for just a moment casting in one glance before breezing by. The doctors were standing in small groups and at the end of the room.
Oh shit.

Martha Jefferson’s piercing blue eyes met his at the exact same moment he had looked in there. She stood tall, head high, hands folded authoritatively in front of her corset when she caught his glance.

Alex immediately put his head down, walking faster to get towards the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was NOT going to deal with that bitch right now, hopefully never. He jogged slightly through the entrance hall and had a hand on the huge, ornate, brass knob when-

“Mr. Hamilton.” The stern voice resounded in the entrance hall, strong and clear.
Alexander stopped dead in his tracks, grimacing at the sound. He wanted to groan out loud, but just exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, trying to keep his cool as he turned around on one heel.

The immigrant plastered on the tightest, most strained smile.
“Yes?” He spoke in very false enthusiasm, and if the little woman picked up on it, she didn’t acknowledge it in the slightest. She tossed her chin up in the air, somehow finding a way to look down on him no matter her height.

Martha stood her ground a few feet away, doing the thing where she folded her hands in front of herself again. Somehow every little thing she did found a way to get under Alexander’s skin and irk him.
“I have a question to ask of you.” She spoke evenly. Alex scoffed and mumbled under his breath, “Whoop-dee-doo…” but she continued nevertheless.

“Thomas, my husband,” She spoke as if that wasn’t obvious, “While he’s been in bed, his reading patterns have been far from usual and not one visitor has known what to make of it.”

Alex paused, so confused at this point that he didn’t know what to do. He blinked and shook his head, in annoyance, “Um, I’m sorry, what?” he scoffed, letting his hand slip off the knob behind him. She raised her head even more, pursing her young, pretty red lips.

“He won’t read anything but one book. Nothing.” She spoke stiffly, “My husband,”
“Thomas, right?” Alexander interrupted, rolling his eyes. She scowled at him.
“Don’t interrupt me.” She snapped coldly, blue eyes slicing into him, “My husband will only read an old copy of an Irish book called ‘Gulliver’s Travels’. I’ve never seen the dreadful old thing in my life; do you know anything of this?”

Upon hearing her words, Alexander couldn’t help but hide the growing smirk on his face. Ha, Thomas Jefferson, the hopeless romantic, a little voice snickered in his head. There was no way he wasn’t giving Thomas a hard time about this one, no. He’d rub it in for weeks. And the other, very small, non-arrogant part of Alexander’s heart ached a little bit at the words. Thomas had missed him. Thomas had missed him and tried to hold on to a piece of him, just a little piece. And that was both heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.

Alexander released a deep breath, retaining the tight, mocking smile on his face.
“No. No idea what that’s about.” he shrugged it off, placing his hand on the knob again. He cocked his head at the stubborn little twenty-year-old, grinning.

“Good day to you, Martha.” She only squinted her eyes at him, scowling and somehow remaining her stiff posture.
“Mrs. Jefferson, if you please.” She spoke quietly.
“Yeah. Right.” Alex sniffed rudely, opening the door behind him. He gave the standing woman a sarcastic little salute before laughing to himself and pulling the door closed. Thomas had better write him as soon as the girl was out of the house for a night. Alexander skipped down the steps lightly, the beautiful little box with the key inside bouncing against his chest pocket. He didn’t think he could wait for it.

**

Alexander,

I have news that you will be pleased to hear, so I will get to the point promptly. My wound has healed significantly in the past two days, more so than the three days before it combined. They call it a miracle, Alexander, but I call it you.
Because of this recent rehabilitation, Martha has been particularly and peculiarly eager to go back upstate. She left this morning on a carriage and will write me when she is to return again.
Naturally, you will bring your clothes here at precisely six o'clock when you have finished work; I expect you to be on my doorstep at that time. Tardiness will cost you, as per usual. Bring enough clothes for at least the rest of the summer, and I would make sure your handmaid is looking after the house for some time, Alexander, you won’t be needing it. You will also find that I simply do not care if you complain, though I doubt that you will.

Be here at six. No excuses, I have written it three times in this letter.

Sincerely,
Thomas Jefferson
Secretary of State

 

Alexander didn’t even finish reading the name at the bottom before he had dropped the letter on the floor, not bothering to do anything reasonable right now, nothing sensible. He whooped as he jumped three feet in the air, an incredible feat considering his own height, and took off, sprinting up the stairs (on all fours close to the top. What? He couldn’t contain himself).

He burst into his bedroom, frightening the handmaid who was making the bed. She dropped a pillow on the ground, startled at his sudden entrance.
“Oh!-“
“Darling, go outside and hail a carriage, will you? One with space.” He breathed, far too boisterous and excited, “I’m going on a trip for the rest of the summer and I have…” He glanced at his dresser, “Some luggage.”

**

Still on the second to last step, Alexander strained to reach the door whilst lugging his trunk up the steps. He wasn’t having the smoothest time as he panted, grabbing onto the door handle to give him leverage to haul his things up another level.

He’d had to drag his collosal trunk all the way up the lane because some other stupid carriage had been blocking it. A flower, gardening carriage of some sort with lots of space, enough to fill up a whole lane.

“Fucking… stupid… Shit…” he grunted, clunking his trunk up the stairs and finally up to the door, letting it thud to the ground with a gasp. He paused, heaving as he swiped a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to catch his breath.

But that shit could wait; he had to get inside and see Thomas. He’d been bursting for this moment for the past two agonizing days, but he’d never let Thomas know that; his head was already far too big. He produced the silver key from his coat and fumbled it into the lock, smiling helplessly as it clicked open. It worked; he had his own key! He thought with glee.

With one arm, he pushed the door open, and with the other he hoisted the trunk off the ground, stepping into the cool, quiet house.

“Thomas!” He called into the halls, kicking the door closed behind him, key jangling as he tucked it back into his pocket. He couldn’t help his positively glowing smile; he’d have the whole rest of August to live here. With Thomas. This place was his and Thomas was too.

“Alexander.” A calm voice called back from somewhere in the house as a chair scooted back, no hint of question whatsoever in the tone.

“Marco?” Alex hollered, laughing at his own joke whilst he heard the clunking footsteps of his partner approaching from the library, almost able to FEEL Thomas rolling his eyes. Alex let the trunk thud to the floor as Thomas appeared around the corner, striding quickly towards him with hardly any limp at all.

He was wearing a deep, bloodred, almost scarlet coat today that flowed with his movements. His hair was combed neatly back away from his dark eyes and handsome face, which was, as always, tilted proudly into the air.

Alex laughed, “That’s where you’re supposed to say ‘polo’, Jeffers---Mmph!”

Without ANY warning whatsoever, Thomas devoured him; his tongue was down Alex’s throat in an instant, smacking their mouths together in a hot tangle.
“AAUuhh…!” Alexander moaned deeply into his partners mouth as Thomas slammed him into the wall, making him stumble backwards over his own feet and discard his luggage in its place, completely forgetting about it now.

In one swift, powerful movement, Thomas seized Alex’s thighs savagely with a growl, nails digging in as he lifted him up and held him against the wall. Alex’s legs wrapped around him in immediate response, suppressing a cute little wine as he did so.

Thomas opened and closed his lips against Alexanders at a rapid pace, absolutely ravaging him in hunger while he squeezed with his sharp nails, pinning him cruelly in place and holding him up with his hips. He ripped Alexander’s hat off his head and let it fall to the floor.

“Mmm,” Alexander breathed between kisses, pressing his hips in small, slow circles against Thomas’s, “Happy… mmh…. To see me…?” he managed as Thomas twirled his tongue around Alex’s so expertly, breathing fast at this point.

“You’re… late…” Thomas panted, and slammed Alexander again, dragging himself against Alexander’s pelvis in order to force a long, drawn out, hurt-animal noise from the little one, relishing in it. Thomas laughed through his nose as he pressed him to the wall even more, feeling his whole body against him as he raked his tongue in and around the little one’s mouth, starving for it as Alexander pressed back with his own searing tongue, lapping into Thomas.

Thomas only sneered, and all at once pulled away from the immigrant, letting his feet drop to the floor, and took a couple steps backwards. He tossed his head tossed cockily in the air as he watched.
Alexander stood for a moment, stunned, and looked at him incredulously, not quite comprehending that. And after a few seconds he flopped back against the wall, exhausted. His jaw dropped and he ran a hand through his already- tangled hair, he managed a little laugh.

“That’s a lot better than ‘polo’.” he reasoned breathlessly, letting his hand drop to his side again as he tried desperately to catch his breath after… that. His heart was hammering.
“I thought so.” Thomas smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he straightened his cravat, eyeing Alexander up and down like he was a meal.

“I take it your leg is better. Considering you just drilled me against a wall?” Alexander poked playfully, moving back towards his trunk.
“Mm.”

Thomas followed him, peeking over the little man’s shoulder to look at what he had brought. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight.

“What’s all this?” he sneered as Alexander lifted it laboriously, forcing a strained smile as he dumped it unexpectedly into Thomas’s hands.

“He- What the fuck?” Thomas growled, grappling at the leather trunk and finding a grip to hold it up with. Alex only grinned at him, brushing his own hands off in satisfaction.
“My stuff.” he stated obviously, shrugging.
Thomas shuffled it around in his arms a bit more, trying to get comfortable with the awkward weight. He grunted with effort.
“Well, what the hell did you bring, Alexander, the fucking British Empire?!” He snarled in complete disbelief at the weight, grunting. The little man shrugged once more.

“Just my clothes.” he spoke, poking at the rug with one toe and looking down at it as he did so, “...Aaaand my work. And some books.” He finished.

Thomas let out a frustrated growl. Fucking Alexander….
“You’d better be glad I’m holding a whole damn Spanish fleet right now, bitch…” he grumbled darkly, beginning to thud towards their bedroom. His partner just lit up happily, standing on his tiptoes to give him a quick kiss before they headed off.

“Love you.” He cooed genuinely.
“Yeah you’d better.” Thomas grunted as Alexander followed in his wake.

Thomas dumped the trunk onto the bed laboriously, and opened it. For the next hour, the two spread his things out and unpacked them, hanging the clothes next to Thomas’s in the armoire and arranging his toothbrush and combs and other toiletries around Thomas’s.
(“What the fuck is this?”
“Soap. Are you blind. “
“THAT is not soap, Alexander. Fucking Christ was the pig still alive when you cut a chunk out of it?”
“Hey! Give it back, asshole!”
“You’re using mine. This is disgusting.”
“Using your soap is disgusting.’
“Your main source of protein is semen, Alexander, I wouldn’t be talking.” )

After an hour of bickering and fussing, the two were finally finished, thank God.

Alexander let out a relieved sigh and flopped back onto the bed, just letting himself starfish in exhaustion.
“Going dark… I see the light… Tell my parents I love them, Thomas.” He mumbled. Thomas rolled his eyes, sitting down quaintly on the edge of the bed as Alex groaned.

“Nice performance, Shakespeare.” Thomas snorted, “And we talked about the sarcastic orphan jokes.”
“Mm… Can’t hear you…Need body warmth for revival.” He grumbled, limply snagging Thomas’s waist from behind and pulling him down to the sheets.
“Insufferable little prick…” Thomas grumbled as he went down, wrapping both his arms around Alexander’s waist and turning over to lay on top of the little one.

“No!” Alexander squirmed beneath him uselessly as Thomas smothered his neck with kisses. “I need fucking air.” He wheezed, trying not to laugh at the ticklish kissing.
“Hmmm, I don’t know, Alexander.” Thomas mumbled, deep kiss right below his ear,
“Maybe I’ll just take a nice, long nap right here, so warm and soft…” He purred cruelly but playfully to Alexander, whom he was steadily crushing with his body weight, laying his own head down on the bed and closing his eyes. He pretended to snore deeply.

Alex growled, wiggling under him.
“Fucking whale.” He sputtered, trying not to laugh at this point. He failed, “Thomas, OFF; I’m going to fucking die.” He wheezed. Thomas just hummed and planted a kiss on his forehead before finally sitting up. He grinned to himself as Alexander gasped dramatically for air, slowly rising from the bed like he’d had a near-death experience.

“You’re mean.” He pouted to Thomas, pressing against his side for a kiss. Thomas hummed and smirked.
“You want a kiss, mon jouet?” He purred, drawing close to Alex’s wide brown eyes as he leaned in.
“Yeah I fucking do.” Alex whispered, closing his eyes. Thomas laughed through his nose, and stood up regally from the bed.

Alex’s head followed his motion as he opened his eyes, immediately annoyed.
“What the fuck, Thomas?” he crossed his arms irritably as he complained, “I want your tongue.”
“And I don’t remember giving you the privilege.” Thomas straightened his cuffs, stripping off his jacket. The little man just shifted on the bed, watching Thomas shed his coat and hang it within the wardrobe.

“Are we fucking now?” Alex asked curiously, swinging his legs enthusiastically, “Can I get my collar?”

Thomas just brushed himself off aristocratically, turning back around to face Alexander. He leered in disdain.
“You’re insatiable.” He sneered, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, buddy, I haven’t cummed in five whole days. FIVE.” Alexander held up a hand to express the magnitude of that whole statement.

Thomas only snorted, “Wow, Alexander. A record for you?” He inquired lightly, heading into the bathroom to comb back his handsome dark hair and admire his reflection.
“Yeah, you bet your ass that’s a record. I used to have young boys like you at my beck and call; I never had to wait to cum before you came along.”

“Careful, Alexander….” Thomas’s muffled voice growled from the bathroom, giving him ample warning. Alex just got more aroused at the sound of Thomas being so jealous and possessive about him.

Thomas strolled out, looking as fresh as ever as he craned his neck to peer out the window. Alex looked where his partner was looking, curious.
“Alexander, love, is the sun about to set?” He asked, an odd look in his eyes. Alex cocked his head and looked out at the glass.

“Looks like it. Why?” Alex inquired, “Go get your glasses if you can’t see.”
“Mhm, you want me to get them for another reason.”
“Of course not!” Alexander gasped in sarcastic shock, as Thomas stepped closer, smiling lightly as he approached the little one sitting on the bed.
“To even assume I would use your impairment as a kink is preposterous.” He grinned widely, mischief twinkling in his eyes as Thomas stopped in front of him, standing between his knees.

“What?” Alex laughed, looking up at his partner. Thomas just looked down on him, the pure passion undisguised in his gaze. He placed a large palm on each of Alex’s thighs, pressing gently.
He sighed, “Here’s what I want you to do, Alexander.” He spoke softly and cooly, stroking his thumbs lightly over Alex’s legs, “I, of course, have something planned for tonight. Something special I made for us.”
“Us.”
“Us.” Thomas nodded and peered deep into his eyes, making Alexander blush at the sound of that on his tongue. Thomas continued.

“Now. I want you to be a good boy and get my glasses from my study and meet me out on the porch. This porch. Yes?”
“Yes.” Alexander echoed obediently, already squirming in anticipation to get up. Thomas just held him in place with his light hands, brown eyes regarding him carefully. Some moments of silence passed, Alexander so anxious to go.

“Please?” He whispered, wiggling a bit. That was what Thomas wanted to hear. The Virginian smiled sweetly at him.
“Go, mon amour.” He spoke collectedly, watching in amusement as Alexander popped up from the bed, jogging towards the study.

Already excited and curious, Alex trotted into Thomas’s study, rounding his desk to search the top of it. After a few moments, he found the glasses in the tiny top drawer and nabbed them, jogging back towards the bedroom.

He had put them on his own face, laughing as they basically fell off.
“Thomas, look.” He laughed, opening the door to the porch breathlessly. But when he stepped out there, he stopped dead in his tracks.

His breath hitched in his chest.
“Holy shit, Thomas…” he whispered, slowly bringing the glasses down from is face.

 

Thomas stood at the arched exit of the porch that led out into the forest path. Except the entire porch was… covered... in blooming, red roses. Alexander positively gaped, jaw dropping at the sight. No. Fucking. Way.

The archway towards the woods was draped in nothing but roses. And looking around Thomas, he could see that the PATH through the forest was lined all the way with roses and candles, lit up in the fading light so all that could be seen was the illuminated trail. Thomas smiled at his reaction, beckoning cooly for Alexander.

The little man stepped slowly, numbly towards him, jaw still dropped in awe as the scent of warm, burning candles and the perfume of roses engulfed them. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Thomas…” He sputtered, mouth not quite working, “did you…?”
“Yes.” He responded shortly, folding his hands in front of him. Alex stopped now, the both of them standing under the arch. He ran a hand through his own long hair.
“I mean… I saw, like, a huge gardening carriage out there, but I didn’t think you…” He breathed, smiling.

“Well, I did.” Thomas responded, gently allowing his arms to find Alexander’s hips and rest there, pulling him close. Alexander gravitated towards him, a touched look in his brown gaze, still in disbelief.

He looked down on him and sighed.
“Alexander,” He began calmly, brown eyes gazing into another set. Alex was just so… happy. There was nothing stopping him from saying it.

“I would bring you ten thousand roses every day for the rest of my life if it meant seeing this look in your eyes.” Thomas whispered, lifting a hand to tuck a lock of Alex’s hair behind his ear. Alexander’s breath hitched in his throat.
“I love you.” Thomas spoke, letting the same hand brush Alex’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Alexander leaned into the touch.

“I don’t know what to say…” Alex looked up at Thomas, “Fuck I’m gonna cry. Shit.” he laughed, tilting his head towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to hold the tears in. Thomas’s heart soared in his chest, and he laughed gently.

“Come on, my lovely little emotional disaster.” Thomas smiled, earning him a sharp elbow in the side from his partner. Thomas only chuckled and offered Alexander his hand, standing up tall like a true gentleman.

Alexander gave his hand to Thomas, grinning playfully.

The sun was below the horizon now, painting the clouds a soft pink color as some pale stars began to show their faces. The path through the woods was quiet and the light perfume-scent of roses enveloped their noses, candles flickering to light the way. It didn’t take long for Alexander to realize that they were heading to the lake.

But for the time being, he just savored the moment, the feeling of Thomas’s large hand wrapped around his. Leaning into the man he loved and just drinking it all in.

 

“Where are we going?” Alexander asked curiously after some time of silence. Their feet crunched satisfyingly on the pine needles.
Thomas just sniffed, “You’ll see.” He said simply, stroking thumb across the back of Alex’s hand. He chuckled and leaned in a bit closer, “A place where no one will hear you scream.” his deep voice whispered hotly against his ear. Alex tried not to shiver with lust.

“I really can’t tell if you’re going to fuck me or murder me.” He laughed, bumping playfully into Thomas, who hummed.
“I guess we’ll find out.” he quipped.
“Thrilled.”

Finally, the two emerged from the woods and onto the bank of the lake, walking camly along the edge. The slight breeze sent ripples across the surface, the candlelight’s reflection flickered warmly on the water.

“Glasses, Alexander.” Thomas requested, holding out a hand. Alex pulled them out of his pocket and completely ignored Thomas’s hand, hopping up a bit to place them on his face.

“There. You’re welcome.” He spoke as Thomas swatted him away, straightening the lopsided frames on his face, fussing over them. Alex just grinned and watched him, stared at him as they strolled around the edge of the lake. Thomas was peering at the little clearing that they were approaching.

“What is it, I can’t see.” Alex craned, walking on his tiptoes for a moment.
“Well, why didn’t you fucking bring YOUR glasses?” Thomas scolded.
“You didn’t remind me!” Alex justified.
“Am I your fucking babysitter?”
“Boyfriend. I vote boyfriend.”
“Mmhm.” Thomas grunted exasperatedly.

But as they approached closer and closer to the clearing, Alexander could squint and slowly make out what was going on there. For the second time today, his jaw dropped to his chest in gaping realization.

“Thomas. You did not.” He gaped, pulling his hand away from Thomas’s and heading off at an excited jog. Instead of snagging Alex’s hair and pulling him back, Thomas just watched the little one in his childlike excitement, running towards the beautiful little campsite he had made.

“No fucking way!” Alexander’s muffled voice rang out as he lowered on hands and knees and crawled into the pristine, white tent, “It’s HUGE in here!” he exclaimed, shuffling around. Thomas laughed through his nose walking carefully towards it as well.
“That’s because that’s a king bed you’re walking on.” Thomas spoke, “Shoes off.”

The rose path that led up to the tent split and wrapped around the base, creating a thick bed of blood red roses around it. Within the tent itself, the entire floor was just a soft, swan-feather bed that could easily fit four people, plump pillows or not.

A bit closer to the lake, a wide, white blanket was also spread out, an ornate basket with wine, Foccacia bread and crème brûlée carefully packed within. The wine glasses twinkled in the fading light.

“Thomas. Thomas.” Alex stuck his head out, looking like an over-excited puppy, “Come on, come in.”
“I’ve been in, Alexander. Who d’ya think set it up?”
“Ayuh been in, Alexunder. Who’d’ya thank set ‘t up?” Alex’s muffled voice mocked as Thomas sneered in offense. He rolled his eyes and reached in an arm, probing around until he found Alexander’s cravat.

“Hey- ack!” Alexander choked as Thomas yanked on it, dragging him out of the tent like a stray cat.
“Your attitude is so out of control.” He shook his head, dusting off his hands as Alexander stood up. The little man straightened his cravat while glaring at Thomas.
“Whatever.” He scoffed, earning himself a very dangerous look from those icy eyes.

“Last warning, Alexander. I suggest you take it.” He spoke frigidly, voice as even and in control as ever as he turned on a heel, crunching in the needles away from Alex.
“Hungry?” He inquired over his shoulder as he strolled cockily over to the blanket, knowing exactly what his partner wanted. Alex rolled his eyes at the aristocratic piece of shit that he absolutely adored. The man knew him far too well.

“Yes.” He grumbled in annoyance, kicking a pebble as he followed Thomas to the blanket and plopped down next to him. Well, basically on top of him, mumbling about his stupid boyfriend.
“What was that?” Thomas cooed mockingly, popping open the wine bottle with content.

Alex just nuzzled into him.
“Stupid boyfriend. Just give me wine.” Thomas laughed through his nose.
“Found a new motto?”
“Yes.”

Alex took the glass that Thomas offered him quantly, and took a deep sip, glaring at Thomas through the crystal. The Virginian only stared at him, light smile playing on his face as he looked down on his partner and swirled the glass.

“What?” Alex scoffed.
“Can’t take you seriously with the glass distorting your face like a codfish.” Thomas snickered, taking a sip of his own whilst Alexander rested his head on Thomas’s shoulder.
“I really don’t like you.”
“Ha. You wish that were true.”
Alexander sighed, looking out onto the water as if he were about to say something deep, “Nah. I’d miss the good dicking.”
Thomas snorted.

“Well.” he smiled gently, wrapping one arm around Alex’s waist and rubbing comfortingly, “I’m glad you love getting your ass destroyed. Better for me.”
“Mmph. Better for me.” Alex grunted, taking another sip and a bit out of a large piece of bread that Thomas offered, not letting him hold it though.

“When did you figure out that you’re a pain freak with a power-play fetish?” Thomas asked conversationally, taking a bite out of the bread too.

Alex scoffed, surprised. “Uh, I don’t know, when did you find out that you are a control freak with a submission kink?”

Ooh, he'd really just suddenly made a big mistake.

Alexander felt that signature low rumbling from a deep place in Thomas’s chest as he was pressed up against him. It was always a warning growl when it happened like this. A reminder of the alpha of the pack. And so fucking hot.

“Shit. How do you even do that?” Alexander looked up from Thomas’s shoulder. The man only peered down at him, hostile look in his eyes.
“Do what?” He sneered.
“That. The warning growl.” Alex mentioned casually, “You do it all the time.”

“Warning growl.” Thomas twirled the glass in his hands, considering the word carefully on his tongue for a moment and then letting a slight smirk play on his face in amusement, “Is that what you call it?”
“Is that what it is?” Alex countered.

Thomas nodded in satisfaction, “Of course, Alexander. Good that you know what your daddy wants.” He took another quaint sip, licking his lips, “However, it reflects poorly on the abundant times that you’ve ignored it.”

“Can’t help it.” Alexander shrugged innocently, grinning to himself as he ever so softly trailed a hand down Thomas’s side, gliding smoothly under his shirt. Thomas just watched him coldly as he traced his fingers lightly over Thomas’s lower belly, not flinching. Alexander was pushing his luck. He was pushing it, and Thomas was observing VERY closely exactly when Alexander crossed the line.

“Because sometimes I just simply don’t give a fuck.” He gave a little, sharp tug to that sexily masculine line of hair that trailed between Thomas’s abs on his lower belly.
The Virginian gasped, his hips bucking up just a bit in response. Alexander raised his eyebrows, parting his lips.
“Oh, you like that?” he purred.

That was the last thing he got to say before his body hit the floor with a smack.

 

Thomas had rounded on him viciously, pinning him down in one swift motion that sent Alexander’s glass shattering to the ground behind him. One hand holding his throat, he was on his hands and knees over Alexander.

Alex bared his teeth, “You broke your own fucking glass, smartass.”
Thomas used his other hand to backhand Alex across the mouth, “How dare you…” He seethed, flashing his own canines in challenge to Alexander’s.
“You have a death wish, Hamilton?” Thomas sneered, tightening his grip on Alex’s throat and making him cough.

“Come off it, you pussy.” Alex snarled squirming around under Thomas. The Virginian just stared down at him quietly with those sharp, steely eyes. There was a moment where Thomas didn’t say anything, and Alexander knew he was in trouble.

 

“Alright, Alexander.” He spoke cooly, “It’s clear that your little five day grace period has made you forget who the fuck you’re talking to.” He spat, eyes still maintaining the same composure.
“So I need you to go the fuck to the tent, and you’d better have your clothes off in thirty seconds or I’ll make it hurt more than it’s already going to.”
Thomas released him all at once, standing up smoothly and brushing himself off as if he had just touched something distasteful.

Alex laid there for a moment, coughing a bit as he slowly propped himself up and leaned back on his hands, adrenaline and exhilaration already pumping through his veins.
“You’d better be gentle on me.” Alexander smirked, biting his lip exactly how he knew Thomas liked it.

The Virginian smiled lightly, stripping off his coat and shrugging it to the ground.
“Tent, Alexander.” He spoke softly, unbuttoning his waistcoat in the most dainty and elegant manner, “And be very careful what you wish for.”

Alex stood stiffly from the ground, running his hand through his already-messy hair, trying to smooth it down. He ducked into the pretty, white tent, settling himself against some fluffy pillows as he stripped himself.

Before he was halfway done, he saw the flap move as Thomas entered as well, somehow ten times less clumsy than him.

He laughed. “That was qui-” but he was cut off as Thomas dove forward and pulled him into a deep kiss, sending his tongue snaking around Alexander’s. God… how did he learn how to do that. Gently stroking the bottom of it, he coaxed it into his own mouth.

Alexander could only hum in surprised content as Thomas crawled on top of him like he was prey, carefully untying and slipping off his pants and discarding them to the other side of the bed.
“Thomas…” Alex gasped between kisses, getting cut off as Thomas pulled his tongue back, “Mmm.” Was all he could manage as the larger man slowly pushed him down to the bed, making him lay flat on his back. Thomas followed him smoothly, devouring him on the way down with his hot tongue.

He took his sweet time with Alexander, making sure to leave a new batch of hickeys where the others had all faded.
“A reminder.” He grumbled lowly, pressing his tongue to a new bruise on the side of Alex’s neck before moving to the tender spot right between his collarbones and making another dark mark there.
“Of who you belong to.” He panted as Alex just whimpered, head falling back as he exposed himself and let the pain rock him into bliss.
“Yes…”
“You miss your daddy? Hmm?” He trailed his tongue up Alex’s throat and bit it, making Alexander whine sharply.

“Fuck!”

“I asked you a question, mon jouet.” He asked calmly, sitting back on Alex’s hips while the little one laid flat below, “Show me those good manners.” He purred, watching Alex’s chest flutter as he breathed quickly. Thomas laughed through his nose at the effect he had on his helpless partner and placed a palm on Alex’s belly.

“You miss me?” He hummed, pressing the palm in slow, deep circles on the place where heat was inevitably curling in Alexander’s belly. Alex squeaked, forcing his eyes shut. Thomas knew from earlier that this was a very sensitive spot for his partner, and there was no way he wouldn’t take advantage of it. He cocked his head, looking at Alexander emotionlessly as he took a less satisfying, more tormenting approach.

With the backs of his nails, he ever so faintly trailed them over his belly, up and down like he was a prized possession.
“Look at you… So desperate for it.” Thomas mocked, gliding his nails up Alexander’s extremely sensitive sides, ghosting over his ribs and staying there, just twirling around the bones.
“You going to beg, my little slut? Hm?” Alexander made a long, drawn out, shaky noise somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

“Please, Thomas. God…” He squirmed, trying to escape the feather-light touch. It was useless as Thomas just watched him coldly in his struggle. Alexander gritted his teeth in need, trying to grind up into Thomas, but sensing his actions, the Virginian lifted up with the same speed of his hips, just enough so that he couldn’t touch him.

“Fucking bastard. You’re sick.” Alex spat, letting his hips fall back once again as Thomas laughed cruelly through his nose.
“Watch your mouth, Alexander.” he purred, trailing his fingers now up Alex’s arms.

Locking their eyes together, Thomas slowly…. Ever so slowly trailed his hands up Alex’s arms, bringing them gradually over his head at the same pace as he dragged his pelvis heavily over Alex’s.

“Oh my god… Fuck…” Alex whimpered, flexing his jaw while he tried to deal with it. Thomas just went… SO slowly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Alexander sputtered quickly, squeezing his eyes shut as his wrists were pinned to the bed.

“Too much?” Thomas taunted, letting his face hover above Alexander’s, “Maybe I should stop for a while...” He threatened, taking one of his hands to brush some hair out of Alex’s face.
“Hmm?” he pouted condescendingly, letting his fingers brush over Alex’s lips and jaw.

“No… no, no, please,” Alex sputtered, “Don’t… I need-” he cut himself off with a choke as Thomas pressed his tip to his entrance. He was so ready, and squirmed desperately to try and push him in. His eyes shot open, staring pleadingly into Thomas’s,
“Thomas!” He breathed, unable to move himself with his arms. He just arched his back up from the bed and tried to wiggle his hips into Thomas, giving a frustrated growl when there was no effect.

“So needy and squirmy.” Thomas shook his head fondly, “Don’t you want me to open you up first?” He amused himself, lifting that one hand from Alex’s face and trailing a finger all the way down his body.

“No. No just take me, Thomas. Stop fucking with me.” He growled whilst Thomas completely ignored his begging, letting his hand dip between Alexander’s legs and ghost so torturously around his opening, teasing him.

“Stop...” Alexander choked somewhere between a sob and a whimper, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. Thomas smirked down at him and pushed two fingers in, too slowly to not be cruel, and found his prostate like it was second nature. He pressed lightly, making Alexander release a completely involuntary moan that was so loud, it echoed off the lake outside.
He panted, curling his toes and balling up the covers in his fists.

“You want to cum?” Thomas asked generously, pulling his fingers out and making Alex whimper with how empty he was. Because NOBODY was fucking touching him and he couldn’t do anything about it.
“Yes! Yes, Thomas, PLEASE.” he wiggled, letting his head fall to the bed once more, the first sob heaving out of him.

Thomas brought the hand back up to hold Alexander’s wrists, gazing down lovingly into those brown eyes.
“Okay. Look at me.” Thomas commanded, pushing the tip back against Alexander. The little one only choked another sob, so in need.
“Alexander.” Thomas spoke calmly, coaxing Alex’s eyes to his, “Look at me.” After a few moments, Alex’s drifting eyes focused on Thomas’s.

“Good.” Thomas spoke, inching his hips forward the slightest bit and pushing in. Alexander already knew that he wasn’t going to go in quickly, he had lost that privilege. Thomas stopped when the tip was in, stretching him but not giving him anything to fill up with.
Alex started to cry harder.

Thomas just watched the tears slip down his face. He was so perfect like this. So perfect…
“Do you see what you’re missing when you're a bad boy?” Thomas spoke quietly, planting a comforting kiss on Alexander’s forehead.
Alex swallowed tearfully, “Mhmm.” He whimpered, nodding.

“You have no idea how good you’re being right now. So good.” Thomas pushed in inch by torturous inch, letting Alexander feel Thomas, remember what it was to have Thomas inside of him.

The little one breathed rapidly, sides fluttering with the panting.
“Breathe, love.” Thomas spoke comfortingly, making Alexander inhale deeply and exhale a very long, shaky breath.

“There…” Thomas praised, holding still for a few seconds. He just gazed at Alexander’s concentrated face, the little one’s chest rising and falling as his watery eyes gazed right back into Thomas’s.

“I love you.” Thomas spoke cooly, still not moving. It was such a simple, and genuine statement.
Alexander nodded, swallowing again as a tear slipped down his cheek.
“Love you. Love you, Thomas.” he managed, trying to stay composed with his partner inside him but everything was all too much at one time. The punishment, the pain, the pleasure, the love. It was all there at the same time and Thomas made it all possible.

“I want you to feel me inside of you, mon jouet. I know it’s hard.” He spoke sympathetically, giving Alexander another kiss on the forehead as he whimpered, lip quivering. Thomas would be gentle. Thomas would be sweet for as long as Alexander was obedient. That was Thomas Jefferson’s golden rule. Act up, you’re getting handcuffed to a wall and fucked mercilessly, but tonight Alexander was being so goddamn sweet for his Thomas, so Thomas was being sweet for him.

Alex just closed his eyes, hard. He felt so incredibly full, Thomas’s pulsing cock was so still inside of him.

 

And then he started to move. Alexander positively MELTED below his larger counterpart, head falling to the side as his lips moved wordlessly, only letting out a pitiful moan of relief. Finally…

Thomas moved slowly at first, and then gradually sped up so that Alex wouldn’t get overwhelmed and have an unsatisfying climax. Because he would absolutely cum right then and there, but Thomas could bring him further. He knew he could, and he knew Alexander’s limits.

Alex spread his legs more, allowing for maximum friction as Thomas moved in the fastest, yet shortest fucking bursts of speed that he had ever felt. They were so short and fast, in fact, that it felt like vibrating, a deep, buzzing vibration that was taking over his entire abdomen, all of it.

His head fell from side to side as he grappled madly for the sheets, balling them up and clenching them in his fists. He squirmed on Thomas’s cock, so full and happy.
“You like that, mon amour?” Thomas purred with that fucking deep voice. He leaned in closer next to Alexander’s ear, “Tu es si bon pour ton maître, Alexander....” He purred, biting at Alex’s throat, “Aimez-vous la douleur, Hmm...?” He rumbled, “Voulez-vous que je vous fasse jouir?”

Alex’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his breathing sped up.
“Haaaahhh...Thomas... Thomas, I love you.... I love you...I ...” his eyes rolled back again, hips jerking a bit. He was close and Thomas knew it like an instinct. He continued to thrust shortly into the little one.

“Such a good boy, Alexander....” he breathed lowly, “I’m going to touch your cock now, and I want you to cum. Can you do that for me?” Thomas requested, planting a light kiss on his cheek.
The little one nodded feverishly, swallowing as more tears slipped from his eyes into his hair.
“Yes.” He sputtered, sobbing, “Please…” Was all he could whimper before Thomas let go of his wrists with one hand and trailed it down is body just brushing over the skin.

Alex breathed in short little gasps, chest heaving against the light touch.
His lip quivered as he cried, and Thomas took pity on him for behaving so well. The Virginian kept the same, buzzing pace into Alexander and wrapped a hand loosely around his rock-hard cock, letting it twitch needily in his hand before he gripped more firmly. The simple touch made Alexander wine before Thomas started deep, slow strokes, completely contrasting with what he was doing with his own cock. And it was perfect.

 

Alexander couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle it. With the vibrating feeling all up through his abdomen and the deep satisfaction on his cock, he was done for.
“Thomas!” He cried shrilly, quite unsure of what to even do with his body right now; it felt like he was in overdrive.
“Please cum… Please, please, on my face, Thomas, please!” He begged, sobbing. There was nothing that would completely push him over more than watching Thomas get his satisfaction out of him.

Thomas smirked, slamming home for the first time in the whole night, making Alexander scream at the top of his lungs. Just the sound of him was enough as Thomas pulled out, moving forward a bit while still jerking Alexander so he could cum in his mouth.

“Now, Alexander.” Thomas ordered firmly twisting his wrist on an upstroke. And that did it.
His partner let out a guttural scream as he shot all the way up to his chest, teeth baring.

Thomas watched as Alex’s back arched violently away from the bed, pulling his whole body up as he let his orgasm completely tear him to shreds, second by second.
“Haahh, haahh, haahh…” He breathed in short, shrill gasps, shivering and shuddering as Thomas jerked out the last of it, his eyes rolling into the back of his head in pure pleasure as he smiled through the tears, fucked completely silly.

The little one was completely incoherent, falling apart, but Alexander collapsed flat on his back and parted his jaws wide open, tongue out for Thomas. The sight of him opening up so subconsciously was fucking irrisistible.

“Fuck… Fuck, Alexander…” he hissed through bared teeth, letting his powerful release hit home right on Alex’s ready tongue, the little one opening wider to capture all of it as his eyes failed to focus on anything at all in his floating ecstasy.

Thomas shuddered at his own orgasm, but stayed down to earth just to be able to watch Alex. God… It was something he’d never forget.

The little one squirmed slowly, toes curling as he weakly clenched and unclenched the sheets, like he was trying to find reality but simply couldn’t cope with the pleasure. At the same time he twitched and shivered, whimpering these pitiful little happy noises as he lapped up all of Thomas’s cum.

But what REALLY got Thomas is that he was fucking taking his time.

Even though he was half delirious, he slowly opened and closed his mouth, letting the sticky substance coat his tongue and mouth. He hummed contently while he finally swallowed, opening his eyes for the first time since his climax.

He blinked them open lazily, focusing them on Thomas, who was already wiping him down gently with a clean handkerchief.
“Thomas, I can’t fucking feel my legs.” he laughed, trying to keep his eyes open. Thomas leaned in close over him and smiled.

“What?” Alexander spoke weakly, grinning.
“Give it another minute, Alexander. You take three to come down from an orgasm.”
“Do not.”

Thomas just laughed through his nose and bent to give Alexander one deep kiss on the lips before pulling away slightly.
“I can taste myself on your tongue.” Thomas rumbled, smacking his lips and wrinkling his nose as he sat up.
“That’s so fucking hot.” Alex sighed, letting his head fall back.
“No. It’s barbaric.” he snorted, moving towards the tent flap.
“Hot.”

“I’m going to get us the food, don’t move.” he grunted, opening the flap and stepping out.
“I’m not hungry.”
“What? Pigs are flying out here, Alexander, you should come see.” Thomas’s muffled voice called back.
In just a few moments, he was back again, wine bottle in hand and small glass dish in the other. Alexander had already buried himself under the blankets and pillows, naked, of course.

“What’s that?” Alexander asked curiously as Thomas crawled over to him sighing while he climbed in next to him.
“That,” he spoke matter-of-factly, “Is crème brûlée.” He enunciated perfectly, handing Alex the wine bottle while he settled in next to him. The little one immediately gravitated to him, snuggling up against his warm skin, and Thomas wrapped an arm around Alex’s back and waist, holding him tightly to his body.

The two shuffled down until they were snugly leaning against the pillow pile, Alexander’s head on Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas sighed deeply, while Alexander took a sip of the wine. He wished he could save this moment. That would be perfect.

With a tiny, silver spoon, Thomas cut into his fluffy dish and brought it to his mouth. Of course, everything he made was delicious. He was taking another spoonful when he noticed Alexander eyeing him heavily from his shoulder.
“What?” He sneered. With the look in Alex’s eye, he already knew.
“Please?”

Thomas rolled his entire head back, sighing in exasperation as he let the spoon clink into the dish.
“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You said you weren’t hungry. No.”
“Please? One bite?” he pressed closer into Thomas and leaned his head on him, giving him those big, brown, puppy eyes.
“Please?”

Thomas stared down on him. Fuck, the puppy eyes. Always the puppy eyes. He couldn’t say no to THAT; it was damn near impossible.

He groaned, picking the spoon back up and taking a piece of the dessert.
“Fine.” He grunted, “Open.”
Alexander’s eyes positively lit up with joy, opening his mouth obediently for the food and closing around the spoon. Thomas pulled it away gently and watched him closely for his expression.

It was priceless. The way he reacted to the delectable French dessert that Thomas had made himself. His eyes widened and then closed; he hummed as he savored it on his tongue.
“Wow…” Alex breathed, shaking his head a bit before returning it to its place on Thomas’s shoulder.

Thomas laughed gently, reaching to pull Alexander’s legs over his own. He couldn’t explain it, he just HAD to be closer to him, all over him all the time.
“Good as my cum or better?” Thomas joked, planting a kiss on the top of Alexander’s head.
“Oh shut up, I do not react that way to your cum.”

Thomas pulled away in shock, pausing.

“Alexander, you’re joking, right?” he scoffed. The little one just gazed up at him.
“What?”
Thomas shook his head, completely in disbelief.
“Hamilton, you orgasmed and WHILE that was happening, you played with my cum on your tongue for a whole damn minute.”
“Did not.”
“Yes you did.”
“Liar.”
“Right back at you.” Alex settled his head back on Thomas’s shoulder, nestling into his neck. The two were silent for a few moments now.

 

The sun had completely set and the woods were dark, but in the least threatening way possible. It felt warm and hidden away from the world and city life. Safe. The night air smelled freshly of the lake, and cicadas, crickets, and frogs sang their loud forest symphony.

Alexander sighed, drinking in the night… the lake. Thomas. Suddenly, he looked up at him, not even knowing what he was saying.

“Do you ever wish you could just stop time?”

 

Thomas blinked, caught off guard by the unexpectedly deep question. His immediate instinct threw up his walls, make a joke. But he coaxed them down. This is Alexander. Just Alexander.

He sighed, setting the empty dish aside. The Virginian swallowed, allowing himself to answer.
“Sometimes.” He sniffed, shrugging. Alexander went on despite Thomas’s vague answer.

“I do.” he continued, going to that place of teenager-like passion, “If I had to choose one moment to live in forever, it’d be this.” he sighed, shuffling a bit closer in his sleepiness. He yawned, pulling the covers further over them, “Definitely this.”

Thomas took the wine bottle from him and corked it firmly, setting it aside as well. He wrapped both arms around Alexander’s waist, pulling them both down to lay exhaustedly in bed.
“I agree with that.” Thomas breathed, intertwining his legs with Alex’s and pulling his whole body to lay against his, “I could live with this.”

Alex exhaled deeply, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s neck and curling his arms against Thomas’s chest. The larger Virginian enveloped him closer, tilting his head down to meet Alex’s lips tenderly.

Their kiss was long and passionate. It flowed into another kiss and then another until the two were slowly opening and closing their lips against each other, neither one rushing anything. It was slow and deep. When they were too exhausted to continue, Thomas placed his chin on top of Alex’s head, resting it there with a sigh.

Alexander closed his eyes, letting the warmth radiating from Thomas’s skin come into him. The moment was so beautiful. So… perfect.
And he was guilty.

It was so slight, but it was there. The little, tiny nagging voice reminding him that he betrayed Thomas… he betrayed Thomas with his plan. And Alex pushed it away, not letting it ruin this night. Not tonight…

 

Ten minutes of silence passed. Just the lapping of gentle waves on the bank. The frogs. The breeze rustling high in the trees.

“I know you only read Gulliver’s Travels, Thomas.” Alex whispered so quietly from within Thomas, half asleep. He didn’t even move at all to say it.

The Virginian did not respond.

 

Alexander just needed to know, “Why is that?” he persisted. And answer took a while to come.

“Because I could feel you in the pages.” He spoke evenly, and somehow... that was enough. Somehow Alexander knew exactly what he meant by those words. He sighed, curling against his lover.

“I love you, Thomas.” Alex whispered weakly, drifting off. Thomas hugged him closer, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
“I love you too.”