Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11105049.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hamilton_-_Miranda
  Relationship:
      Alexander_Hamilton/John_Laurens
  Character:
      Alexander_Hamilton, John_Laurens, Gilbert_du_Motier_Marquis_de_Lafayette,
      George_Washington, Martha_Washington, Martha_Manning, Martha_Laurens
      Ramsay, Henry_Laurens_(1723-1792), John_Parke_Custis, Martha_"Patsy"
      Parke_Custis, Henry_Laurens_Jr., James_Laurens
  Additional Tags:
      Dark_Church_AU, Forbidden_Love, Religion, Religious_Intolerance,
      Homophobia, religious_homophobia, Period-Typical_Racism, Period_Typical
      Attitudes, Smut, NSFW, First_Time, First_Love, Kissing, secrecy, Hate
      Speech, Intolerance, Secret_Relationship, Letters, Love_Letters,
      Betrayal, rape_accusations, False_Accusations, Angst_and_Hurt/Comfort,
      Emotional_Hurt, Arranged_Marriage, Broken_Promises, Broken_Engagement,
      Mutual_hurt, Infidelity, Physical_Infidelity, Running_Away, Happy_Ending
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-05 Completed: 2017-06-08 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 19679
****** His Lover ******
by CoffeeQuill
Summary
     Living in the religious town of Mount Vernon, Alex has never really
     given himself to his faith. He's had little reason to trust. He's
     never felt enlightened.
     That is until he meets John Laurens. He's handsome, smart, and sweet
     - and suddenly the pastor's hateful words hit a lot harder.
Notes
     The mood of the fic can be found by listening to 'Her Lover' by Ally
     Hills. At least, I listened to it while writing.
     Note that the fic covers the topic of false rape accusations.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
Alexander Hamilton-Washington is deeply, hopelessly in love.
It has grabbed him by the collar and will not let go. It tears through him like
a bullet at the sight of soft doe eyes. It sends butterflies to his stomach
when soft tanned skin brushes against his own. It tugs at his heartstrings when
he’s given a bright smile.
And it punches him in the gut when he’s reminded that the object of his
affections is a boy, and a Laurens at that.
He lies awake at night, his stomach twisting in knots that he can’t untie. The
wind whistles past his window and he shivers. No, sleep will not come easy
tonight. Not when he will be seeing his beloved in the morning.
He rolls over and gazes at his desk, its wood glowing in the moonlight that
shines through his window. Resting on it is a folded letter, hiding away the
neat penmanship that professes his love. That empties his heart. That sings
John’s praises, of both his looks and his endless compassion. A love letter
that will be read and then burned.
Perhaps John will answer this one.
Perhaps tomorrow they will step around the corner of the church to let their
hands roam. John will let Alex take the lead, trembling under the weight of his
unspoken desires, and rest his head on Alex’s shoulder so as to not look him in
the eye. He’ll grip the back of Alex’s coat, and both will jump at every sound.
Or they’ll go to the graveyard, stepping behind the oak tree to keep out of
sight. Their lips will touch in that familiar and Alex will ravage John’s mouth
for what it’s worth, rubbing the older boy to hardness; when he has John
whimpering for more, he’ll drop to his knees and take him in his mouth, pinning
him back against the tree until John releases. He’ll swallow the evidence and
stand, giving John another kiss before he steps out from behind the tree and
returns to the church. John will have a moment to recover before following.
They’ll walk into the church and give their guardians reassuring smiles before
joining the rest of their parish’s teenagers in the front corner, and they’ll
listen to their priest rant against the latest “sin” in the town beside theirs.
When they have a chance, Alex will brush his fingers against John’s, giving him
silent reassurance. No, they’re  not  sick. They’re  not  giving up their place
in Heaven.
Alex sighs and rolls over, gazing out the window. The trees are bare and heavy
with snow. The town’s workers will soon clear the way and it won’t be long
before the townsfolk are heading to the church, bright and early, to mingle and
talk before the service starts. They’ll trade gossip and the children will run
around to play, stopping only when their parents scold them for messing up
their Sunday best.
The street lights flicker in their boxes. Alex watches as a man in a long black
coat staggers through the snow, taking a large swig from a canteen. He wraps
his arms around himself; he may not be out in the cold, but lying here alone
without a warm body to share heat is enough to have him shiver. He tugs the
blankets up to his chin and takes a deep breath, becoming still.
He closes his eyes. In a few hours, his adopted father will knock on his door
and tell him to get up and dressed. His adopted mother will have breakfast made
downstairs and he’ll go down to eat, silent as always while Jacky rambles on
about something unimportant and Patsy argues with Martha about her dress.
Gilbert will be writing some other letter to his relatives in France or
reading. It’s a familiar Sunday routine he doesn’t care to change.
How easy to change, though. A handful of words, and everything would change.
I’m in love with John Laurens.  There would be silence, followed by the sound
of everyone putting down whatever they were holding. Maybe George would grab
him by the arm, pull him to the other room to scold him in private, his words
low and harsh - the tone he used that wasn’t yelling, but enough to instill
shame in all four children.
He sighs and rubs at his eyes. He can simply take a nap after mass, but would
be nearly falling asleep during service when he wants to relish every moment he
can beside John. Skipping was considered a sin that had to be confessed,
anyway.
He rolls onto his side, then presses himself into the mattress. If he lays
still, maybe he’ll fall asleep. Maybe the hours will tick by and he’ll be ever
closer to seeing John.
It feels like the hours have passed when he finally drifts off.
-----
The letter is tucked safely into the inside pocket of his jacket when he sits
at the kitchen table.
Jacky glances up at him before looking back down to his book, spooning porridge
into his mouth. Patsy is sitting beside him, perfectly still as she eats,
letting Martha twist her hair into a french braid. Gilbert is scribbling down a
letter in French and dips his quill in an inkpot. Alex slides into his seat
beside the Frenchman and picks up his spoon, beginning to down the porridge.
George walks in, buttoning his waistcoat. They let out a mumbled chorus of
“Good morning, Dad,” each more focused on the food before them.
“Good morning, children.” George looks at them each with a sort of pride in his
eyes before he walks to his seat at the head of the table. He sets a hand on
Jacky’s shoulder, presses a kiss to the top of Patsy’s head as Martha finishes
the bow, and slides into his seat. He gives Alex and Gilbert a nod and a smile
before he begins to eat.
Alex smiles back, then feels his stomach do a flip. If only they knew.
“Jacky,” George says as he picks up the morning’s paper. “Could you go out to
the front and see if the carriage is ready?”
Jacky nods and stands, setting a marker in his book. He turns and walks out of
the room.
“Alexander,” Martha says, making a face. “Are you going to go to church with
your hair like that?”
Alex reached a hand back to touch his locks; strands stuck out in opposite
directions from the messy braid. “I don’t have the patience, I’m afraid,” he
said in a soft tone.
“Let me do it.”
Alex eats a last spoonful of porridge before sitting still and straight.
Martha’s fingers pull the tie from his hair and begin unraveling the braid. A
brush starts to tug through the knots, and Alex lets out an involuntary whine
of pain.
“Alex,” Martha scolds, her voice stern. “When was the last time you brushed
your hair?”
Alex hesitates. “... It takes too long.”
“If you’d brush it at night and the morning, it would be as fine as Patsy’s.”
Patsy looks up and makes a proud expression, then smirks at Alex. Alex furrows
his brows, then sticks his tongue out at her.
“Alex is being mean,” Patsy says quickly, crossing her arms.
“Alex,” George mutters, his eyes scanning over an article.
“She started it.”
“Don’t start  anything,  either of you,” Martha says sternly, beginning Alex’s
braid. “Your little spats are not as amusing to the rest of us as they are to
you two.”
Alex and Patsy share a look and an eyeroll.  Adults.
Jacky walks back into the room, his arms behind his back. “The carriage is
ready now, Dad,” he says. “Are we to leave now?”
“In a few minutes, Jack. You can put your coats on now.”
Patsy, Jacky and Gilbert are off to get their jackets and Alex waits until
Martha has finished the braid before following. He pulls on the thick black
coat and buttons it, then glances out at the snow. He can imagine now John’s
lips, pale in the cold, his cheeks flushed with red and snowflakes littered
across his dark eyelashes. The freckles that splay across his skin, like stars
in the sky, and the perfect curl of his hair.
“Alex?” Gilbert is looking at him, a frown on his face. “You’re staring.”
Alex looks up, then blinks and rolls his shoulders. “Sorry. Daydreaming.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. Just… I’d like to go see my friends.”
In just minutes Martha and George join them and soon they’re climbing into the
carriage. Alex, Gilbert and Jacky take one side and George and Martha sit on
the other, Patsy snug between them with her head on Martha’s shoulder. Alex
smoothes down the front of his coat, taking a deep breath as he does.
Oh, how he longs to see his Laurens.
------
The front yard of the church is teeming with townsfolk. Children are being held
by the arm by their parents, gazing at the snow longingly, and a group of
teenagers are huddled together, speaking quietly. Another group of adults are
laughing, and everyone is dressed in their best.
Alex is scanning the crowd the moment he steps out of the carriage, the letter
feeling heavy in the pocket of his jacket. With two feet on the ground, he
begins walking towards his peers without a word to his family, anxiousness
rushing through his veins. He reaches the group and mutters a response when
they greet him, looking for familiar curls and freckles-
A hand presses against the back of his shoulder, the touch fleeting as it
disappears in seconds. Alex spins around and gazes into dark eyes, an abyss he
can never explore-
“Alexander,” John says, his voice soft and affectionate. “I’ve been waiting.”
“John.” Alex gives him a nod, every muscle in his body itching to embrace the
man. He gives a brief bite to his bottom lip. “I need to give you something.”
“Behind the church?” John whispers.
Alex nods. “We have time.” He turns and walks off, slipping through the crowd
with ease.
He stops behind the church, standing by the cellar doors. The footprints will
be easy to destroy, he knows; the snow surrounding the church has been mostly
cleared, and there’s previous foot traffic, so some stomping will clear the
fresh tracks.
His eyes fall to the doors, and he frowns, noticing that the lock is open and
hanging off a handle. He walks to it and crouches down, about to pull a door
open-
“This is too dangerous, Alex.”
Alex turns quickly to look up at John, who has his arms wrapped tight around
himself. “The cellar is open,” he says, before pulling a door open. He sets a
foot on the steps and John is immediately behind him.
The cellar is dark, the rising sun too low to cast light inside. Alex winces
when he bumps into a table and curses when he hits a metal shelf; he begins to
feel around the shelves, and stops when his hand hits the familiar surface of a
wax candle. With a fumbling hand he pulls a box of matches from his pocket; he
strikes it and in the small glow, lights the candle. He takes the holder and
turns around.
John’s face is illuminated in the small glow, anxiety and restlessness evident
in his expression. “We shouldn’t be down here,” he whispers.
They’re standing by the wall, and Alex sets the candle down on the table beside
them. “They won’t catch us. I have to give you something.”
“I do, too.”
Alex looks at John in surprise, then opens his coat and pulls the envelope from
his pocket. John does the same and they exchange the envelopes.
The weight and thickness of the envelope makes Alex’s brows furrow. “What did
you put in here?”
“All the responses I wrote and never had the courage to give you.” John licks
his lips, slipping the envelope inside his jacket before he slides his hands in
his coat pockets. “... I can’t stand seeing you only once a week.”
“I know the feeling,” Alex says. He gazes at John, then slips the envelope into
his pocket and cups the boy’s cheek before kissing him.
John’s hands are on his waist in an instant, pulling him close. Their bodies
press together with no space left between and Alex digs a hand into John’s neat
ponytail, giving a harsh tug as a whine escapes his throat-
“No, sweetheart.” John pushes him back, and there’s a split moment where Alex
fears John will turn and leave him, but his pupils are blown and there’s such
lust  behind it that Alex’s knees nearly give. “No evidence.  None.”
“John,” Alex whimpers.
“I know. I  know.  Lord above, Alex, I want you so mu-”
“I want you inside me.” Alex grabs John’s wrists, pulling them to his chest.
“Like that time at the lake. I want you so  bad,  John, I need you to make me
yours,  right now-”
John pulls his wrists from Alex’s grip. “Are you insane? We’re standing under
the  church , Alex.”
“I don’t care. You know I don’t care.”
“I do. It’s bad enough that - that we’re doing this in the first place, but on
holy ground-”
“John, please-”
“I can’t sodomize you and then go listen to that man condemn us! I can’t do it,
Alex. The time at the lake was different.”
“Different how?”
“We were alone. We weren’t under a church.” John cups Alex’s cheek with his
hand and presses a kiss to the other. “You know I want nothing more than to
feel you again, but not like this.”
“When, then?” It comes out as a whimper and Alex grips John’s jacket lapels.
“When will you take me again?”
John gazes at him, the light of the candle flickering across his features, then
puts a hand over one of Alex’s. “Tuesday night,” he says. “My family is going
to stay at my aunt and uncle’s, on the island. They come back Thursday morning.
I’ll fake ill and stay home.”
“A whole day?” Alex whispers.
“A whole day, if you can get away from your family for that long.”
“I’ll say whatever I have to.” Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck before
pressing a deep kiss to his lips.
John pulls him close again, returning the kiss. Their lips move together
smoothly before John takes a step forward - and Alex steps with him, his back
hitting the stone wall. “I wish you could be mine,” John mutters against his
lips. “Mine to hold and love…”
“I am yours.”
“Not truly. I want to run away with you, and never look back.”
It’s by far the boldest thing John has said to him and Alex stares up at him.
“John,” he whispers.
“I know it’s not possible. But it’s all I want in this world. We could go
north, and pose as brothers, and…” John takes a shaky breath. “I hate it here.”
“I do, too.”
“I’ve packed before. All the essentials, clothes, ready to run from here.” John
gives him another kiss, his lips inches from Alex’s. “I never had the courage.
Could never convince myself to leave.”
“I’d go with you,” Alex whispers. “In a heartbeat. Anywhere in the world, if we
can be together.”
John runs his hands up Alex’s sides. “You have a family. They love you.”
“So do you.”
“My father is trying to push me to marry a girl. He wants grandchildren and he
reckons I should be courting by now. My mother thought so, before she passed.”
John presses a soft kiss to Alex’s neck. “... I can’t fulfill their wishes and
have a happy life. I’ll never be able to give myself fully to a woman. Only a
boy, Alex, and of them only  you.”
Alex stares up at John. Never have they been so open, in both words and
affection. “I love you,” he whispers, gripping John’s jacket. “I love you so
damn much and it  hurts  when I’m not with you. When we have to wait a week.
Say the word and I’ll pack to leave  tonight.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Alex. Your family needs you here-”
“My family can and will fill whatever hole I leave behind. They brought me into
their home and for that I am forever grateful, but they are  not  my true
family.” He looks up at John. “... I like it when you’re like this.”
John blinks at him. “Like what?”
“You’re holding me against a wall. Talking about running away. Sounding serious
about it. This is you, John, not some church boy that can’t think past the
gospels like your father wants you to be.”
“Alex,” John whispers.
“I’m serious, John. I’ll leave with you. Whatever it takes to be happy, I’ll do
it.”
John shakes his head, grip tightening on Alex’s waist. “No… no. I shouldn’t
have brought it up.”
“We need to do something. Would you rather keep doing this same song and dance
until you’re eventually forced into a marriage? Until George finally does it
with me?”
“No. I can’t give you up.”
“I can’t either.” Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck.
John looks down at him, then presses him further into the wall, catching his
lips in a deep kiss. “I love you,” he whispers, and stops Alex’s response with
another kiss.
Alex tightens his arms, letting John just  hold  him. It feels surreal, like a
dream that’s become real. John’s lips move to his neck and he leans his head
back, skin tingling at soft kisses pressed to the right spots. John’s hands
roam over his hips and thighs, one hand sliding beneath his shirt to touch his
skin-
Alex gasps and presses back against the wall. “C-Cold, John-”
“It’ll warm. I want to feel you.”
Alex shudders. “I told you, you can have me now…”
“Wednesday, Alex. I can have you in my bed all day on Wednesday.” John kisses
him again, slow and sweet.
Alex relaxes into his arms as they exchange several more kisses. John holds him
against his chest,
Voices, faint but audible, approach the cellar doors and they both freeze. John
pushes himself back from the wall and backs up three steps, and Alex grabs the
candle off the shelf.
The doors pull open as the voices laugh and Jacky appears on the steps, his arm
slung around the waist of a girl Alex recognizes as Eleanor Calvert, Jacky’s
intended. “A quick time before church, my love?” Jacky whispers, a charming
smirk on his face.
Eleanor giggles. “I’d love that, Jacky.”
“I thought we all had signed a contract for abstinence before marriage, Jacky,”
Alex says, straightening up. “Does it not apply to either of you?”
Jacky and Eleanor look up with wide eyes. “Alex,” Jacky says, visibly pale.
“Laurens - what are you doing here?”
“A conversation out of the cold,” John says, voice stiff with authority. “And
you?”
Jacky pulls Eleanor closer. “None of your business, Laurens.”
“You’ve made your business obvious, Jack,” Alex says.
Jacky’s eyes narrow at him. “You won’t speak a word of this to Father, Alex.”
“Please,” Eleanor whispers.
Alex puts a hand up in surrender. “I don’t care whose virtue you’ve soiled,
Jacky. We were leaving anyway.” He glances at John and feels the same
disappointment in John’s eyes that they’ve lost a private space.
He blows out the candle and sets it back on the shelf, then walks to the
stairs, climbing up. The bright sky is blinding at first but his eyes adjust
and he looks around at the white snow, stretching on for miles. Jacky and
Eleanor’s rushed whispers fade away in the wind.
A hand sets on his back and he looks back at John. “Wednesday,” John murmurs.
“If you need an excuse, I’m helping you with Spanish.”
“Kiss me again,” Alex whispers.
John glances around but wraps his arms around Alex in a tight bear hug from
behind. Alex turns his head to the side and their lips meet in a deep kiss.
It only lasts a few seconds before John pulls away and steps back. “You go
first,” he whispers.
“Wednesday,” Alex murmurs, giving John a smile before he turns and walks off.
He feels giddy and free, his heart soaring among the clouds, knowing that he’ll
get to spend a day with his lover without fear of being caught. They’ll have
all day to lay in bed and kiss all they want, like they just did in the cellar.
Far away from-
“How long have you and Laurens been sneaking off with each other?”
Alex freezes and looks up at the man standing ahead of him, leaning against the
wall of the church. “Gil,” he forces out. “Did you - you see?”
“That kiss? I did.” Gilbert has a smirk on his face, arms crossed. It’s more
amusement than any sort of malicious intent. “Both your father and Henry
Laurens asked me to find you two. Thought you’d be in the same place.”
Alex stares at him, his heart racing. “Gil, what you saw-”
“-Is none of my business.” Gilbert puts one hand up. “You’re a brother to me,
Alex. Laurens seems a good man, and you know my feelings towards your
religion.”
Alex lets out the breath he’s been holding. “ Thank you,  Gil. Thank you.”
“I have to give you credit for being discreet. Well,” he shrugs, “except for
that kiss you just had. But I would not have suspected you two.”
“Good,” Alex whispers, and he presses a hand to his chest to feel his pulse
slowing. “If George found out…”
“He’d tell Henry, and you and John would have to run. I’d like to avoid that.”
Gilbert sticks his hands in his pockets and glances around at the glistening
snow. “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”
“I have no intentions,” Alex says. “Thank you, again.”
They exchanged nods and Alex walks past, returning to the crowd of townsfolk. A
few people have begun to filter into the church and Alex slips through the
crowd, looking for the rest of his adopted family, and within a minute he
manages to find George and Martha.
“Alex,” George says, looking at him with a faint smile. “Where did you and John
go?”
“Back of the church,” Alex says. “Less noise. We were discussing school and
John offered to help me with Spanish on Wednesday.”
“That’s kind of him,” Martha says, a smile on her face. “It is not your best
subject at the moment.”
Alex nods and looks around, his heartbeat finally returning to normal. Out of
the corner of his eye he can see Henry Laurens, a hand resting on James’
shoulder, as John steps between James and their sister Martha. John looks back
and their eyes meet, and a flutter runs through Alex’s chest. His lips are
still swollen and tingling from their kisses and his entire body  aches  to
feel John’s hands on him again, pushing him back against a wall,  touching
him.
“Have you seen Jacky, Alex?” George asks, as Gilbert appears at Alex’s side.
“He left to find Eleanor, but he hasn’t come back yet.”
“No,” Alex murmurs, glancing at Gilbert. “Haven’t…”
John’s talking with his father and doesn’t look back at Alex, as much as Alex
silently begs him to. Alex looks up and follows when George and Martha walk to
the church, and John’s letter feels heavy in his pocket.
-------
He’s clutching the pages when he knocks on the Laurens mansion door.
John opens the door almost immediately and grabs Alex’s hand, pulling him
inside. He shuts the door and pushes Alex against it, their lips locking with
tongues meeting in the middle. John pulls Alex’s coat off and tosses it in the
direction of the coat rack, only for it to sprawl out on the floor.
Alex grips John’s shirt and pushes him back, gasping for breath. “John,” he
says. “Is it-”
“My family’s gone and the servants are on the other side of the house. We’re
alone.” John pulls Alex against him by the waist, giving him another rough
kiss. “...  Fuck,  Alex, I need you in my bed.”
“Language,” Alex whispers with a grin, earning a huff from John. “Show me the
way.”
John grabs Alex’s hand and turns on his heel, walking to the staircase that is
much  too grand, in Alex’s opinion. It leads to an open space with several
possible directions and John walks them down a wide hallway. Multiple paintings
of the family members are hanging here, and Alex can’t help but gape at John’s,
the artist making him look regal and confident.
“Don’t look at that,” John mutters. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You look wonderful in it.” Alex smiles and tugs at his hand. “Rather
attractive.”
“You flatter me.”
John stops in front of a door and pushes it open. The bedroom Alex steps into
is spacious and elegant; a crackling fireplace is across from the king-sized
bed and the walls are cream-colored with swirling designs across them. The tops
of the walls slowly darken and transform into the beginnings of a night sky,
and Alex’s gaze travels to the black ceiling, littered with stars. “John,” he
whispered. “This is… beautiful.”
“My father doesn’t like it,” John says, shutting the door behind Alex. “He
thinks it’s too distracting.”
Alex looks to a desk standing beneath a window, covered in several sketches and
papers. It draws his attention to the papers still in his hand and he turns to
John with them, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “John.”
John looks at him. “Yes?”
“Your letters. They’re....”
“Too much?” John looks at him with the slightest hint of nerves. “I’m not a
poet like you…”
“No, they’re beautiful. And the drawings… I didn’t realize how talented you are
with portraits.” He pulls out a sketch of himself, and it seems as if every
detail has been added down to the hair. “I don’t think my letters and sonnets
are anything compared to these.”
“Your sonnets are breathtaking, Alex. Your writing ability far exceeds any
talent I may have with art.” John pulls the papers from Alex’s hands and sets
them on his dresser. “Now, we have a whole day together, and I’d like to get
started sooner rather than later.”
Alex smiles and pulls off his light jacket, tossing it aside before he slips
out of his boots. When John doesn’t move, he pouts. “Am I the only one to
undress?”
John smirks and leans back against the wall. “Perhaps.”
Alex narrows his eyes, then unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off his shoulders.
He drops it to the floor, then unties his trousers before he pushes them down
and steps out of them. Standing in only undershorts, he crosses his arms. “Now
you.”
John’s gaze looks him up and down and he licks his lips before he unbuttons his
own shirt. He lets it fall, then unties his trousers and pulls them down. He
doesn’t let Alex get a word in before he closes the distance between them,
pressing a kiss to his lips.
Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck, digging his fingers into the curls that
fall loose. “I need you,” he whispers when their lips part. He tugs at John’s
hair, making John’s arms wrap tight around his waist. “Please.”
John presses open-mouthed kisses to Alex’s neck, then gives a gentle bite,
tongue flicking across the skin. He turns them both and walks them back until
Alex hits the wall, and he takes Alex’s hands and pins them above his head,
their fingers intertwining. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and
arousing. “You don’t realize the things I want to do to you.”
Alex widens his stance and pushes his hips out, his undershorts quickly
becoming too tight. “A-Are those things appropriate for a Laurens boy to do to
another man?”
“Is it appropriate for a Washington boy to be near naked in my bedroom,
practically begging me to sodomize him?” John growls, pressing his hips against
Alex’s. “I think not.”
“John,”  Alex whimpers, struggling to grind himself against John properly.
“Please, hurry  up.”
“Quiet, Alex, or I’ll have you orgasm by yourself,” John snaps. He lets Alex’s
hands fall and instead pulls him to the bed by his waist. The curtains
surrounding the bed are pulled open and Alex is quick to climb on.
“Do you have lube?” Alex asks, placing himself in the middle of the pillows.
John leans over to grab a bottle of clear liquid off his bedside table, then
shifts to pull the curtains shut, leaving only the end facing the fire open for
light. He turns back to Alex. “Take those off.”
Alex doesn’t need to be told twice before pulling his undershorts off. He makes
a soft whine and spreads his legs as the cool air hits his erection, one hand
lazily grasping himself and rubbing.
John tugs his own shorts off and licks his lips, his thick cock dripping with
precum. “Damn you, Alex,” he mutters before he opens the bottle of oil, pouring
some onto his fingers. He kneels between Alex’s legs and presses one oiled-
slicked finger against his hole, “Relax.”
Alex obeys, and his body takes it in so easily it’s  breathtaking.  He squirms
to take it deeper, muscles clamping down, and John pushes in another finger.
His hole flutters prettily around the intrusion and Alex’s moan goes straight
to John’s cock. He presses in a third finger and the way Alex squirms pull a
moan from his own lips.
“Alex,” John whispers, drawing Alex’s attention. “I haven’t… done anything, to
release, in a week.”
Alex stares at him for a moment, then nods, grasping his cock. “I’m all yours,
John. However you want.”
John digs his teeth into his lip, then spreads his fingers and leans forward to
kiss Alex, their tongues meeting. Alex pulls him closer and widens his legs,
gasping against his lips when John’s fingers pull out abruptly. “John,” he
whimpers.
“Shh.” John grabs the bottle and pours oil into his palm, then applies it to
his aching cock. Satisfied it’s enough, he grasps himself and presses the head
against Alex’s fluttering hole, pushing inside as slow and gentle as he can.
Alex moans and arches his back, “J-John -  fuck!  Fuck..”
“Language,” John mutters, and he gives Alex a grin before he begins to thrust.
He grasps Alex’s thighs and pulls them over his own legs, keeping Alex at a
downwards angle, and he sets a rough pace.
Alex whimpers and wraps his legs around John’s waist, reaching back to grab the
headboard. “Harder,” he begs, gasping. “John, pl-please, don’t be gen-”
He’s cut off as John drives into that sweet spot inside him and lets out a
squeal, gripping the headboard tighter with sweaty hands. He arches his back
and curls his toes, then cries out as John hits the spot again. He gasps for
breath and throws his arms around John’s shoulders, pulling him close for
leverage. “Fuck, fuck, don’t  stop…”
John pants, burying his face against Alex’s neck as he snaps his hips in
rhythm. He’s too close too early, and he wants this to last before he spills
his load inside Alex. His thrusts slow and he groans, every muscle in his body
straining for orgasm, and he forces himself to a halt.
Alex struggles to draw in breath, staring up at John. “Wh-What - why -  John!”
“I’m close,” John grunts, sliding an arm beneath Alex’s back to hold him. “Damn
it, Hamilton, you’re going to kill me…”
“John,  please,”  Alex whimpers. He shoves a hand between them to grasp his
cock, rubbing with desperation. “I need - fuck!” He closes his eyes tightly,
moaning.
John lets out his own moan and begins a slow pace of thrusts, pulling Alex into
a long and deep kiss. Alex’s muscles clench up and John gasps into his mouth,
picking up the pace. When they pull apart, they’re both panting, and John’s
thrusts are as forceful as before.
The headboard knocks against the wall with each pump of his hips and Alex
loves  it, moaning loud and squeaking with every hit. John is  perfect,
pulling out nearly the whole way before he thrusts back in and hits Alex’s
prostate with the perfect amount of force. He wants to be claimed, he wants to
be dominated, he wants to be John’s and unapologetically so.
He digs his fingers into the mattress for a hold and tightens his legs around
John’s waist.  “Come,  John,” he begs, his breathing shaky. “Please. Please. I
want to feel you.”
John gasps and moans, then grabs the headboard with one hand and starts to jerk
Alex off with the other. “You first,” he grunts, his hand moving quickly. He
gives another hard thrust straight into Alex’s prostate.
Alex comes undone in just seconds, keening as sticky white fluid spurts across
his belly. He squirms and curls his toes, shuddering under the intense pleasure
of the orgasm. John lets out a chain of curses before he slams deep into Alex,
holding himself there as his climax washes over him. After a few moments, they
fall limp next to each other, panting.
Alex stares up at the ceiling, chest heaving to catch his breath. “I - Oh -
Laurens.”  He rolls over and buries his face in John’s loose curls, feeling
wonderfully sore. “That was… a-amazing.”
John turns to look at him, a pleased smile on his face. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“Of course not.” Alex gives him a long kiss, their lips moving together
smoothly before they part. He presses close and John pulls the blanket up to
cover them both. Their legs intertwine and they kiss again, Alex relaxing into
John’s arms. The room is nice and warm, the fire giving it a gentle glow, and
the light dances across their skin from a distance.
John presses a kiss to Alex’s jaw, arms wrapping around him. “I dreamed of
having you here,” he murmurs, running a thumb over his cheek. “So perfect.”
Alex can’t help but blush, leaning his head against John’s shoulder as he began
to trace the curve of his muscles with his finger. “I would not call myself
perfect.”
“And that is what makes you perfect to me. The fact that you’re perfectly
imperfect.” John’s gaze is both adoring and invasive, making Alex squirm. “If
this is the only time I can have you in my bed, I’ll enjoy it.”
“I want you in mine,” Alex whispers. “I want  you.  I want you without the
reputations and danger and the religion. This town makes me feel like I’m
slowly dying and only you make me feel alive.”
“Poetic as always, Alex,” John says, and he presses a kiss to Alex’s cheek.
“Put that in your next letter.”
“I don’t want letters. I want to be able to say it when I please.” Alex runs
his fingers over John’s abs, firm and muscular compared to his own. “I want to
touch you when I please.”
“In a perfect reality, one of us would be a woman for the other to court and
marry.” John rubs his arm gently. “We’re not as lucky as Jacky and Eleanor.”
“Why can’t we have that?” Alex asks, limp and submissive under John’s touch. He
can feel John’s seed begin to drip from his hole, and he presses closer. “That
happiness? That freedom?”
John cups his cheek in his hand, a smile on his face. “I like to think it’s
because our love is worth fighting for. They have it too  easy.”
“Who’s the poet now?” Alex mumbles, closing his eyes. He tilts his head back
and relaxes as John noses at his hair, beginning to whisper sweet nothings and
vows of love by his ear.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     The day after.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
His bed is cold and empty. The fire seems to have no effect on the room and the
stars on his ceiling are a little less dazzling. Waking up beside Alexander
after a nap had been a dream come true and now it has slipped away from him,
heading off into the snow like Alex did several hours ago. Hours ago? It was
last night. Now it was morning.
His family will be home soon. He can’t march up to the Mount Vernon estate and
demand that Alex come home with him. Too daring, too much of a red flag that
something else is going on, no matter how much he wants to do it. Won’t have
the time.
He sighs and rolls over, gazing at the spot where Alex had slept. He reaches
out and touches the space, but it’s cold and empty. He sighs and closes his
eyes, replaying the memories again and again in his head. Alex’s soft skin
against his own. His pupils blown wide with pleasure. His dark locks fanned out
across the pillow and his legs spread to let John inside him. Alex gives him
everything,  would cut off a finger without question if John asked. What kind
of lover is John to not give as much in return? To hesitate again and again
when giving himself to Alex? Alex was so  ready  to run away with him, to ditch
his family and flee.
Two timid knocks at his door draw him out of his reverie. “What is it?” he
demands, more harshly than he intends.
“Master John, sir,” comes the nervous voice of a female servant. “Your family
has just pulled up in the carriage.”
John opens his eyes and sits up with a grumble. “I will be right there.” He
sits up and pushes a bed curtain back before he stands and walks to the door.
He reaches for the handle, then stops himself. He turns and walks to his
closet, grabbing a waistcoat. His father dislikes seeing him in only his sleep
clothes, so he may as well look like he was out of bed.
He pulls on a blue waistcoat and a pair of socks, then walks to the door and
steps out of the room. He glances down each end of the hallway, then walks
towards the main staircase. He can hear the front door creaking open, his
father’s voice and the giggling of his younger siblings. “John!” His father
calls, and John can’t help but flinch.
“I told him you you’ve come home, sir,” says the female servant who knocked on
his door. “He should be down in a moment.”
“I’m here,” John calls, coming to the balcony overlooking the foyer.
Six faces look up at him; his father is pulling off his snowy overcoat, handing
it to another servant. Martha is holding Harry’s hand and holding Polly on her
hip, ever being the big sister. James is standing by their father, gripping the
hem of his under jacket.
“Jacky!” Harry shouts, and he runs to the stairs with James quick to follow.
John only makes it to the first landing before both boys slam into him and he
stumbles to keep from falling, one hand lashing out to grab at the railing.
“Boys,” their father calls in a stern voice. “Leave John be.”
Harry pouts and his shoulders drop, but James pays no mind. “Up!” he demands,
holding his arms out to John.
John is strong enough that James isn’t heavy, and James loves to take advantage
of it. John can’t deny him and he bends down to lift James up, setting him on
his hip with two arms supporting him. “How long until you stop making me carry
you?” he asks with a smile. “Harry stopped being carried when  he  was seven.”
“Never,” James says with a grin, even as Harry puffs up with pride. “Never
ever.”
John follows Henry down the stairs and goes to Martha, pressing a kiss to her
cheek. Before he can get a word to her, Polly squeals and reaches for him with
grabby hands. “Macky! Macky!”
“She still won’t say it right,” Martha says, letting out a giggle.
John grins, setting James down despite the boy’s protests, and carefully takes
Polly from Martha’s arms. “Hey, what’re you calling me Macky for? That’s not my
name. You mean  Jacky.”
“Macky!” Polly kicks her feet and giggles, looking up at him. She and Martha
are near mirror images of their late mother, takes all her facial features
while each Laurens child has her bouncing brown curls. John smiles and smoothes
a few ringlets back, admiring the likeness.
“John.” Their father’s voice draws their attention as soon as he says it. “I
need to talk to you, now.”
John shares a glance with Martha before gently placing Polly on the floor. “I
will be right back,” he mutters, turning to follow the older Henry through a
doorway to the sitting room.
“Mary, would you make us some tea?” Henry asks. The female servant, Mary, nods
and quickly leaves the room. “Sit down, John.”
John sits on the white couch, laying back against the cushions. He crosses his
legs, ignoring the way Henry raises an eyebrow at the position. “What is it?”
“John, have you considered anyone in this town for a courtship?”
John tenses, then forces himself to relax. He knew Henry would eventually sit
him down for this talk, and he’s put at least some thought to worming his way
out of it. “I haven’t really, no. No woman has grabbed my attention.”
“I was afraid so.” Henry sighs. “You’re getting older, John. Some your age have
children by now. You need to start a courtship.”
“How can I start one when no one has caught my eye?”
“I was discussing this with your aunt and uncle, and they believe there are
young women on the island you may take a liking to.” Henry sinks into an
armchair. “There are some wealthy bachelorettes for you to choose-”
“I’m really not interested in a relationship right now, Father. I’ve been more
focused on art and science than trying to find someone, and I don’t want to
marry for the sake of marriage. That would be against God’s will.”
“It would,” Henry agrees, his voice becoming quiet. “But I would suggest,
Jacky, that you set art and science aside for a time, and find yourself a good
wife. People in the town may start to  wonder  about you.”
John tenses, and he knows exactly what Henry means.  “Wonder  about me.”
“Men who don’t take wives by now… you know how they tend to turn out. I  know
that’s not how you behave, my boy, but other families would be happy to spread
such rumors about the Laurens heir if it discredits our name. Few others are
blessed enough to hold the wealth we do.”
John frowns and looks down to see he’s dug his fingers into the cushions.
“That’s… that won’t happen.” The mere idea is enough to have his stomach
twisting into knots. If the townspeople suspected him of being homosexual, he
and Alex couldn’t allow themselves to be seen alone together. They would be
forced to distance themselves, to save them both from discovery. Alex would be
torn.  He can’t let it come to that.
Some of the single women in town are attractive and good-looking, and there are
a few John wouldn’t mind faking interest in. None compare to his Alexander, but
he would only have to present himself as  interested  in women. Flirt openly,
make a few advances, maybe kiss a girl. Mention to the other boys their age
that none of the young women really stood out to him as a mate. When the adults
ask about his interests, tell them he’s been looking for the right one. If he
can do it right, he and Alex will be safe from suspicions.
“Jack?”
John looks up at his father and blinks, realizing he spaced out. “I - um, yes.
I was just thinking. Did you say something?”
Henry gives him an exasperated look. “I  said,  do you suppose you would have
better luck in South Carolina?”
John frowns. “You mean… go back to Charleston to find a wife?”
“You say none of the women here attract you. Perhaps a South Carolinian woman
is more your taste, rather than Virginian. I’m beginning to think it is time to
move back, anyway, as your mother wished to do.”
John stares at Henry, but before he can speak, Mary walks in with a tray. She
sets it down on the table between John and Henry and carefully pours two cups
for them.
“Thank you, Mary,” Henry mutters, taking his. John reaches for his cup and
takes a teaspoon, putting two spoonfuls of sugar in the tea before stirring it.
The words play again and again in his head, like a punch to the gut.  Leave
Virginia. Back to Charleston. Marriage. A wife he could never really love.
Abandoning Alexander Hamilton.
Letters aren’t enough, Alex said. It’s more true than John realized.
“I have to disagree, Father,” he says, before taking a sip of tea. “I have no
desire to return to Charleston. I prefer it here.”
Henry looks at him with an expression of surprise. “You prefer Mount Vernon to
Charleston?”
“I do,” he says. “I have friends here I would miss dearly. There’s a feeling of
community that does not exist in Charleston. James and Polly may not mind the
move, being so young, but I believe Henry and Martha would dislike it.”
“Hm.” Henry sips his tea again and looks into the cup. “If you do not find
someone by the spring, then, I should like to send you to Charleston yourself.”
“By  spring?”  Spring was two months away. “Father, to find a woman here in
that amount of time…”
“I don’t wish to rush you in affairs of the heart, my boy, but you understand
the cruciality of reputation. You are my heir, and you need a son to be yours.
I can’t imagine you having trouble in finding a woman willing to marry you.”
No, he would not have trouble. Several of the young women in the town have
already made their interest known. He’s pulled his hands from theirs, stepped
away when they press against him. He really could go to the town square and ask
the prettiest young woman there to marry him, and he’d most likely be
successful. He often wonders if it is because of his good looks or his father’s
money.
They all pale in comparison to Alex. Handsome Alex, perfect Alex, smart Alex,
who can never put  Laurens  in his name, who will never touch a coin of John’s
family fortune and loves him anyway. Alex, who insists he is  James and Rachel
Hamilton’s son  and no one else’s, even when the rest of the world forces
Washington  on him. How can John ever find someone who would genuinely love him
for who he is, the way Alex does?
“I will try, Father,” he says, his voice quiet.
Henry nods and leans back in his chair. “So, what is it you did all of
yesterday?”
------
When he steps back in his room, the conversation is weighing heavy on his
shoulders. He pulls off the waistcoat and takes a deep breath, staring up at
the ceiling.
People in the town may begin to wonder about you.
He closes his eyes.  What if he’s right?  a voice in his head wonders.  What if
they already are wondering? What if they’ve seen you? You’re putting Alex at
risk. You have to protect him.
“I don’t care for women,” John whispers in response. “How can I do this?”
Stay away from Alex. Flirt with the ladies like you flirt with him. Be seen.
He buries his face in his hands and groans. His body feels hot with both
anxiety and shame. He’s answering his own questions and he knows exactly what
he has to do, but he imagines Alex’s face, heartbroken and betrayed. It makes
his chest ache. How can he hurt Alex like this? Push him aside to save his own
reputation?
Not just his own, he reminds himself. Alex’s reputation. Possibly their lives.
So how will he approach Alex about it? Alex will insist there is another way.
He’ll want to run away together, maybe to New York. He’ll threaten to go alone,
knowing John would give in. Would he give in?
Absolutely.
He walks to his bed and slumps into it, burying his face in the pillow. He’s
smart. He’s rich. He should be able to come up with a plan that works, but his
mind is drawing a blank. His thoughts are jumbled and nonsensical, unable to
hold onto a single one long enough to understand. He lays motionless, anxiety
bubbling in his gut and expanding in his chest.
He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but the fire in his fireplace has died
down to glowing embers. He hears his door swing open but doesn’t acknowledge it
until James’s weight hits the bed.
“Jacky!” James whines, stretching out beside John. “Harry’s being mean. He
won’t play with me.”
“Why not?” John grumbles, turning his head just enough so his voice isn’t
muffled by the pillow.
“He wants a  nap,”  James says, disgust in his voice. “And naps are  awful.
You have to play with me!”
“I want a nap, too, Jemmy.” It’s easier to sleep and forget his problems. Push
away all thoughts of marriage and secrets. Dream of holding Alex in his arms,
pressing kisses to his cheek, to his neck. Grinding their hips together, Alex
soon dropping to his knees, his mouth warm and eager-
His body stirs in interest and he pushes those thoughts away. They’re sinful
enough; even more so if he gets an erection with his little brother beside him.
“Not you too!” James cries, and he grips a small handful of John’s shirt before
tugging at it. “I want someone to play with me! Everyone wants to  sleep.”
“You’ll get older, Jemmy,” John mumbles. “You’ll like naps then. Why don’t you
ask Father if he will play with you?”
James pouts. “Daddy never wants to play with me. He says it’s on you and Martha
and Harry to play.”
John sighs. “I don’t want to play right now, Jem.”
James becomes quiet, and instead he pulls at John’s arm until he can squirm
underneath, snuggling against John’s side. He buries his face into the pillow
beside John’s, sniffling, and he curls into the older boy before becoming
still. The dying fire lets out a pop and the room becomes silent.
John takes slow, deep breaths in and out through his nose. Slowly, his problems
melt away. Marriage slowly leaves his mind. His anxiety and stress follows
hand-in-hand. It’s replaced by Alex’s face, smiling and warm, looking back at
him with equal love in his eyes. He hears James’ soft breathing as he drifts
off to sleep, and John soon follows.
-----
New snow has fallen and it lays thick over the town like a heavy blanket. It
took two days to clear the town square; that Sunday’s mass was forcibly
cancelled and the townsfolk read the day’s verses at home with their family.
It’s been a week since Alex and John spent the day together.
Alex takes a swig of whiskey. He and Gilbert are sitting on barrels of apples
outside the bakery, flasks in hand. Residents are bustling around to restock on
supplies from the shops, and across the way, a flock of young women whisper and
giggle while sparing glances towards Alex and Gilbert.
“Beauties, they are,” Gilbert says with a sigh before taking a mouthful of
whiskey. He swallows. “The shining hair, full lips…”
“They are rather exquisite,” Alex mutters. He glances down at the snow. The
attention from women usually has him puffed up with pride, a one-liner rolling
off his tongue to make them giggle and blush. It seems today he has no stomach
for showing off.
Gilbert glances at him. “I suppose they are nothing to your Laurens.”
Alex looks back at him in surprise. It’s the first time Gilbert has mentioned
what happened he witnessed. “I would choose John over them every time,” he says
softly, and his heart feels light as he says it. “And I think he would choose
me.”
“Who would choose you?”
Alex looks up to see John standing by the corner, leaning against it with hands
in his pockets. “Hey,” he says softly, and John’s smile is enough to melt the
snow. “I’ve missed you.”
John’s eyes drift to Gilbert and his smile drops, his posture turning stiff.
“It’s okay,” Alex says quickly, sitting up straighter. “He knows. He saw us
kiss. It’s okay.”
“He  saw us-”
“Put your claws away, Laurens,” Gilbert says, giving a lazy wave of his hand.
“I care not to spoil what you and Alexander have.”
“... You’re  okay  with it.” John lets himself take a step closer and lets his
fingers brush against Alex’s thigh, giving the lightest touch. Alex catches his
hand and squeezes before letting it drop.
“Love is love, in my opinion. You are not hurting him, nor is he hurting you.
Your little church doesn’t-”
“My father  owns  that little church, thank you,” John snaps.
“John,” Alex says softly, a frown on his face. “Why are you upset?”
John glances at him and there’s something else in his expression; something
like anxiety or fear. It disappears before Alex can identify it, and he crosses
his arms. “I’m not upset.”
“You’re snapping at Gil for no reason.” Alex licks his dry lips, then stands,
his boots crunching in the snow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” John mutters, and he turns away. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No.” Alex reaches out and grabs John’s wrist. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
John looks at him and pulls his hand away, glancing around warily. A moment
passes, and his shoulders slump in defeat. “Come with me,” he mutters. “We have
to talk.”
They walk to the back of the bakery where they’re alone. John takes Alex’s
hands in his; they’re gloved and warm, and it’s a sharp reminder that Alex left
his own gloves at home. He runs circles over the back of Alex’s hands with his
thumbs, then squeezes. “My father sat me down to talk, the morning after you
left,” he says, and the stress is in his voice. “About courtship. Finding a
wife.”
Alex tenses, staring up at John.
“He fears that if I don’t start something now, people here will start
suspecting me of  this.”  He squeezes Alex’s hands again. “Loving a man. He
does not want that to affect our family name and… he’s given me a sort of
ultimatum. I have until the spring to find a woman here I want to marry, and if
I cannot, he will send me back to Charleston to stay with family and look there
for a wife. He believes I really should be having children by now.”
“Back to Charleston?” Alex whispers, and an ache begins in his chest. “No. You
can’t go back.  No.”
“I don’t want to. I don’t want a wife, I don’t want children with one. Damn it,
Alex, I want  you.”
“Then what are you doing to do?” Alex asks, looking up at him. “If he’s forcing
you to make this decision - what are you going to do?”
“I have to do something.” John lets Alex’s hands fall from his, shoving them in
his pockets. “... If I just show the interest, maybe you’ll be safe. I can’t
put you in danger.”
“I don’t care about  me,  John. What about  you?  He wants you to get married
and father children, and you have  no  interest in women.”
“I’ll have to suffer through it,” John whispers. “I’ll find a woman I can
tolerate. Maybe it would not be so bad.”
“Jack,” Alex says. “How can you- you said yourself, you would never be happy!
If you marry a woman,  we’ll  be done.”
“And if I marry a woman, no one will suspect me of being homosexual, and you’ll
be safe by extension. If I’m suspected, and they see me spend so much time with
you-” John stops and takes a deep breath. “I don’t have a choice.”
Alex opens his mouth to argue, but he shuts it. His chest feels hot, his hands
sweaty despite the wind, and he takes a deep and shaky breath. “So - So we have
limited time together. You’re leaving me.”
“I…” John looks at the snow between them. “I’m not leaving you. Not… now.”
“Not now.” Alex looks down. His heart’s been torn from his chest and it feels
hollow inside. His stomach twists into tight knots. “Was Wednesday the last
time?”
“Two months, Alex. I have two months to give my father an answer.” John steps
closer and cups his cheek. “Wednesday doesn’t have to be the last time. I love
you so damn much and I will have you as long as I can. I don’t  want  to do
this, Alexander, but-”
“It will protect us.” Alex’s voice is bitter, and he clenches his fists, anger
welling up beside the heartbreak. “But in two months I’ll have to see some
strange woman on your arm or not see you at all. I only tolerate the damn
masses because I get to see  you,  I get to touch you, feel like you  love me.
God, John, you’re the only person in this world I can genuinely say I love and
care about!”
John stares at him, and Alex can plainly see the guilt in his eyes. He takes a
shaky breath and looks at the wall of the bakery. “We knew this was going to
happen,” he says, his tone soft. “Why are we surprised?”
Alex stares up at him and swallows back the lump in his throat. “I don’t know,”
he whispers. “I - John - All I know in this world is that I love you and I want
you to be  mine.”
John looks at him for a moment, then sets a hand on his waist before giving him
a kiss. “I love you so much, Alex. And I would do  anything  to make you mine.
You are the most important thing I have in my life.”
“We can make the most of it,” Alex says, putting a hand over John’s. Gears
begin to turn in his head and he looks at John’s lips, aching to be kissed
again. “Make a deal.”
“What deal?” John furrows his brows at him.
Alex can’t help but smile. “You know how no one really follows the abstinence
rule. The adults just want it kept quiet so their children seem as God-fearing
as they should be.”
“... Right.”
“And every single one of those women would jump into bed with a handsome rich
boy like you.”
“Alex…?”
Alex licks his lips. “Flirt with whoever you want. Kiss them however you want.
But until your wedding, your bed is for me and me  only.”
John opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Alex smiles and kisses his cheek.
“Deal?”
“If it makes you happy,” John murmurs. “... How close to my wedding will this
deal run?”
“Hm.” Alex smiles. “Perhaps the night before.”
“The night before I say my vows?” John lets out a breath. “Lord Above, you’re a
sinner.”
“And I’m yours, John Laurens.” Alex kisses him gently, his heart soaring. “When
can I come over again?”
John can’t help a smile and Alex is relieved to see it. He knows that John is
being forced to choose, and he’s going along to protect him from the
consequences. It still leaves a hole in his chest but he can’t be mad at John
for this. No, John has done nothing wrong. John has adored him and touched him
and made love to him, drowned him in pleasure and perfect drawings. John gives
him so much. What kind of lover would Alex be, to be cross with him for
something he can’t control?
And he’s right. They’ve known all along that this would not last.
“... Tonight, if you’d like.” Alex looks up at him in surprise and John smiles.
“After you have supper, come under my window. I know where the servants keep a
rope ladder for renovations.”
“How long will I have with you?”
“You could stay the night. I always lock my door, so no one could disturb us.”
John glances around before stepping back. “I need to hold you again without
needing to look over my shoulder.”
Alex nods slowly, then smiles. “Two weeks ago, you were so paranoid about being
discovered. You would not even write back to me.”
“I’m not the only one with heretic influence,” John mutters, glancing back
towards the corner.
Alex crosses his arms. “Are you calling me a heretic? Because I am  perfectly
religious, John Laurens. I just believe that the Roman Empire was a very long
time ago and we need to update the way we do things.”
“You hate going to church. And you spend time with Gilbert the most, out of
everyone in this town, and he does not believe.”
Alex shrugs. “It’s not like he lets everyone  know  he doesn’t believe.” He
looks at John’s lips and licks his own. “I suppose running away is still not an
option to you.”
“Alex.” John frowns. “You’re still thinking about that?”
“Why are you so against it? We could go to New York and avoid all this marriage
stuff entirely. Take new names and be together. Please, John, you said yourself
you thought of doing it!”
“If we run away together, they will figure it out.”
“If we run away together, they won’t be able to do anything about it. We’ll be
hundreds of miles away.” Alex crosses his arms. “Would you rather give up our
relationship than do something to be happy?”
John shakes his head and looks at him. “I’m not running away with you, Alex. I
can’t do that to my family, to my brothers and sisters. I am not you.”
Alex falls silent. There is nothing to say back. What could there possibly be
to say?
“Come over after dinner. I’ll leave the ladder out for you.” John’s gaze feels
colder, more irritation than love. “Stop thinking about running away. I’m not
going to do it.”
Then why did you bring it up?  Alex wants to ask, but he looks at the snow,
staying quiet. He doesn’t try to stop John from turning and walking away.
Chapter End Notes
     Check me out on tumblr! @Coffee-Quill
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     The engagement.
Chapter Notes
     I have to apologize in advance.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Her name is Martha Manning and it doesn’t take long for her to capture the
hearts of Mount Vernon.
Her father, William, is a business partner of Henry Laurens and the Mannings
move to Virginia for business dealings. Martha is an elegant and confident
young woman, holding her head high and always standing out with brightly
colored gowns. It takes no more than a few weeks for her to gain a circle of
friends and a long line of suitors.
John Laurens is at the front of that line before they even meet.
“She is not as awful as you may think,” John tells him. “She’s a smart girl and
sweet, too. My father wants her as my wife and I wouldn’t mind her over
others.”
It takes all of Alex’s willpower to not scream. It takes everything he has to
not throw himself on John in the middle of the church courtyard, claim him
there, growl that no girl no matter how pretty or charming had the right to
pull them apart.
He stays quiet. He keeps his mouth shut and smiles at John, kisses him when the
time is right and keeps his feelings inside. John will understand his emotions,
will comfort him and reassure him that his bed belongs to Alex until he’s bound
to another, but Alex doesn’t voice it. John will feel guilty, whisper that he
doesn’t want this and is doing it to protect them both. Neither of them need
the guilt.
He watches, with Gilbert by his side, as John and Martha stroll through the
town square, arm in arm. They talk and laugh and John  genuinely enjoys  her
company. Gilbert has to pull him away.
Two weeks after meeting, John and Martha begin courting. Another two weeks
later, Martha is wearing an engagement ring.
------
They collapse on the bed, panting as they come down from their orgasms. John
slips out of Alex and pulls him close to his chest, nosing at his neck
affectionately.
Alex relaxes in his hold, comfy and sated. He gazes up at John, then reaches up
to trace the line of his jaw with a finger before they kiss softly. They trade
several slow kisses until they rest in each other’s arms, calmed down.
“You’re amazing,” John murmurs, holding him close.
“So are you,” Alex says softly, before pressing a kiss to his neck. “You said I
can stay the night?”
“My brothers won’t disturb us, and my father and Manning are leaving on a trip
in the morning. We’ll be fine.”
“And you don’t have anywhere to be with your fiancée?” Alex asks, allowing just
a bit of bitterness to slip into his tone.
John’s arms tighten around him and he kisses his hair. “... No plans. You
should meet her, Alex. She really  is  a charming girl.”
Alex shakes his head, curling up. “You know I would rather not.”
John kisses him, slow and gentle. “I know you don’t like this, love. You don’t
have to speak it to make your feelings obvious.”
“You never said I have to meet the girl who is taking you from me,” Alex says.
“I never did. But it would have been her or another girl, Alex, and at least
with Martha I can stay in Mount Vernon.” John rolls on top of him, looking down
with a smile. “I’m putting off the date as long as I can. I have been telling
my father I want to finish my law studies before I marry.”
“How much time does that give you?” Alex asks, a frown coming over his
features.
“To the end of summer, at least. I’m pushing for Christmas. Martha wishes for
spring.” John kisses his hair. “You know I will always be yours in spirit, dear
boy. Martha will be my wife in name only.”
Alex wraps his arms around John, closing his eyes. “I’d rather her not be your
wife at all,” he murmurs, nuzzling his neck. “I’d rather be your husband. I’d
rather be the one with your name.”
“It is not legal, Alex, or surely I would make you mine. The affection I feel
for Martha is that of a friend, and you will always be my beloved.”
“Will she know that? Or will she spend decades believing you do love her?”
“I would not have her know it,” John says. “I don’t wish her to suffer as I
will. Nor our children, if when we are to have them.”
“Children,”  Alex groans. “Lord, John, you’ll have to have  children  with her-
”
“A son is all I need to have my father off my back.” John squeezes him,
pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’ve talked about this, Alexander. We don’t
have another option.”
“Let me be bitter,” Alex grumbles.
John smiles and begins to pepper kisses along Alex’s neck, trailing down to his
shoulder. “Bitter is not a good look on you, my love.” He pushes Alex onto his
back, then kneels between his legs, bending down to kiss circles around Alex’s
navel.
Alex sighs, letting himself go limp beneath John’s ministrations. “A wedding
band would not look good on you, darling.”
“There’s a choice in one of those two things,” John murmurs. “I can only stall
the time for my wedding, not stop it entirely.”
“Would you simply let me complain, regardless of what can or cannot be done
about it?”
“What benefit will that give you?” John runs his fingers over Alex’s thighs,
nails scratching just so. Alex takes a deep breath. “It would be good for both
of us if you were to enjoy the time we have together. I am doing what I can.”
“I know.” Alex gazes at him through half-lidded eyes, bare skin warmed by the
fire. He reaches down to thread his fingers in John’s curls and tugs gently.
“You’ll always hold my heart, John Laurens.”
John smiles and tugs at his wrist, pressing a kiss to Alex’s palm. “My heart
has always been yours, Alexander Hamilton. It always will be.”
Alex bites his lip. “You’re the only one who calls me Hamilton.”
“It is your name, is it not?” John’s grin matches Alex’s. “You are who you say
you are. Though you won’t say it, I know you to be a sweet, intelligent boy who
has run off with my heart. I find I do not mind your theft at all.”
Alex wraps his legs around John, ankles locking at his back. “I put that in a
letter. You flatter me,” he whispers.
John kisses him. “You said it better.”
“You say it just fine.”
John smiles, then crawls up and kisses Alex, slow and deep. Their mouths move
together, tongues meeting. Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck and curls
around him, utterly submissive beneath him. He lets out a soft moan as kisses
trail down his neck.
“I’d marry you if I had the choice,” John murmurs, holding him tighter. “I’d
propose to you tomorrow, on your birthday. Give you the best ring money can buy
and take you to my bed, love you until you cannot scream my name any more. Love
you until our wedding day.”
Alex whimpers, his body stirring in absolute interest. “Hamilton or Laurens?”
he pants.
John’s hand comes to his cock, gently stroking him back to hardness. “Laurens,”
he murmurs. “I want to give you my name. I want to give you everything I have.
All of it, yours.”
Alex presses as close to John as he can, letting out a soft moan. Tomorrow the
sun will rise and he will be seventeen years old, and tomorrow he will wake in
the arms of the one person he truly loves. John promises him gifts and
affection, and Alex never wants to leave John’s soft downy bed. Outside their
fortress of bedding, the world is cold, and Alex huddles closer to stay warm.
------
Alex doesn’t stand with John during church anymore. John stands with his
brothers and Martha is beside him, their hands clasped or arms hooked in a
chaste yet public display of their engagement. Alex does not go with their
peers, but stays between Gilbert and Jacky. From behind, he watches John and
Martha with envy brewing in his gut. When Gilbert’s hand brushes his own, he
realizes he’s gripping the pew with enough force that his knuckles are white.
Jacky gives him a strange look.
One particular day, the minister pauses before the departing prayer, and sets
the bible aside. He looks at the crowd in silence for a few moments.
“My good people,” he begins with a sigh in his voice. “The bible, the book of
God, stands firm on issues of our day. It states  clearly  that a man lying
with another man is a sin worthy of hell.”
Alex looks up. Another homophobic rant - he supposes he should have expected
it, after going weeks without one. But this feels different. Sounds different.
His mouth and throat feel dry and his palms begin to sweat. He grips the bench
harder and glances at Gilbert, who frowns at him.
“A friend of mine in the neighboring town - a priest - has told me of the
issues he struggles to keep under control. Teenagers, who engage in intercourse
without restraint, and young women who hand away their virginity with no regard
for their future husbands. But, as he tells me, the worst of it is the
homosexuality that these townsfolk seem to turn a blind eye to. Men committing
sin with each other in disgusting, inhuman ways, and try to call it  love.”
His voice is full of revulsion.
Is his vision getting blurry? It’s too hot. His heart is beating in his chest,
every word like a shot of electricity through his chest. Gilbert is saying his
name but he doesn’t respond. He feels light-headed, throat dry, he can’t
breathe-
“Two men  cannot  love each other as lovers do, it is not-”
His body hits the floor but he barely feels it. He reaches for something,
anything, to pull himself back up, but only succeeds in dropping music books on
top of himself. Gilbert is crouched over him, taking his hand, repeating his
name again and again. Jacky is just behind him, a concerned expression on his
face. Then Gilbert is being pushed away and George is there, speaking softly to
him.
He can’t hear anything. The last thing he sees is John’s face, leaning over him
with concern, before his vision blackens.
------
He wakes in his bed.
He can hear voices as he slowly opens his eyes and he stares up at the ceiling,
listening to them talk. It’s unintelligible at first but he can pick out
Gilbert’s voice, then John’s - whispering, talking softly.
“It is awfully suspicious to them, is it not?” John is saying. “That he faints
while the priest speaks against homosexuality?”
“It has been getting hot in the church, with spring coming,” Gilbert says.
“They will believe him if he says as such.”
“You know Alex isn’t a fainter. I’ve never seen him faint before.”
“We will have him fake sickness. Nothing major, but enough of an explanation.”
Alex sits up, rubbing at his eyes. He yawns, then looks up at the two of them.
Gilbert is lounging in his window seat while John leans against his bookcase.
They both look at him with concern and Gilbert stands, “Alex?”
“I fainted?” he asks softly, taking a deep breath before stretching.
“On the church floor, yes. We brought you home.” John walks over and sits
beside him on the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
Alex leans against him, closing his eyes. “Awful timing…”
“I do not think anyone finds it suspicious,” Gilbert says, shooting a look
towards John. “Everyone was more concerned for your health than anything. If
you play the card of sickness, you should be absolutely fine.”
John nuzzles his neck, holding him close. “You scared me,” he murmurs. “I
thought you were hurt.”
“I feel awful,” Alex grumbles, relaxing in his arms.
Gilbert walks to the door and opens it, leaning out to look in the hallway,
before he steps back in. “Father Warren came with us, to check on you. Everyone
is down in the sitting room.”
Alex scowls, coming up to hold onto John’s arm.  “Why?”
“You fainted in the church, Alex, during mass. I despise Warren, but he  is
still a priest.” John kisses his temple. “I would be surprised if he expressed
no concern for you.”
“I suppose I have to see him.”
“They say to let you rest. I’m to tell them when you’ve awoken.”
As GIlbert walks out, John presses Alex down into the bed, pressing soft kisses
to his lips. “You’re feverish,” he murmurs, a hand pressing against Alex’s
forehead.
Alex smiles slightly - he’ll admit that his stomach feels off and his muscles
are sore, but under John’s loving touch it hardly matters. He wraps his arms
around John’s neck and presses close, sniffling. “... You make me sick with
love.”
This is dangerous, he knows. Too dangerous. They don’t have the protection of
bed curtains and a locked door is too suspicious if John’s presence is known.
The sitting room is nearby and the walls are not as thick as those of the
Laurens mansion. One moment of bad timing and someone could come in, see
exactly what they are doing, and it will be over. All over. Their
relationships, their social status, maybe their lives.
“Quit being poetic.” John’s tongue flicks against his neck before beginning to
suck a love mark. “Your mouth is too talented.”
“I think it’s talented for things other than speaking,” he says breathily, and
John’s erection presses against his leg at the words.
“Please,” John moans.
Screw being careful.
Alex slips out from under him and rolls onto his front as John lays on his
back. He kneels between John’s legs and unties his belt, licking his lips at
the sight of John’s tented trousers - he pulls his trousers and undershorts
down. John’s cock fills out with blood, a gentle rosy color. He leans forward
and takes the head into his mouth, sucking gently.
John lets out a whine and shifts his hips. “Alex-”
Alex takes John into his throat with one go.
John’s hands come to his hair immediately, tugging as John’s hips buck.  “Fuck,
Alex, so - so  hot  -”
Alex takes a deep breath before he begins to bob his head, looking up at John
through his lashes. His gag reflex has long since disappeared and his throat
can instead take John with ease. He pulls every trick he knows - swirls his
tongue just right, hollows his cheeks and drags up slowly, fondles John’s balls
in his hand until he has John gasping and flushed.
He’s damn pretty when he’s like this. Loose curls framing his face, cheeks pink
and blushing, that wild look of lust; he pulls Alex’s hair to take more of his
cock, take all of him, and Alex is more than happy to oblige. He takes John
deep into his throat and hollows his cheeks, groaning when his hair is tugged
again. How can pain be such a turn-on?
“Alex,” John gasps. “Alex, I’m - fuck it - I’m almost…”
He’s almost disappointed that John is so close so early. After a moment of
thought, he pulls back - ignoring John’s whine - and unbuckles his belt before
tugging his own trousers and undershorts off. He kicks them aside, then crawls
overtop of John; he sticks two fingers in his mouth to wet them, then gives
himself brief stretching before he sinks down on John’s cock.
John lets out a string of swears. “Alex, Lord, you’re so damn tight, I - fuck -
“
“Language,” Alex mutters, and he can’t help but moan as he settles on John’s
cock. He takes a deep breath, then begins to grind himself down. John stretches
him out, making him whimper and groan in pleasure.
John rolls his hips up into him, then growls and flips them over in one move;
he pins Alex beneath him and kisses his neck as he begins to thrust. Alex lets
out a gasp and hooks his legs over John’s hips, aching to be loved and cared
for. “John, John, please, oh God-”
The door swings open. Footsteps, the jingle of teacups. “Alexander, sweetheart,
did you want some-”
Their heads snap up just as the servant drops the tray - the teapot and cups
shatter with the drop, and Alex can’t help but flinch. Martha and the servant
stand in the doorway, staring at them with horrified expressions.
He stops breathing. It’s like a noose has been looped around his throat and he
can’t breathe no matter how hard he struggles. The heat of arousal is replaced
with the lava of shame and guilt and he shoves John off him, sitting up.
“Mother, I - it’s - we’re - “ He struggles to form a sentence, pulling the
blanket over his lap. Tears threaten to form in his eyes and he blinks them
away, shaking instead.
“Mrs. Washington,” John says quickly, redressing himself as the servant begins
to pick up the shattered cups. “I can explai-”
“Go,” Martha snarls, such venom in her voice that they both flinch. “Get  out
of my house, Laurens!”
John doesn’t hesitate. He pulls on his boots, then hurries to the door and
slips out. Alex still can hardly breathe and every instinct screams for him to
call John back, to be held and cuddled, but he doesn’t dare. Instead he grabs
his trousers, pulling them on.
“How long?” Martha demands. Her gaze is so full of fury, disgust, shame - shame
because of  him,  he realizes - and Alex nearly cowers. “How long has that boy
been  sodomizing  you, Alex?”
“I-” He curses himself, struggling to come up with any sort of sentence. His
throat seems to close up and he only shakes his head. “D-Don’t say anything.
Please.  Please.”
Martha scowls, then turns and storms out with the servant hurrying to follow.
He’s shaking. Shaking badly and he can’t stop.  They know they know they know
they know  repeats again and again in his mind and the hot stone of guilt and
shame is too much.
He turns and throws up onto the floor.
He collapses on the mattress and digs his fingers into the sheets, letting out
a sob. They’ll throw him out with hateful words, disgusted at having a
homosexual in their home. They would regret adopting him and tell him as such.
He’d have to go north - this is the south and killing men like him isn’t
unheard of. He would have to steal his own horse and ride for New York. New
Jersey. Anywhere that isn’t Virginia.
With a twisting stomach, he rolls over and stares up at the ceiling, aching to
see John’s stars. He pulls a pillow into his arms and squeezes it, too spent to
hold back his tears. It’s over. It’s all over. If God is truly forgiving, maybe
John will be safe in his engagement. Maybe he and Martha will marry quickly and
they can move into their own home elsewhere, somewhere safe.
How to make a new life for himself? He won’t have money. No contacts, no home,
and he hasn’t worked in years. No John to keep his bed warm and comfort him. No
Martha to make sure he is eating. Alone, all alone in New York City-
Hands on his arms, tugging at him, his name being said. He blinks before
looking up at Gilbert, who is pulling him to sit up. “... What?” he whispers.
“He forced you.”
Alex stares at him. “What... are you talking about?”
“John. He forced you into sodomy. It has been happening for months and you were
not willing to risk saying anything, for fear of not being believed.” Gilbert
takes his hands, squeezing. “George and Martha are furious, and  that  is what
you tell them.”
It takes him a few seconds to even realize what Gilbert is telling him and he
shakes his head, pulling his hands back. “No.  No.  John never - he would never
- “
“Never rape you? They do not  know that.  You, John and I are the only ones in
this world who know what is going on between you two, and no one else. They are
going to assume that you both were willing participants and  that  is what will
ruin you.” Gilbert glances towards the door. “You tell them he forced you. Play
the victim. It is that or jail, Alex. Possibly death, considering the religious
beliefs in this town.”
“If I - If I accuse John of such a thing - what happens to him?” Alex demands.
“To do that would hurt him so bad that - he would  hate me  for it.”
“Not if he understands why you have to do it,” Gilbert says. “Henry Laurens
didn’t witness you both in the act. He will never believe it. He will protect
John through any accusations, and one of assault? More protecting. More
disbelief, on his end, that John would ever do such a thing. Accusing him
protects  you.”
“How do you know they will believe me in the first place?”
“Why would they no-” Gilbert cuts himself off at the sound of footsteps, then
takes Alex’s wrist. “Start crying. You have to do it.”
Alex takes a deep breath. His stomach is doing somersaults and he may throw up
again, but the fear in his chest overrules the other emotions. He thinks of
Rachel, the day he knew her to be dead, the day he became an orphan-
It’s replaced by Martha’s face. Angry, disgusted. The tears are more real than
he intended, but he buries his face in Gilbert’s shoulder just as his door
opens and he lets out a sob. Out of the corner of his eye he can see George and
Martha, Jacky behind them.
“Alexander.” George’s voice is almost chillingly calm. “We need to talk.”
Alex doesn’t move. He clings tighter to Gilbert - every fiber of him wants to
stay here. He wants to be comforted by his brother, wants John to come back to
him. He wants to be held and loved and adored, be worshipped by John’s hands
and lips. “Tell them,” Gilbert whispers, but Alex shakes his head, just
slightly. “Alex.  Tell them.”
George and Martha are looking at him expectantly, bottled anger behind their
looks. He has to answer, he knows, now that Gilbert has put him on the spot. He
imagines John’s face, heartbroken and betrayed, horrified that Alex would ever
accuse him of such a thing. Would he ever touch Alex again? Too angry, too
hurt, to stand being near him again? Would he forget Alex as best he could,
happy to marry his fiancee if it means cutting Alex out?
He squeezes his eyes shut. A sob escapes. He can’t do it, he knows, he can’t
bring himself to-
“John forced him,” Gilbert says.
“What?”  George and Martha demand at the same time.
You idiot why would you say it John didn’t force me I don’t want this I’d
rather be jailed I hate you I hate this why can’t we just be together John will
never love me again-
“Alex,” George says, drawing Alex out of his jumbled thoughts. He’s gripping
the handle of the door. “Is this true?”
He trembles. The hole’s been dug and he may as well lie in it.  It’s the only
way. John has his father’s protection. You need protection, too.
“Yes,” he whispers. He swallows, then nods. “He… He did.”
He doesn’t notice George leaving. He doesn’t notice Martha’s hand on his back
as she murmurs words of comfort. He lets himself cry instead.  It will be okay,
Gilbert murmurs in his ear.  I promise. You have to trust me.  But it feels as
though he can’t trust himself.
------
The next morning, it storms. Fitting.
Alex stays in his room, refusing to step out of bed. He stares out his window
and at the muddy ground, curled up in a ball. Servants bring him breakfast -
eggs and toast, cooked the way he likes them. Patsy tries to coax him out, then
begs him, but he barely pays her any attention. Martha brings him tea, sits in
his rocking chair, but he doesn’t speak to her. His heart aches too bad.
Gilbert comes by around the afternoon. “You can’t stay in bed all day,  mon
frère,”  he says in a joking tone, setting his hand on Alex’s arm.
“Leave me alone,” Alex mutters. “You started it.”
Gilbert frowns. “Would you rather be arrested? Disowned? I  promise  you, Alex,
I have a plan. I didn’t throw that idea at you without one.”
“What plan?” Alex snaps, turning to glare at him. “You  forced  me to say it.
What  plan  could you have that doesn’t end in John hating me?”
"You go north,” Gilbert says, crossing his arms. “George and Henry are already
clashing over this. They will be  distracted  whilst trying to protect their
family names. While they are so busy proving the other wrong and sinful, you
and John take horses and ride north. New York, or Connecticut. Boston sounds
lovely.”
“John doesn’t want to run away,” Alex snaps. “I’ve tried to convince him. He
gets irritated when I bring it up to him, as if - as if  he  didn’t mention it
first!”
“Convince him, brother,” Gilbert said sternly. “If he loves you, he will do it.
He won’t be able to stay, either way. I am absolutely certain this entire town
will side with you.”
Alex stares at him. “What do you mean by that?”
Gilbert smiles. “John is handsome and rich, but you have your own charm.
Everyone is fond of you, more so than John.”
“... You’ll make him a pariah.”
“Quit thinking so much about  now,  Alex. You run with this story until you and
John have the chance to flee. Think about the future, and the life you can live
with him.”
“Will he want one with me?” Alex snaps, sitting up. “After I ruin his name and
brand him as a criminal? There are  no guarantees  in your plan, and I wish you
had given me some damn time to make a decision!”
“There was  no  time, Alex. I did not  plan  for this to happen. It was spur of
the moment - what would you have done otherwise? Confessed to your sins? You
would go to jail at best. As adored as you are, there are some who would still
kill a man like you - you would be beaten to death at worst. Do you not  see,
Alex? There was no other option. There  is  no other option.”
Alex stares at him, then looks back towards the window, glaring at the ground.
The self-loathing stirs in his chest, a storm of anguish and regret. “I would
rather have taken the beating,” he says. “John never hurt me. He never would.”
Gilbert doesn't respond.
Chapter End Notes
     Check me out on tumblr! @coffee-quill
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Impulsive boys.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
You hold my heart in a manner that no one of this world has before and while I
should demand my heart back, I find I do not mind your theft in the slightest.
John glares at the perfect cursive, gripping the paper in his hand. “You
fucking liar,” he snaps, tearing it in half. He folds the papers together, then
rips them again and again until it is too small to tear anymore. He throws the
tiny pieces into the fire, eyes shining with tears that reflect the light.
- long for your touch at night, when my bed is lonely and cold without a second
body to warm it. My dear Laurens, if the laws of this land didn’t keep you from
my arms, I would-
He tore it apart, directly down the line. “I  believed  you,” he snaps. He
crumbles the pieces and tosses them in the fire, then takes a long swig of the
whiskey sitting beside him. The pages of Alex’s letters are scattered around
him, creased and ripped. “I gave up my  beliefs  for you, and you-”
His hands tremble. He doesn’t trust himself to walk, doesn’t trust himself to
step outside his room. Henry shouldn’t be surprised that John knows where the
whiskey is kept - it’s hard to not know the secrets of the house you live in -
but seeing John drunk would earn himself a tongue lashing he doesn’t want.
Doesn’t need.
He glares at the fire as if the burning embers hold the explanation he so
desperately wants. He turns and grabs the folded letter by his feet, its edges
crisp and blackened from being nearly thrown in the fire with the rest of the
papers. He shouldn’t keep reading it - it only fuels his anger further - but he
can’t stop himself.
It is by Alexander’s word that what Martha witnessed was sexual assault, and
that he was forcibly sodomized by John Laurens.
It would not be as painful if it was George Washington himself casting the
accusation. It would hurt less if it were coming from another mouth than
Alex’s. But it is the boy he loves who accuses him of rape, of violating him
and  hurting him-
He doesn’t want to feel anything. Everything is jumbled and confusing. He feels
sick and lonely and the alcohol chases away the anxiety. He gulps down more
whiskey and it burns his throat but it feels good - so fucking good compared to
the pain in his chest. How can Alex claim to love him when he accuses John of
rape?
He crumples the letter into a ball and throws it into the fireplace before
slamming his hands on the ground, relishing the sting that shoots across his
palms. He lets out a sob, collapsing on the rug. He wants Alex to hold him,
kiss him and reassure him that it’s all okay, but God if Alex were here John
would punch him across face without hesitation.  How dare you say you’re mine
and then do this? How dare you let this accusation stand and not have sent me a
letter by now?
There’s a knock at his door and he looks up with teary eyes. “What is it?” he
asks, wiping them away.
The door opens and a young servant boy steps inside. “Sir? Ms. Manning is here
to see you. Shall she come in?”
John furrows his brows. There was no appointment made for Martha to visit and
it catches him off guard. “... Send her in.” He stands up shakily, grabbing the
bedpost for support. The servant nods, looking at him curiously before turning
away.
Martha steps into the room, wearing a modest lavender dress with her hair
pinned up in a neat bun, curls framing her face. Her makeup is gentle, only
serving to amplify her beautiful features, and upon seeing John she stares at
him. “... Are you alright?”
John wipes at his mouth, looking at the scattered papers on the floor and the
two bottles of whiskey. “... Rough night,” he says. “It is… complicated.”
“I would be happy to hear it.” Martha gives him a smile before walking to his
desk, sitting in the chair.
John stares at her. He sits in the end of his bed. “We should not be alone with
each other. We are not married.”
“Not yet,” Martha says. “We will be, and why not be used to each others’
presence like this?”
“It isn’t proper.”
“I am sure many of the girls in town spent time with their suitors without a
chaperone. We are not children, John.”
“The ones without suitors are often… performing certain activities their
parents are not aware of,” John says. “Our fathers will... assume things.”
“Let them assume.” Martha stands and walks to the bed, sitting beside John. She
takes his hand and her hand is so soft, fitting perfectly in his own. “If I am
believed to have slept with a man before marriage, why not with my future
husband?”
Future husband.  Something in his gut stirs in revulsion at the words - it’s
wrong, so very wrong, that it comes from a woman’s lips and not a boy’s, not
Alex’s. Martha seems to sense his sudden discomfort and rubs circles on the
back of his hand with her thumb. “You’ve been drinking,” she says, and when
John looks up she is eyeing the whiskey.
“Like I said,” he mutters. “Rough night.”
Martha sets their hands on his thigh, then drops his hand and instead lets hers
remain on his leg. John bites his lip. “Have you ever lain with a woman, John?”
she asks.
He knows she’s asking about his experience. “No,” he croaks.  I’ve only ever
had a boy and he’s betrayed me.
She smiles and gently squeezes his thigh, looking up at him. “Would you like
to?”
John stares at her. With the alcohol in his system, he can barely register what
she’s saying. “You are… offering…”
“I am not  offering.  I am not a whore in a brothel. I am  suggesting.”
“Suggesting,” John whispers, “that we…”
Martha bites her lip, then begins to stand. “If it is too forward-”
“No.”  John catches her hand and pulls her back down to the bed. He wraps an
arm around her waist and tilts her head up into a kiss, their lips pressing
together.
The world doesn’t stop. There’s no spark, no euphoric rush, no thrill. Martha’s
lips are soft and full but they aren’t Alex’s. He sets his hand on her hips,
her waist, and every touch reminds him that it isn’t the one he loves beneath
him. They pull apart, gasping for breath, and she kisses him again.
They kiss again. Again. Again, until all John can taste is whiskey and her
lips. He pulls her beneath him and her hands dig into his curls. They kiss
again and her perfume is sweet, her hair smelling of soap. It’s so different
from Alex that he almost pulls back.
He promised he wouldn’t do this. He promised that Alex would be the only one in
his bed until the day he was married. His stomach churns and he knows this is
something he can’t turn back from, can’t reverse. He won’t be able to tell Alex
that he kept his promise and refused to touch a woman.
The letter comes to mind.  Fuck it.  He sits up and pulls off his shirt,
tossing it aside. His hands go to his belt and as he tugs it off, he kisses her
again.
------
Alex stares up at John’s window, gripping the parcel in his hands. The spring
breeze rustles his hair and he takes a deep breath, struggling to calm himself.
It’s been three days since the incident and John won’t be as upset. It will be
okay. John will let him in and Alex can explain and John will understand. He
will kiss Alex, agree to run away with him - away from their families and
neighbors and those who will judge them. They’ll run to New York and live in
the city and be  happy.
Or so he hopes.
He looks around, then walks to a tree and picks up a pebble. He looks up at the
window, then shifts the parcel beneath his arm. He reaches back and chucks the
pebble at the window, grimacing at the loud  crack.
A few seconds pass.  Answer,  he prays.  Please. Please. We need to talk.
The window opens halfway. “What do you want?” comes John’s voice, faint and
monotone.
“To talk,” Alex calls, stepping closer to the house. “I need - I need to
explain things to you. Can I come in?”
Silence comes. Then, “Come to the front door.”
Alex bites his lip, then walks around the corner of the house to the front. He
stands on the porch, palms sweaty and stomach churning.  You don’t know how
sorry I am. It wasn’t my idea. I love you so much.
John opens the door and is wearing a dressing gown over his shirt and trousers,
looking exhausted. “What is it?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.
“Did I wake you?” Alex asks softly.
“... Sort of.” John crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. “You
shouldn’t be here, so say whatever it is you want to say.”
His tone is harsh and Alex hesitates. “In your room?”
“Here.”
Alex stares at him, then swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry for…
for all that’s happened. I didn’t want it to.”
“What  did  happen?” John demands. “I have a  very different  memory, it seems,
of what happened in your bedroom.”
Alex tries not to grimace and he slides a hand in his pocket. “I know,’ he
says. “You - You didn’t do anything. Martha came in, and she was yelling, a-and
after you left… she went to go tell George. Gil walked in and… he gave me that
story. I didn’t want to, but when Martha and George came back, we had to do
it.”
“Had to?” John huffs. “Alex, you didn’t have to do  anything.  Who held a gun
to your head and demanded that you call me a  rapist?”
“No one, but - John, if I hadn’t done anything, I’d be in  jail  right now. I
probably would not get even a trial - George wouldn’t protect me! We’d be
done.”
“We  are  done, Alex.”
“No -  no,  John.” Alex reaches for his arm, taking hold of it. “Run away with
me, John,  please.  It’s the only chance we have.”
“There  is  no chance, don’t you get it?” John snaps. He pulls his arm away.
“It’s over, Alex. It was over the moment we were seen.”
“You’re... “ Alex stares at him. “You don’t… love me?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“You just don’t care to try anymore.” A lump begins to form in his throat. “You
don’t love me  enough  to try.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Alex. We knew this was going to end.”
“We keep saying that, too,” Alex snaps. “That we knew it would end but  fuck
it,  John, is that supposed to make it hurt less?”
John looks at him, falling silent. He crosses his arms and leans against the
doorway.
Alex swallows back the lump, then thrusts the package out at John. “You said
you were running out of room in your sketchbook,” he says. “I wanted it to be
an apology gift before you agreed to run away with me.” When John takes it, he
turns away, stepping off the porch.
“I - Alex… Wait. Don’t go.”
He stops and looks back at John, but doesn’t move. John is holding the
sketchbook against his chest, conflicting emotions on his face. “... Come in.
Please.”
Alex stares at him, then swallows, clenching his fists. “What the hell do you
want, John? You can’t say it’s over one second and change your mind the next.
You don’t get to do that!”
“I want to go,” John says softly.
Alex stops. His heart is pounding in his chest and his mouth feels dry. “You…
what?”
“I want to go,” he repeats. He steps onto the porch. “I need to get away from
here. I can’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I  can’t,  not without
you.” He sets the book on the ground before walking up to Alex, taking his
hands. “I don’t - I want to be mad and I want to hate you but I  can’t.  I’ve
tried to hate you for the past four days since that stupid letter came but it’s
impossible.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers, looking up at him. “I’m s-so sorry, Jack, I should
have sent a letter sooner. Gil has a plan for us to run - we can take our
horses and leave before the end of the week. Head up to New York and find
somewhere to live in the city. I have money to take with us. It’ll be  okay. ”
John squeezes his hands. “Tomorrow morning,” he says. “We leave tomorrow
morning.”
Alex stares up at him. “I - why? We have at least until the day after. Our
fathers are too busy fighting to actually  do  anything - there’s no trial to
escape yet.”
John hesitates. “Come upstairs,” he says. “We have to talk. In private.”
Alex frowns but lets John guide him into the house. They shut the door behind
themselves, then walk up the stairs, as quick and quiet as possible to not
garner attention. Alex looks around nervously - a single servant seeing him
will report it to Henry Laurens and their flight will have to happen even
sooner. He sticks to John’s side, holding onto his hand.
They make it to his room without being noticed and John shuts the door behind
them. I need you to write me more letters,” he says. “I… burned yours.”
Alex turns to stare at him. “You  burned  them? You said you were keeping
them!”
“I was upset,” John mutters. “It wasn’t a good night.”
Alex frowns, then turns and walks to the bed, sitting on the end. “What do you
want to talk about?”
John bites his lip, then walks to the bed, sitting beside him. He reaches for
Alex’s hand and squeezes it, then instead wraps an arm around him and pulls him
into his lap. Alex easily fits, straddling his thighs as he wraps his arms
around John’s neck - it’s such a natural position that Alex wonders why the
hell they were about to give this up. John buries his face in his shoulder,
holding him tightly, and it takes a moment for Alex to realize John is trying
to hide his trembling. “Jack?” he whispers, digging a hand into John’s unkempt
curls.
John swallows and looks up. His eyes look reddish and miserable, and when Alex
kisses him gently, he only looks down. “I broke my promise,” he whispers. “I -
I broke it.”
“... What promise?” Alex pulled John’s hair from its bun, beginning to run his
fingers through it.
John’s arms shift to hold him tighter. “I slept with her,” he says. Alex
freezes and John only pulls him against his chest. “I-I’m sorry, Alex-”
“You  slept  with her?” Alex shoves him back to arm’s length, staring at him.
“God, John, you  fucking slept-”
“I was drunk! I was upset and burning your letters and she came in - I was
impulsive,  Alex, and I regret it  so much.  I regret every second of it and I
need you to  understand.”
“You promised! You promised that-”
“I promised, yeah, and then you went and called me a rapist!”
“To save my life, to save us! Accusing you gave me the same protections from
George that you already have from your father. Would you rather me have
confessed to what this town thinks is the worst possible crime?”
John falls silent. He looks down. “No,” he says quietly.
Alex huffs, then pulls himself from John’s lap, standing. “You  promised…”
John stands. “What does it  matter,  really? It was just… sooner rather than
later.”
“It was all I  had,  John!” Alex turns to look at him. “She can have you in
public, she can have you in church and in front of your family. She can have
your name and your money and your children, everything I  can’t!  All I asked
is that  I  be the one in your bed until I can’t have you anymore.”
John doesn’t speak, staring at the floor.
Alex takes a deep breath, then runs a hand through his hair. “... No. No.
Whatever.”
John looks up. “Whatever?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning. It won’t matter.”
“And you said  I  can’t make up my mind,” John mumbles, but there’s no venom
behind it. He reaches for Alex’s hand. “... I’m sorry, Alex. I am. I was drunk,
and… angry. I was lonely. I regret every second of it. Forgive me?”
Alex frowns. He squeezes John’s hand. “Not right now,” he says softly. He takes
a deep breath. “... We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay,” John whispers.
“So… escaping.” Alex sits beside him and takes his hand. “Gil is distracting my
family so no one knows I’m gone. He can do it tomorrow. We both can take our
horses, meet at the lake, and then… run. We run and don’t look back.”
“That sounds…” John takes a shaky breath. “That sounds great.”
“We’re impulsive,” Alex whispers.
“We are,” John agrees.
“This can go so wrong.”
“Every time you begged me to go, you didn’t care about what could go wrong.”
“I guess so.” Alex smiles. “I love you too much to care about consequences.”
“Promise me one thing.” John squeezes his hand. “Our love… it isn’t fleeting.
When we make it to New York, we won’t tire of each other and think of what
could have been different.”
“This fleeting love has lasted a year,” Alex says. “I think it can last a few
more.”
“... Good.” John kisses him, a desperate kiss, their lips pressing together.
Tears threaten to flood his eyes and he takes a deep breath. “I love you. I
love you so much. God, I was… I thought I was ready to throw it all away
because of that damn letter.”
“It was a shit thing to do. God, I regret it so  much,  John, but if we hadn’t
- what other option would we have? I just… I could never find the words to
explain myself.”
“You always find the words,” John whispers.
“... Not this time, it seems.” Alex sighs and leans against him. “I love you.
Those are the only words I can ever rely on.  I love you.”
“I love you too,” John breathes. He turns and gives Alex a kiss, then wraps an
arm around his waist. “So… what do we do between now and the morning?”
“We pack,” Alex says. “And we go home, play normal. Until the morning.”
“I don’t want you to leave yet.” John bites his lip, then pulls Alex into his
lap. “... Please. I need - I need to forget her. I need to forget all of it.”
Alex gazes at him. “Okay,” he says. He cups John’s cheek, then presses a small
kiss to his lips. “... Okay. I’ll stay. Just an hour.”
“Stay for lunch,” John says. “I’ll tell the servants to bring up extra food. We
can stay in bed. We can just relax.”
“I can’t be gone for too long. It will be noticed.” Alex gives him another
kiss, then sighs. “We can have lunch together every day, all right? When we’re
out of here, we will get to wake up in the same bed. Every  single  day.”
John holds him tighter. “Lord, yes,” he breathes. “I don’t want to hide
anymore.”
They both push into a kiss, their arms tightening around each other, until they
both pull away for breath. They kiss again, then a second time, their lips
tingling and swollen. “I love you,” Alex gasps. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” John whispers. “Every second without you is like drowning.
You are the air I need.”
“Poetic,” Alex says.
“Shut up.” John kisses him, then pulls back, letting his hold loosen. “... How
hellish have things been for you, then? My father hasn’t been anything but
furious these days.”
“I haven’t seen George much,” Alex says. “He’s been in his office this whole
time, and I only see him at meals. To be fair, though… I haven’t really left my
room. I can’t… face them, face anyone in that house. The servants look at me
like I’m a charity case and all I get is pity. It’s a  nightmare.”
“None of the servants go near me,” John sighs. “I suppose I’ve become a monster
to them. I only have my siblings for company, and they can only do so much.”
Alex bites his lip, then kisses John again. Their kiss lingers and they pull
each other close. Their tongues meet and John rolls on top of him, pressing
their foreheads together. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” John gasps. “I love you so much. I was a fool to try and
throw this away.”
“You were justified,” Alex says. He spreads his legs, letting John rest in the
cradle of his hips. “... I ruined your reputation.”
“I broke my promise and slept with a woman I don't love.” John sighs. “We’re
both terrible, I suppose.”
“Perfectly terrible?”
John smiles. “I suppose.” He gives Alex another kiss. “... I would have missed
kissing you.”
“I would have missed it, too.” Alex grins. “We’ll have time to talk things out
in New York. We’ll be fine.”
“I hope.” John looks towards the door. “... Should you go now? Or can you stay
a bit?”
Alex bites his lip. He turns and glances out the window. “I should go,” he
says. He stands. “... Martha will send lunch to my room. Gil can’t hold out for
so long.”
“Wait. What time should I leave tomorrow morning?”
Alex takes a deep breath. “At nine,” he says. “After breakfast. I will get to
the lake as soon as I can.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Alex leans in and kisses him. When they pull apart, the air between them feels
awfully cold. He turns and walks to the door, adjusting his coat. He feels
John’s eyes until he shuts the door behind him.
------
“Ready to go?”
Alex gazes at his satchels. Two of them, filled with all he can take - one with
food, a water canteen, and matches, the other with his most protective clothes.
He adjusts his light jacket, then brushes his hand over the gun at his hip. He
takes a deep breath before turning to look at Gilbert.
“I think so,” he says softly.
“Good.” Lafayette steps up to him and sets a hand on his shoulder. “The others
and I will be having tea out in the garden. You should have time to get your
horse and run.”
“Thank you, Gil,” Alex says. “For… everything. Keeping our secret, saving me,
helping us…”
“Who am I to deny a man his happiness?” Gilbert smiles. “Make a life with him,
Alexandre.  Send letters.”
“In French.”
“So they won’t understand.” Gilbert grins, then steps back.
“I’ll send you an address when we have one. Come visit, all right? Before you
lose that accent.” Alex smiles. “American accents are boring.”
“I will.” Gilbert takes a deep breath, then glances over his shoulder. “... I
should go. I will see you again.”
“You will.”
Alex tries to ignore the twisting in his stomach as Gilbert turns and walks out
of the room. He knows, somewhere deep down, that this is not death. He will see
Gilbert again, even if the others are cut off. But he will have John, and
Gilbert is diligent with his letters, and that is all he needs in life.
He pulls the satchels onto his shoulders. He walks to the ajar door and leans
out, watching, waiting; Gilbert’s footsteps fade. All is quiet. The walk to the
stables is short, and without hesitation, he walks out.
It takes only a few minutes and no servants are in sight. When he’s standing in
the stables, opening the door of the stall, no one walks in. When he leads his
mare out, no one stops him. His heart is banging in his chest, threatening to
burst, and he climbs on. He takes a deep breath. He digs in a heel and they
start off at a trot.
Trees pass. The house gets smaller and smaller. They speed up to a gallop and
they pass the road to the town. The road to John’s home passes by in a blur.
The road to the trading post goes, too, and then the road to the church - that
damn church, that horrid building, where they were forced to hide themselves
and listen to red-faced men spew words of hatred. Gone, gone forever, soon to
be replaced by city streets and buildings. The bustling noise of New York will
be heaven against the deadly silence of Virginia.
The path to the lake comes up. Here, they slow to a trot, and Alex takes a
moment to admire the trees. The water appears, glistening and beautiful as it
reflects the trees. Their first time was here, the first time they dared to lay
down a blanket and push their boundaries. Alex remembered pain, the awful
stretching, and unskilled fingers that belonged to both of them; John fumbled
with it all, throwing out apologies for every nick from his fingernail or
accidental push. It took a while before moans could be distinguished between
pain and pleasure, and after the initial discomfort, things became smoother.
John’s thrusts took a rhythm and Alex could give him the control, burying his
face in his armies until they both spilled themselves.
This town is full of memories. Leaving it behind is a breath of fresh air.
John and his horse are under a tree by the water, both sitting down. John is
chewing on an apple, looking up as Alex rode in. “Hey,” he calls. “About time
you showed up.”
“Sorry,” Alex says with a grin. He dismounts as John stands, and John catches
his arm to pull him in for a kiss. Their lips linger before pulling apart. “...
Had to wait for our distraction.”
“Understandable.” John kisses his forehead, then squeezes his arm. “Shall we
go?”
“Yeah,” Alex whispers. Taking the reins, he leads his horse back to the path,
and John follows with his own mount. At the same time, they climb back up, then
begin a canter.
Away from the lake. Away from the town. A road sign comes up, pointing them
north in the direction of the next town over, and Alex takes a deep breath.
“I’ve never left the state,” he admits. “I barely remember coming here.”
“How old were you?”
“... Six? I don’t remember when my mom surrendered me.” He bites his lip.
John reaches for his hand and takes it. “The world is more than religion
fanatics and intolerance. I’ll take you to Europe someday. It’s beautiful in
several of those countries, so we’ll have to visit them all.”
“That’d be nice,” Alex says. “... You don’t sound so much like a perfect little
church boy anymore.”
“You’ve changed me.” John smiles. “... Or cursed me, you satanic phallus-
worshipper, with all your demon helpers.”
Alex lets out a laugh. “Oh, Christ, it sounds ridiculous coming from you.”
“Remember when that scared us? Made us think we were Lucifer’s minions.” John
grins. “Funny, now. I wish I had been like you, able to brush it off and not
believe.”
“It’s not that I brushed it off. It just didn’t… I didn’t spend my whole life
in a church. I was six when the Washingtons first brought me, but you know - I
didn’t know anything about religion until then.”
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” John mutters. He bites his lip. “... I know there
are genuine religious folk in the world. They care about being good people and
they have concern for others. But here…?” He makes a face. “Not here. Rarely in
the South.”
“Maybe in the North,” Alex offers. “Maybe it will be better.”
“I hope. For our sake.” John looks up at Alex, then smiles. “Pretty boy.”
“Cute boy,” Alex mumbles.
Across the space, their hands connect and fingers intertwine. The path before
them stretches, winding and long, and behind them is the hurt and pain of a
suppressed life. What’s in front of them is unknown, unclear, uncharted - but
they’ll face it together.
Alex couldn’t ask for anything better.
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for reading! More on tumblr - @coffee-quill
End Notes
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