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cha-melodius · 7 days ago

Note

hihi i love your writing can i request firstprince in the white house !

(thank you so much for this prompt! I had a lot of fun turning it into a silly little AU 😆)

Special Tour (of My Heart)

(M, 3k, read below or on AO3)

Henry hadn’t even wanted to come. They could have gone to Paris, or Barcelona, or Florence, or Prague, or Vienna, or Athens. But it had been Bea’s turn to choose the destination for their annual summer holiday trip, and she wanted to visit a very close online friend that she’d met in a support group. That person lived in Washington, DC. Henry supposes he should be grateful it wasn’t somewhere like Kansas.

To be fair, it hasn’t been as bad as he feared. He’d scoffed at the idea that American museums could compare to European ones, but he had to admit, they’d been to some very nice ones. The Native American museum in particular had been a highlight. He hadn’t been that enthused about visiting the White House, no more than he cared to tour Buckingham Palace, but Bea’s friend had planned an entire itinerary, so here they were.

Specifically, here Henry was, faced with one of the most beautiful men he’d ever encountered in his life.

He’d say it’s made the tour more interesting, except he’s not sure he’s really taken in much of what the guide—Alex—has been saying, distracted as he is by big brown eyes framed with obscenely long lashes, a perfectly cut jawline, a chin dimple, and those forearms. Even his voice is deeply sexy, which is not helping Henry’s predicament. That being, arguing with himself about whether it’s completely mad to ask out your tour guide when you’re a tourist and leaving in two days.

Normally, he’d just appreciate from a distance and go about his life, perhaps write some rueful poetry about missed chances. But Alex keeps looking at him, and not in the way his eyes skip across the other tour group members as he talks. He looks at Henry with intention, with the kind of heated gaze that would usually lead to a very enjoyable night if someone fixed him with it in a club. Not that Henry goes to clubs much anymore. The music is always too loud and he is not a dancer, and after sowing no shortage of wild oats in uni, he’d kind of gotten tired of one night stands as a rule.

He’d be willing to make an exception for Alex.

The tour is over far too soon. They finish in the State Dining Room, then Alex is leading into a grand entrance hall on the north side of the building and thanking them for visiting. He invites anyone to stick around if they have more questions, and the way he stares directly at Henry when he says it has Henry rooted to the spot.

“You two go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later,” Henry says to Bea without looking away from where Alex is now talking with some other visitors.

“Henry,” Bea sighs with a chastising note in her voice. “The tour guide? Really?”

Henry sticks his nose in the air. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just have a question.”

“Right. Well, text me when you have your questions answered.”

Unfortunately there are some visitors with actual questions. A family from Topeka has a seemingly endless supply, which Alex, to his credit, answers patiently. The entire time, his eyes keep flicking over to Henry like he’s afraid Henry might leave before they can speak. Not that Henry has any bloody clue what he’s going to say. He wonders if he should make up a question, just so he actually has some reason for sticking around. Can’t seem to come up with anything that’s not just can I have your number?

Finally, the last person files out, and Alex hurries over to Henry’s side. Then, unexpectedly, he takes hold of Henry’s elbow with a low, “Come with me,” said under his breath, and walks him determinedly back through the corridor. Pausing at a door, Alex looks around to make sure they’re alone, then pushes Henry through it.

They’re back in the Red Room. It’s strangely silent now, just the two of them among the ornate furnishings. Alexander Hamilton stares down at them judgementally from his portrait, as if he knows they’re up to something untoward.

“Wha—” Henry starts, but he doesn’t get far because Alex shoves him back against the table in front of Hamilton’s portrait and crowds up close, until their noses are only centimetres apart.

“How dare you stand there the whole tour, being incredibly fucking distracting with your eyes and your lips and your fucking cheekbones, and give me those fucking looks,” Alex practically growls.

“What looks?” Henry tries weakly, not completely certain he’s not about to be punched.

“Fuck, your voice, too,” Alex groans, the muscle in his jaw clenching as he closes his eyes and exhales heavily, and Henry comes to the strange realisation that although he’s just spent forty-five minutes listening to Alex talk, he’s said a grand total of three words. Two and half, really. Not that it seems to matter. Alex huffs, “You know what looks. Like you wanted to fucking devour me.” He meets Henry’s eyes steadily. “Am I wrong?”

This time, Henry can’t find his voice at all. He shakes his head, and Alex doesn’t waste any more time before kissing him soundly.

It’d be easy to say he’s never been kissed like this—by a man he’s barely spoken to, pushed against a portrait in the bloody White House—but that’s not even the most remarkable part. Because Alex kisses him with a confidence that’s dizzying, like he already knows exactly how Henry likes to be kissed, like they’ve kissed a hundred times before and he’s staking a claim on Henry’s mouth for the next hundred as well. He teases Henry’s lips open with a slide of his tongue and tests the cut of his teeth against the fullness of them, then bites down harder when Henry whimpers in response. And for a moment Henry loses himself in it, gets his hands in Alex’s curls, hooks a leg around Alex’s thigh and pulls him even closer, grinding their hips together.

Then his head thunks back against a heavy gilt frame, and he abruptly remembers where they are.

“Shouldn’t we—” Henry starts, only to be cut off by Alex’s mouth on his. He tries again. “What if someone comes in—”

“We’ve got twenty minutes until the next tour gets here,” Alex pants into his mouth. “So unless you’ve got somewhere to be…”

His hands tighten where they’re clenched around Henry’s waist and on top of his thigh and he leans in again, like he already knows the answer to that question. But Henry decides that if they’ve got twenty minutes, then he does have somewhere to be, so he shoves Alex backward and ignores his yelp of protest as Henry flips their positions, pushing Alex against the table as he drops to his knees.

“Fuuuck,” Alex groans as Henry tugs his trousers open. “Are you actually gonna…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t make any moves to halt the proceedings.

“I am,” Henry confirms. He slides a palm over Alex’s cock, straining against his boxers, and watches as Alex’s eyelids flutter as he presses his thumb just under the head of it. “Unless there are any objections…?”

Alex’s eyes snap open and he licks his lips. “Nope, none. Please, uhh, continue.”

Right, then. No time to waste.

Alex’s cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, long and curving and leaking at the tip, and Henry mourns the fact he won’t be able to take the time he wants with this. That he won’t be able to take Alex apart piece by piece, to draw whimpering moans from his throat and leave him writhing in desperation, to make him yell until he’s just as hoarse as Henry will be after this. Still, there’s something incredible about this moment—here, in this place, on his knees for an American boy he’s just met. The ghosts of the American founding fathers must surely be conflicted, if any were around to witness.

Henry shoves the thought out of his head and focuses instead on the heavy weight of Alex’s cock on his tongue and the ache in his jaw. On the slide of smooth skin under his palm as he works the base of the shaft, and on the musky scent that fills his nose and the little bursts of salt that trickle out onto his tongue. Above him, Alex is breathing heavily and making little bitten off sounds every time Henry swirls his tongue just so. Clearly, he’s trying to stay quiet, and Henry doesn’t want them to get found out, but he also can’t quite help but try to make Alex unravel a little further.

Also, the clock is ticking. Quite literally. There’s an ornate one on the table next to Alex’s hips and nearly at Henry’s eye level, helpfully marking time until the spell they find themselves under crumbles apart. And that’s assuming Alex’s ‘twenty minutes’ was accurate. Henry pushes a little harder, hollowing his cheeks and taking Alex deeper, and is rewarded with a hand in his hair as Alex’s hips hitch forward minutely.

“You are—ah—way too good at that sweetheart, fuck,” Alex murmurs, keeping his voice low. One of his thumbs presses to the corner of Henry’s mouth, brushing over the mole there as saliva dribbles unchecked down Henry’s chin. “So fucking pretty down there for me.”

Desire curls almost painfully in Henry’s gut at the words, his own cock throbbing where it’s trapped in his trousers. It’s so tempting to reach down and give himself some kind of relief, but he abstains. Partly because he doesn’t want to risk any telltale spots on his clothes, and partly because the delicious ache of it—in combination with that of his jaw and the pressure of Alex’s hand in his hair—is making him almost lightheaded.

“Fuck,” Alex whimpers softly again, “fucking— fuck. Holy shit, I’m gonna—” His grip tightens in Henry’s hair and he tugs, just the right side of painful, but Henry takes him down to the root and swallows. Then Alex moans a broken “baby,” and Henry doesn’t have the time to process what that does to him before he feels sudden heat and bitterness filling his throat. He keeps working, swallowing, until Alex lets out a hiccupping laugh and all but collapses back against the table like all his strings have been cut.

He laughs again, a little helplessly, as Henry licks him clean and tucks him away again. “This didn’t just fucking happen,” he says. “I’m fucking dreaming.”

“I hope it was a good one,” Henry rasps, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

His voice is a wreck; he’s never going to hear the end of this from Bea. He lets Alex tug him back to his feet and into another kiss, tongue sweeping into Henry’s mouth like he wants to taste himself there.

“Best one I ever had,” Alex murmurs against his lips. Christ, it’d be so easy to get lost in this. Alex’s hand presses against his lower back, urging Henry’s hips against the crease of his thigh, and Henry shudders at the pressure.

Then they both freeze. Voices, in the next room over. Another tour. They spring apart, and Henry’s still shoving at himself, trying to make his erection less noticeable, when the door between the Blue and Red Rooms swings open.

“Oh,” the other tour guide says, an older woman with her grey hair pulled into a bun, as she looks between the two of them. Henry cannot imagine what’s going through her head right now. “Alex. What are you still doing in here?”

“I—” Alex starts, but Henry must have sucked his brain out through his cock, because his voice fails and he just looks at Henry blankly.

“My sister lost an earring, and I told her I’d go look for it,” Henry lies. “Alex volunteered to help me.”

The other guide’s eyes narrow. “That was good of him. Did you find it?”

“Ah,” Henry says, well aware that his cheeks are far too flushed. “No. Unfortunately not.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” Alex says, having apparently recovered some of his faculties. “You should give me your number, uh—”

Christ, he doesn’t even know Henry’s name. “Henry.”

Alex doesn’t look the least bit abashed by this fact. “Right, Henry. So I can text you if I find it.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Alex offers. He nods at the other guide, who’s still looking at them suspiciously, and the collection of tourists behind her. “Have a good rest of your tour.”

They don’t speak until they get back to the north entrance. Alex follows him outside and stops on the steps under the north portico, then turns to Henry and holds out his hand palm up. It takes Henry a moment to realise Alex is asking for his phone.

“Oh,” Henry says as he fumbles for it in his pocket, “you were being serious about the number.”

Alex scoffs and looks at him like he’s crazy. “Of course I was fucking serious.” He takes the phone from Henry and sends himself a text. When he’s done, he holds it out again, though he doesn’t let go when Henry’s hand covers his to take it. “I’ve got a few more tours to do today, but I’d like to see you later, if you’re not busy.”

Technically, Henry has plans to go to a show with Bea and her friend. Plans that he will be entirely abandoning. He rubs his thumb along the side of Alex’s hand and watches as Alex takes a deep breath. “And what exactly does ‘see’ entail in this case?”

“Actually, I want to get you in my bed and do some very bad things to you, but I was trying to be polite. Since we’re in public.”

Henry swallows. “Ah. Well then. I’m free.”

“Yeah?” Alex says, smiling like he’s won the lottery. “We could do dinner first,” he adds, almost shyly. “If you’re interested.”

Henry can’t help it—he pulls Alex into a brief kiss right there on the White House steps, heart fluttering as Alex smiles into it. “I’m interested.”

~~~~~

Alex pads back into the bedroom juggling two glasses of water and a tupperware container, which rattles when he drops it onto the bed. After he deposits the water on the bedside table, he climbs in after it, settling with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out next to where Henry is still sprawled on his stomach and feeling utterly fucked out. Henry watches through cracked eyelids as Alex peels open the lid and extracts two dark brown, round circles, which turn out to be some sort of chocolatey biscuit.

“Here,” Alex says, holding one out. When Henry doesn’t immediately take it, he wiggles it a little in front of Henry’s nose. “Homemade.”

Henry can barely move, but the smell of chocolate is a seductive one. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows and takes the biscuit, which turns out to be delicious. “You made these?” he asks Alex through a full mouth. Alex nods, looking pleased. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Carry a tune?” Alex offers.

“Hm,” Henry hums. He shifts a little closer, so he’s pressed up against Alex’s leg, and presses a kiss to his hip. “Still not convinced you’re real.”

To be fair, the last two days have passed in something of a haze. Henry has barely left Alex’s bed, much less his apartment. Bea, as it turned out, had been perfectly happy to spend time with her friend without her little brother hanging around, and Henry has been perfectly happy to immerse himself in all things Alex. He knows much more about Alex now—that he’s a law student, that he wanted to be the President when he was growing up, that he works at the White House during the summer holidays, that he’s sweet and funny and smart and passionate, and everything Henry could ever want in a man.

“Can I confess something?” Alex asks as they each crunch into another biscuit.

“Of course,” Henry agrees, perhaps too easily. He can’t help it. He wants to know everything about Alex.

Alex swallows and looks down, his eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones. “I don’t want you to leave.”

It’s so vulnerable and honest it makes Henry’s heart ache. “I know, love,” he sighs, because he does know. It’s impossible not to with the way Alex looks at him. And it’s only been two days, but this feels… significant. Like the kind of thing that he can’t—that he shouldn’t—just walk away from. Henry looks up into his big brown eyes and hears himself say, “What if I didn’t?”

Alex frowns. “What?”

“I’m on summer holiday from my graduate program for another month and a half. I could just… stay, until then.”

Even as he says it, he knows it’s true. What does he have back home? His empty flat. His deserted office on campus. Sure, he’d miss Pez and Bea, but it’s only a month and a half, and Pez could come here. The only real question is whether Alex would actually want him here.

“Are you being serious right now?” Alex asks, his voice creeping higher.

Henry rolls onto his side and looks up at him, holding Alex’s gaze steady in his. “I am if you are. Would you actually want me to stay here?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” Alex says with a huff of incredulous laughter.

“Here, here,” Henry clarifies, gesturing around Alex’s place. “I can’t afford to get my own flat in DC. Though I could help with rent.”

“Fuck the rent. And if you think I’m letting you leave this bed, you’re crazy.”

Henry can’t help the too-large smile that takes over his face, though he tries. “We will probably need to leave the bed occasionally,” he says, with as much mock seriousness as he can muster.

“I guess,” Alex says with a theatrical eye roll.

“Where’s my phone?” Henry asks rhetorically, casting a look about the room for his trousers. When he finds them, he pulls it out to find a decent number of unanswered texts from Bea, and several from Pez. Whoops.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks.

“Telling my sister about my change in plans and cancelling my flight,” Henry tells him. First, though, he pauses and lowers himself back down on the bed next to Alex, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. “If you’re sure.”

Alex squeezes his hand, then slides his other behind Henry’s neck and pulls him into a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m sure,” he murmurs when they part. “A thousand percent.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #firstprince fanfic #rwrb fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

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jestersprivilegee · 24 days ago

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High and Dry | ch. 1

t. jefferson x reader

Warnings: swearing, chronic overuse of italics

Wc: 3.2k

When starting your fourth year of teaching at a new high school, you come face to face with your old friend-turned-enemy: Thomas Jefferson. To make it worse, he’s the other English teacher you’re supposed to work with the whole year.

A/N: the rewritten version of High and Dry And this time I actually have a plan and thought out characters!!! Enjoy lovelies 💕

There’s a certain feeling that comes with a new school year.

Especially when starting your first year as the newest English One teacher to grace Hudson High School. Those distinct, back-to-school jitters that come with the anticipation of a new year were hitting you.

Students shop for new clothes, new notebooks, new backpacks, everything new. Teachers and administrators prepare classrooms, getting everything set up to welcome the newest generation of Freshmen, as well as new staff.

You were one of those newbies. And god, what a feeling of not knowing anyone and having to spend every day here. There’s a thrill that comes with it, something words couldn’t explain.

When you interviewed for the position, George Washington intimidated the fuck out of you. Upon talking to him, he turned out to be a genuine, humble man, but scarily confident. He was the first face you happened to bump into upon entering the school for the first required day over the summer. There were three days before school officially started, and you procrastinated getting your classroom set up and introducing yourself to coworkers.

Next to Washington stood a smaller man. One that had a feistier look to him. There was a stark contrast between the two; Washington was nearly a foot taller than the younger guy, and held himself so calmly while the other was borderline ADHD.

“Ah, Miss L/n. We were just talking about you,” Principal Washington smiled, shaking your hand. He turned to the other man, “this is the new freshman English teacher.”

The young teacher’s eyes lit up, and he grinned widely, sticking his hand out for you to shake. “Alexander Hamilton. Pleasure to meet you,” he introduced.

You nodded, smiling out of politeness and shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you. Would you happen to know which way the G hallway is?”

“I’ll show you. I’m in the same hallway, y’know, with it being the English hall obviously,” he chuckled, ushering you to follow him. You gave Washington a nod in acknowledgment before embarking on the journey to the English Hall.

“Are you the other English one teacher?” You asked, falling into step with the man.

He let out a loud, bitter laugh. “God, no. I teach English four.” He led you upstairs. “The other freshman English is way worse than I.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. He seemed to have noticed the falter in your steps, because he backtracked to reassure you.

“I’m sorry, that came off a little strong. I’ve had some minor…quarrels with Jefferson in the past. But don’t let that scare you, I’m sure you’ll get along fine.” He waved his hands around, then quietly added on, “If you like arrogant, intransigent assholes.”

Jefferson. That name struck so many bad memories. A chill ran up your spine, and you had to reassure yourself that Jefferson was a common last name. Besides, the one you had known was in France last time you checked.

“You describe him so nicely. I’m looking forward to working with Mr. Jefferson,” you smiled, voice laced with sarcasm. Hamilton laughed, sending an amused grin your way.

“You’ll be okay. It’s only me he truly fights with.” Hamilton shrugged. “Enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Miss L/n.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “You can just call me Y/n. And here I was, thinking I was saved from small talk.”

“If you’d prefer to talk about my hatred for your new coworker, or rather listen to me talk about it, it’s always on the table,” he offered. Something about it was so lighthearted. He was really easy to be around, to talk to. “No, but seriously. What got you into teaching?”

“Well, teaching just kind of clicked with me. I subbed once during college, and I loved the atmosphere. I love the idea of helping people grow into who they’re meant to be, giving every student a chance at success. Granted, some of the kids are frustrating, but when handled correctly, they aren’t bad at all. You just have to understand where they come from.” You explained, examining the postures of books strung up on the wall.

You must’ve made it to the English hallway, because where else would there be a giant quote from The Outsiders painted on the wall?

“I understand that completely. It’s so rewarding, watching the younger generations find their passions. Getting to play a part in every individual’s success,” he grinned, showing you to the doorway of a soulless room. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”

You flicked the lights on, scanning the bare white walls. It looked like an asylum, and hell, it felt like one too.

“It looks like Jefferson isn’t here right now,” Alex said, poking his head into the room next door. “You got lucky. For now.”

You chuckled, peeking into Jefferson’s room. The lights were on, so he was around somewhere, but there was no way of knowing where. He had a cozy little setup. Lights were strung on the ceiling, there were multiple posters littered around the room referencing pop culture, a bookshelf was stashed in the corner, and his desk was home to trinkets and useless objects. On the wall next to his desk, there were pages, drawings, and letters from past students thanking him for being such a good teacher. That gave you some hope. Maybe Alexander Hamilton was dramatic, maybe Jefferson wouldn’t be so bad.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get set up. My room is just down the hall, G224, if you ever need anything.” He said, and with that, he disappeared.

—

After making about a million trips to your car and back, bringing in all the decorations, books, and supplies you needed, you could finally start setting up your classroom.

Normally, you would’ve complained about having to make so many trips, but it allowed you to navigate the layout of the place. Hudson High was by far the largest school you’ve ever worked at. And with no connections to it or anyone else, it was a fresh start, a clean slate to make good memories. On your final trip, you glanced into Jefferson’s room again to catch a glimpse of the man you would be spending the rest of the school year with, but he wasn’t there.

You could, however, outdo him in his decorating skills.

It wasn’t like you wanted to make him look bad or anything, you just wanted to show out. Make your presence known, and in the process build the best English classroom anyone has ever seen.

An hour-and-a-half of uninterrupted work was all it took for it to be fully set up. You had fairy lights and warm lamps to replace the fluorescent school lighting, a beanbag in the corner, a bookshelf twice the size of his, organized by color because it was prettier that way (despite all the hate you get for it), and succulents on the windowsill. All that was left was your desk.

Before you could begin, the distinct chime of the announcements rang, disrupting your flow.

“All staff please report to the library for a mandatory opening meeting.”

Groaning, you wiped the sweat beading on your forehead, and trekked to the library. Since you hadn’t been anywhere else in this school other than your classroom, you followed behind other staff members for guidance.

When you arrived, Hamilton called your name, waving you over. You grinned and joined him in the back. He was already sitting with a few other people—two having their hair tied into a man bun, and one wearing a blue beanie.

“Who is this belle femme?” A French accent spoke, the man leaning forward on his hands.

“This is Y/n L/n,” Alex introduced you to the group. You gave a shy smile and waved. “Y/n, this is John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and—“

“I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette,” the same Frenchman took your hand, planting a charming kiss on it. “But you may call me Lafayette.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, not at all impressed by his attempt at flattery. The idea of France spiked feelings you didn’t want to think about. Mostly related to your oh-so-fun high school experience, or lack thereof.

“Or call him Marie like we all do,” Mulligan laughed, shoving Lafayette's shoulder. Lafayette—or Marie?—shot him a glare, grumbling something under his breath.

“Ignore him,” Alex snorted, rolling his eyes. “He just got broken up with again, even though we all know they’ll be back together within a week.”

“‘Ey! She said it was serious this time,” Lafayette pouted.

“Sure,” Alex turned to you, lowering his voice, “she said the same thing last time. Don’t be fooled.”

You giggled, eyes lighting up in amusement at the antics of the table. You haven’t been around friends this close in a long, long time. It was almost uncomfortable; you didn’t know what to do, where to put your hands, or if you should speak more. Being a pretty quiet person by nature, it wasn't hard for you to stay quiet and observe. Your eyes shifted to the only person who hadn’t spoken yet—Laurens.

He was sitting closest to Hamilton, slumped in his seat so their shoulders were nearly touching.

“How��s the classroom coming along?” Alex asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

Sitting up straighter, you forced a smile, “pretty good. Haven’t met this Jefferson character yet, so I’m a little anxious.”

“Wait, she hasn’t met Jefferson?” Laurens spoke, eyebrows raised high as he glanced from you to Alexander.

“He wasn’t there when I showed her to her room,” he shrugged. “Guess he hasn’t been around yet.”

A wild, almost sarcastic smirk formed on John’s face. “Well, you’re in for a treat.”

“Oh, c’mon guys, he is not ‘zat bad,” Lafayette jumped in.

“You only say that because he speaks French, too,” Hercules scoffed.

Laf frowned. “Not true. He’s a great friend if you just give ‘im a chance. Hamilton and John speak French, too, but I’m not friends with them just for ‘zat.”

At this point, you didn’t know who to believe. Everyone had told you one thing, then Lafayette entered and now he was telling you another. So was Jefferson an asshole or not? They bickered back and forth on the subject, and at some point it turned into an argument about unrelated topics. You absorbed the conversation, trying to get a feel for what having a normal friend group could be like, envisioning yourself having this kind of dynamic with them. As long as you don’t fuck it up somehow, maybe they’ll accept you as their own.

Alex and John seemed used to it, as they started asking you questions about yourself. Where are you from, where did you used to teach, how are you liking Hudson so far, how’s your relationship with your mom…the works. Well, they didn’t ask the last one.

“You’re much better than Lee,” John commented. “He was a pain.”

“Lee?” You questioned.

“Oh, yeah. He was the English teacher before you, but he quit after a…debate.” He grinned, clearly proud about something. You furrowed your eyebrows, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

“He got into a fight with him because he was denouncing Washington’s name,” Alex chimed in. You couldn’t control the slight widening of your eyes. He had a physical altercation with someone over some words?

“Men never fail to surprise me…” you muttered.

“In my defense, we gave him multiple warnings. But he didn’t listen. And look where that got him?”

“A new job at a different school, I suppose,” Alex smirked, “and a trip to the hospital.”

They shared a laugh, and you couldn’t help the sick twisting of your stomach. Were they seriously bragging about putting a man in the hospital? That should’ve been the first red flag. They sensed your discomfort, calming down and putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You tensed at his touch.

“Relax. He was okay. He also started it, too, if that says anything.” Alex said, voice softer than before.

“I promise I won’t fight you,” Laurens joked half-heartedly. A smile cracked on your face, relaxing your shoulders.

“How did you not get fired?” You asked. Hamilton's hand fell back to his lap.

John shrugged. “I got really close to it. Hamilton here is particularly close with Washington, and has a way with words. He vouched for my innocence.”

You hummed, watching Alex flash a toothy, prideful grin. “Good to know.”

“If I could have everyone’s attention, please!” Washington’s voice boomed over the light chatter of the library, effectively silencing everyone. You straightened in your chair and faced forward, glancing from him to the backs of people's heads.

“First and foremost, welcome back everyone! And welcome new teachers. I hope everyone had a great summer break, and this new year is going to be very promising for all. Now, for a brief overview of school policy—“ you only halfway listened from there. All he talked about was basic laws and regulations teachers are required to take, as well as mentioning drills that would be practiced during the first couple months.

Your eyes scanned the crowd of educators. A head of thick, dark curly hair caught your eye. Somewhere at the front, a man wearing a magenta polo sat, his broad shoulders and arms filling out the shirt nicely. You leaned forward in interest, heart fluttering when he turned and you caught a snippet of his nose, as well as a stubble. ‘Please let him be Jefferson. And please let him be hot.’

As quick as the meeting started, it was over. The whole time, your eyes were trained on the man in the magenta polo, silently praying he was the Jefferson you would have to work with all year.

Hamilton nudged you, signaling it was over. You stood and followed the group out, searching for the magenta-polo guy, but he was already gone. Hamilton suggested that you see where the other guys’ classrooms were, so if you needed anything, you knew where to go. It would’ve been rude to say no, so you didn’t protest, and followed them blindly around the premise.

Lafayette was the French teacher and coached track, so he was downstairs in the foreign language hallway. His room was very colorful, very him.

Mulligan was the art teacher and boys’ wrestling coach. Out of everything you expected him to teach, art was not it. Wrestling fit him, but imagining him painting was a curveball.

Laurens taught U.S. government and coached football. His room was filled with posters of both famous football players and different political systems. Having Tom Brady and facism on the same wall was wild, but hey, if that’s what he’s into.

After touring (some) of the campus, Hamilton walked back to the hallway you were beginning to familiarize yourself with, and offered a glimpse into his class.

And wow, he outdid himself.

“Jesus—how long did it take for you to put all this up?” You asked, staring at the tapestries and rows of books that he had. He stood, pride swelling in his chest as he watched you examine the room in awe.

“A while. Don’t worry about it,” he winked. “You’ll get to my level one day.”

You scoffed, shooting him a playful glare. “Okay, I get it. You win the best Pinterest room award; congratulations.”

“Why, thank you,” he bowed dramatically. A grin spread on both your faces, and your heart was giddy with the excitement that comes with making a new friend. Let him last, please.

“I have to finish setting up my desk. But thank you for introducing me to your friends. They were very…”

“Obnoxious?” He interjected. You shook your head, a fondness evident in your voice when you spoke.

“Endearing. I like them,” you finished.

There was a pause in the conversation, and his eyes lingered on you. “I’m glad they didn’t scare you off. You’re always welcome to hang out with us, by the way.”

“Thank you,” you took some steps towards the door—which had a large poster that read ‘BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU’ as well as a pair of eyes drawn to stare into your soul. Ah, the genius that is 1984. “I have to finish setting up my desk. I’ll see you around?”

“See you around.” He confirmed.

On the short walk to your own cell, you stopped to peek into Jefferson’s room, expecting him not to be in there. But surprise surprise! The man, the myth, the legend you’ve heard so many negative things about was in there, hunched over and writing something down.

And to make it better, it was magenta-polo guy.

Your heart fluttered in excitement, and you stepped in. “You must be the infamous Jefferson I’ve heard so much about.”

“That would be me,” he spoke. Even his voice was hot. It was mature, husky, and—familiar. Way too familiar.

He looked up, and your smile instantly dropped. Stomach dropped. Face paled. Time stopped. Everything seemed to have frozen in place, including him, because he stood there, eyes wide with recognition.

“Thomas?” You seethed, taking a defensive step back.

He was seriously who you were ogling? The man who destroyed every friendship you had in high school, the man who broke every ounce of trust you held for him?

“Y/n.” His face twisted to a sour frown. You hated the way your name fell so naturally from his tongue.

“I thought you were in France.” A deep scowl spread overtook your face. He seemed to have reciprocated the same bitter expression.

“I was. Then I came back,” he growled. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Believe me, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either.” You barked out a bitter laugh. He scoffed, shifting his weight so he was crossing his arms.

“Don’t be childish. We can move on from the past, y’know.”

“After you ruined my social life? No thanks,” you retorted. He let out an exhausted groan, dragging a hand over his face.

“We both know there’s more to it than that.” He walked around from behind his desk, taking some steps towards you.

“What? I was ‘jealous’ of you? Is that it?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes. All the rage you built up was manifesting in this very moment. Everything you’ve ever wanted to say to him, you could. Tell him how he was a shitty friend for leaving you, for hurting you the way he did.

“Because you ruined my chance at a scholarship!” He hissed.

“I didn’t ruin shit! You act like I sabotaged your entire fucking career! It was junior year, for crying out loud!” You threw your hands up, pacing around his classroom.

He inhaled sharply, clenching his jaw. The way his demeanor changed from rash and sharp to ice cold horrified you, stopping you dead in your tracks. Thomas took a small, but powerful step closer, causing you to shift back one in response.

“Y/n,” he started, staring down at you with so much calmed rage that you almost started trembling. “Let’s end this conversation here. You can see yourself out.”

Wordlessly, your nostrils flared and you stepped out of his classroom. He shut the door behind you. Disbelief, rage, hatred, resentment coursed through your veins. Thomas Jefferson, the man who abandoned you during a dark time, the man who borderline bullied you during your lowest point, and the man you once considered your ride or die was supposed to be the man you had to work with the rest of the year.

So much for a fresh start.

#hamilton #hamilton x reader #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader

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jerzwriter · 1 month ago

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It's been a minute since I've written for Trystan x Carolina, but the Day 3 prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting 30-Day Writing Challenge (Use the words kitchen, date, music) lent itself to them.

Book: Crimes of Passion (post-book 1 timeline) Pairing: Trystan Thorne(M) x F!MC (Carolina Rose) Rating: Teen Words: 1,290 Summary: Trystan heads to Carolina's apartment for a Friday night date. The plan is to teach him how to cook his favorite meal—but the night might end up serving a very different lesson.

A/N: Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge March challenge - prompt: fire.

30-Day Writing Challenge Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Trystan took double steps as he ran up the stairs to Carolina’s apartment. The delicious aroma of garlic and onions drifting down the hall made his stomach growl, but that wasn’t the reason for his rush. It was 7:30 PM. Exactly twenty-four hours since he last saw Carolina Rose, and to him, that was twenty-four hours too long.

He knocked on her door far more enthusiastically than required, a bouquet of daisies clutched in his other hand. He did his best to hide the goofy smile spreading on his lips, but he should have known the attempt was futile - Carolina didn’t miss a thing.

He didn't catch the roll of her eyes as she glanced through the peephole, but he couldn't miss her smirk when the door opened. “You’re late, Prince Charming,” she teased, rising on her toes to kiss him.

“Not by design,” he defended, pulling her into his arms. “The traffic on the Alexander Hamilton Bridge was abysmal.”

“Oh, Trystan,” she sighed. “How many times have I told you, the D train would get you here much faster.”

He raised a brow, clearly amused. “For a brilliant detective, your memory is failing, dear. Do I need to remind you about my last attempt at public transportation?”

“You mean the time you ended up in Coney Island with the paparazzi chasing you from subway car to subway car?”

“That would be the time!” he said dryly. “Not my finest hour, I'll admit.”

“Oh, the trials and tribulations of being one of TMZ's favorite royals,” she laughed, as she noticed the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me?” She asked, her eyes softening.

“Of course. If I had bought them for your Uncle Tommy, I would have given them to him downstairs.”

Carolina’s smile, her warm and beautiful smile, was all the thanks he needed. Even if he was happy to accept the lingering kiss that followed.

“Well,” he snickered. “If I knew how you'd react to daisies, I might have sprung for orchids.”

“Please,” she grinned, motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen. “You know fancy things don’t impress me. Daisies are my favorite.”

This wasn’t like the Friday nights Trystan had been accustomed to in the past. A simple date at her place, Carolina barefoot, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, wearing an old Yankees T-shirt that clung to her in ways that filled his head with impure thoughts—she was nothing like the women he dated before. No, Carolina Rose was everything the exiled prince never knew he wanted and now, what he desperately needed.

She caught him ogling her as she reached for a vase and met his eyes to let him know he was caught. “There’s a bottle of white open,” she said, nodding toward two glasses on the counter. “Why don’t you make yourself useful?”

He poured two glasses with a smile, handing one to her, as he leaned back against the wall. “So, you said this would be an educational date, Detective. What exactly do you plan on teaching me?”

"Tonight, you're learning how to make arroz con pollo," she beamed, handing him a wooden spoon. "You always love it, and I figured it was time you learn how to make it yourself.”

“Why?” He groaned, sliding an arm around her waist. “If I had my way, we’d spend all of our time together - so I’d never have to cook it myself.”

“Oh really,” she chuckled. “Are you suggesting I’m the only one who will be cooking in this relationship?”

“Of course not!” He exclaimed, feigning insult. “I’ll have you know I'm capable of making excellent reservations! Ordering takeout is another specialty of mine!”

But Carolina wasn't amused. “I will not date a man who isn’t self-sufficient. Not in the kitchen, or any other room in the house! So, are you ready to learn?”

Her playful tone lit a fire inside him, his eyes darkening as the mood shifted in an instant. “Si, maestra,” he murmured. “You can teach me anything you desire."

“God! You’re incorrigible!” She laughed, turning back to the stove. “Now, put on an apron, big guy. I'm not going to be held responsible for sazón ending up all over your Armani.”

She attempted to be serious at first – lining up the ingredients, walking him through each step, but Trystan was... well, Trystan and the lesson quickly descended into chaos.

“Most people use one teaspoon of cumin,” she said judgementally. “But you’ve tasted theirs, and you’ve tasted mine... so you know the correct answer is to use at least two teaspoons, and I’m not afraid to use three.”

“Cumin,” he hummed, spinning the bottle in his hand. “Are you sure that’s a spice and not something that happens after...”

“Trystan!” she gasped in mock horror, snapping him with a dish towel, which just led to him making another suggestive comment. But that paled in comparison to his commentary when she began showing him how to cube the breasts.

“CHICKEN breast, Trystan!” she hollered. “I’m talking about the CHICKEN breast. Can you please behave?”

"No!” He said, emphatically. “You can’t invite me to your apartment, looking that sexy, and expect me to maintain a level of decorum when you begin talking about breasts of any sort! Isn't that the definition of cruel and unusual punishment in the United States?"

“Really?” she smirked. “I’m the one with the criminal law expert here, buster, and nothing I'm doing is considered cruel or unusual. Though, I am considering arresting you because you’re being a nuisance.”

Trystan wiggled his brows. “Would that involve handcuffs?”

They continued dancing around each other in the tiny kitchen, their bodies brushing against each other as they maneuvered. She managed to teach him how to brown the chicken and the importance of getting the rice perfectly fluffy. Eventually, he paid more attention - asking her questions that he already knew the answers to just because he adored watching her go on and on when she was this enthusiastic. His eyes were bright, hanging on her every word.

She caught him staring at her like a love-sick fool and stopped stirring the pot. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she blushed.

"Looking at you like what?" he asked innocently.

"Like I'm the only person in the world."

He didn’t answer at first but took his time to move behind her. Once his arms were wrapped securely around her waist and his lips had found his favorite spot on her neck, he gladly replied. “That’s simple. Because to me, you are."

Carolina liked to consider herself unflappable, but here she stood in the center of her kitchen completely – flapped. He felt her body stall, watching the goosebumps forming on her flesh as she shut off the stove before turning to him, completely flustered.

“That’s it!” she said matter of factly. “There’s a menu from Vistamar in the drawer. Let’s see those ordering skills you were bragging about.”

“Wait,” he said, honestly surprised. “Why are we ordering?”

“Because I need to put on music,” she said pulling up Marc Anthony’s Tu Amor Me Hace Bien, turning off the lights. “We’re going to... dance... not cook. Because you make it impossible for me to focus!”

Moonlight poured through the large pane windows, casting delicate shadows across the sharp lines of his face. Carolina wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss that left him forgetting his name."

“Wow,” he smirked, pulling away.

“Oh, don’t act all innocent!” She scolded. “This is your fault. It looks like I’m going to be stuck with a man who is useless in the kitchen. after all”

A wicked tugged at his lips as he lifted her onto the counter, his mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and lower. He didn't say a word - not until she let out a soft, breathless whimper that was a symphony to his ears.

Then, he teased. “Would you like to reassess how useless I am in the kitchen now, mi amor?”

"No," she smiled, cupping his face in her hands before stealing another kiss. "You might not know your way around a kitchen, but you definitely know how to spice things up—and that’s good enough for me."

@choicesficwriterscreations @choicesmonthlychallenge

#crimes of passion #crimes of passion choices #choices crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan thorn x f!mc #trystan x carolina #choices #choices fanfic #choices stories you play #playchoices #playchoices fanfic

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whencyclopedia · 8 months ago

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Constitutional Convention

The Constitutional Convention was held at Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, from 25 May to 17 September 1787. Spurred on by economic troubles left over from the American Revolution and compounded by the weak Articles of Confederation, delegates from twelve states met to draft a new framework of governance, the United States Constitution, which created a stronger federal government.

Background

In March 1781, the Articles of Confederation went into effect as the framework of governance for the fledgling United States, after having been ratified by all thirteen states. Under the Articles, each state essentially operated as a semi-independent republic, bound to one another in a loose 'perpetual union'. The federal government – which at the time consisted only of a unicameral Congress – was intentionally kept weak, to ensure the sovereignty and independence of the states. Congress' only real powers were those relating to war and foreign affairs, and even then, it needed the consent of at least nine states before it could declare war or borrow money from foreign lenders. The framers believed that they needed to keep the federal government weak to protect the rights and liberties of American citizens; their recent experience with the British Parliament seemed to suggest that a powerful central authority would not hesitate to squander those rights. But, before long it would become apparent that weak governments carried their own sets of issues that would be just as dangerous.

The most glaring problem was Congress' inability to levy its own taxes. Rather than raise its own money, Congress instead had to rely on donations from the states to fill the national treasury. But, especially after states began to focus on their own interests after the end of the American Revolutionary War, these donations were not consistently forthcoming. This left Congress with no funds to pay federal soldiers or meet its many other financial obligations. Nor did Congress have the power to compel the states to send money or comply with any other federal legislation. Several attempts to amend the Articles to allow Congress to raise money through tariffs were vetoed by the states. Additionally, a lack of unified foreign policy left Congress ill-equipped to deal with foreign powers, with Britain, France, and Spain all putting restrictions on American trade that the federal government could not retaliate against. Finally, Congress had been unable to respond to Shays' Rebellion when it broke out in western Massachusetts in late 1786. Although the rebellion was eventually suppressed by a privately funded army, it led to fears that future insurrections would not be crushed so easily.

For these, and other, reasons, many Americans became convinced that the Articles of Confederation were not working and that unless the Articles were revised, the United States would soon unravel. This reality weighed heavily on the minds of the delegates who met in Annapolis, Maryland, on 11 September 1786. Representing five states (New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Virginia), the delegates had merely been sent to discuss trade between states. But as their discussion touched on other issues caused by the weak Articles of Confederation, the delegates realized that something drastic had to be done. In their final report to Congress, drafted by Alexander Hamilton of New York, the delegates proposed that a constitutional convention should be held in Philadelphia the following May to discuss revisions to the Articles. On 21 February 1787, Congress endorsed the suggestions of the Annapolis Convention, and stated that it would write up a report on which changes to the Articles were necessary. Ultimately, twelve of the thirteen states decided to send delegates to the upcoming Constitutional Convention – the sole holdout was Rhode Island, which believed there was nothing wrong with the existing Articles of Confederation and refused to send delegates to amend them.

#History #American #ArticlesofConfederation #Congress'#WHE #[#]

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thiswasinevitable-rwrb · 1 year ago

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Alexander Hamilton Hall - FirstPrince | Red, White, & Royal Blue - ch. 3!

• • • Preview • • •

On the siblings’ way back upstairs, Alex checked his phone and asked June, “You’re not into screenplays, are you?”

She didn’t bother asking why he was asking, but rather, to elaborate. “Do tell.”

“Well, I assume Henry talks about plays in the dramaturgy club, but I thought he would talk more about the show he’s working on. He’s gone quiet.”

June laughed softly from his bedroom doorway. “Are you upset he isn’t talking to you on a Friday night?”

“I’m not upset,” Alex refuted. “I’m trying to figure out what makes this guy open up.”

#firstprince #red white & royal blue #rwrb #red white and royal blue #high school!au #fic rec #nerd!henry #jock!alex #alexander hamilton hall

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hlples-s · 24 days ago

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"you're divorced bro" ✸ Alexander Hamilton & Elizabeth Schuyler

Note: Before you start, I want you to know that I am not an "active" or "good" writer. I do this for mere entertainment and practice. i will do a masterlist of this (⁠*⁠ﾉ⁠・⁠ω⁠・⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♫

warning: none / word count: 623 we are making progress!! / angst(?) comedy at some point (?) / tags: @hamliza-trash @shooter4rhaenyra bcs this is your idea and i just love it fr 🫶🏻/ modern au hamliza - hamgang 👥

These past few months have been difficult for Hamilton. 3 months ago, he didn't just break up with the love of his life (as he often says), but it was all his fault (although he denies it). His divorce from Elizabeth was what caused him to fall to the bottom of the food chain — in Jefferson's words — "you fell, you rose, and you fell again like the stock market." Alexander just rolled his eyes as always trying not to fall back into that thought of: "if only..." we all know that "if only" does not exist.

—yo' me, John, and Hercules are going to the pool hall together. Do you want to come?— Lafayette asked with a genuine face. Alexander looked at him, took off his glasses, and rubbed his face with both hands.

—I don't know, bro. My wife asked me to buy some things for the kids. I highly doubt I'll be free this afternoon... —Alexander sighed as he listened to that damn laugh he hated, Jefferson approached his chair hugging him from the side as if he were something "cute"

— I remind you, Hammy, that you don't have a wife... she's your ex... you're divorced, dear —Jefferson and Lafayette laughed in unison as if it were a big joke. Alexander hit Thomas's arm, looking at him with a very, very angry face. Although the truth hurt, she was no longer his wife...

— Thomas, this isn't a game anymore. I always pass it to you, but not now. Let me live out my grief! — he said as he stood up from his chair, scolding him like a little kid.

— Hey, calm down, cowboy. May I remind you what made Elizabeth divorce you? And yet you have the nerve to get angry about it?— Jhon arrived at the office, due to the screams that were heard and if there was one thing he knew how to do it was to shut up Alenxander, he sighed while his eyes glared at him— You were unfaithful to her, and yes, you've already told us your version a thousand and one times, but that doesn't mean that what hurt Eliza the most was that you did it in the bed where you both slept.

—EW! I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT PART, YOU'RE A PIG HAMILTON.— Alexander just rolled his eyes at Jefferson and John's comment, although it was true he wanted them both to shut up.

And the situations where he told Eliza his wife continued, the boss of his company had lost his mother, all the employees went to the funeral, Eliza sent him a message:

"Hey, Are you coming to pick up the kids late? Why didn't you let us know?"

Alexander quickly answered that:

"I'll be there in 10 minutes. I'm at a funeral."

"oh sorry... who died?

"my boss's mother"

"oh my god... My condolences, don't worry if you can't get there soon... just be careful, see you."

The urge to say I love you was too much, but he controlled himself. He sighed as he remained in the funeral chairs, watching his boss in disarray. He stood up and cleared his throat.

—Mr. Washington... my wife and I offer our most sincere condolences. I know it's not easy, the loss of someone like a mother will nev- — His speech was interrupted by a mocking laugh that was nearby. Mr. Washington turned with an angry and discontented face to look at Thomas.

— you're divorced bro...—Thomas burst out laughing again. Mr. Washington gave a sideways smile and shook his head, sighing. These jokes were never going to end and now... he was taking them with a certain comedy...

Although this time he came for his children with his fist shattered from hitting Jefferson's face. That was pure comedy.

#mari talks #hamilton #elizabeth schuyler #alexander hamilton #hamliza #thomas jefferson #washington #modern au

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needingsleep · 3 months ago

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Black History month (Canada edition)

The Honourable Lincoln M. Alexander

The Honourable Lincoln M. Alexander was born in 1922 in Toronto. He served with the Royal Canadian Air Force during the Second World War, between 1942 and 1945. He was educated at Hamilton’s McMaster University where he graduated in Arts, and Toronto’s Osgoode Hall School of Law where he passed the bar examination in 1965. Mr. Alexander was appointed a Queen’s Counsel and became a partner in a Hamilton law firm from 1963 to 1979. He was the first Black person to become a Member of Parliament in 1968 and served in the House of Commons until 1980. He was also federal Minister of Labour in 1979–1980

In 1985, Lincoln Alexander was appointed Ontario’s 24th Lieutenant Governor, the first member of a racialized community to serve as the Queen’s representative in Canada. During his term in office, which ended in 1991, youth and education were hallmarks of his mandate. He then accepted a position as Chancellor of the University of Guelph. In 1996, he was chair of the Canadian Race Relations Foundation and was also made Honorary Commissioner for the International Year of Older Persons Ontario celebrations.

The Honourable Lincoln Alexander was appointed a Companion of the Order of Canada and to the Order of Ontario in 1992, and in June 2006, he was named the “Greatest Hamiltonian of All Time.”

Mr. Alexander died on October 19, 2012, at age 90.

On December 2013, the Province of Ontario proclaimed January 21 (Lincoln Alexander’s birthday) as "Lincoln Alexander Day" and the following year, the Day was nationally recognized.

#black history month #black history #black history matters

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 10 months ago

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💖 Sapphic Books Coming Out June 2024

🩷 There's something especially sweet about a sapphic romance. Here are only a few of the amazing sapphic books hitting shelves in June 2024. Which ones are you adding to your ever-growing TBR?

💖 Which ones are you adding to your TBR?

Contemporary 💖 But How Are You, Really - Ella Dawson 💖 Hot Summer - Elle Everhart 💖 Pony Dakota - Nat Burns 💖 Wish You Weren't Here - Erin Baldwin 💖 Something to be Proud Of - Anna Zoe Quirke 💖 London on My Mind - Clara Alves, Nina Perrotta (translator) 💖 Please Stop Trying to Leave Me - Alana Saab 💖 Looking for a Sign - Susie Dumond 💖 Triple Sec - T.J. Alexander 💖 Pages from the Book of Broken Dreams - Kat Jackson 💖 Director's Cut - Carlyn Greenwald 💖 Furious - Jamie Pacton, Rebecca Podos 💖 Cicada Summer - Erica McKeen 💖 Tehrangeles - Porochista Khakpour 💖 Women - Chloe Caldwell 💖 Experienced - Kate Young 💖 Liddy-Jean Marketing Queen and the Matchmaking Scheme - Mari SanGiovanni

Paranormal/Horror 💖 The Pecan Children - Quinn Connor 💖 Private Rites - Julia Armfield 💖 The Deep Dark - Molly Knox Ostertag 💖 The Science of Ghosts - Lilah Sturges, El Garing (ill.), Alitha Martinez (contrib.) 💖 Wolfpitch - Balazs Lorinczi

Fantasy 💖 Mirrored Heavens - Rebecca Roanhorse 💖 The Fire Within Them - Matthew Ward 💖 Digging for Destiny - Jenna Jarvis 💖 Saints of Storm and Sorrow - Gabriella Buba 💖 Markless - C.G. Malburi 💖 Sleep Like Death - Kalynn Bayron 💖 The Afterlife of Mal Caldera - Nadi Reed Perez 💖 The Pale Queen - Ethan M. Aldridge 💖 The Unrelenting Earth - Kritika H. Rao 💖 Ballad for Jasmine Town - Molly Ringle 💖 Six of Sorrow - Amanda Linsmeier

Historical 💖 A Bluestocking's Guide to Decadence - Jess Everlee 💖 A Divine Fury - D.V. Bishop 💖 The Ballad of Jacquotte Delahaye - Briony Cameron 💖 Hall of Mirrors - John Copenhaver

Mystery/Thriller 💖 One Killer Problem - Justine Pucella Winans 💖 The Last Note of Warning - Katharine Schellman 💖 Shanghai Murder - Jessie Chandler 💖 And Then There Was One - Michele Castleman

Sci-Fi 💖 Lady Eve's Last Con - Rebecca Fraimow 💖 The Stars Too Fondly - Emily Hamilton 💖 Moonstorm - Yoon Ha Lee 💖 You're Safe Here - Leslie Stephens

#sapphic books #sapphic romance #books #wlw romance #wlw fiction #pride month #pride #queer books #queer #batty about books #battyaboutbooks #book releases

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talesfromthesnogbox · 8 months ago

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The East Bedroom, Eleven O'Clock

Summary: Henry meets Alex up in his bedroom. Henry’s POV of Red, White & Royal Blue, Chapter Six, pages 135-146

Word Count: 5,240

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Link

Part 1 | Part 2

Unfortunately for Henry, the gala continued in the Red Room. Every time he glanced over at that damn photo of Alexander Hamilton, his mind wandered back to that kiss. He checked his watch every few minutes, the time seemed to creep forward at a glacial pace. Finally, at quarter to eleven, he decided he’d been there long enough, it was time to meet Alex.

“Shaan, the evening is winding down now, and Mr. Claremont-Diaz has requested an audience with me in his quarters…”

Shaan had been Henry’s PPO from the time he’d started at Eton, and was no stranger to Henry’s late night trysts. He’d prepared numerous NDA’s for a variety of different young men from the time Henry was seventeen, and apart from Pez and Beatrice, was probably his closest confidant. He gave Henry a pointed look, a question in his gaze as they stepped out of the room.

“Sir, if you’re sure?”

Henry nodded. “Quite sure.”

He stopped to ask the woman from the Red Room, Amy, how to get to Alex’s private quarters, and she helpfully gave him directions. The two of them walked silently down to the First Family’s private quarters, and stopped abruptly down the hall from where Alex’s bedroom door was. “If I may, sir, please do be careful.”

Henry furrowed his brows. “Always are, mate.”

“No, Henry, I know you are. But Alex is… I just don’t want to see you get hurt, sir.”

He gave his equerry a curt nod. “Thank you Shaan, I shall see you in the morning.”

Shaan, understanding their conversation was over, gave a short bow, and turned back to his own guest room. Henry pulled his phone out of his pocket, it was still only 10:50, plenty of time. He pulled up his conversation with Emily first.

I think we’re going to be okay after all.

Short and to the point, he’d tell her the edited version when he saw her next. Pez however…

Mate, much to tell you when I’m back.

Pez Okonjo [10:51 P.M.]

Hazza you sly dog!

congrats_on_the_sex.gif

Yes well… not quite yet, but he’s invited me up to his room so we shall see.

Pez Okonjo [10:53 P.M.]

keep_your_secrets.gif

Henry rolled his eyes, pocketed his phone and walked up to the East Bedroom. Alex had said 11, but 10:54 was close enough, right? He lifted his hand in a fist, pausing for only a moment, then finally made contact in a series of short knocks.

The door flew open, and there stood Alex, looking like the epitome of the all-American boy next door. His shirt was still tucked, although not as tightly as before, and his bowtie hung undone on either side of his collar. The first few buttons on his shirt lay open, giving Henry a delectable view of his sharp clavicle and the brown skin that lay atop it. He didn’t look as nervous as Henry surely did, in fact his eyes seemed to rove over Henry’s body with ease.

“Sorry I’m early.” Henry broke the silence, and hopefully cut the tension a bit.

“Find your way here okay?”

He nodded. “There was a very helpful Secret Service agent, I think her name was Amy?”

Alex’s nonchalant expression shifted to a genuine grin, and he stepped aside. “Get in here.”

Before the door even had a chance to fully close, Henry’s lips were on Alex’s. This time, he was controlling the situation. There were no five minute limits, no parties to get back to… they had all night if they really wanted it, and Henry was going to take it slow.

He slid his hands up Alex’s chest to cradle his neck. Anytime Alex sped up, or nipped too hard, Henry slowed them right back down until their mouths moved together sensually, and deliberately. Henry pushed Alex up against the back of the couch that faced away from his bed, making Alex lean up into his kisses as he teased hints of tongue. His nimble fingers went straight for the buttons on Alex’s shirt, unveiling miles of smooth skin stretched over the most ridiculous set of abs he’d ever seen on a political figure. His mouth watered.

Henry’s teasing slowed gradually; he was falling too deeply into the what if territory. Their kisses suddenly too soft, too romantic, too close to what Henry pictured them doing before whispering sweet nothings to each other in bed. “How do you want to do this?” He asked abruptly, trying to break himself out of a fantasy.

Alex had begun unbuttoning Henry as well, his bowtie now hanging around his neck, but he’d only managed to get two buttons undone. “Get on the couch.”

He sucks in a breath, knees going weak at the dominant tone of Alex’s request, and complies, laying back against the arm of the couch. His eyes go dark as Alex stands over him, he feels the taller man’s eyes scan his body, and when their eyes meet, Henry cocks an eyebrow, inviting him in.

“You’ve been dodging me for weeks,” Henry’s eyes glaze over as Alex swings a leg over his own, and braces himself against the armrest next to his head. “You went out with a girl.”

He blinks up at Alex, and states what he thinks should be obvious. “I’m gay.” His hands finally reach out to spread across Alex’s body. He looked hungry, ready to take what he could get from Henry, and he hoped he’d finally made it clear enough what he wants from Alex in return. “Not something wise to pursue as a member of the royal family, and I wasn’t sure you weren’t going to murder me for kissing you.” The vulnerability was almost too much for him to bear, but Alex didn’t look angry, or upset, no, he looked intrigued. He looked aroused. He looked like he only had eyes for Henry.

“Then why’d you do it?”

Henry opened his mouth to talk, but then Alex’s lips were on his neck, dragging up and pressing kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear, the one that drove him crazy, and he hadn’t even had to tell him about it because somehow Alex just knew. His breath hitched, and he very nearly let out an embarrassing noise. “Because I—I hoped you wouldn’t. Murder me.” Alex was distracting. His words were getting jumbled as the blood rushed from his brain straight to his cock. Luckily Alex wasn’t close enough to feel it yet. He thought over what he might say next before opening his mouth, lest he say something entirely incoherent. “I had… suspicious you might want me too.” He must have taken Alex off-guard, or maybe he’d actually meant to bite his neck. Whatever the case, Henry was very much into it. “Or I thought, until I saw you with Nora, and then I was…” oh fuck, word vomit, “jealous… and I was drunk and an idiot who got sick of waiting for the answer to present itself.”

He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks, an ice bucket of vulnerability and truth slashed through the steamy moment. But Alex was relentless.

“You were jealous. You want me.”

Henry looked up at Alex, the vulnerability suddenly nowhere to be found. They were on the same level, Alex was teasing him, but not for being a jealous imbecile, Alex was turned on but Henry’s possessiveness. A fire burned through him, and suddenly, he couldn’t stand how far apart they were. He hauled Alex down by the hips, his breath hitching as they came together. “Yes, you preening arse, I’ve wanted you long enough that I won’t have you tease me for another fucking second.” Pez would be so proud of Henry calling it back to his slut phase.

He hauls Alex into another bruising kiss, feeling every spot they’re connected, and enjoying it more freely. Their kisses shift from the sweet, slow, sensual thing they had moments earlier to a more animalistic pace. He wasn’t sure what Alex was looking for from their time tonight, sure he’d said he was going to do bad things to him, but was that said in the heat of the moment? When they really got down to it, was Alex going to be okay with the fact that Henry is a man? He knew realistically this could stop at any moment, so he wasn’t taking any chances, he’d get what he could.

Unfortunately for Henry, it had been a while since his last time sharing a bed with a man, and even the heated kisses between the two had him half-hard in his well tailored trousers. Henry knew what he’d been gifted with, he’d heard the remark more than once about it being such a shame he preferred bottoming because of his particularly sizeable gift. Judging by the combination of Alex’s groan, and the heated weight of his own erection grinding down on Henry, he would have a similar mindset. “Fuck.”

Neither were sure who uttered those words, perhaps it was both of them as their kisses grew sloppy, and their hips rutted together until they were simply breathing and groaning into the other’s mouth. With that came the promise of more… Henry had eyed Alex’s partially open shirt when he first got to the room, and now he wanted it off. He snaked his arms down Alex’s body and hurriedly untucked the shirt from his waistband, then with no coordination or finesse, pulled the offending garment over Alex’s head. The miles of gorgeous skin above him makes his mouth water with want, and quickly, Henry is fumbling with his own buttons and yanking his��now wrinkled—pressed shirt off of himself. He wants nothing more than to be chest to chest with Alex with no barriers between them, but Alex seems too in his own world to continue what they were doing. The removal of shirts seemed like a definite answer of where the night was going for Henry, and he was quite certain Alex was on the same page as he was, so his first order of business as the leader of what he was sure was Alex’s first gay hookup, was to make them both more comfortable.

“Hang on,” He pressed his finger to Alex’s lips, effectively shutting him up as he tried to lean in. Brat, Henry thought, knowing he had a million ways he could take Alex apart, break him, then hold him as he pulled himself back together. “I want—” he sucked in a breath, inwardly cringing at how terribly depraved his own internal monologue had gotten. “I want you on the bed.” His chin lowers so he can stare at Alex through his lashes as he cocks an eyebrow suggestively.

Henry catches what seems to be a slight moment of realization for Alex as he grinds down one more time, a low whine nearly escaping. “Well, come on, Your Highness.” His smile was beautiful as he stood, offering his hand out to pull Henry up.

He mirrors Alex’s smile, muttering under his breath as he follows him to the large, inviting looking bed. He can feel Alex’s eyes on him as he hesitates off the edge of it, taking the time to unlace his shoes and chuck off his socks. The whole night had been like this, heated moments followed by hesitant, almost timid breathers. Henry knew he had a streak of dominance in him, and he’d never admit it to Alex, but every time he’d called him Your Highness, it sent a rush of blood straight to his cock. But this… this moment was one he’d been waiting for for as long as he could remember. The panic he felt at the Rio Olympics when they’d first met, the way he had to brace himself before welcoming him at Philip’s wedding… this moment was big. Henry had always been unwaveringly drawn to Alex, attracted, entranced, enamoured, annoyed… he was a moth and Alex was the flame. And now that he had him, he wasn’t sure he could ever let him go.

“Quit stalling.”

Henry drew his attention back to the object of his attraction, sprawled enticingly on the bed. He looked comfortable—of course he was comfortable it was his own bed—but more than just physically, he looked confident in the position he’d put himself in tonight with Henry. Any indication that Henry would be another straight boy’s experiment went out the window with the sultry look in Alex’s eyes, the way he’d watched Henry undress, it was heated with desire.

“Bossy.” Henry teased, and finally joined him on the bed. There was a lot more room here than there was on the couch, and Henry used that to his advantage, pushing Alex back against his pillows and settling himself over the other man. His mouth watered as he drew one of his hands up Alex’s stomach, feeling his muscles contract under him. Henry thumbed the piece of jewelry he wore around his neck, a shiny silver key.

“What’s this?”

“The key to my mom’s house in Texas,” Henry didn’t mean to stall, but he could tell Alex was impatient, and he was too much fun to tease. “I started wearing it when I moved here, I guess I thought it would remind me of where I came from or something—did I or did I not tell you to quit stalling?”

Oh so he really wants it. Henry thought to himself, letting out a low chuckle. When Alex pulls him into another kiss, he couldn’t help himself from finally pressing him into the sheets, letting their whole bodies connect in a way that lit him up from the inside. He groaned into Alex’s mouth as he felt him slide a hand up to his waist, holding him so reverently, more reverently than what this tryst called for. The whimper that escapes his throat as Alex moves away from his lips to bite down on the sensitive skin of his neck is not at all voluntary, and he knows he’d be shooting Alex an angry text the next morning when the hickey is more visible. But despite that, longing and need shoot through him, and finally, he starts to unbutton Alex’s trousers.

He can feel Alex’s whine of protest as Henry pulls away, but then he’s yanking the rest of his clothing down, and Alex lay mostly naked beneath. Done with convincing himself he can be cool about this, Henry allows himself a look at the beautiful boy beneath him. Alex was all smooth bronzed skin, with smatterings of dark hair that he just wanted to breathe in. The way his waist was trim, his stomach tightening in anticipation, the prominent V of his hips leading to the most gorgeous cock Henry had the pleasure of seeing up close and in person. Thick, and hard, and wet… Henry was done with waiting.

Without taking his eyes off Alex, Henry spit delicately into his hand, and brought it to touch Alex. He was velvety and smooth in his hand, and Alex was responding to him beautifully.

“Oh my fucking God.” Henry smirked, knowing deep down this was just the tip of the iceberg. “Fuck,” wordlessly, he worked alongside Henry, rutting his hips up into his hand as Henry twisted his wrist at the base of Alex’s cock, thumbing under the head on the upstroke. Alex’s blissed out babble went straight to Henry’s own cock, his eyes darkened as he imagined this is what Alex would look like writhing under him as he rode him into the mattress.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Henry tutted. “Such a mouth on you.” He cocked his head, smiling as Alex’s hips stilled, but Henry’s hand didn’t. A roll of satisfaction flooded over him at how Alex was now speechless. He opened his mouth to continue, but…

“Wait.” Alex’s fists were clenched in the sheets, a look of distress crossing his features. They weren’t doing anything heavy, and he didn’t think a simple hand job would require safe words, but maybe Henry should have gone over the stoplight system with him just in case… He stopped his movements, hand still gripping the base of Alex’s cock. “I mean, yes, obviously, oh my God, but, like, if you keep doing that I’m gonna—” Oh! “It’s, that’s just—that’s not allowed before I get to see you naked.”

Good catch.

Henry contemplates bringing his hand up to lick away some of the precum that had dripped onto his fingers, but he didn’t want to push Alex over the edge just yet. “All right.”

With a jolt of surprise, Henry is being shoved onto his back by Alex, who, in one motion, managed to push both their pants off fully, and climb back up to meet him. It was different with no barriers, he was quite literally laid out body and soul for Alex’s viewing pleasure. And for the first time since his early uni days, before his Oxford slut era, Henry felt vulnerable.

He could feel Alex’s eyes on every inch of him, and he couldn’t hide the smugness in his expression as their eyes met. Alex looked wrecked. His body was taut with anticipation, clearly a little unsure of where to go, but desperately wanting to touch. Henry pulled him down atop him again, groaning as their cocks brushed finally. Alex’s lips start again on Henry’s neck, and he had half a mind to tell him not to leave any marks, but they didn’t stay there for long. No, Henry glanced down his body to find Alex, the man who’d been haunting his dreams for the past five years, kissing his way down his body. He felt his cock jump in anticipation, knowing he didn’t expect Alex to attempt to use his mouth, but my God did he ever want him to try…

“I’ve uh, I’ve never actually done this before.”

“Alex,” Henry starts, brushing the curly locks back off his face, “you don’t have to, I’m—“

“No, I want to. I just need you to tell me if it’s awful.”

Henry’s mouth went dry. In all the times he’d pictured himself with Alex, he never pictured him to be shy. Even tonight, he’d been forward, and aggressive until now. But under all the nervousness, he looked eager, and who was Henry to deny him. “Okay. Of course.”

The responding smile Alex gives him makes his insides twist with fondness. Henry would have been okay with just making out lazily in Alex’s bed after getting him off, he really didn’t expect any of this to go as far as it had. But here he was, in Alex’s bed, watching him excitedly touch Henry for the first time.

The first touch of Alex’s hand to his cock lit him up inside. His breath hitched, and the sound of it made Alex’s smile harden into something more devious. Henry could tell he was trying to replicate what he’d done earlier; it was a little dry, and his grip not quite tight enough for Henry’s liking, but there was no doubt Alex was enjoying himself. Finally, after what felt like forever, Alex kissed the tip of his cock.

“That’s it, love.” Henry encouraged him, his voice sounding broken, as Alex parted his lips and took him in his mouth. The velvety heat had Henry shuddering, his hand fell atop Alex’s, holding on for dear life as he took him as deep as he could. “Breathe through your nose, I promise it gets easier.” He chuckled, understanding the familiar invasive feeling.

Alex pulled off, his eyes watering slightly. “Oh yeah? Suck a lot of dicks Your Highness?”

Henry spluttered. “A man doesn’t kiss and tell, but I’ve enough experience to know how to do it well. Now, I seem to remember you putting that mouth of yours to good use?”

Alex ducked his head, a breathy laugh hitting the soft hairs on Henry’s upper thighs. He went back to work, gaining confidence with every bob of his head, taking encouragement from Henry. A feeling of bliss washed over Henry, and he groans when Alex’s tongue hits a particularly sensitive spot on the underside of his cock. He looks down, biting his lip, and threads his fingers through Alex’s dark hair, prompting him to look up. That single look nearly tipped Henry over the edge, “fucking eyelashes” he mutters, throwing his head back, and tightening the grip on Alex’s hair. A groan reverberates from the man below, and Henry chuckles. “Yeah, you like that? Having your hair pulled?” He assumed the answer was yes from the way Alex’s responding whine came from deep in his throat. The vibrations from his groans had Henry’s hips grinding against the mattress, it was all too much and not enough simultaneously. “Jesus Christ, Alex, I’m close.” He whined, shifting so he could throw a leg over Alex’s shoulder. His breathing became erratic, he knew he probably looked like a mess, but he didn’t care, and after only a second of Alex gently cradling his balls, Henry was coming down Alex’s throat with a breathy laugh.

He wasted no time, dragging Alex back up his body, and kissing him deeply. The taste of himself on Alex’s lips was something he’d never forget, erotic and messy and perverse.

“Not awful?”

He laughs, high and airy. “Definitely adequate.” More than, he thinks, but he’d never let that get to Alex’s head.

Henry brings his lips back to Alex’s, needing to feel close again so quickly after coming. He hooks his arms around Alex’s neck, bringing him down for a sloppy kiss only to discover that Alex was still hard. His erection hadn’t flagged, and Henry was sure Alex was as desperate for an orgasm as he had been. Hooking his leg over Alex’s hip, he flipped them, a shocked “Oof” leaving Alex’s lips as his back hit the mattress. Much like he’d felt Alex do earlier, Henry kissed his way down Alex’s body, paying special attention to the swells of his pecs, his belly button, and the crease of his hip. “Take what you need, love.” He says, meeting Alex’s eyes, before taking him between his lips, and down to the hilt.

Something he’d hoped Alex would appreciate, was that Henry was a world class cocksucker. He’d had countless men from various parts of the globe during his time at Oxford, on a few occasions, more than one at a time, and if there was one thing Henry excelled at, it was blow jobs. He’d long since trained away his gag reflex in the dormitories of Eton, he knew just the right touch and was able to tailor it to the man he was with.

In no time at all, Alex was writhing beneath him. “Sweetheart.” He’d groaned, as Henry guided Alex’s hand to his own blond hair. He pulled out all the stops, changing up his rhythm, pulling off to kiss his way down the shaft and over his balls, flicking his tongue just under the head… with Alex was a babbling mess underneath him, and Henry’s heart swelled with pride.

He could tell Alex was close, he’d already been close earlier when Henry used his hand on him, and now after the rest of the night had progressed, he definitely wouldn’t last long. For his final trick, he breathed in deep and took Alex into his throat, glancing up at him through his eyelashes as his nose hit his pubic bone. “Motherfucker.” Henry swallowed around his cock, spurring Alex’s hold on his har to tighten painfully. “Dios mio,” his breath was ragged, “I’m so fucking close Hen, I’m gonna—” Henry cupped his balls and rubbed the tips of his fingers against his perineum in a ‘come hither’ motion, and Alex was suddenly spilling down his throat.

He pulled away from Alex’s cock, pressing a sticky kiss to the crease of his thigh, and moved back up his body. Henry was definitely a cuddler, he’d had enough one off hookups to know that not everyone wanted that, but when he was feeling floaty with the rush of post-sex hormones, he really just wanted to be close to someone. He nuzzled his nose in Alex’s neck, not wanting this feeling to end, when Alex wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close. He could hear the other man’s heart thrumming in his chest, strong and fast, and he smiled in content, still in disbelief of where he was and who he was with. The silence dragged on comfortably, neither man wanting to move, but Henry knew he needed to assess the situation, see where Alex’s head was at. He lifted his own head, seeing Alex’s face peering down at him with a soft expression, and moved back up so they were eye to eye.

“Hmm,” Henry started, eyes shifting between Alex’s and his lips. “If I had known this was all it took to shut you up, I’d have done it ages ago.” His voice was low and gravelly, a byproduct of giving head. He always thought it was sexy on other men, and hoped Alex would think so too.

“Fuck you.”

Henry chuckled lowly, smiling as his lips met Alex’s in a lazy kiss. It was too wet, uncoordinated and totally messy, and it was an absolutely perfect way to end their first experience wrapped up in each other’s bodies. Henry pulled away from the kiss, hoping Alex would follow him over, but he’d stayed on his back, staring at the ceiling, and the panic hit. Fuck. I just had sex with a straight man. I was some weird gay experiment, and now that he’s tried it, he’ll never want to see me again. I’ve just ruined our friendship, you can’t be friends with someone who’s had your dick in their mouth. Or… even worse… what if we do stay friends but never do this again? I don’t think I can get the look of his face, taste of his lips, feel of his touch out of my head… we can never go back.

“Hey,” he feels a sharp poke to his bicep. “Don’t freak out.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “I’m not freaking out.” He was.

From beside him, Henry could feel Alex scoot a touch closer. “It was fun. I had fun, you had fun, right?”

Fun, understatement of the century. “Definitely.” He replies, in a cool, blissed out way, closing his eyes and wiggling further into Alex’s downy mattress.

“And you know this doesn’t, like, change anything between us, right?” Henry’s eyes shot open. “We’re still… whatever we were before, just, you know. With blowjobs.” Whatever they were before was entirely open to interpretation. Sure, they were friends, maybe even best friends, but Henry had definitely been flirting quite openly, and after the events of tonight, he was fairly positive Alex had been too, even if he wasn’t entirely aware of it. Henry was sure Alex was talking a friends with benefits situation, not exactly top of the ‘Intelligent ways to continue a friendly relationship with your lifelong crush after having sex with them’ list. He’d never been in that kind of relationship, but he knew for sure they never end well. But on the other hand, disagreeing to it would mean never getting to see Alex like this again, and possibly having to confess the whole damn way, so… maybe it was the safest option.

“Right.” He drags a hand down his face, knowing he’d just hammered the final nail in his own coffin. Here lies His Royal Highness Henry George Edward James Fox Mountchristen-Windsor, died as he lived, a gay, horny disaster. R.I.P.

“So, I guess I should tell you, I’m bisexual.”

Henry’s mind hit the brakes entirely. Bisexual, OH. This was a coming out. They’d never really gotten into each other’s sexualities, Henry figured Alex knew he was gay from their New Years kiss, but Henry had always assumed Alex was straight, had he not always been straight…

He turned onto his side again, facing Alex. Alex’s head was turned, watching Henry, almost too intimately. “Good to know,” he allowed himself to rove his eyes over Alex’s body, taking him in again now that they were both blissfully sated. “I am very, very gay.” He smiles, feeling a little silly saying it again after he’d basically hurled it at Alex earlier in the heat of the moment. Alex’s responding chuckle sent a thrill down his spine, his insides turned to goop as the moment grew softer and more intimate. He couldn’t help himself from closing the distance between them and bringing Alex into another, too tender kiss.

“Hey,” Henry’s eyes were still closed as Alex pulled back a hair, his breath still fanning over his lips. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I should warn you it’s probably in both of our best interests if you go back to your room before morning. Unless you want the PPOs to lock the Residence down and come requisition you from my boudoir.”

“Ah.” He pulled away, resting on his back once more. He knew this too intimate night would have to end, but the longer he stayed wrapped up in Alex, the less he wanted to leave. “You’re right.”

“You can stay for another round if you want to.” Henry nearly chokes as Alex offers this up. Desperately, against his best interest, he wants to say yes, wants to pin Alex down and straddle him, ride him until dawn with Alex’s huge hands leaving bruises on his thighs, his hips, his asscheeks… But one of them had to be the practical one now, and unfortunately, Alex was right about his PPOs probably locking this place down, despite Shaan knowing exactly where he was, who he was with, and what (who) he was doing.

“I rather think I’d—I’d better get back to my room.” With a shuddering breath, Henry rises from the bed. He could feel Alex’s eyes watch him move around the bed, collecting his clothes from where they were strewn around, pulling them on haphazardly. Alex eventually followed, and of course Henry watched his shoulder blades ripple the skin of his back as he pulled on a pair of grey sweat shorts, with nothing on underneath. His mouth watered as the man turned around; he needed a deep breath to compose himself and remind himself why he knew he had to leave.

Henry made his way to the door, feeling Alex hover closely behind him. He’d usually been great at leaving after a clandestine hookup, zero attachment, a quick nod from the door, and he was on his merry way. But this wasn’t any normal hookup, this was Alex. “Well, er…”

Alex looked smug as he rolled his eyes, trapping Henry against the door. “For fuck’s sake, man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me goodnight.”

Could he? Could casual intimacy be part of their arrangement? He thought about all the friends-to-lovers tropes he’d read that started the exact same way, and let out a full belly laugh. Henry presses a sweet kiss to Alex’s lips, lingering only for a second too long, before he was out the door.

Perhaps he could make this work.

#firstprince #rwrb #rwrb fic #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #henry x alex #firstprince fic #my writing

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