Hamilton leans against the doorway, folds his arms casually and watches Laurens read. The creak of the wooden frame under Hamilton's (admittedly slight) weight, causes a slight smirk to flicker over the reader's mouth. It is, however, several long seconds before he deigns to look up and acknowledge Hamilton.
"Good evening," Laurens says shortly, and returns to his book.
"Good evening, sir," Hamilton says. A pause. Laurens doesn't look up. "It may be hypocritical coming from me, but don't you think you ought to get some rest? You've been at this for three solid days."
"I'm fine. Really." It's deceptively casual and entirely false.
Hamilton slides into the room, slow but purposeful, and closes the door behind him. Laurens scribbles something on a piece of parchment and looks up. "Hamilton, I don't have time right now. I have to help Lafayette plan-"
The key turns in the lock. "Hamilton. I'm serious." There is something in his tone, something like a warning. The kind a friendly dog might give before it bites. It strikes Hamilton fast, somewhere low and dirty.
"So am I." The words slither out. Silken.
Laurens feels his cock respond automatically. He shifts uncomfortably, takes a long breath, regains control of himself. "Alexander-" he starts, but then he meets Hamilton's gaze. There's a storm brewing behind those eyes. "Come here."
Hamilton is there in an instant, dropping to his knees and looking up at him with such feigned innocence that Laurens almost wants to laugh, except it isn't funny. The room has drawn in around them, hot and close. Candles sputter while the fireplace crackles. Everything else is silent. Laurens clumsily undoes his breeches with one hand, book still clamped in the other, and pulls his cock out. He's only half-hard - a minor miracle of self-control - but that's exactly what is needed right now. Laurens looks back to his book and forces himself to read a couple of sentences. He looks back at Hamilton, still waiting patiently. "Hmm? Did you want something?"
Hamilton looks momentarily lost for words. "I... May I..."
"Oh, if you must," Laurens replies with an air of frustration, and is delighted to see no hurt in Hamilton's eyes. Instead there is only a quick, indrawn breath, and then pale hands are smoothing their way up his thighs. He returns to the book, focusing on a diagram of an intricate battle strategy, and tries not to bite through his lip when he feels the first lick of Hamilton's warm tongue on his cock. "I'm very busy right now, and this is such an inconvenience," Laurens grumbles, and is pleased to find it comes out sounding almost normal.
Hamilton bats his eyelashes coyly, tongue occupied with fluttering against the underside of Laurens cock in the maddening way which would ordinarily be causing Laurens to beg right now. "Well, if it makes you feel better then I suppose I must indulge you," Laurens sighs, "you are the companion of my heart after all and sometimes one must do things which one is-" and fights the urge to thrust when Hamilton finally takes his cock fully into his mouth, "not at all inclined to. For love."
Hamilton pauses for a split second, long enough for Laurens to know exactly what that means, and then resumes his languid pace. Laurens returns to his book, occasionally making notes (although he has no real idea what he is writing) and feels himself relax and tighten under Hamilton's tender mouth. The fire casts shadows around the room, and the only movement is that of Hamilton's dark head bobbing up and down. Slowly. Deliberately. Doing his best not to disturb.
"That's pleasant," he says lazily, wanting to scream, and feels a swirling of tongue in response. Laurens suddenly wants to come very badly, wants to fill that mouth up, but Hamilton knows how to play him and there is no way this will be enough. He focuses for a few moments, trying to resist the urge. It's no good. He's on fire with need, and Hamilton knows it. Just a bit more. Just a little bit more of something.
"Suck me, Alexander," Laurens murmurs, fixing his eyes firmly on the book. "Come on. Suck me off like a good boy." The sudden increase in speed is not quite enough but the sharp whimper Hamilton can't entirely suppress, humming through his cock, is enough to bring Laurens over the edge. He throws his head back and stuffs his fist into his mouth.
Bites down. Sees stars.
Comes in Alexander's mouth, hot and rough, thrusting the last few strokes until his cock is unbearably tender. Drawing every last drop of pleasure out of that willing, sweet mouth. Uttering a strangled moan of pure, blissful joy.
He feels Hamilton drop onto the sofa beside him, remove the book from an unprotesting hand and draw a blanket over them both. Feels the pressure of his lovers head nestling into his shoulder, in that same comfortable spot as always. "I have to-" he mutters drowsily, and Hamilton shushes him. The last thing he remembers is the touch of Alexander's fingers on his, gentle and loving.
"Goodnight, dear heart."