Well, this one was fun to write, got some period action for you. I haven't tried my hand at actually writing the boys in the Revolution, so here is a smutty dabble drabble. Thank you so much for reading!
Gibbs stood up and stacked his receipts neatly into his letter box and picked up his candle, "Hamilton, Laurens, always so eager to work into the night."
I looked up at him and smiled, "we work until the work is done, Gibbs."
I dipped my quill in ink and copied the next line of the letter that I'd written in the hand of Washington.
"Well, goodnight, gentlemen." He laughed me off.
"'Night, Gibbs." John ducked his head.
Gibbs disappeared through the doorway and made his way up the creaky steps to the room he was sharing with someone else in Washington's military family. The great room was now empty, the master of the house long retired, our lamp burned low and cast long shadows around the room. John shifted on the bench next to me, bones in his back popping, he yawned widely and dropped his quill back to the page, copying another letter I'd drafted for the General, his hand was heavier and less precise than my own.
"You're tired." I commented, continuing my writing.
"We all are. We're fighting a war."
"And, my dear boy, you fight it with the passion that few others can muster, you have more right to be tired than any man on the soil of this land."
I heard him breath a small laugh as he dipped his quill back in the inkwell. I wrote still, ignoring the cramp in my hand, it never let me alone, dare I say it gave me difficulty in articulating with my rifle. I felt John's shin climb across the back of my calf and cleared my throat. He laughed that same quiet, heavy breath and his leg was gone from mine. The bench creaked as he fidgeted, his toes now bare, save for their stockings played at the back of my ankle at the edge of the leather of my shoes.
"Laurens, are you through with that letter?" I whispered.
"Nearly, it isn't my fault that certain authors lack the skill of brevity."
"It has seemed that a lack of brevity is not always your complaint, for I recall multiple occasions with which stamina and endurance have been your compliments." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw his freckles burn with a blush in the lamplight.
We worked in silence until he was finished copying the letter, I was long done and had moved on to a new project for the general. Laurens shoved his papers into his letterbox and grinned at me wolfishly. I took my time in neatly packing my things for the next day when we would take our work back up.
"Ham, come with me to the creek, I am a wretched, dirty thing." Laurens pleaded with me.
"I do not disagree with such observations." I winked at him.
His lips curled up and he rolled his eyes in their sockets, "you slink quietly about, it is in our best interest if you retrieve our packs from our room."
I nodded and crept up the stairs, watching him pull his shoe back on. The sounds of the family snoring in their beds filled the house and drowned out my movements, I made it into the tight room that had been declared mine and John's. It was cramped, the lady of the house apologized for the lack of privacy that the small room afforded, we assured her casually that it was no matter, though Laurens and I admitted to each other that the privacy was a work of divine inspiration.
With the packs slung crosswise around my trunk I slipped through the cacophonous house back to where Laurens waited for me. He watched me dismount the stairs and shouldered his own pack when I handed it to him. Once we were outside and past the first row of tents we permitted our voices to rise to a conversational volume. The creek was a pleasant walk from the house, safe from enemy territory - not that John minded either way - but still far enough away to be unseen by our own men as we bathed ourselves… each other.
At the edge of the water we stripped ourselves bare, setting our shoes among the roots under a willow tree and waded with our armfuls of clothing into the water. There was a smooth rock jutting above the water, we sat ourselves on it and made our clothing damp. John dug into his bar of soap with his thumbnail and worked the shavings to a froth before handing the bar to me.
I put my stocking under the water and rubbed at the soles, laughing to myself, "Laurens, you fool."
"What have I done?" He asked me as he meticulously scrubbed the fabric of his stockings against itself.
"I was recalling your opinion that white clothing is the easiest to keep pristine... you're a fool."
"It is a part of my charm, though. I hold that opinion strongly, with white clothing, there isn't concern or question about the cleanliness of the garment."
"But under most circumstances, they can never be completely white after a time has passed."
"You need to learn better washing." He teased.
"I'm fine at washing." I argued back.
"You're fine at many tasks, Alexander, washing is one that perhaps you should defer to me for."
"Then you may do my washing as well." I handed him back the bar of soap and splashed into the creek, dunking my body.
John watched me with his lips pursed and fired off banter, "only for you, dear girl."
"'Dear, girl,' bah, you're the one doing the washing. Hurry up, I wish to take you in my arms here in this creek."
He glowered at me, but I noticed him take up speed in doing the washing as he moved on to my breeches. Once it was all finished, he took the armful of clothing to the shore and hung it over the skeleton of a dead tree. He joined me in the water and handed me the soap back, tipping his head back to dampen his curls. I broke a corner of the soap off in my hands and gave him back the bar, working the fragment in my hands into a lather before burying my fingers into his hair. He moaned in ecstasy as I massaged his scalp. I inspected it carefully in the moonlight, looking for lice and other parasites that were common among the barracks. With his back to me as I washed his hair, I was afforded access to kiss his neck, thick and strong, I found the artery under his ear and suckled at it.
John ducked beneath the water to rinse his hair and repeated the actions for me, he scratched at the flaky skin on my scalp that nearly always burned and reacted from the caustic soap. I sighed as he ran his fingers through my hair. We each washed ourselves and then stood in the creek at the deepest part, water up to our chests and looked at each other.
I leaned into him and took him by the waist against me, meeting our mouths in a kiss. He licked at my own mouth and I tasted his sweet flavour. He pressed our bodies together passionately and kissed me harder, the speed increasing the longer we stood in the creek together.
"We should go back and retire." I told him, my hand on his chest.
"We should stay here." he countered.
"Jack, it will serve us no boon to be found engaging in such acts in the middle of a creek."
"It will serve us no boon to be found engaging in such acts from your howling." he countered.
I felt heat rise to my face at the memory of the times that John had shoved his fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet.
"Then what is your suggestion?" I stood my ground, foolish though it may have been.
"Our cot is softer than the ground and it is warmer inside by the fire. I relent to you, Alexander, as I always do. We will go back and retire, and I will gag you with your own stockings if I have to."
"If you'd only sworn that under oath." I grinned, staring at his creamy skin in the blue moonlight.
"Is this a fantasy that has brought you pleasure previously?" He asked, wading back through the creek.
"Not predating this moment, but you have my word that it shall be."
I stood on the shore and shook myself like a dog, pressing the water from my hair in my fists. I didn't like how the caustic soap made it feel - stringy and straw like. John seemed unbothered by it. We dressed in hunting shirts which hung to our knees, and back into our shoes, carrying our damp clothing against ourselves.
The standing patrol acknowledged us, likely envious that we had had the opportunity to make ourselves clean. Once inside our lodging house we crept up the stairs, Laurens finding every loose board in the house, making each step as loud as possible. My movements were deft and agile, silent. We pulled the plank door of our room shut to afford a little blessed privacy.
John stoked the coals to life while I hung our clothing before the mantle. The fire roared softly and I was grateful for any noise that it offered to conceal our actions. Our cot was small, too small to comfortably fit two grown men, but with our limited supplies we all made due. Even men without mine and John's proclivity to bed with another man found themselves eager to share in the comfort and warmth of another soul.
Laurens was first to initiate our tryst. His fingers sought the hem of my hunting shirt, he hitched it over my hips and felt my body, sharp and hard from use and hunger. His fingers, calloused and rough teased at the flesh of my manhood, I stirred and leaned back against him. He continued to stroke me, arousing me.
I sighed and he whispered in my ear, "be quiet, lover."
At his words I nodded and reached back to pull his lips toward my neck. He suckled the flesh, careful to only marr the flesh below the covering of my uniform, which left bruises on the surprisingly erogenous spots of my shoulder blades.
He spat into his hand and split the flesh of my seat. I arched against him at the burning press of his fingers.
"When this war is over and we're home in our country and I bed you we'll have the finest oils. I hate hurting you." He whispered in my ear.
"Laurens, there is no bedding each other after the war. Once we live the lives of simple men we must take wives and be men, not the aberrations of pleasures of the flesh that the war has allowed us to become." I reminded him.
"Hamilton, doesn't this seem an inappropriate occasion to discuss such matters?" His fingers pressed deep within me and panted.
"Perhaps you are right, pet." I gasped and clutched at him through the rough patchwork blanket we'd been provided.
"Aren't I always?" He growled in my ear.
I panted, trying to stay silent, "to this… I cannot… concede."
His fingers twisted, the digits finding new spots of pleasure to take advantage of, his chest heaved against my spine, "Alexander, I must have you."
"Then have me." I drew my knee against my body and heard him spit again.
The press of his manhood was the sear of fingers on a hot kettle, I bit down around nothing but my own teeth and whimpered at the stretch of my body to accommodate his.
"Are you alright, pet?" He asked.
I nodded, not willing to trust my voice for speech, he pressed himself further, until he reached the hilt and stayed sheathed in me until I writhed before him.
"John." I whispered, trying to be silent, knowing what would happen if anyone else were woken up by us.
His tongue traced the back of my ear before he nipped the outer shell. I pressed my face into the bend of my elbow to silence myself and he worked his body in staccato motions, my own body relenting around him. The competing roughness of him inside me and the straw barely hewn into the cot below us warred with the tenderness of his breath against my shoulder and his hand picking up my own and pressing the knuckles to his lips.
He motions grew faster, a small creak sounded from our cot with every thrust he made, the stability of pistons in a steam engine. I wrapped his arm around me and bit down on his wrist to keep from crying out his precious name. His heat leaked inside me and I gasped around the filling sensation. His sweaty brow came to rest against my shoulder and he moved his hand to my manhood again. My eyes rolled back in my skull at his touch and a small moan chased out of my mouth.
"Be quiet." He demanded in a breath in my ear.
I rolled to face him in the tiny cot and clamped my teeth against each other and his breath stroked my ear again, "Hamilton, compose yourself before we are found."
I nodded and kissed him to shut myself up. My climax was urgent, throbbing in his hand, tongue against his. He licked into my mouth a final time and removed his hand, licking his fingers clean. My body shuddered at the sight and I kissed my taste out of his mouth.
"You slay me again, dear boy." I whispered into his ear.
"It is resolutely my pleasure."
"How many words must I use before you understand my love for you?"
"At least a thousand more if they are as pretty as the words you write for the general."
"Those words are but correspondence. The words I use on you are private and betray my affections."
"Then at least another thousand after it, if only to hear you speak them to me." His nose brushed against my collarbone.
I moved down in the cot and dropped my brow against his shoulder, "Laurens, I do believe that you and our dear Marquis are my only comfort against this wretched world."
He hands raked through my hair, "but do you know our dear Marquis as you know me?"
I breathed a soft laugh, "I know him as you know him, and as we all know each other, he is good company, dear boy, but any company I keep pales against you."
"And you should know, with as much company you keep."
"You are often indisposed, I must keep company somewhere."
"How many bastards do you reckon you've encumbered the ladies with."
"None." I argued.
"And you know this how?"
"I reckon that I do not know, but I believe it to be so in that only do I peak in your arms."
"Is that so?"
"Perhaps." I smirked at him, his face glowing in the flickering light of the fireplace.
"Perhaps." He repeated.
"Good night, Jack."
"Good night, Ham." He kissed my jaw a final time and rolled over to make himself comfortable, letting me embrace him and mold my body to his.
