Chapter Text
The first heat of July 1790 finds Alexander Hamilton boarding a carriage set to take him from New York to Virginia. He’d packed light - not that he had much to begin with - and made sure to bring his books with him. Many things weighed heavy on his mind, more than enough baggage to suit him. After all, it had been only two weeks earlier that he, Jefferson, and Madison sat down to dinner and agreed on a compromise that would change the fate of their young nation for the rest of its foreseeable future, if it survived.
And all because Alexander, Thomas, and James had ended up in bed together.
No, he couldn’t think of it that way. They had remained strictly professional during the dinner, and even when Thomas had suggested it - to a nude, groggy Alexander - James had reminded them of the ethics of the situation, of the precedent it would set for letting personal interests dictate political motivations. He had to push his mind away from the memory of Thomas’ lips around his cock that morning, of James whispering praises in his ear.
But of course he couldn’t push them away for long, because, despite it all, Jefferson had invited him to be a guest at Monticello over the summer. To not just spend heated nights in Madison’s estate in upstate New York, but to genuinely spend time with the men, to eat at their table, to drink their wine and fall into bed with them at the end of a long day. It was more than daunting, it was terrifying .
These are the things Alexander finds himself turning over again and again in his mind as the carriage rumbles over dirt roads on the long trip down to Virginia. It’s the evening of the fourth day on the road, and exhaustion aches through his bones. He stares out the little window at the passing trees and farms, and once again has the deep burning urge in his gut to just open the door and jump out, to run from this stupid, stupid decision, from all the mistakes he’s made in his life, out into the untamed West, out somewhere where no one knew his name. Just as he realizes his hand is creeping closer to the door, the driver rounds a corner and a huge brick building grows into view at the top of the hill.
Monticello.
Alexander hates to admit it, but the place is breathtaking. The sun has just started to sink low in the sky, and it casts a golden glow over the trees and glances off the white of the dome. As his carriage pulls up through the driveway, the glass front doors swing open and Jefferson steps out to greet him with a wide smile on his face, a gold-tipped cane in one hand. Madison is close behind him, hands clasped behind his back, dressed in muted grey to contrast Jefferson’s favorite maroon dress jacket. Alex sits up, moving to open his carriage door, but it pulls open from the outside. Hamilton realizes - a bit uncomfortably - that his door was being held by one of the servants that waited around the estate. It’s an opulence that he’s not used to.
He climbs out of the carriage and nods in thanks to the servant, who, along with another man, hoists his trunk out of the carriage and walks it up into the house. Alexander watches him go, blinking, before turning to his hosts.
“Hamilton!” Thomas greets him, his arms flinging out from his sides as if he wanted to go for a hug, but changed his mind at the last moment and ends up merely shaking Alexander’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it.”
James smiles warmly, holding out a hand for Alexander to shake, and Thomas nearly bounces on his heels, tapping his cane on the steps.
“Come on in, I’m sure you’re looking forward to a warm supper after your trip.” Thomas beckons him inside, and James leans over to Alex.
“He’s been wanting to show you the house,” James stage-whispers, and Jefferson laughs.
“I designed it myself,” he clarifies. “It’s my pride and joy.”
Stepping into the front hall, Alex gapes. Adorning the walls is a collection of hunting trophies, paintings, and Native artifacts, as well as a few busts on pedestals. He steps carefully over the deep green floor, listening to the echo of his footsteps as Thomas rambles on about the design and construction. He’s led through the doors on the other side of the hall, into a little foyer, where a game of chess sits half-played on a table.
“Do you play?” Thomas asks Alexander, gesturing towards the set. Hearing Alex respond in the affirmative, he nods. “James and I were just in the middle of a game when we got word your carriage was coming up the hill. We can play a bit after supper?” Though it’s phrased as a declaration, there’s a hint of hesitation in his voice that Alexander hasn’t heard before. Certainly the man must be anxious about Hamilton’s presence, and the bold move it was to invite Alexander to stay for the summer. After all, none of them have much idea of what exactly this summer will have in store for them, though Alex can’t deny he’s been fantasizing nonstop.
James speaks up. “Supper is waiting,” he reminds Thomas. “We’ve kept it covered, so it should still be warm.” Striding forward with his ridiculously long legs, Thomas moves past him, leading them through a door to their right into the dining area.
The first thing that strikes Alexander is the bright, blossoming yellow of the walls. Jefferson points out excitedly some contraptions of his own invention, such as small doors set into the side of the fireplace that allow wine to be brought up from the cellars in a modified dumbwaiter. The dining table itself is set up in a nook across the room, with open glass partitions. There’s a tantalizing smell coming from the silver cloches hiding three plates.
“I have to apologize for the casual dining.” Thomas seems a bit hesitant - of course the man would worry about the propriety and customs of the meal with no regard to the absolute impropriety of Alexander’s reason for visiting. “Veal, pudding, and vegetables, from my own garden.” He pulls the silver covers off, setting them aside, and Alex nearly drools. Thomas, as the host, seats himself at the head of the table, and James takes the seat to his right, leaving Alexander to sit at Thomas’ left hand. It all seems very intimate, as close as they are. As Thomas begins to pour the wine, Alex glances up, and realizes he’s being stared down at by more marble busts from the walls. It seems as though every inch of the house is covered in art. Twisting his neck, he can make out what seems to be artists’ interpretations of several prominent men, including Washington, Franklin, and even Lafayette himself. Hamilton contemplates the amount of work it must have taken the sculptor to detail Lafayette’s curls, and, glancing back down to Jefferson, marvels at how much more it would take to pick his voluminous hair out of stone.
Thomas seems to notice Alexander staring at him, and raises his eyebrows, sipping at his glass. “Something wrong?”
Alex finds himself caught off-guard. “It’s - art,” he blurts out, which gets him startled looks from the other men. Thomas tilts his head down, staring wide-eyed at his plate.
“I’m flattered,” he mumbles, and Alex finds his face heating up. Embarrassed, he picks up his fork, digging into the food. He pretends not to notice the amused smile playing at the edges of Madison’s lips.
After a few minutes of silence, Alexander puts his fork down. “Ah,” he begins, and James startles, apparently chased out of thought. “I was wondering, Thomas, how this summer will… will work, with the house… We don’t exactly have the house to ourselves.”
At that, Thomas gives him a clever grin. “That’s because we’re not staying at Monticello.”
“We’re not?”
Thomas shakes his head, and his hair bounces against his shoulders. “In the morning we’ll be headed out to Poplar Forest. It’s a retreat of mine, just big enough for two - well, three now. We’ll have all the privacy we need.”
Alex blinks, processing the implications of Thomas’ statement. He tries to say “You’ve done this before?” and “Will we be alone?” and manages to mangle it into “Have you been alone?”
“Ah, no,” Thomas laughs, seemingly a bit nervous. “No, James has been there with me. Although it’ll be our first journey out there since I’ve been home.” He ducks his head, as though it’s uncomfortable to admit despite Alexander’s awareness of their relationship. Actually, Alexander begins to question what his awareness really is of James and Thomas’ relationship. What does he really know beyond their sexual encounters? How long has this been going on?
Realizing he never actually asked the questions he meant to, Alex tries again. “Will we be alone there?”
“Mostly,” Thomas clarifies. “There are some groundskeepers that will come around, but I’ve had the home stocked as best I could, so that we can sustain ourselves there on the retreat.”
“You cook?” It’s more of a shock to Alexander than the mens’ relationship status. He supposes he’d always assumed Jefferson never had to lift a finger for anything in his life.
James snorts in laughter at Thomas’ sour face. “I do cook,” Thomas defends. “It’s an important skill for anyone, man or woman.”
“Of course,” Alex nods. “I mean, I’m surprised, of course. Don’t you have servants to do everything for you?”
Both Thomas and James object to that. “Not everything!”
“Having them around means we have more time to work on business,” James explains.
“To write, to invent, to collect art,” Thomas adds, frowning. “It doesn’t mean we’re completely helpless.”
Hamilton laughs. “You doth protest too much,” he teases them. “Listen to you, trying to justify yourselves. But nevermind that,” he interrupts himself quickly. “Look, we’re not here to argue. I have no doubt it’ll happen, and I know that we all have business we still need to work on over the summer. After all, our nation doesn’t stop for the affairs of a few madmen.” He emphasises the word, drawing out the innuendo, and James smiles, chuckling. “But we’re going to try our damn best, right?” He plunges into the conclusions he drew on the trip down. “The Thomas I know here is not the Jefferson I know from the Cabinet. I mean, you would never imagine Secretary Jefferson that morning two weeks ago with his -” He abruptly stops himself as Thomas raises his eyebrows and purses his lips in warning. “You see what I mean, though. And to me,” he continues, gesturing at James, “you’re not Mr. Madison of Congress, you’re James. James who thought of the washcloths, who is so damn gentle and firm at once,” he concludes, trying to be subtle in his wording. “And that’s all we need to be here.”
He’s met with a bit of a stunned silence, during which the other two nod to themselves. Thomas blinks, staring down at the table, as though he’s had some sort of revelation. James just fixes his gaze on Alexander, and if the man could visibly blush, Alex is sure he would be.
“I think,” James speaks, his voice a bit distant, “that we may have to postpone that chess game.”
Thomas’ eyebrows draw together in concern, and he touches James’ hand. “We can’t,” he whispers. “It’s too risky.”
“You say that like we haven’t done it before,” James counters, matching his low voice.
“We can wait.” Thomas sounds genuinely concerned, and Alex glances back and forth from one man to the other. “With three it’ll be too loud.”
“After that ?” James’ eyes flick over to Alexander, then back to Thomas.
Thomas looks over as well, and Alex runs a nervous hand through his hair. It’s a bit awkward to have them discussing him in their own private language when he’s less than a foot away.
Thomas’ chest rises and he opens his lips as if to say something, then licks his lower lip thoughtfully. “Dammit,” he concludes, pushing his chair from the table and standing. James smirks at him, apparently having won their little debate. “Alexander, are you finished?”
“I can be, yes,” Alex stutters, rising. “What’s this about?”
James smiles coyly at him, standing and returning the covers to their plates. “We haven’t had the chance to show you Mr. Jefferson’s study.”
Reaching out, Thomas clutches at Alex’s elbow. “It’s - good to have you here,” he declares, and something about it seems a bit disjointed from the rest of the context, but Alexander lets it slide, because Thomas is pulling him out the door and across the main hall, with Madison close on their heels. As they reach a doorway, Thomas hesitates, turning to James and whispering furiously. “Should we use the octagonal room? It’s more concealed.”
“We’ll be fine,” James encourages quietly, nodding towards the door. Thomas purses his lips again - a nervous habit? - and pushes open the dark wooden door.
Alexander’s breath catches as he realizes where they’ve led him. He pauses for a moment, trying to make sense of the unusual room, before James puts a hand on his back and pushes him inside, closing and locking the door behind them.
The room at first appears to be a bedroom, in that there’s a bed in it, covered by a red duvet. However, the bed is set into the middle of a wall, and beyond it is an entirely separate room. A door at the end of the bed allows easier access to what appears to be a more furnished study beyond.
“What on Earth?” Alex mutters.
“It’s my own design,” Thomas explains proudly.
“Isn’t everything?” James adds under his breath, the sarcasm buffered by the obvious affection in his voice.
“See, I’ve had it built so that I can go right into my office from the bed, and yet my work space and my quarters are visually separated.” He indicates different parts of the room, starting to explain his thinking. James clears his throat, and Thomas turns back to them, interrupted from his monologue. “Ah, yes.”
With no further ado, Thomas steps in front of Alexander and leans down to kiss him, drawing him away from the door with one hand still gripping his arm. The back of Thomas’ knees bump into the bed, and he drops down onto it, breathing heavily.
“So this is what you were talking so cryptically about,” Alexander purrs into his ear.
“We’ll have to be very quiet,” James warns them, and Alex glances over to see the man pulling off his jacket and shirt. “I know that’s difficult for both of you.”
Thomas gives him a look that’s almost a pout, then turns back to Alex, pressing their mouths together. Thomas still tastes like the meal, which is interesting, but he’s definitely tasted worse. Alex licks his lips, prompting Thomas to part them and let Alex slip his tongue inside. Sliding his hands along Thomas’ torso, he tries to remove the man’s coat without looking, but it proves more challenging than it really should be. Luckily, he’s joined by another pair of hands, and James helps him divest Thomas of his jacket.
“Dinner and dessert,” Alex whispers flirtatiously, rubbing the tip of his nose against Thomas’. He feels James press up behind him, fitting himself against the curves of Alexander’s hips, and groans as he feels James’ hardness. He finds himself starting to stir as well, although it seems to be taking a little bit for his body to catch up. As James’ lips press hot against the back of Alex’s neck, he gasps into Thomas’ mouth. Bracing himself on Thomas’ shoulders, he shoves his hips backwards, letting James grind on him - and then suddenly loses his balance, falling forwards onto Thomas and pushing the other man down to the bed. Thomas lets out a grunt as Alex’s weight collapses onto him, but James seems unfazed, continuing to press his erection against him, and Alex is surprised at the heat that realization sends through his gut. Amidst grumbles from Thomas, Alex shifts so that he’s no longer crushing him, and lets out a muffled moan as he feels the wetness from James’ bare cock begin to seep into his breeches.
“Hush,” James coos softly, a thrilling contrast to the burning desire building between them.
“I might hush if you sit on my face,” Alexander shoots back. It’s not as teasing as he meant it to be, because he has to spit it out between heavy breaths, but it seems to have the intended effect. With surprising strength, James hauls Alexander off of Thomas, who whines but takes the opportunity to strip naked. James claims Alex’s mouth in turn, kissing roughly and passionately.
“You want that?” he growls. “You want me to ride you? Is that your dessert, pretty boy?”
Alex flushes unexpectedly at being called “pretty boy” and melts into the shorter man. Behind him, he hears Thomas shuffling through drawers.
“Lay on the bed.” James’ voice is warm and seductive. Obligingly, Alex moves to the bed, laying his head just below the pillows so his body remains flat. He gazes seductively at James, taking in the sight of the short, stout man with one hand on his hip.
“Come here, then,” Alex coaxes, and James chuckles at him. Thomas seems to have found the oil, and holds it out for him, but Madison waves his hand, directing him to set it on the nightstand. He leans over Alex to kiss him again.
“Alexander.” He breathes the word across Alex’s lips like he’s testing it out. “Alexander.” Alex only chuckles softly and reaches down to unlace his own breeches, and James helps him out of the rest of his clothing. There’s a tickle down around his thighs and he jumps, realizing Thomas is hovering above his cock, letting his hair dangle down against Alex’s sensitive skin.
“Come here,” Alex says again, grabbing at James’ hip and taking a handful of dark, plump flesh. James laughs at him, kneeling on the bed and turning around. At the sight, Alex feels his cock twitch, and suddenly the tip of it is embraced in the wet heat of what Alexander can only assume is Thomas’ mouth. He moans as James straddles his chest, hesitating. Alexander reaches out and grabs his thighs again, shoving the man’s rear up against his face. He smells incredible, like musk and sweat, and Alexander nuzzles up into him, flicking his tongue out experimentally.
He’s rewarded with a deep, needy moan from the man above him, and it seems to spur Thomas on as well. Using his thumbs to spread both cheeks, Alexander licks around James’ hole, lavishing spit over every inch he can reach. James begins to gasp and grind back against him.
Suddenly the suction is gone from around his member. “Remember to be quiet,” he hears Thomas chide, mocking James’ own earlier warnings. He feels James shift and his heavy breaths become muffled. It’s a bit disappointing - he would have loved to hear every sound he could coax from the generally conservative man. But, he remembers, they’ve been promised a private retreat, and they had all summer.
Alexander dives back into his task with renewed energy, pressing his tongue against the ring of muscle. Hearing a wet noise, he realizes James has begun to stroke himself, rolling his hips with each movement. Alex is so caught up in the wonderful weight of James on top of him that he barely registers Thomas returning to lick and suck at his cock, although his own hips jerk when Thomas rolls his testes in one oiled hand.
After a few minutes, during which Alex’s tongue begins to strain, James gasps. “Oh god, Alex.” He shifts, pushing off of Alex’s face. Alex watches him, confused, realizing that James is still hard, his cock dripping onto his hand. But a moment later, James turns and swings one leg across his chest again, this time pressing his thick member against Alex’s lips. Alexander obliges him, letting his mouth drop open, and clenches one thumb in a fist to distract his gag reflex. Managing to get his hands back on James’ smooth thighs, he lets his lover fuck his mouth a few times before he comes. He watches James’ face, the way it screws up tight and how he bites his lip hard - even after seeing it only a few times, it’s still an obvious tell. James shoves deep into Alexander’s throat, right up against the back of it, and floods his mouth with thick, salty liquid.
Alex’s whole body jerks, trying to keep his mouth around the cock while managing to not choke. He swallows, and though the corners of his eyes prick with tears he keeps a firm grip on James’ legs. Thomas hums around him, pinning him down and trying to keep his movements steady. Finally, James manages to push away, giving Alexander room to hoist himself up on his elbows and properly swallow, before gasping, catching his breath while stars still swim around his eyes. James’ broad hands find Alex’s hair, stroking it in soothing movements as they both watch Thomas’ head bobbing up and down.
All too soon, Alexander’s gut clenches and his eyes flutter as he comes into Thomas’ mouth. Almost as if to show off, Thomas stares up at him with one eyebrow cocked as he takes it easily, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly as he sucks the last drops out of him.
“God damn,” Alexander pants, threading his fingers through Thomas’ curls and stroking his cheek with his thumb. He doesn’t quite know why he does, they don’t often share tender gestures as easily or frequently as James likes to. But it gets him a soft moan anyways, as Thomas pulls off of him, licking up the saliva that drips from his mouth. James hands Alexander the oil, retrieved from wherever Jefferson had left it, and Alex sits up, letting a few drops pool in his hand as Thomas raises up to meet him.
Jefferson smirks in his face, his pupils blown, almost hiding his brown eyes. “You gon’ help me out here?” he drawls, then clears his throat.
“Should I?” Hamilton whispers back teasingly, wrapping his oil-slicked hand around Thomas’ girth. He clutches Thomas’ arm, bracing them together as his hand moves, twisting around the shaft and pressing around the head with his thumb. It doesn’t take long before Thomas is coming over his hand, spilling onto Alex’s stomach with a deep, rumbling groan.
He doesn’t notice James’ absence until he’s being prodded in the arm with a cold bottle. Blinking, he turns and takes it, letting Thomas peel away from him.
“To wash the taste away.” James smiles down at him, looking like he’s still having difficulty getting his breathing back in control. Alex smiles back, weakly, and tips the bottle into his mouth. It’ll be good to wash down the myriad of flavors still playing around his tongue: of supper, of James’ ass and cum. They’re all drowned out by the sweet acid of the red wine as he swirls it in his mouth, swallowing with some difficulty. His jaw still aches.
“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Thomas asks, and Alex glances over to see the man washing up.
“Me?” Alexander asks, confused.
Thomas blinks, seeming to realize the strange nature of his own question. “Madison generally sleeps in his own guest room, across the house. We have some rooms upstairs for visitors, but I’m assuming - well, not to be presumptuous, but I’d assume you’d want to stay close.” He smiles and winks flirtatiously.
“Alexander can sleep with me,” James offers. “There’s a sofa in my room, it would be more plausible that he uses that rather than us three staying here for the night.” Thomas nods at that, seeming to agree.
It’s a bit disappointing, Alexander realizes, that they can’t sleep all together as they have in the past. But of course, at Madison’s home in upstate New York, there were few rooms and only one or two attendants, whereas here at Monticello they had to be more subtle. Of course Jefferson wouldn’t allow two friends to sleep in his room when there were plenty of guest beds to be had.
They clean themselves up at Thomas’ washbasin, and Thomas lights a fire, filling the room with warmth. Alexander is grateful for it after the cold of the water, and watches goose-bumps play over his own skin as James pulls up chairs for them and wraps a blanket around him. The gesture is comforting, and Alex clutches the rough wool of the blanket. Throwing on a nightshirt and a green silk banyan, Thomas whisks out of the room and returns balancing a chessboard, which he places on an end table and pulls towards them. James laughs. Borrowing another robe, he steps out of the room, telling the two men he’s going to go dress for bed and promising to bring Alexander’s things.
“Will you play?” Thomas asks, seating himself across from the still shivering Alex. He feels a bit silly, still being completely nude, but nods. Thomas offers him the white side, giving him the advantage.
They’re almost halfway through their game when James returns, apologizing for his lateness. Alex notices that he’s changed into a different robe, likely his own, a more muted dark grey as tends to be the man’s fashion. “They’d left your things in the entry hall,” he explains to Alexander, holding out a bundle of folded clothing. “I had them bring the trunk to my room, and I’m glad they didn’t ask questions, because I’m not sure what I would have said.” Alex takes the clothing, dropping the blanket back on the chair. The room has warmed well enough, but the sudden exposure to the air sends tingles up his arms again. He turns away, slipping into his own nightshirt and returning to their game. James is leaning over the board, contemplating, but only raises an eyebrow at Alex and pulls up a chair so he can watch them.
They pass the rest of the evening that way, in gentle ribbing and competition, each man playing the winner. Alex finds he enjoys watching Thomas’ face fall into a frustrated scowl as he realizes Alexander inching closer to a checkmate, and Alex crows in triumph when he knocks over the man’s king. James is a more shrewd player, castling and protecting his queen better than Jefferson had, but Alexander’s offensive strategy proves successful in the long run - until just when Hamilton is gloating, thinking he’s got the man cornered, Madison declares “Check.” It’s a fierce battle after that, and the wine flows freely, leading Alexander and Thomas to become louder and louder in their arguments over the game. Despite Hamilton’s protests, however, James continues to circle his king until they’re left in a true stalemate. Thomas stands and declares that no master chess player would reach a stalemate, before throwing the wine in the fire to douse it and announcing that it was high time for bed. Alex and James only burst out laughing at him. Alex chokes back tears as he rises, grinning from ear-to-ear.
James leads him back across the hall and through a door that opens into a smaller hallway, which James explains is directly adjacent to the dining hall. He shows Alex into an octagonal room, which already has a fire going, warming it. They wouldn’t need fires for much longer this summer, but it helped to beat off the chill of the night air.
Pecking him chastely on the lips, James moves to the bed, which is set into a nook in the wall, and turns down the covers. He removes his banyan and hangs it up, then beckons Alexander over with a gentle “Come on,” slipping into bed. Alex follows, yawning, and tucks himself up against the shorter man. At least it’s something, he tells himself, though he can’t help but feel a bit bad thinking about Thomas left alone in his room across the hall. He’ll make it up to him. After all, they have the whole summer ahead of them.