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George Washington is desperate. Not only him. His whole army. After the British drove them out of New York and they have to hide in the woods further south, the morale of his men sinks every single day.
His selected boys, in which he puts great hope, bestow blind trust and obedience on him. He can't put into words how grateful he is that he can at least rely on them. Especially Tallmadge with Sackett has proven to be indispensable with the secret service, turned defeats into success. But would it be enough? Would they be enough to defeat England given all the disadvantages?
Of course not. Washington would have to be very naive and desperate to actually assume that. Their competence put aside, they are only humans. Young and inexperienced on top. Washington cannot be so irresponsible and forget this.
Should they lose, it'd be on him alone. Maybe also on the Continental Congress which puts more spokes in the wheel of the army instead of helping it. But otherwise, it's only on him. But he too is only human. And no human will win it as hopelessly as the war looks at the moment.
One day, when Washington sits in headquarters behind his desk, quill in hand, an Aaron Burr is announced. After the first few sentences the young man utters, Washington already knows that he doesn’t like him. The captain is just another of many previous people telling him how to do what and just waiting for him to be relieved of his command. The only relevant information Burr gives him is that, unfortunately, they’ve lost one of their generals.
Washington cannot afford to appear rude, but somehow one or two signals must have escaped him because Burr is already taking a step backward to the door and says: "Before you dismiss me, Your Excellency, I have a suggestion that might be in your interest and I offer my assistance for the execution of such an… idea.” You could hear the unease in his voice.
The general raises one disbelieving eyebrow in hope that the man finally gets to his point. Washington doesn’t expect to hear anything of use. He is wrong when Burr opens his mouth again.
“We might have reached the point where help… from another world than ours is required, if you know what I mean.”
Of course, Washington knows. But he didn’t expect Burr to know. His eyes go wide. The knowledge of their existence alone is enough to put Burr in a completely different spot.
“Address my adjutant. He will tell you where we can use your help. Dismissed.” Washington’s voice lets no room for disobedience so Burr retreats with a quick bow and leaves the commander alone to his never-ceasing thoughts.
He sighs. “As if I hadn’t considered this option already," he murmurs to himself and sinks in his chair. Maybe it is worth to consider it a last time. From a different perspective, from a more desperate perspective.
For a moment, he wonders why Burr especially comes to him instead of doing it himself if he already possesses the sheer knowledge of the possibility. Though, there are plenty of reasons for him not to do it. Fear. Uncertainty. An instinct for self-preservation. Not wanting to be responsible if something doesn’t go as planned. Not being able to control it. Not being able to hide it without a high rank. Maybe even a lack of knowledge, which wouldn’t be surprising, considering that the common people don’t even know there are crossable seams between worlds.
It doesn’t even matter. Of course, Washington has to be the one to execute it – he’s the commander-in-chief, for god’s sake – and he wouldn’t wish that on any of his soldiers. But he has to plan it out. How many? What type and for what purpose? Where and when to be safe from unwanted witnesses?
Ten days pass in which he finds an answer to most of those questions. He hasn’t heard anything from Burr since and isn’t sure if it’s a good or a bad sign when most of his staff prefer to make known of themselves no matter if in a positive or a negative way. So he makes his way to Burr’s tent himself.
As soon as the man sees his general enter his tent without announcement he salutes and greets: “Your Excellency, how may I serve?”
“Tell me how much you know," Washington simply answers. His face is stern and his body almost occupies the whole room in the small tent.
Burr thinks a second before answering: “Not enough to summon, Sir, but enough to be sure it’s true and vaguely of the consequences and possibilities.”
“Who taught you?”
“My parents knew but died before I was old enough to be taught. I only got this from them.” He pulls out a folded piece of parchment. It looks old and worn. He unfolds it and reveals a list of symbols and their meanings, a few scribbled notes in likely male handwriting at the sides. “I was told to always carry it with me and did my research. You’re the first I am ever showing this, Sir.”
Washington’s eyes take in the symbols and he recognizes them as the same which his brother has taught him when they were younger. He wasn’t able to memorize everything but the most important and already settled on which types he wants. A risky choice but he should be able to manage it. His choice switches when he sees two symbols on the paper which he has forgotten over the years. These would be perfect. Probably even more reliable.
“This is perfect," the general murmurs to himself, already building up a new plan in his mind. “Let me copy two sigils. I don't need the rest," he says and already picks up the quill on Burr’s small desk and allows himself to use the man’s paper.
Burr in response looks shocked. “Sir, I think I’ve misheard. You aren’t thinking about summoning two at once, are you? I apologize for not trusting in your decisions but this is already risky enough, why double the danger?”
But Washington shoots him a look that lets Burr’s blood freeze. This is the man everyone, even the enemy, is intimidated by. Burr can’t move for a moment but then shows his general the list.
Washington copies the sigils that have caught his attention and lets the paper disappear under his coat. “Thank you for your service. I’m taking my leave.”
“It’s an honor," Burr responds and bows before his general hurries out of the tent.
Washington aims for the headquarters and meets his adjutant there. He doesn’t even greet him and only commands: “Send Burr back to his previous battalion.”
“But he’s been here only for ten days, Sir," the addressed man replies before thinking, looking at him with confusion.
“It’s an order," snaps the older man and there’s no room for disobedience in his voice. He doesn’t like having to repeat himself, especially when he’s as tense as he is now.
The other man can’t maintain eye contact and hurries to obey with a short “Yes, Sir”. He doesn’t want to get on Washington’s bad side again, no matter the man’s inhuman patience.
Relying on his subordinate’s obedience, the general walks into his office without overseeing if the young man follows his task. He needs some time alone to prepare his mind.
He doesn’t have an objectively good reason to send Burr away. He just doesn’t like the man. And since Burr gave him all the information he possesses – which is very valuable, he can’t deny – he’s of no use anymore. Though Burr tried to display good intentions, it’s obvious that he only cares for his career and own benefit.
Only a few hours later, enough time into the night that everyone should be asleep, Washington sits on the wooden floor in his office and finishes the final lines of the summoning circle around him while barely avoiding his bed and his desk. The room is lit by a few candles – positioned in a perfect circle too – and he made sure the house door is locked. Now he adds the two sigils he copied from Burr’s list and double-checks if he hasn’t missed anything. Then he takes a deep, steadying breath, puts the chalk aside, and places his palms flat on the floor. He murmurs the incantation formula in a foreign language he has memorized in his youth and never forgotten while praying in his mind that it works.
Just as he finishes the last word, there’s a noticeable shift of energy in the room. The circle with its symbols ignites, but the reason for Washington’s gasp is the feeling of something intangible being pulled out of his body by force. Twice. The indescribable pain starts in his chest, goes deeper, through his spine, and leaves from his back. For a moment he feels an invisible pressure on him as if it wants to crush him, but he endures it until it disappears an instant later.
He catches his breath and ignores the feeling of someone’s presence behind him. The fire circle keeps burning softly in rhythm with the candles. Washington stands up carefully, very aware of multiple eyes staring at his back. So he braces himself for the sight of whatever it is when he turns around slowly.
Washington wouldn’t need to like men to objectively admit that the sight he’s greeted with can only be called captivating. Two real demons stand in front of him. Their bodies would look quite human-like from some distance if they wore clothes, but since they’re nude Washington has a perfect view of the unnatural dark skin of their arms and legs and the short claws that adorn their too elegant fingers. Everything of them looks elegant and graceful. Both creatures have a slim but toned body and between their legs hangs a human-like penis, making clear they’re male.
Except for these features, they don’t look alike. The one standing on the left from Washington’s perspective is noticeably shorter than the other and his long, wavy hair is a fiery red, so bright as if it was a living flame. Just looking at it makes you feel warmer. The one on the right is only a bit shorter than Washington himself and his three and a half feet long hair, on the contrary, is a pitch-black, so deep it seems to partly consume the light around him, making his surroundings appear darker.
Other non-human body parts are the horns and tails. The red-haired creature’s tail looks suspiciously similar to a lion’s. It stays perfectly still. Then, his black horns don’t match the whole picture – if there is anything to match. They look exactly like from a ram, just smaller. The taller demon’s horns are long, menacingly pointed, and just slightly curved. But his tail looks like from a depiction of the devil himself, the tip in form of an arrowhead. It’s swinging leisurely.
Washington swallows hard as they watch him as he takes them in. Both have a hand on the hip, waiting. Their glowing green eyes with a slit as pupil are locked on him and both their lips are curled into an amused smile. Though they seem to wear mirrored expressions on their faces, Washington, the experienced man that he is, can already see characteristic differences in the glint of their eyes – the red-haired demon’s eyes are beaming from vigor while the eyes of the other are soft with smugness.
If Washington didn't know better he might have mistaken them for incubi. Besides, they look almost too young.
Finally, Washington finds his words. “Are you the Demons of War?" he asks as if he hasn’t just summoned real, dangerous demons.
Both nod simultaneously and the red-haired speaks first: "I am the First Demon of War and he’s the Second Demon of War.” First, he points at himself and then at his companion. All his following words sound honeyed. “We’re here to give you what you desire – victory over the British.”
“If you sign the contract, self-evidently," the other interrupts with a smoky voice that almost hides the rudeness of the action.
“Of course," acknowledges the first.
Washington knew there would be a contract and there would be a price. Though he’s not sure what kind of price, he only has an idea. But there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t offer anyways, as long as it doesn’t involve his people suffering. “What are your conditions?" he inquires.
“Well…" the first demon of war takes lead of the conversation again and moves to Washington’s table. He snaps his fingers and a parchment roll appears on the desk. A short list of conditions and benefits is written on it in practiced handwriting. Washington steps closer to read it though he doesn’t have to because the demon is going to tell him every detail. “First, your soul won’t come to heaven–”
“I don't believe in heaven or hell," the general of the continental army interrupts.
“Well, I'm sorry to shatter your beliefs," the demon gesticulates as he continues, “but they do exist. But you won't ever see any of them.”
Only out of scientific curiosity – since he doesn't actually care about his afterlife – Washington asks: "What will happen to my soul?”
“Our benefit from this contract is that we can maintain a human body and stay in this world. But for this to be possible we have to drain energy from our contractor. As long as you're alive, your physical presence and your emotions will be enough to satisfy our needs, but after your death, we keep your soul for as long as we exist.” He hesitates a moment before adding: "Should our existence ever end, yours will vanish with us.”
Are you going to... split me up? is the question Washington doesn't voice.
But the second demon of war responds as if he could read his mind, contributing to the conversation for the first time: "Of course your soul will be torn apart after you die – the side effect of summoning multiple demons. I won't hide the fact from you that it will be really painful. Your soul is strong enough; you will endure it and still feed us with plenty of your energy, otherwise we wouldn't even offer this contract.”
The demon sounds too casual about it for Washington’s liking, but he feels no real threat yet. Then he speaks out the question that plagues him the most: "By what means do you plan to make us win?”
“I will get you the French you're so desperately begging for help," the second demon says suddenly with a French accent.
“And I will get the rebellious patriots under control and get you the Congress. Also," the shorter one adds with a raised finger, “we guarantee to protect your reputation and legacy from dishonoring as a little compensation for that you won't get to heaven." He sits down on the table and continues watching his summoner with something like curiosity.
Honestly, Washington would have already signed after the promise of getting aid from France. It should be enough to win the war. The rest is a pure bonus that will make this war and especially his life much easier.
“Is that all?" he asks because none of the demons says anything.
“Yes, that’s it," the red-haired says flatly.
“I’m in," Washington informs.
He can’t believe it’s that easy. He can’t believe victory would only cost one soul; even better – only his soul. Determined, he grabs his quill and dips it into the ink. His face is impassive and his gaze is hard when he writes his name at the bottom of the paper, while relief is almost overwhelming him on the inside. He’s excited to see if this isn’t just a dream.
With another snap, the roll ignites and disappears. At the same time, the ring of fire dies.
Only now Washington realizes how close the two creatures are to him. The one on the table even leans slightly closer so he can feel his breath on his skin. The other approached the table at some point when Washington didn’t pay attention and stands almost behind him.
The perfectly trained military man doesn’t let the nervousness creep into his voice when he asks “What would have happened if I haven’t agreed?” just for the sake of breaking the silence.
“Good question," says the first demon but pauses to close his eyes, inhaling Washington’s scent, before answering, “We don’t need any papers or signatures or even verbal agreements. It’s only to give your fragile human minds the feeling that you had a choice. It’s all pretense. The circle – the summoning itself – is the contract. As soon as the demon is summoned, demon and summoner are bonded. If you don’t accept the conditions, we will have to force you into the agreement.”
Washington’s blood freezes, although not because of this revelation but because of something brushing his leg. He looks down to see the black devil tail spiral around his right leg. There’s no time to react before he feels soft lips – the ones from the first demon – on his neck.
“What are you doing?" Washington asks disbelievingly and tries to step away from the touch but he’s trapped between a demon and desk. Black, clawed hands from behind him wander beneath his waistcoat.
"Stop touching me!" He tries to push them away with his own hands but the red-haired demon next to him only grabs his hands and looks him in the eyes.
“You remember we gain energy through your physical presence? How can we gain as much as possible if not by touching you?" the demon says and presses his lips against Washington’s.
Washington relishes the kiss. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate with someone. The soft lips on his own and the clever tongue in his mouth are irresistible. The hands roaming over his chest suddenly press him against the warm body behind him and this action stirs him to take control over the kiss. It doesn’t take long to have the demon on his left lying exposed on the large desk, careless about the papers he’s lying on, and panting as Washington takes control.
His usually composed nature comes through when the clouds around his mind suddenly clear up and he pulls away from the kiss. “No. This isn’t right," he states in between pants. The demon's face furrows and even the hands, which were trying to unbutton his uniform, stilled at the second button.
“What is stopping you right now?" the redhead asks, impatience audible in his voice, “We are connected to your mind, can feel what you feel. We know all about your cravings for certain soldiers,” Washington is once again startled; this is a territory he hasn’t allowed himself to explore further than a few distracting images before his inner eye, then immediately shoving it to the depths of his mind, and he certainly doesn’t want anyone to know even this much, “So what in bloody hell is your problem now?”
Washington just stares at him. He doesn’t know what to say because he hasn’t cleared up his sinful feelings yet. The argument that ‘this is inappropriate’ won’t pull off when he just summoned two demons and is conversing with them right now.
He rather remains silent.
Before he can come up with an answer, the demon grows impatient and assumes: "Ah, I think I know what’ll help you." He shoots a gaze to the other creature which possesses definitely more patience: “We’re not human. That confuses him. Let’s give him something pleasant to look at while we’re in this shithole.” He smirks and winks at his partner.
When Washington turns his head enough to see the other demon's face, he finds there an equally mischievous smirk.
Both demons move away from him and stand straight before changing their looks within mere seconds. Horns and tails disappear, perfectly fitting uniforms appear and the hair and eye colors change to more natural ones. But the man must admit that it doesn’t decrease their attractiveness. Suddenly, he has two new and perfect soldiers standing before him. And it is a pleasant sight.
These are the boys who will bring him victory. But they are not human. He can not forget that.
“What you think? Convincing enough?" the second demon of war asks in a heavy accent that Washington is a hundred percent sure of that he haven’t had when he was just summoned.
“Very convincing," he answers prosaically. “And how shall you be called?” He fixes his collar in an attempt to conceal how excited he actually is.
“I steal a French title of nobility," says the now French boy, “The name’s too long to remember so everyone shall call me by the title only–Marquise de La Fayette.” He spoke the title with such complacency. “Or just Lafayette, for friends.” The pretty face smiles at Washington, sweetly enough to steal the man’s heart.
“Feeling special with a title?" the other demon asks teasingly and nudges him with his elbow.
“Of course! Else I wouldn't have chosen it." Then, he addresses Washington: “And it’s beneficial for the negotiations with France.”
The general doesn’t even worry about that. He’s sure Lafayette will convince them.
“May I introduce myself?" without waiting for verbal permission, the first demon continues, “My name is Alexander Hamilton and I’m just some nameless orphan, coming from the Caribbean and seeking greatness. At your service, Your Excellency.” He finishes with a slow bow and unyielding determination in his eyes.
Greatness. There is greatness in the young man. It’s hinted in his eyes, his posture, and character, not only due to being superhuman.
Washington already likes those two more than he should. It’s something he can’t control. When he sees something – something promising – in someone, he wants them at his side – in sight – and their talents to be of use for him.
“I can assign you as my new aide-de-camp," Washington says. Then he nods and addresses both with a powerful voice: "It’s an honor to work with you."
“Honor? Stop making me laugh. We are demons – unholy creatures. How can you even speak about honor?" Hamilton mocks.
But Washington doesn’t want to see them that way. Demons or not, it doesn’t seem like they would stab him in the back at the first opportunity. They have a contract after all to which both parties stick. And to win a war trust is required – Tallmadge’s speech yet vivid in his mind.
“I stand by my words," the general states. He wants his new partners to sense his sincerity.
“You really aren’t a boring man," Hamilton chuckles, stepping closer, placing a hand on Washington's chest. "Then, shall we proceed with what we started earlier?" His voice sounds silky and appealing to Washington’s ears.
The young man looks up at him with hunger and want. Now, the hand starts to draw circles on his chest, deliberately avoiding his nipples. Washington is captured by those eyes. He wants to protest again, maintain professionalism as he was taught, but he already gave in once today and it felt too good.
“God," he breathes out. It’s everything he can manage before capturing the boy’s lips with his own and laying a hand on his nape. Hamilton immediately responds to the kiss and holds onto Washington’s shoulders.
“God? He won’t help you," Lafayette snorts, growing tired of being just a bystander. He approaches Washington’s flank and whispers in his ear: "We will.” He licks at Washington's ear and neck.
Washington groans into Hamilton’s mouth. Oh, how he has missed having his tongue in someone’s hot mouth. But he never considered how he should manage two people at the same time. They are only kissing and he is already overwhelmed by being stimulated from two sides.
“We will give you everything..." Lafayette promises in between kisses to Washington’s flushed skin, “devote every part of us to you… And you will give us everything from you."
These words release the old fire boiling inside Washington, which he had succeeded to lock away behind practiced composure. But now it’s coming back at full force and he only wants to claim, to possess, to use. And when Lafayette means his words literally, then Washington has no reason to hold his desire back.
His hand tightens in Hamilton’s silky hair and the other man moans. In a flash of boldness, he yanks Hamilton’s head back as far as possible and brings the small body to surrender. His new aide accepts everything Washington gives or denies him – at least for now. So, Washington digs his teeth into the pale skin of Hamilton’s neck and relishes in the soft sounds he elicits from his boy.
Lafayette feels left out and gets Washington’s attention by sliding his hand into the general’s breeches and grabbing his cock. Washington lets go of Hamilton’s neck and looks at Lafayette, pupils blown and lips swollen. When he understands what is happening and why, he guides Lafayette’s face closer to his with his free hand and kisses him. If he thought Hamilton’s lips are unnaturally soft, then these are what heaven must feel like.
The hand around his cock starts pumping, at a slow pace yet, distracting him from how Hamilton manages to get out of his grip and drop to his knees. Washington feels how something shoves his pants down just enough to replace Lafayette’s hands around it, but with the addition of something warm and wet pressing against his tip. Washington wants to see what is happening between his legs but Lafayette cups his cheeks and holds him still, demonstrating his skilled tongue.
Lafayette is exceedingly passionate when kissing. Tilts his head to an angle at which he can devour Washington’s mouth. His tongue dances with his partner’s as if he’s never done anything else.
Washington’s attention switches to his groin again when Hamilton finally takes him into his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to swallow everything down to the root so that the tip hits the back of his throat. Since his human body has limits provided by nature, his muscles spasm around the foreign body blocking his air supply.
But this action makes Washington groan and thrust forward instinctively. Hamilton gags, yet endures it another moment, before sliding off and repeating the motion. Every time he backs off, he does it slowly and sucks as hard as he can. He doesn’t bother to hold Washington’s hips still and takes the rough treatment.
Soon, he finds Washington’s hand in his hair again, guiding him until he is deep and holding him there a moment longer every time just to feel the boy struggling for air around his flesh.
Hamilton’s lips, swollen red and stretched around the thick member in an obscene way, must give a breathtaking sight right now, but Lafayette doesn’t allow him to concentrate all his attention on someone else. He’s still kissing Washington with vigor but his hands have different tasks. He removes Washington’s uniform as quickly as he can manage from his position and lets one hand wander over the soldier’s broad chest and the other over the landscape of trained muscles which is his back. Now and then he pinches an erect nipple through fabric just to make him thrust especially deep into Hamilton’s throat.
While Lafayette takes his time exploring Washington’s body, memorizing every scar and curve and twitch of a muscle, Washington uses his unoccupied hand to slide it into Lafayette’s pants and grasps his fully erect member, not the gentle way the Frenchman did before but squeezing it hard so that a painful sound escapes Lafayette and his fingers dig into Washington’s skin in search for hold.
Now Washington has both at his mercy. He pushes Hamilton down on his cock in the same rhythm he strokes Lafayette; slow, agonizing, leaving no place for air. Hamilton’s eyes have long begun to water. Washington finally breaks away from his kiss with Lafayette to view his aide and is rewarded with a sight even more beautiful than imagined. Hamilton is looking up at him with dark, lustful eyes but, on his cheeks, wet trails are glistening in the candlelight. Washington almost comes from that. He shouldn’t feel like that when his boy sounds like suffocating.
Lafayette holds onto Washington’s shoulders and neck as if his life depends on it. His knees are shaking from Washington’s ministrations and he gasps softly into the general’s ear. Eyes squeezed shut.
“Please, Sir," he pleads and thrusts into Washington’s grip but it’s ineffective, “I need you inside me.”
What man would Washington be to deny such a sweet plea? He would bend the boy over his desk immediately if there wasn’t still Hamilton’s perfect throat working his cock. He feels his climax approach but, gathering all his willpower, pulls the demon off before it can end too soon.
Hamilton is gasping for air, his lungs struggling violently, lips wet with saliva and flushed skin glistening with tears and sweat. With hooded eyes he gazes up at Washington, anticipating.
“Get up," Washington commands and Hamilton obeys instantly. Then Washington grabs Lafayette and pushes him back until he’s lying on the desk. Lafayette preens from the manhandling and bucks his hips as a non-verbal plea. He spreads his legs willingly so that Washington positions himself between them. Washington places his hands on the wood on either side of Lafayette but then he hesitates.
Hamilton who has followed them to the desk looks at him, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I–" Washington starts but embarrassment makes his throat feel tight, “I don’t know what to do.” By the end of the sentence, his face is extremely red. Now he looks down on Lafayette helplessly.
“You've never done it with a man?" Hamilton asks. He seems serious – there’s no teasing or mockery in his voice.
Washington shakes his head.
“Why? So many wasted opportunities. So much missed fun," Hamilton continues his interrogation.
Now Washington looks at him and lists: "I'm a married man, we're at war, sodomites get hanged… Do I have to continue?”
“Okay, you had your reasons," Hamilton raises his hands in defense. “But don’t worry. Do the same you do with a woman. Of course, it will feel different – you can’t compare the anatomy of an arse to a vagina's. You should just take extra-time with the preparation until we obtain oil for these encounters.”
Washington looks at Lafayette again who still looks so helpless beneath him with his arms resting on either side of his head. His breath is unsteady from anticipation. The obvious bulge in his breeches is highlighted with a wet spot at the tip. And Washington's hunger is back again. He will claim this ass tonight.
So he pulls Lafayette’s boots and pants off and takes in the straining slender cock, slightly curving towards its owner’s stomach. He takes the cock in his left hand and strokes leisurely. Lafayette bucks into the touch and moans. His expression could be mistaken for pain if Washington didn’t know better.
Thinking for a second about what he’s going to do, Washington then coats a finger with saliva and guides it to Lafayette’s asshole. Carefully, he circles it and inserts it to the first knuckle. Lafayette’s breath hitches and his muscles tighten around the finger but he nods encouragingly at Washington, so he pushes in a bit further.
Despite his fantasies about being rough and reckless during sex, he doesn’t want to hurt the boy in this intimate place when he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Those fantasies are for later, he promises himself.
But now he focuses on making this as pleasant as possible for the delicate and writhing body. Lafayette can’t decide whether he should buck into Washington’s hand or push himself further onto his finger.
“Don’t worry, you can go a bit faster," Lafayette says while relaxing his muscles to prove his point. Washington takes him at his words and pushes deeper to the last knuckle. Lafayette raises his hips but his moan sounds positive, so he begins to pull out and push back in at a careful pace.
Hamilton circles the table and stands at Lafayette’s head. He bends down to kiss him and takes one of his hands. The Frenchman squeezes it in return.
“Breathe. You’re taking it so well… Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Hamilton doesn’t stop whispering comforting words to his partner after Washington pushes in a second finger and continues his motions. He observes with interest how the demons cling to each other and Hamilton comforts the other like they were lovers. They seem so vulnerable – especially Lafayette now – that Washington can’t believe that they are that different from humans.
Though they must have lifetimes of experience in bed, considering how much time passes between their conjurations, it makes sense that Washington has to treat their bodies like those from virgins. Maybe the bodies they are in right now actually are completely new ones and thus were never penetrated. So he continues spreading Lafayette with caution, looking for any sign of discomfort, but Hamilton seems to be good at helping him through it. The never stopping hand on Lafayette’s cock makes it easier to endure, too.
At the third finger, Lafayette starts to tremble but he manages to keep his breath quite steady and his voice at bay. Hamilton now strokes the boy's hair to compensate for the trembling. Washington can feel how Lafayette's body loosens from the soothing touch.
He watches Lafayette with awe. The flexing and relaxing of muscles in his limbs and stomach, the heaving of his chest. How the warm candlelight – burning low meanwhile – reflects on his sweat. The frown on his flushed face, the heated gaze, the parted, red lips. Listens to the puffs and gasps and every sweet moan.
Lafayette is absolutely gorgeous, taking Washington’s fingers so beautifully. Washington tries to picture how the boy would look like taking Washington’s sizable cock. It makes his neglected member twitch.
After minutes of stretching the tight hole on three thick fingers, he believes Lafayette is ready. Still, he has to make sure first and asks with a soft voice: "Are you alright?"
"Perfect. 'M perfect," Lafayette shoots eagerly.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, just give it to me finally!"
Hamilton chuckles about this reaction. "His innocent smile is deceptive."
One last thing makes the general hesitate. "Why did you even bother getting uniforms so soon?" he complains. “Undress him.”
Hamilton follows the order and unbuttons Lafayette’s waistcoat, beginning at the bottom, while the latter lets it happen. Washington cannot wait any longer and takes his fingers out – earning a disapproving whimper – to touch the skin, revealed inch by inch where he pulls the shirt up as much as Hamilton’s pace lets him. He can feel goosebumps under his fingers before he can see them. Lafayette’s skin is incredibly soft and sensitive. His stomach is trained but ticklish.
As soon as Hamilton unbuttoned enough, Washington runs his nails over a nipple, producing a cry from Lafayette that makes Hamilton muffle him with his hand. Washington continues teasing the bundle of nerves by pinching and twisting, reassured that he’s not the only one who cares about discovery. Though, the way Lafayette mewls and flinches is worth a hundred hangings.
“Sir, please~” He sounds tensed and breathless. So needy.
“Patience," Washington grunts, but pilots his hand down Lafayette’s body.
In the meantime, Hamilton pushes Lafayette’s coat and waistcoat as far down his shoulders as possible without moving him off the table to give Washington a good view. Lafayette only adds to the sight by positioning his hands just above his head, holding them in place, and arching his back. Looking so divine that Washington completely forgets that this is a creature of hell.
Even Hamilton’s jaw drops at the picture. Unconcealed hunger is displayed on his face and there burns a hellfire behind wide pupils. Oh how much he longs to touch, to take, to enjoy. But he has to contain his desire until it’s his turn.
It is all it takes to break Washington’s composure. Unconsciously, he squeezes Lafayette’s cock, making him scream into Hamilton’s palm in agony and bringing tears to his eyes. But the general ignores it and guides his own cock to the yet quivering hole. The tip slips in and is welcomed by painful tightness. Both men groan in union, though Washington from pure bliss. He closes his eyes and steadies his breath, giving his boy some time to adjust.
Since Lafayette isn’t able to speak he looks up into Hamilton’s eyes, communicating his pleas this way. Hamilton strokes a strand of hair out of Lafayette’s face, nods, and speaks to Washington, "You can go deeper.”
“He’s so tight," is everything Washington manages to respond. His mind is occupied by the tight heat around his dick.
“I know. Enjoy it as long as you can," Hamilton says unaffected, “Look, we are the demons of war. We can handle a small sting. So don’t worry too much and fuck him like the French whore he is.”
Washington gawks at Hamilton. “Language," he whispers.
There's a shift in energy in the room and Hamilton's eyeballs turn completely black. He grabs Washington with both hands by the collar and pulls him closer so that their noses are barely an inch apart.
When Hamilton speaks it's a threat: "Listen here, bloody rookie. You're not the authority in this agreement, you can't actually order us around. Yes, we like being pampered. And you humans could think that given our never-ending lifetime we possess immense patience but, hell no, we can grow impatient very quickly if we don't get what we want. There do exist plenty of ways how to break a contract and in most of them the summoner ends up dead or a soulless body, wandering aimlessly over your beloved globe. So think twice before denying us. More important: Don't disappoint us. Now give my friend what he wants."
Washington swallows hard. His pulse beats even faster from the reprimand about the nature of their relation than from the arousal earlier. He wants to apologize but his throat is dry. Hamilton still stares at him with those ink-black eyes, waiting for the threat to sink in completely.
"Let him go. You're being too furious again," Lafayette's warm voice breaks the tensed silence. He sits up from the desk and replaces Hamilton's face in front of Washington's with his own. Hamilton's hands also disappear from the general's collar and are replaced by Lafayette's arms around his neck. The position shoves him farther onto Washington's cock but both men ignore it. His fond smile takes all of Washington's concerns away.
"Don't take him too serious. We would never do something awful to you."
"Stop spoiling him! We are the ones in charge," Hamilton snaps. His eyes have gone normal – human – again but the anger remains.
"Yes, we are. But it won't be beneficial to poison our relationship. We want a tough soul after all," Lafayette states and gives Washington a peck on the lips.
Hamilton doesn’t gainsay and just crosses his arms with a stubborn frown.
"But he's right with one thing," Lafayette says to Washington, "You should finally fuck me into oblivion." He smirks and lays back on the desk just like before. To underline his words, he wraps his legs around Washington’s hips and pulls him closer, making them both moan when Washington slides deeper. Out of reflex, Washington ruts further, burying himself to the hilt for the first time.
Lafayette’s muscles give way hungrily but he clenches his eyes shut in an attempt to endure the sensation. He feels so full like he hasn’t felt for eons. Not many of his previous summoners were so gifted. Now he hopes that Washington can fuck him better than his average summoner, too.
Before he can complain about Washington’s stillness, the taller man eventually grabs him by the hips, pulls out halfway, and then starts pounding into the delicate body. Lafayette succeeds to conceal most of his moans as the table underneath him gets jostled. He manages to relax without effort, making it even easier for Washington to spear him with every deep, measured thrust.
Hamilton is still on edge but doesn’t intervene. Even so, he watches out for every sign of discomfort in his friend’s behavior.
But Lafayette can’t suppress his sounds anymore as Washington speeds up. He moans in the dirtiest manner and demonstrates his most beautiful expressions. In Washington’s eyes, the boy is stunning. Contradictory, it makes him fuck faster into the perfect heat. He doesn’t even try to suppress his low, animalistic grunts. His grip on the narrow hips turns bruising. Why hasn’t he done this before?
In the meantime, Hamilton disappears from their side but they are too caught up to pay attention. The demon takes a seat some distance away, spreads his legs, and makes himself comfortable while yet enjoying the show. His hand slips into his breeches and underwear and finds his entrance. It doesn’t take long till high-pitched whimpers mix themselves into the symphony of sex.
Washington’s rhythm becomes erratic as the knot in his groin tightens. Lafayette is keeping his arms on the desk perfectly still though his voice reveals that he must get close too. He never looks away from the general’s concentrated face. They both cut out Alexander for the sake of chasing orgasm. Though, Washington is trapped between the want to make this last forever and reaching his climax as fast as possible.
“S-Sir?" the boy whimpers. His voice sounds broken. “Please~” he says when he gets Washington’s attention and, with his eyes, points at his own leaking cock. It’s angry red and aching and bounces with each of Washington’s thrusts.
It takes the man a moment to get the meaning but when he takes Lafayette’s dick in one hand – a light touch – the boy screams in response. An instant later, the boy remembers his whereabouts and presses his lips together to prevent any possible sound from escaping.
Washington couldn’t care less so close to the pinnacle and with Lafayette clenching around him so violently, despite that he should. He rather bites into Lafayette’s shoulder and, after a couple of especially desperate thrust, he releases deep inside the boy’s ass.
Though he barely stroked Lafayette, the light touch alone and the feeling of hot cum inside of him takes him over the edge. He splurts between their bodies, making a mess of himself, and all he sees is white. Only in the back of his mind, he feels the sting of teeth in his flesh but it only adds to the perfection.
Washington clings onto him and the demon itself is completely limp. At some point, he has dropped his legs, unable to move them now. He feels Washington’s cock soften inside of him and both are panting. Gradually, slowly, their minds clear up.
Washington looks at Lafayette and there’s surprise – surprise of how good this just felt – in his eyes but also something fond. Lafayette meets his gaze with pure adoration. He barely manages a weak smile but it’s more than enough to make Washington’s heart melt.
Eventually, he pulls out and Lafayette moans a last time from the motion. He stays limp where he is and makes no attempt to get upright. He feels content.
When his breath has finally steadied enough to speak, he says: "Really not bad for your first time. But you have to learn how to use the prostate yet. And listen to your inner desires next time.”
Washington doesn’t know what to say and only nods to show that he accepts the compliment and the criticism, though he has no understanding of what Lafayette means.
Then, Hamilton reminds them of his presence by rising from his seat and applauding. “T’was quite a nice show," he comments with a smirk that doesn’t resemble his tone.
He approaches the desk and raises a brow at Lafayette. With a sigh, the addressee slides of the desk and stands, but still has to support himself by leaning on it. Now that the room is free, Hamilton jumps onto the table where Lafayette just lied and got fucked.
Now, he is right in front of Washington. Though he tries to look determined and controlled, the growing desperation in his eyes is quite visible. Without saying anything, he begins to undress.
Washington gets what Hamilton wants and protests, "You have to forgive me. I’m long since above the age to get a second erection that quickly.” A deep frown – the reason for most of his wrinkles – is back on his face. He doesn’t mean to turn the young man down despite his unfriendly attitude, nevertheless, he doubts that he’s able to give Hamilton what he wants tonight.
“Don’t worry," Hamilton says, stopping mid-action, and reaches for Washington’s soft member. The man flinches at the touch but doesn’t back away. Hamilton smiles smugly.
Suddenly, Washington feels a strange warmth blossoming in his dick. Blood rushes into it as fast as never before. His eyes widen as his spent cock comes back to life at rapid speed.
“Magic," he breathes.
Hamilton – and even Lafayette in the background – chuckles. “Haven’t seen nor done enough today yet to believe it?” The smile on his face is kind, not offensive.
Washington wonders by now if he really didn’t summon incubi by mistake.
“You are right. This usually isn’t a trait of a war demon. I can explain," Hamilton says, lets go of Washington’s full-erect cock, and continues undressing.
If Washington wasn’t sure before if they could read his mind, he certainly is now.
“You summoned us to help accomplish your desire. But we weren’t the first demons you thought of. Spending a whole week imagining how to win the war with an inferno resulted in granting us a few talents from our demon colleagues. I got some abilities from the Fire Master. They are very limited but practical.”
What does it have to do with my arousal? Washington thinks to himself.
“Don’t interrupt me! I was just getting there!" Hamilton hisses, voice strained.
“I didn’t say anything," the general defends himself.
“Oh, right. You were only thinking… Pardon me," the boy apologizes sincerely, looking a bit embarrassed.
Lafayette only shakes his head in amusement.
Hamilton continues with his confidence restored: "When I say I can control fire then I mean it in the broadest sense.” When he’s shed the last piece of clothing, he runs his fingertips over Washington’s chest, barely touching. “I can… warm you up," Washington feels a pleasant warmth radiating from Hamilton’s fingers, “make blood rush. I can ignite feelings, even spark a flame in your heart.” As he says this, he lays his palm flat on Washington’s heart. A moment later, Washington is overwhelmed with affection, similar to what he feels when he sees Lafayette’s best smile.
Washington’s and Hamilton’s eyes meet and they sense a connection that wasn’t there before. Something new, something deep.
The general is astonished, interested, but also terrified. Terrified by the realization of how helpless he is in their hands. When both of them can manipulate him that easily...
The feeling vanishes with the retreat of Hamilton’s hand. His mind also clears and he remembers that Hamilton only talked about the abilities he got but never mentioned if Lafayette has the same. So, he looks at the latter and asks: "What did Lafayette get?”
“You don’t remember the reason why you wanted to summon two demons in the first place?" Hamilton says though he knows Washington remembers.
“I couldn’t decide what I– we need more – something mighty enough to destroy the British troops or someone who can appeal to either the British or the French king," Washington explains while still locking gazes with the Frenchman who remains a mere listener.
Now Washington sees the connection himself but Hamilton voices the thought anyway: "So you decided for the Fire Master and the King Tempter. Lafayette got some traits from the latter. That’s why you don’t have to worry about his persuasiveness.” Lafayette smiles like he was complimented. “And that’s why he has such an effect on you.”
“But I am no king," Washington replies, this time targeting Hamilton with his intense stare.
The addressee moves closer, runs his hands over Washington’s body again, and examines it instead of meeting his eyes. “But you’re enough. You have power, influence. Many people look up to you, some think you’re a god. And many curse you as if you were a devil.”
“I am not King George!” The force with which the words leave Washington’s mouth indicates how offended he is. Probably, he’s heard this comparison several times already and, probably in most cases, it was meant as an insult rather than a compliment.
Hamilton looks up at him. His eyes appear big, not from confusion but with something Washington can’t decipher. “I know," he says calmly, “That’s why we are glad that you are our summoner. You know what is the greatest difference between you two??” His lips hover right over Washington’s hot skin without touching. Longing adds to his voice as he proceeds: "He would have never summoned a demon himself. He would order some other poor soul to do it. Because he’s a coward. But making someone else do it was never an option for you. You didn’t even summon us for yourself but for this country. For America.”
That’s when Hamilton lays back on the table and pulls Washington with him. He kisses him and Washington melts into it now that Hamilton’s words comforted him. The fact that explained difference is something important for the demons since the strength of one’s personality is mirrored in the soul, makes Washington believe Hamilton and it soothes his troubled mind temporarily. But once he started doubting, he can’t stop.
First, the kissing men go slow, exploring each other for another time, until Washington becomes fully aware of his hard-on between Hamilton's thighs. While Hamilton's hands remain clutching at his shoulders, his own roam across soft skin and stop at the narrow, almost feminine waist. The grip turns firm and he ruts a few times against Hamilton’s thigh.
The clever tongue in his mouth retreats only to say: "Drop it. My insides will provide more friction.”
Again, Washington is surprised by the demon’s choice of words. “Be careful with your words or I might have to teach you a lesson.” Despite his words, his right hand slides between their bodies to Hamilton’s hole.
“Of course, Sir," Hamilton pants but the glint of mischief in his eyes is prominent. “I have prepared myself. You can skip that.”
Yet, Washington raises a brow at him. When he slips a finger into Hamilton, his doubts are confirmed. Though Hamilton didn’t lie, he is far from being loose. Loose enough for Washington to push in the second finger immediately and start thrusting but not enough for a cock – especially his.
Hamilton’s head falls onto the table with a thud and his panting increases. His arms tense up and his fingers dig into Washington's muscles but his rectum relaxes. Then Washington curls his fingers and hits a point that makes Hamilton’s eyes almost pop out and his hips rise. He has to bite his teeth together not to scream. When Washington repeats the motion, his arms are thrashing around on the desk, searching for something to grip. Yet not sure if to ground himself or to provide better leverage – not sure if to meet Washington’s thrusts or escape them.
Washington is fascinated by his discovery. Since Hamilton is loose enough he pushes in another finger but continues massaging this sensitive spot which makes a helpless mess out of Hamilton.
The young man moans and keens and hisses but is yet able to keep his volume at bay. He throws his head from left to right, eyes squeezed shut while leaking so much precome that it starts to pool on his stomach. He is aching. Aching to be touched, to be filled. But he’s also unable to plead. Yet, he doesn’t dare to touch himself.
“Sir!" he finally manages to form words when it becomes urgent, “Please, stop! I’m close.”
He is already mentally prepared for the orgasm to wash over him like a tidal wave, when Washington actually listens and withdraws his fingers all at once, leaving Hamilton's walls clenching desperately around nothing.
“You’re a good boy for telling me," Washington praises, sounding breathless, too.
In the next moment, Hamilton feels something blunt nudging at his hole and he braces himself for the intrusion. It hurts nevertheless when Washington pushes in slowly, degree by degree. But the pain is only secondary to the overwhelming pleasure which Hamilton has craved so long.
Washington groans as he’s fully seated. Sweat gathers on his forehead but Hamilton is in no better shape. The boy is on the verge of tears but doesn’t even think about protesting. Right now he feels bliss, stretched wide around that girth.
The larger man gives him time to get accustomed but Hamilton grows restless quickly.
“Move.”
“I’m setting the pace tonight," Washington growls and accentuates his words with a hard thrust that jolts Hamilton further across the table so that his head falls over the edge, eliciting a pained groan.
“I hope not just tonight," Lafayette pipes up. He approaches Hamilton and casts him a fond – yet dangerous – smile.
“We’ll see," Washington says dryly despite that he would love to do as he pleases and follow his primitive desires for once. Still, his consciousness would never allow him to act recklessly.
Yet, he slides in and out of the tight passage, becoming faster every time.
At this time, Lafayette casually lays a hand on Hamilton’s throat. The way his eyes are locked on Hamilton’s face intensifies. Like an eagle watches his prey, focused, waiting for the right moment to attack.
And what this small touch, these eyes only do to Hamilton, puts Washington using his ass in the shadow. Hamilton meets the gaze with wide eyes and anticipation. But his mouth is hanging open because he’s panting – the only sign that his body can’t ignore what happens below the waistline.
Instinctively, Washington pounds harder. Feeling left out, he tries to get Hamilton’s attention without realizing it. He grabs the boy’s hips so hard the imprints of his fingers will be visible for some time and pushes in as far as physically possible with each thrust.
Hamilton whimpers in response to the pain, but at the same time, his cock leaks more precome than before. Nevertheless, he doesn’t turn away from Lafayette.
“Please," he begs, “please.”
Lafayette takes his hand away and moves to stand right at Hamilton’s head, his recovered hard-on bouncing in front of his face.
“Open.”
With his head still hanging over the edge, Hamilton parts his lips farther, as far as he can while forming a circle. Lafayette guides his cock into the orifice and dives into the wet heat. Without warning he shoves in to the hilt, making Hamilton choke around the flesh. Washington’s pounding only impales him further.
Concerned, the general slows down.
“Don’t stop! Continue as you were," Lafayette commands.
“He needs air. I hear him choking.”
“There’s no oxygen in our realm so he’s used to being without it. And don’t worry about his human body. I know wh– We know what we are doing. Now continue, please .”
Washington swallows hard but picks up the pace. Yet, he looks out for Hamilton’s reaction who lies still, with a cock deep down his throat. Hamilton doesn’t struggle though he couldn’t take a breath for a while now.
“Don’t hold back your strength," Lafayette says, “I know what you’re made of. And this boy here," Hamilton flinches at the nickname, “isn’t made of glass.”
Washington looks Lafayette in the eyes in search of assurance and finds what he seeks. With one last steeling breath, he jabs his dick into Hamilton with all his force. Hamilton raises his hips at that while making horrifying noises because the motion lets the cock in his mouth push hard against the back of his throat.
These noises shouldn’t make Washington’s cock twitch. Or his heart clench from bliss.
But they do. And he won’t hold back anymore.
Despite the brutal pace he sets in, Hamilton doesn’t clench as much around him as he does around Lafayette. The Frenchman groans at the muscles working around his best piece. After a few agonizing seconds – agonizing for Hamilton – he pulls out and Hamilton tries his best to get as much air as he can through violent coughing and getting fucked before Lafayette shoves in again. It wasn’t nearly enough but he endures it with pride.
Lafayette holds his head with both hands, creating better leverage to push into Hamilton every time Washington pulls back. His balls smack against Hamilton’s tear- and spit-stained face.
Hamilton gives his absolute best at taking them both, tries to hold on for a long time without pushing away for air though Washington makes it hard for him. But he never needs to struggle seriously because Lafayette grants him few valuable seconds to breathe around every minute that passes.
While those breaks become more frequent and last longer because Hamilton’s body reaches its limits quicker when never getting enough air to recover, Washington’s pace increases and his thrusts become more erratic and desperate. He hits Hamilton so deep that it still burns after all this time, but Hamilton savors the pain, and he will cherish the bruises as Washington grabs his flesh harder. The man almost yanks him onto his prick only to push back so it’s up to Lafayette to hold the boy in place.
Hamilton doesn’t see it coming when he suddenly spills over his stomach. The scream of pleasure sends waves of pleasure through Lafayette’s cock and brings him to completion. Lafayette has only enough time to react to pull himself out except for the tip, releasing thick strings of cum inside Hamilton’s perfect mouth. As much as it is heaven to come down Hamilton’s throat, the latter is occupied enough with handling his overstimulation. He shouldn’t choke on cum.
The clenching walls around Washington are too overwhelming. He lasts barely two additional thrusts before burying himself and stilling. His load fills Hamilton’s ass. While both Washington and Lafayette catch their breath and wait inside Hamilton for their cocks to soften, white fluids leak out of the boy’s asshole.
Hamilton is so blissed out he doesn’t even care about the sperm in his mouth. He only swallows when Lafayette retreats completely. Lafayette bends down to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear: "You fine?”
“Glorious," Hamilton answers so low and hoarse that Washington almost doesn’t catch it. Lafayette smiles at that.
When Washington pulls out, Hamilton lets out a small whimper, clearly overstimulated. The general considers sitting down on his bed but seeing Hamilton like this… He can’t help himself when he takes the boy in his arms and carries him to the bed. Hamilton is still limp and doesn’t protest when Washington tucks him under the blanket. He only looks up at him with a weak, content smile, then at Lafayette.
Washington slides under the blanket next to Hamilton and he can see what little rest of strength the demon summons to throw an arm over Washington’s chest and nestle his head up to his summoner’s shoulder.
Washington strokes Hamilton’s hair who is fast asleep. He didn't even wake up when Lafayette has found a washcloth and wiped Hamilton’s face and thighs clean. After that, he has joined the two on the bed though the small bed barely provides enough space so he has to lie on his side on the very edge and keep balance.
“Seeing him like this makes me almost forget that he is not human," Washington murmurs.
“His body is though," Lafayette responds without the French accent.
Washington looks at the short man in his arm. He realizes that, though he doesn’t know the demons for longer than an hour, he doesn’t want to let them go anymore. But he also wonders if his feelings are real or just manipulated.
“I have to go soon," and here Lafayette reminds him yet again of their telepathic ability. “Before your men wake up.”
“To France," Washington concludes.
“Yes. I’ll be gone for some time. I have to set up a story for my persona and befriend people important to our cause.” He said ‘our’. Washington’s heart swells. “It can be months but I promise you to come back as soon as possible.”
“I understand," Washington says, “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank us. We are bound to a contract after all.”
How gladly Washington would forget about this point and hold on to the fantasy that someone besides his wife would truly stand by his side – by him personally, not the grand general or the revolution.
The demon notices Washington’s silence and breaks it: "While I'm away you both have time to get used to each other. As I said before you don't have to take his threats seriously. He was just testing your nerves. We can indeed kill you but he already likes you too much to simply throw you away. What he doesn't like is fear so here's one advice from me: if he ever tries to stand up to you then don't back down, stay relentless, no matter what he says."
"Why is he acting that way?"
"I think he can't help it. He always picks fights with everyone." Lafayette smiles for a brief moment before he continues. "He likes acting tough. He just needs a firm hand. Try it next time. Being more dominant and commandeering, I mean. Then he will be perfectly pliant. Stare him down, pull his hair… or slap his face when he feels especially rebellious. Be rough. You'd be surprised."
"Surprised by what?" Washington is still skeptical.
Lafayette answers in a seductive tone, eyes like those of a puppy: "By how perfect he will be for you."
Washington shakes his head. "That's ridiculous. That's wrong."
"No. Just try." Lafayette cups Washington's cheek with one hand and looks him deep in the eyes. "I know your darkest desires. And I can assure you that they aren't as dark as you think they are. You can let the monster out when we're alone. Trust me, it will feel so right when you do."
"I'll try." The words are out before Washington himself decided if they are sincere or not.
"Good," says Lafayette and lets go of Washington's face, "Because I won't lead the situation next time. Tonight, I did it only because you were new to it."
Washington snorts, half offended, half amused.
Suddenly, the sleeping demon moves. He inches closer to Washington, embraces him with arm and leg. Then, he stills again. Both men have watched him without breathing. They relax and look at each other when they are sure that Hamilton won't wake up now.
“I want to tell you one last thing about my partner before I take my leave," Lafayette initiates, "You know about Caesar, Rome's emperor?"
"Of course I do."
"Well, Hamilton was there. Caesar has summoned him and Hamilton brought him conquest after conquest, making Rome the legendary empire it was. As you see there is no reason to worry anymore. He alone can bring you victory but you have two of us. Try to get better rest at nights with this knowledge."
Washington frowns. "Caesar died in the end. Murdered by his own men." He surely doesn't want to end like him.
"I don't know the details of their contract. Maybe it was Hamilton's fault, maybe not. But I know that you have both of us protecting you." Lafayette runs his fingers over Washington's chest.
Washington's eyes jump between the hand on him and Lafayette's eyes. Then Lafayette lays his lips on Washington's and the other man instinctively closes his eyes, savors the kiss.
Washington wakes up before dawn, with one boy still at his side, warm and clingy, and the other gone...