Chapter Text
The illumination that manages to seep through the moth-eaten blinds is filling the room with an intensity that Alexander cannot ignore anymore unfortunately. Despite the protection his heavy eye-lids provide, it’s not enough for his mind to succumb back to the graces of slumber. He hoped that his brain could turn itself off for once- ignore the swarming thoughts that fester so evidently in the confinements of his head and just let him lull back into painless sleep. There’s already a creeping headache that’s beginning to make itself noticed, and Hamilton can already tell it’s going to be agonizing by the way it grinds into his temples just so.
Alexander can taste his own tongue: thick, furry and it’s as if something had died on its very surface- the taste makes his nose wrinkle. His throat’s parched, arid and muggy, as if he had been sent out in the blistering, humid heat of summer with nothing to quench his thirst. A low groan rasps out between his chapped lips, the urge to dismiss the current symptoms of one of the worst hangovers so far is beginning to intensify as more light seems to swallow the room whole.
It’s inevitable, cracking open his eyes and the moment he can see the sun’s emitting rays from the window he’s already shutting them back shut tightly. It’s agonizing- and he wants to stay bundled into the securities of this bed. Actually- there’s a pause in his mind’s never-ending monologue as he shifts a bit over on the mattress, not finding any familiarity on its surface. The baffling curiosity of where he currently lays forces his eyes back open, despite the harsh illumination of the sun. He blinks a bit to adjust, orienting himself to foreign surroundings- this evidently wasn’t his own place, and none of his comrades’.
Alexander huffs through his nostrils, forcing himself to lurch up into a sitting position to gain a better momentum, and there’s immediate regret that sits heavy in his stomach at the blossoming ache reverberating inside of his frame. Hamilton groans inwardly out of reaction, placing a shaky hand over his lips to muffle the noise as he flicks his optics down to his blanket-draped body in mild confusion. His free hand reluctantly crawls to the thin quilt and lifts the blanket, shuffling it downward so it lays over his knees.
“ Oh God - “
Fearful adrenaline courses through his body, his lethargic body forcing itself to swivel around and bring himself off of the bed. It creaks at his movements, the noise ringing in his sensitive ear-drums. Hamilton stumbles, can feel his knees threatening to buckle under his weight. There’s pain drumming over his nerves, abusing numb and strained muscles. His balance teeters for a moment, causing Hamilton to grab onto the nightstand before he collided with the wooden flooring below.
His mind is fuzzy. It desperately opens mental closets for anything that could even trigger something for the entire thing to unfold, or faintly inform him what had occurred last night. The last thing he can scavenge is the sight of pavement below his feet and something hauling, almost dragging him across the streets. The other presence- his mind rakes feverishly for an answer, suggests Laurens but the man was still out of town attending business.
There’s a soft snoring noise that his ears manage to catch, and Hamilton pauses in his mental ministrations, perked. His head cranes over to the bed, seeing the other lump under the covers, that lays sullen over the mattress. Alexander is halted, staring dumbly before his sights to trail over to the only part that isn’t covered by the woolen quilt- their head. And the moment his gaze registers who it is, a majority of his memories come crashing down into his mind- as if a dam had burst open.
There’s heat crackling as their lips mold together, teeth and tongue all clashing with each other. Hamilton hums into Burr’s mouth, lets the man’s tongue explore the insides of his mouth as he can only manage a few sloppy, uncoordinated nips. But that’s all right, he lets himself instead get lost in the sweltering atmosphere. The carnal desire managing to seep through his intoxicated, muggy brain and stirring the length now straining against his breeches. Aaron is pushing him back incessantly during their kiss, and Hamilton whines into his mouth as the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and he’s falling backwards.
He needs to leave.
The sudden brimming of desperation keeps him moving, albeit sloppy and hardly coordinated. Hamilton moves as if gravity anchors him down like shackles, languid and each step sounding. His eyes rake the floor feverishly for the sight of his clothing, not desiring the slumbering man mere feet away from him to see him nude, and Alexander personally doesn’t want to see the tainted marks scattered over his body anymore.
It takes longer than expected- with what limited motions he had as if not to rustle the nauseating bubbling within his stomach, and if his kinetics were drastic in the motion, it would cause another strike of throbbing pain to hammer at the insides of his skull. Gruelling and time-wasting, he doesn’t question why random assortments of his attire is more scattered than it should be.
Fortunately, it was easier to pull the clothing on, however, shuffling the breeches on delicately as if not to disturb the nasty bruises over his hips.
The hands settle over his hips despite his protests, coiling and unrelentless and there’s so much pain that is still erupting. Endless stirrings of agony, slow-moving and the world teetering around on its axis. He cannot see the motel anymore, the plaster with painted swirling patterns is nothing more than void, the world circled in and his brain focused on the senses of now. He’s pulled against the silken sheets, man-handled into being forced backwards into a tunnel of overstimulating pain- there’s so much pain that’s making his head spin and brain short-circuit with the overwhelming bearings of pain, pain- there’s pain-
Hamilton’s breathing heavily, gasping lowly as he shakily, cautiously pulls the thin undershirt over his slenderly-built frame, wary of the reddened marks that his chest now bares. It does nothing to help- the shirt that settles over him scratches at them with its fabric, uncomfortably rutting against the lesions. Alexander blows air harshly through his nostrils, attempts to tranquilize his jittery nerves. Memories of last night’s occurrence are slowly drooling into his mind- they were concealed tributaries, making themselves known by flowing into the lake of his imagery thoughts. His head’s beginning to ache more.
He’s dressed, not fully but it’s enough for him to go outside into public without being deemed as conspicuous. Alexander lets himself stand stationary in the middle of the motel room, gathering his mentality before trotting over to the door a bit clumsily, wrapping his calloused fingers over the knob and cracking the slab of wood open-
“ Alexander? “
Aaron’s voice is groggy, low and near-resembling a groan. He must have just woken up. Hamilton’s luck is always on a regular point, but this has to be one of the lowest. He inhales sharply, cranes his head over and sees the man, now sitting up and letting the blanket pool over his crotch and legs. Burr stares at him with baffled eyes, as if he did not know why Alexander would leave. The mere thought of that being the explanation makes Hamilton’s blunt nails push ruthlessly into the brass knob.
“ … Aaron? “
He uses the Christian name- there’s no use of formalities. He’s lost a sense of respect for him.
“ Why are you leaving? Yes, I know- the way you woke up must be a bit- “ There’s the click of a tongue, Burr’s pupils laving over Hamilton’s body a bit too intimately for his tastes, Alexander reacting by stiffening up his frame a bit anxiously.
“ … uncomfortable, “ he finishes, “ But it’s a request of mine for you to return back. I much so enjoyed your presence last night. “
“ I’d rather not, Aaron. My head aches much too much and I feel dreadfully ill. I would be more comfortable within my own personal space than this distasteful Inn. “
Aaron’s relaxed, content smile seems to falter at the response, lips growing thin and pressed. His eyebrows knit together, a bit of a sneer curling over his facial expressions.
“ ...Very well. I will see you tomorrow then, on the fields. “
Hamilton gives a slow nod, swivels back around and traverses into the hall-way, makes a move to shut the door but spares a glance over his slim shoulder to see the scenery of the motel once more before he left its premises.
Burr’s still staring at him, a rather coquettish simper tracing the lines of his mouth.
“ Are you sure you won’t stay for a round two, Alexander? “
Hamilton shuts the door behind him.