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Strange, how easily you could become accommodated to something so monstrous and unfamiliar.
He recalled with some difficulty what it had been like to be here the first time, and how alien and horrific it had all seemed, and how much every part of him had been repulsed and rebelled. Now this place - hell, although it hardly seemed so hellish, hardly any torture and only a minimal amount of open flame - had a peculiar comfort. There was something oddly familiar about the foul-yellow sky and the red-streaked clouds. He looked down from the high towers of Lafayette’s castle and felt comforted by the minarets and pathways, and around it the shantytown and its flat roofs, and past that the forever-long plain of cracked red dirt.
For a while after he had changed, his old body had seemed like a terrible disguise. He only felt decent in his new body, dark wings and the knife-sharp claws. Without his tail he had felt unbalanced, and without the onyx skin, harder than steel, he felt defenseless. He’d settled, though. The disguise of skin and hair that he was no longer bound to seemed more like home and less like a prison.
His boys - his demons - preferred him to take the shape he had when they had met him. He’d displayed younger, at first, but they liked him older, with wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and harder eyes.
It was not the only power he practiced. He learned to fly, and and cast magic a thousand times more efficiently than he ever had as human, and drew his weapon from air. He learned to sense, felt the prickle and glow of a soul, and how to know the strength of another creature. He learned more and more how to track his boys. His boys who had brought this blessing - ha! - to him. His boys who had appeared one dark night and then everything had lead to this, him on a high balcony of a black tower in one one of hell’s many realms, studying what he already thought of as his territory.
Lafayette was up in what he often thought of as the patrolling towel - a high circular room at the top of a tower that faced the direction of Lafayette’s least favorite neighbor. Washington did not yet know the politics of what were nominally feudal lords, but it was on his list to learn. Lafayette could often be found up there, heads both pointed in the same direction, the soft sound of his breaths in his massive breast perfectly complemented with the gentle ruffle of his wings.
Ben deep in the bowels of the main tower, casting spells. Ben could always be found in one of magically-attuned casting rooms that Lafayette kept. Out of the group of them, Ben was the best with magic, as his kind usually were. Ben looked - sense-looked - at him, could see him watching. Ben sense-grinned at him, in the way Washington hadn’t yet managed.
Alexander —
Alexander close. Alexander coming closer, wearing his human form but unaffected by the exertion of the many stairs that might’ve winded a real mortal. Out of the three of them, Alexander preferred his human form the most, likely due to the size. Alexander’s real body, cat-and-dog like, was probably no heavier than eighty pounds, even if all of those eighty pounds were lean muscle, whiplike barbed tails, claws and teeth. Alexander sense-saw him, and then was instantly closer still.
Washington did not need to turn his head to see Alexander. Dark hair that he no longer queued, in absence of the army. Despite that lack, he still wore his colonel’s uniform, more immaculate than it had ever been in the army, his boots polished to a perfect shine, with gleaming brass buttons.
“Hello, Colonel,” Washington said, to the landscape displayed in front of him.
“Good afternoon, Your Excellency,” said Alexander’s voice, behind him. How he could still be the general after he had given that life up in so many ways seemed strange, and yet Alexander wore a uniform of an army he could have destroyed without an effort, and loved a human who had turned himself into a demon.
“Is it afternoon?”
“Well,” Alexander said, consideringly, “Time is different in hell. I suppose it is both always afternoon and never.”
There was something that was different now. It was not only his new real body, as powerful and strong as it was. It was that the hunger was different, more intense. He had long lusted after all three of them, but there had been a hesitancy to it, to being carnal with a demon - and of course the logistics of managing it and also running a war effort or building a government. But there was none of that here. No shame, and no government, and no war, and Hamilton was the same - disobedient and delicious and wonderful. And Ben was the same - needy in his way. And Lafayette was the same - always falling over himself to service Washington in whatever way that he wanted.
“Come here,” he said, still without looking over.
“Might I inquire why, sir?”
“No,” he said, “You may not.”
It would have been obvious. Alexander was much better at sensing him than he had ever been at sensing Alexander, and Alexander knew exactly what his lust felt like. Lafayette had tried to explain how it felt, when he had been human, but only now did Washington understand. It was a heat, but it was nothing like any heat he had known before. He could feel the prickle of Alexander’s warmth at him. There was nothing Alexander liked more than to be obstinate despite his desires.
“Well, then you will permit me to deny such a request.”
My Alexander, Washington thought. Alexander must have noticed he thought it - felt him. He could feel Alexander’s amusement.
Finally, he turned from the balcony and took Alexander in with his real eyes. It was just as he had imagined it. To complete the portrait, Alexander’s hands were folded behind his back, and his feet together, like a good salute. A tiny little sneer on his lips. His eyes twinkled.
“You should know better than to think such a thing would be permitted,” Washington said, frowning in disapproval. He felt the flames of his desire grow hotter, fed by Alexander’s obstinacy.
“Should I?” Alexander asked, tilting his head. He made no move to come closer. In fact, he was unusually still, if only to punctuate his disobedience.
"You disobey me at your own peril," Washington said, very softly, and cast his eyes up and down Alexander's human form. He had always known it, even before he knew what Alexander really was, what Alexander could be or was capable of. He was intimately familiar with the slim shoulders and the narrow waist, and furthermore felt more than ever that he owned both of these things in a peculiar and magnificent fashion. He owned them because Alexander had given them to him. He owned Alexander, and Alexander owned him in a different and no less whole way.
"I suppose that I do," Alexander said, and then let his gaze slide away from Washington to the reddish horizon.
Washington quirked an eyebrow and rejoiced in their game. He thought about moving and then reorganized himself. Perhaps if he only took a step, Alexander would step away from him, stubborn as he was. But now that he was this greater and more powerful thing - now that he had magic and power far beyond any mortal, even one like he had been --
The next instant Washington was directly in front of Alexander, enough so that he could feel the breathing Alexander did out of habit. His breath was hot and tasteless, and Washington relished it. He liked their size difference, and the way Alexander's eyes flickered up to him, and the way Alexander did not take even a single step back.
"I would be concerned that this lack of respect could result in a rather severe flogging," he said, and he drew the palm of hand over Alexander's cheek, so that he could trace the line of his jaw with his fingers. "Insubordinate officers would be wise to apologize before their improper conduct is noted."
As if Alexander had ever apologized for anything in any of his lifetimes.
"Oh, Your Excellency," Alexander purred, his voice so sweet it was cloying, and his smile impossibly artificial, "Please accept my most sincere and profuse apologies. I would never even think to disrespect you or your rank." Then, without even being dismissed, he turned on his heel and moved away from the balcony.
What a man, Washington thought, even knowing that they were not men. What a man he had, that had found him, that he had found. It seemed impossible that a man could not only be so completely disrespectful, but also make Washington want it in this intense and bestial way.
What a man that was his.
The power of his body was still new, but he was become accustomed. He reached out again, both with his mind and his hands and his steps, and it was like a wish that his hand found the back of Alexander's collar. Grabbed. Pulled. His feet stepped.
From where they had been, standing close to the entrance of the castle, with Alexander walking away from him, and him softly seething, livid and aroused with the obvious disrespect --
-- And now they stood on the balcony edge, pressed against the ornate railing of onyx and amber, so that it seemed shot-through with gold where the unnatural no-sunlight of hell hit it. Alexander faced their little fiefdom and the endless plane past it.
He was behind the man, his front pressed his back, the crook of his arm wrapped around Alexander's neck like a collar. He could actually hold Alexander down now. It had been a game, when he was mortal. Alexander could have broken free, if he wanted. Now he could not. Now he could hold Alexander down like he was a babe.
He could hear the habit-quickness of Alexander's fake breathing. The warmth of the man's body was a line of fire into him.
He was becoming better with his teeth. It had been a challenge, at first, to move from regular human teeth to the terrible fangs of his new real body and back. But he had practiced, and it was with that ease he bit down into Alexander's ear, felt the heat of his unnatural demon blood. Alexander hissed, and it was like a symphony.
"If you will not practice obedience in private, I shall demonstrate how to do it for our people," he whispered, so low a man would not have been able to hear it. So low that it made Alexander strain to hear, for he could feel the muscles tense. Once to hear him, and then again to tighten with expectant pleasure. He could smell Alexander's desire now, like brimstone. He had long been used of the sulphur smell - it no longer turned his stomach, at the end. When he had awoken as a new thing, it delighted him. It smelled like freshly-bloomed jasmine or grilling onions. Such a sweet scene could not be permitted for mortal.
Alexander's desire grew, as he was held. Washington drew his tongue across the edge of his ear and then across the sharp little wounds he'd made. He blew a little gust of air into Alexander's ear and felt the man shiver beneath him.
"Are you ready to kneel?" he said, and as he did it his lips brushed the slick skin.
They both knew, of course.
"For what, sir?" Alexander said, to the sky, not even turning to look at him, all easy and relaxed, because he would never be so agreeable, "My boot-laces are well tied."
"Oh," Washington said, softly, and Alexander must have felt the surge of his lust. Alexander must have known he only inspired Washington's hunger for him. Alexander must have known that such a response, in all it's pure, delicious disrespect, would cause Washington to squeeze his arm tighter. Alexander made a sharp little gasp of surprise and then tensed again as Washington's other hand went to his uniform. Easy, when you only pretended humanity, to tear clothes with claws you could form and dissolve. Easy when you had the strength of oxen, to rip conjured seams and magicked threads. Easy to make a man wear rags because he would not obey you.
"Well," Alexander said, and Washington could sense the shrug, "At least my boots remained tied."
Oh, his little thing, he thought, and Alexander must have heard him. Oh, you little thing, you disobedient, unruly little cur.
"It sounds like I must be quite firm with you, regarding our position," Washington said, as he stroked his fingers across Alexander's bare stomach and felt the gooseflesh rise following his fingers despite the eternal and persistent heat of their world.
"I confess a lack of understanding, sir," Alexander said, and Washington let his fingers trail down, let them stroke over the bulge in his breeches, "To whom have I failed to deliver proper respect?" His voice was breathier now, and he shifted his weight back into Washington's body, until they were pressed as close as they could be.
Oh, this little mongrel. His little mongrel, he thought, with a sharp hiss of delight. How could it be, that Alexander was so good at the play of denial? That it seemed to be the perfect dance with them?
"Shall I tell you?" Washington asked. He could feel the purr through Alexander's spine, vibrating through his throat.
"How am I to know who apologize to, if you deny me?"
He sighed and clucked his tongue. He knew their game that they always played. He delighted in it, and really that was all that mattered, wasn't it? That Alexander would give him this fantastic pleasure with his struggle, and he would hold him down and take what he wanted, from what was his?
"It's me," he hissed, and he rearranged them as he liked, his hand around Alexander's throat sliding to perch at the top knob of his spine, keeping him bent and displayed. The ragged ends of the uniform fell in gown-tatters around the balcony railing, and Alexander gasped out a breath at the shove, the railing now firmly pressed into his stomach. Washington could feel his struggle to stand back up. He needn't allow such a thing, with all his new strength. Now he could really push down Alexander, keep him where he wanted. Make him his, make him take it.
"Why is it you?" Alexander asked, his voice pretend-surprised, despite being handled so roughly.
"Because you belong to me," Washington replied, and with hands-turned-claws he shred the back of the uniform and discarded the ragged scraps into the sharp, unpleasant little breeze. He didn't care to watch them fade away. He concentrated instead digging fingernails into Alexander's back and feel the way his muscles tensed. Magnificent, what he could do. What Alexander was, what they were.
Alexander made a dismissive little snort, because that was the sort of creature that he was. He pushed again against Washington's hand.
"Yes indeed," he continued, raking his nails in red scrapes down Alexander's back and seeing the lines red against olive skin, "And if you have forgotten, perhaps you need me remind me not only yourself, but all the world."
Alexander struggled under his grip again, but Washington knew it. He could sense the pleasure. Had Alexander been sensible, and not been the way he was, he would have asked for such a thing. Washington would not have liked it, if he asked for it. They would not have been what they were.
His strategy obvious, he pressed the outline of his own desire against the round of Alexander's drawn-tight breeches. Ground himself there, just to give Alexander a preview of upcoming events, to make him shiver. He did shiver, in what Washington knew - could sense - was pleasure. Alexander could have changed his clothes, shifted his display somehow. Alexander liked to be in his bits and rags, in his breeches and military boots. Fine.
Washington rather liked sliding his fingers through the cloth so that the breeches tumbled off, exposing a magnificent, bare ass for him. He squeezed it and felt Alexander resist the urge to groan. He dug his nails in and could hear the hiss.
Now there was a dilemma to consider, that this exquisite thing was exposed for him. It was almost impossible to hurt Alexander, by pushing him, now that they were both like this. There would be no tearing or bleeding, and Alexander would enjoy the pain of it, because that was the sort of creature that he was. It was well within reasonable limits, and an obvious display of his own dominance. Despite that, he shifted so he could brush the pads of his fingers across the puckered skin.
Oh.
His Alexander---
"I think you know well who you belong to," he said, because his hand came away slick, and when he pulled Alexander apart to look, he saw the sheen of it, and how with a bit of a push he could see it slowly begin to drip down Alexander's thighs.
Alexander did not even protest, when Washington teased and stretched him with his fingers, with enough force that he felt - sensed - the suppressed groans. He had no more words, not anymore. There were no words in either language that he knew now, of the mortal tongue or of demons and devils, that could express the sheer majesty that was his Alexander Hamilton. That might not have been his name, when he came to be. But it was now. Washington had made it so.
“Perhaps you should make your pleasure less apparent, if you wish it to be unknown of how much you rejoice in being my possession,” he growled, fingers deep inside Alexander, and Alexander pushing back against him, his reddened back long and flexed, asking for more without needing words.
Alexander made a little hiss, and Washington withdrew his fingers to press himself completely to Alexander’s back, covering him completely by bending over the balcony over. He sunk his teeth into Alexander’s shoulder and tasted the sweet ash of his blood. He bit this willing, delicious body again, and again, until his shoulders were riddled with the marks of Washington’s teeth, bruised, with drops of blood dripping from the open wounds, over the balcony and onto the land far, far below.
Alexander seemed to have forgotten to be obstinate in his desire to be pleasured. That was all perfectly well, Washington though, as he left a mouth-shaped bruise at the top of his spine, where he had held Alexander down.
“I think you delight in being mine,” Washington growled into his skin, “To think you are my possession, my object. Something for me to use, for my wants and desires. A vessel for my pleasure and for my success. You feel delight only when I succeed and you suffer when I wish it.”
At this, a full-body shudder slid through the body under his. He clucked his tongue and chuckled, and then stood again, teasing his cock, hard and hot in his hand, against Alexander’s slick hole.
“Nothing would delight you more than for me to fuck your body until I leave you filled with my seed.”
Alexander mumbled something. Washington pressed closed, teased himself about the rim of Alexander’s hole, felt the heat crackling in his new hardened bones.
“Speak clearly if you want me to hear it,” he said.
“You brag so much I fear I shall never have your cock or your seed,” Alexander said, lifting his head and looking over his shoulder. His face was red, but the infuriating smirk still sat on his lips, daring and exquisite. “And then what shall they say, when they look up and see him? Ah, General Washington - all talk and nothing more. There can hardly be a more depressing --”
“That is quite enough,” he said, after the rattling sigh of pleasure that came when you settled yourself completely inside the tight, magnificent heat of another creature. Especially one that had always taken you like this, for so long, that fit you in a way it seemed impossible for two creatures to fit. Not only in this, but in all other ways as well. It was incredible, that he had discovered someone and been discovered by someone so magnificent. Incredible that they had learned and grown and evolved through so many different struggles and challenges, and that in the end their connection could not even be stopped by death or hellfire.
Alexander had taken hold of the balcony and was pushing himself back against Washington with vigor, matching each thrust with the force he kept secret in his whip-strong body. The strength was more evident when he was in his original form, flesh impossibly lean against coiled muscle, but even as a human there was no mistaking Alexander’s slightness for weakness. Such a thing was purely on display now, where Alexander pushed up against him, and with his new strength it was easy to push back, until the force that they drove their bodies together with seemed impossible. No, not anymore. Perhaps he should have felt guilt, giving up his mortality and his soul in exchange for the company of demons and their vices.
He could not feel anything but the impossible, inhuman heat of lust, when they were like this. It was a lust he had become familiar with, and neither him nor his demons seemed to have any issue or complaint with slaking it as often as they liked.
Alexander groaned and gasped as he was taken and offered up more and more, having set his feet and settled himself better for pushing back against Washington’s pounding thrusts. His fingers left dents in the balcony where he gripped the black stone, and his noises increased in volume and in cadence, huffs of breath and gasps as Washington slammed deep inside him and moans for more and pleaded requests for harder, harder. His shouts rattled the silent breeze of the balcony.
Washington dug his fingers into Alexander’s hips hard enough to leave gashes and finished with a gasp, the heat of his body erupting and flooding through him. He could feel everything in that moment, Alexander’s body tightening around him as he released. It was unbearable, the sense of it. The pleasure. Better now than it had ever been, when it was human. A soul seemed so worthless in comparison to the peak he could experience now. Alexander had gone still under him, gasping for his unneeded breaths, his face pillowed in his arms. Washington watched him for a few moments, then shifted away, letting himself slide out.
“Perhaps you should be kept around to pleasure me, despite your disrespect,” he said, and rested his hand on the base of Alexander’s spine, feeling the warm skin under his hand. Sometimes it had become too hot for him to touch, when he was mortal. No such thing could be possible now. He led his hand slide down, into the crease of Alexander’s ass, and felt the mess of their activities. Alexander groaned and pushed himself back again, and it was easy to coat his hand in their combined fluids, whitish and slick.
“Well,” Alexander said, into the balcony railing, “If nothing else I suspect the practice shall improve you.”
At this Washington laughed, because he was always surprised with how bratty Alexander could be to him, and even now, even after such an event, he could be so completely incorrigible.
“I suppose it will,” he replied, and he stepped close again, and leaned down to wrap his arms around Alexander’s chest, pulling him flat against him. He could have him pressed close with one hand now - Alexander seemed so light, with his new strength. He slid his dirty hand against Alexander’s lips and pushed his fingers inside that warm mouth, and the touch of Alexander’s tongue tickled against the pads of his fingers. He made a satisfied groan at the welcome, soft suction of his mouth. It was delightful, to listen to Alexander’s incoherent complaint when he pulled the hand away, and better as the noise twisted into a moan when he wrapped the slick against around his cock.
Alexander only needed a little coaxing to release into his hand. Alexander would not be teased against by him, but took the filthy hand in his own and sucked each finger clean with his usual intent focus. This task complete, Alexander rested back against him and permitted himself to be held.
“Perhaps you are worthwhile alone for how utterly desirable you are,” he said, and he turned his head to kiss his Alexander.
“A trait I am quite proud of,” Alexander said, smug.
Washington took one more look at the sky and the long plain and then found his strength. Had had been mortal they would have had to walk through the endless corridors and twisting stairs of the castle, but such as not required anymore. A thought and he could take them all to the bedroom in the highest room, where it seemed they were surrounded by sky. There he could lay his Alexander down and feel him pull close and sigh with contentment. He could sense that Alexander would like to be held, no matter what he said. So he used his new strength and his new senses, and gave his man what he wanted.