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Dec. 27th, 2016 10:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iniquiticitycw: a shitload of suggested noncon and so much general fucking badness
rileymcdaniels asked
tyrant au, may I request some Hamilton pov during times when Things Are Really Shitty?
there is nothing worse than the first step into the complex after a night away. his existence seems additionally horrific in every comprehensible way, and so much worse because of all he knows exists that he gives up. for a long time he just touches that place on his hip where the general held him and thinks of his tender kisses, and when he sneaks back to his bedroom he lays in the oversized bed (too soft, nothing like the straw mats and blankets they lay on, rich becuase it was stolen from a dissenter) and tries to pretend he is asleep. the castle is quiet at this hour, and he picks out only the sounds of the rotations of the guards. he touches the place on his thigh where the general said remember me by this, and with a carress and a kiss. he remembers. he remembers and the distance is agony. he almost sleeps. dozes maybe.
he is startled awake by the slamming of his door open. he has been discovered and he is going to be killed so slowly and horrifically because it is the marquis. alexander chokes back the sob and pretends he is only startled in the way a man is when his door is slammed open and forces himself to look over.
the marquis is wearing his nightshirt with wild hair and does not look like he is ready for torture. he is holding a candlestick. the possessive bruises along his neck are evident and fresh, set with teethmarks; there are red lines on his forearms and a bandage wrapped around his bicep. he is not dressed for torture, which means that he has come to give alexander to the king, which is almost as terrible and does not mean at the end he will die.
“i did not mean to surprise you, my prince,” the marquis says, his grin flickering in the light of his candle, “although your door is quite well-oiled. i confess i did not expect it to swing open so quick.”
he clears his throat, which lodges the sob further down. “i am awake, marquis,” he says.
“his excellency is in deep need of your presence, your majesty,” the marquis says, and offers his open hand. “you need not concern yourself with dressing or finding shoes. if the stone floor disturbs you, i can carry you.”
the stone floor is freezing against his feet. no shoes.
“I can walk, marquis,” he said.
“certainly, my prince.”
their bedrooms were not far but every step pounded in his chest. he remembered the spot on his leg and brought it to the service. put his heart there.
the marquis knocked, then open the door. his excellency was pacing, nude. his eyes went bright-dark when he saw his prince. he extended a hand, which alexander let his body take.
“i missed you this evening, so terribly that i required you this morning,” his excellency said, and planted kisses along his neck, each one more terrible than the last, “I hope i have not disturbed you.”
“you could never disturb me,” alexander’s mouth said, and it smiled. he pulled away from his skin, like the flesh and meat of an orange.
“you are the most magnificent,” his excellency said, and took his body to the bed, and bit over the place where the general promised to hide.
rileymcdaniels asked
tyrant au, may I request some Hamilton pov during times when Things Are Really Shitty?
there is nothing worse than the first step into the complex after a night away. his existence seems additionally horrific in every comprehensible way, and so much worse because of all he knows exists that he gives up. for a long time he just touches that place on his hip where the general held him and thinks of his tender kisses, and when he sneaks back to his bedroom he lays in the oversized bed (too soft, nothing like the straw mats and blankets they lay on, rich becuase it was stolen from a dissenter) and tries to pretend he is asleep. the castle is quiet at this hour, and he picks out only the sounds of the rotations of the guards. he touches the place on his thigh where the general said remember me by this, and with a carress and a kiss. he remembers. he remembers and the distance is agony. he almost sleeps. dozes maybe.
he is startled awake by the slamming of his door open. he has been discovered and he is going to be killed so slowly and horrifically because it is the marquis. alexander chokes back the sob and pretends he is only startled in the way a man is when his door is slammed open and forces himself to look over.
the marquis is wearing his nightshirt with wild hair and does not look like he is ready for torture. he is holding a candlestick. the possessive bruises along his neck are evident and fresh, set with teethmarks; there are red lines on his forearms and a bandage wrapped around his bicep. he is not dressed for torture, which means that he has come to give alexander to the king, which is almost as terrible and does not mean at the end he will die.
“i did not mean to surprise you, my prince,” the marquis says, his grin flickering in the light of his candle, “although your door is quite well-oiled. i confess i did not expect it to swing open so quick.”
he clears his throat, which lodges the sob further down. “i am awake, marquis,” he says.
“his excellency is in deep need of your presence, your majesty,” the marquis says, and offers his open hand. “you need not concern yourself with dressing or finding shoes. if the stone floor disturbs you, i can carry you.”
the stone floor is freezing against his feet. no shoes.
“I can walk, marquis,” he said.
“certainly, my prince.”
their bedrooms were not far but every step pounded in his chest. he remembered the spot on his leg and brought it to the service. put his heart there.
the marquis knocked, then open the door. his excellency was pacing, nude. his eyes went bright-dark when he saw his prince. he extended a hand, which alexander let his body take.
“i missed you this evening, so terribly that i required you this morning,” his excellency said, and planted kisses along his neck, each one more terrible than the last, “I hope i have not disturbed you.”
“you could never disturb me,” alexander’s mouth said, and it smiled. he pulled away from his skin, like the flesh and meat of an orange.
“you are the most magnificent,” his excellency said, and took his body to the bed, and bit over the place where the general promised to hide.