(Irish)

*Warning: A brief bit of smut in this chapter*

Fingertips of an inferno graced down Johns bare chest as a moan was yanked from his lips. The soft touch of kisses against the hard skin of his abdomen sent shivers up his spine. For a moment, everything was quiet, except for the hot breaths and whimpers being shed.

"A-Alex..." John muttered, however, no answer was received. He looked down at the smaller man who was crawling down his body with a fucked out smile on his lips. He felt fingers creep around the rim of his briefs, and for the first time, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. The pounding in his chest grew as the lips traveled down, getting closer to his throbbing cock.

"A-Ah...Alex please~"

John wasn't getting anything out of his begs, so he twisted his fists in the sheets and thrust his hips up, trying to get some sort of friction. Finally, a set of red, plump lips kissed up his shaft, giving him the pleasure he so desperately needed.

Everything began to spin now. Lips were replaced with tongue, and tongue was replaced with the pure bliss of being swallowed down. It was heaven, until it became hell.

In the blink of an eye, no longer was Alex there. Instead, John was standing in a dark room, still barely dressed, with a woman who had her back to him. His cock was still throbbing, making his legs tremble each step he took. "E-Excuse me...Miss?" He muttered, but it seemed the words were being forced from his mouth.

The woman turned, and it was Martha. A red handprint was vibrant on her cheek, and tears stung her eyes. "Why did you do this John," She mumbled. "Why did you curse me with this child and leave?"

John was silent. He stood there, his eyes glazed, watching her as she wept and twisted in ways that made him shiver. "Why! Why have you done this!"

As she screamed, two strong arms wrapped around his neck from behind, choking him. John could no longer breathe, and the image of Martha began to fade. All of a sudden, stubble from a man's cheek brushed up against his ear. He knew it was Alex; he was familiar with the clean-shaven jaw he's seen the times they trained together.

He expecting soothing words to pour out from his lips. He expected this lucid dream to end with his soft-spoken voice, but instead, it was raspy and broken, and only a sentence was heard.

"God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral."

-----

John woke with a harsh thrust up off his bed. He sat up in cold sweat, and a damp spot on the blankets where his cock lay underneath, reeking of cum.

He looked over to the bed next to him, and saw a peaceful sleeping Alex, looking as if nothing had happened. It took him a few moments to realize it was all a dream. A sick perverted dream he shouldn't have had.

But fuck, how good it felt when Alex was on him like that, satisfying all his pleasurable needs. How he wished to treat the man beside him with such pleasure and love. He had never imagined these kinds of things before in his life. Thoughts he once would have found impure and disgusting now seemed arousing and shockingly desirable. It almost frightened him.

He bit his lip as he pulled his knees into his chest, trying to get the dream out of his head. He shouldn't think like that. Him being raised in a Catholic family taught him that, and he promised to his mother before she died he would follow the Bible, and preach God's word.

The thoughts began to run rapid in his mind. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged, as if that would help make everything go away. His breath hitched when he remembered the cigars Aaron Burr and given him just a few days before when they had a brief talk.

He reached under the bed and pulled out a box, opening it to reveal a case of cigars. He took one out and a match that lay beside it, slipped on a pair of briefs, stepped into his shoes, before walking out. The cold air embraced him, and a cold finger swept up his spine as he struck the match against the wooden build of the tent. The match ignited, and a minuscule flame blared against the twilight.

He brought the fire to the end of the cigar and was met with an ember beginning to grow. John took a drag and sighed, blowing out the smoke that wisped into the air.

John continued doing that for some time, and his body loosened out and melted away the fear. The dream he had was a distant thought, before he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Alex? What are you doing up at this hour?" John asked, as he became starstruck at how Alex looked before him; With his brown hair up in adorable knots, and his lips coated it drool, making them plump and red.

Alex shook his head, "I smelled the smoke and-"

John cut him off, "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I can put it out." He stumbled over his words, and just as he was about to drop the cigar, Alex caught him. "Please, don't worry. I was going to ask if I could smoke with you, do you have an extra cigar by chance?"

John released his breath and nodded, "Yeah, under my cot, you're free to take one if you wish."

Alex left and returned moments later with a cigar. He quickly lit it and brought it to his lips, and soon, the atmosphere around them was filled with the smoke. Through all this, John was attempting to hide his discomfort, since the dream he had was streaming up his spine.

The silence was so vibrant in between the two that you could cut it with a knife, till Alex finally spoke.

"You're a brave man, Laurens."

John's heart let out an unusual thump at his words, "Why do you say that?"

"You plan on fighting at Brandywine, correct?"

"Yes, I do. But I don't understand why that proves me as brave. Thousands of other men intend to fight there as well."

"That is true, but you, my friend, have only had a month of training." He chuckled, "Come to think of it, I don't believe you've ever had a taste of battle on your tongue yet."

John took a puff of his cigar and bit his lip, "I have read Thomas Paine's Common Sense, I have seen others fight, and you have informed me well enough on how to properly use my musket. My lack of encountering a battle shouldn't prove anything."

Alex didn't answer him for some time, and let the silence between them hang. "John, I have promised myself that I wouldn't be your friend, and that I would not treat you as kind as my fellow soldiers. Alas, this past month I've been with you it has been difficult to do that. And perhaps, it's been difficult to not do something else as well."

Before John could say anything, Alex dropped his cigar on the ground and stomped on it, putting it out. "Goodnight, John Laurens." He said, before making his way into the tent and leaving John completely speechless outside.