Hamilton Smut

A fleeting passion

"Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp," Alexander read the words with passion, his voice warm and raspy from the blunt wedged between his calloused fingers. Thomas watched from afar, arms feld across his chest. He acted as if his attention was elsewhere but he clung to every word like a starving man.
God, the way he spoke was like honey rolling off his tongue. Greedy as it may sound, Thomas wanted a taste.

"Let's grimly kiss with bated breath;"
Thomas had a fist balled in the front of Alexanders uniform, their lips smashed together in a bruising kiss. Teeth clacking, lungs begging for air. Though Thomas would never admit it, he craved his touch. The simple brush of a shoulder would send shivers licking up his spine. Hands dove into his hair, the piece of poetry tumbling to the cave floor.

"As quietly and solemnly
As Life when it is kissing Death."
Silence fell between them, the only noise being the hammering of their hearts. Like trapped birds beating their tattered wings against the bars of their birdcage. Alexander was on his back now, his hair fanning out like a brown halo. How could someone so angelic be committing something so sinful.

"Now in the silence of the grave, my hand is squeezing that soft breast," Thomas's hand was far below his belt, he'd reach the point of no return. The rocky ground of the cave dug uncomfortably into his knees, reminding him of where he stood. This was where he belonged.

"While thou dost in such passion lie, it mocks me with its look of rest."
Alexander filled his mouth with poison and he allowed himself to drink. The thick liquid slid down his throat, tainting his pallet with the taste of salt. It was taunting, sneering how he'd never have the pleasure to please Hamilton the way he has, ever again. Blinking away tears threatening to spill Thomas stood on shaky legs.

"But when the morning comes at last,
And we must part, our passions cold,"
Alexander left without a parting kiss nor a second glance. It ached and tore at his heart like a dagger. Thomas could and would give Alexander anything he desired, yet he still ran away. Frost lined the tree limbs in a sheer coat, snow showering above him. The cold mourn resembled that of the melancholy pang in his heart.

"You'll think of some new feather,
Scarf
To buy with my small piece of gold;"
Now and again Thomas would see Alexander roaming the halls. Except there was always a shadow not trailing too far behind. With sandy waves and sharp hazel eyes. Lauren's had captured Alex's affections. With a crooked smile and sun kissed skin he was gone. Torn from his grasp.

"Where little things with beating hearts
Hold shining eyes between the leaves,
Til men with horses pass, and carts."

Brilliant Poem By:
William Henry Davies
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A/N this was so short, I promise my writing isn't always half assed as this was. This was strongly based on the 'Dead Poets Society'. just two Bros sucking dick and reading poetry.
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