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myheartalivewrites · 2 years ago

Note

Yay, a gift! Delightful historical setting, tension both political and sexual I love it, thanks @cha-melodius

Sending an ask was the RIGHT CALL.

Firstprince + Versailles for your fandom fest!

Congrats on your milestones!

(Versailles was such an interesting choice! A different palace? I got it in my head to write a historical AU, so you get 1785 Versailles and rival ambassadors to the court of France. I hope you enjoy!)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy

(firstprince, 5.3k, E; read it below or on AO3)

It had only made sense when Congress had sent him to Paris in 1784 to negotiate a large number of treaties with various European states. Alex is damned good at negotiating, and getting a good outcome for these agreements was vital to the continued success of their new republic. What he was not as pleased about is the missive from Washington a few months later assigning him to succeed Franklin as Minister to the Court of Versailles. Don’t get him wrong, living in Paris is— well, it’s pretty great, actually, but he’d still rather be back in Philadelphia, helping govern the country he worked so hard to liberate. Alex knows he’s helping shape U.S. foreign policy, and that’s important too. Much of the work he does is extremely rewarding.

What he despises are the times when the King and Queen decree that he come to the palace at Versailles for some inane weekend of fancy balls and dinner parties and lawn games. He daren’t refuse, though; Louis’ support in the war was instrumental, so Alex has to go pretend to be delighted no matter how distasteful the trappings of the monarchy are to him. The gatherings never fail to make him feel utterly out of place, full of the kind of European nobility and extravagantly wealthy people who look at him as some kind of shabby, poor, charity case from across the sea.

Then there’s the British Ambassador, Henry Fox-Mountchristen. He’s new in the position, just like Alex is, and a Duke of somewhere or other—Alex tries not to pay attention, honestly. All he knows is that any representative of the British government is automatically his enemy. The fact that he’s a noble on top of it is just icing on the cake. Alex had met him first at one of these fancy parties; he’d made no attempt at hiding his disdain, Henry had looked down his nose at him, and they’ve loathed each other ever since.

Annoyingly, he’s very good at his job. In the year that Alex has been working out trade deals and new commerce treaties, Henry has been there representing British interests in the negotiations, and is usually the only one in the room who can go toe-to-toe with Alex. He is constantly getting in the way forcing Alex to settle for less than he’d hoped for (except for that one time when he actually helped Alex negotiate a better deal with Portugal by tying their terms to Great Britain’s, which— Alex still doesn’t know what that was about).

Even more annoyingly, he’s hotter than the fucking sun.

It’s kind of ironic that, in a lavish, opulent court full of lithe young women in low-cut gowns, the one person Alex can’t tear his eyes away from is the Brit wearing frocks that are about as boring as you could get away with at Versailles. It’s those fucking cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes, and those full lips that Alex kind of wants to bite. Alex’s frustrating desire—as shocking as it had been to recognize—absolutely does nothing to soften his feelings toward the other man; if anything, it just stokes his anger. Why the fuck did it have to be him?

Tonight, Alex is at one such fancy party, drinking too much champagne, dancing with beautiful women, and glaring at Henry from across the room. He is, as always, wearing a stupid powdered wig that makes him look absurdly pale (Alex refuses to wear one, of course, and his appearance never fails to cause a stir even when he’s wearing ridiculously ornate silk coats and waistcoats, though he suspects it’s just as likely because of how brown he is). Henry’s dark blue coat, finely embroidered with silver thread, is downright subdued in comparison to the flash surrounding him, but every time he moves the embroidery catches the light and he shines.

It is so irritating.

Alex watches as he stands off in a corner, drinking champagne and blatantly ignoring the obvious flirting of many hopeful ladies looking for a dance. It’s absurd, really—not that he draws that much attention, because just look at him, but that after nearly a year of this he still hasn’t managed to get the stick out of his ass. Alex despises everything these parties represent, and he still manages to attend them without acting like he’d prefer to be put in the stocks.

Drinking plenty of the free-flowing wine and cognac usually helps with that.

He’s not even really aware of his feet carrying him over to Henry until he’s standing next to the other man. Alex doesn’t even look at him, instead staring out at the ballroom floor where the guests are dancing increasingly haphazard waltzes as the night stretches on, though he sees Henry tense out of the corner of his eye.

“So is there something wrong with your feet, or do you think you’re just better than everyone?” Alex asks eventually.

Alex hasn’t turned his attention away from the room, but Henry’s face snaps toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“They say you’re the most eligible bachelor here, and you haven’t danced with anyone tonight.”

“Watching me that closely, are you?” Henry returns dryly. Alex has to bite down on a protest that he wasn’t because, well. Trying to deny it would just make him sound like a petulant child. When he doesn’t respond, Henry continues, “None of them interest me, and I wouldn’t wish to… lead anyone on.”

Alex huffs out a scornful laugh as he finally turns to face him. “So you are that conceited, got it.”

“That is not—”

“You just said that no one in this room interests you,” Alex interrupts before he can finish. “You do understand how that sounds, right?”

Henry stares at him for a long moment, a piercing look in his eye that Alex wants to turn away from. He doesn’t, though.

“I didn’t say that no one here interested me,” Henry says, his voice a low rumble, barely audible above the din of the party, that makes something flare hot and bright low in Alex’s gut.

“I— what?”

“You know, I think I’ve rather had enough festivities for the evening,” Henry announces in his usual clipped cadence. “Good night, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. Do try not to cause another international incident tonight?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Alex spits automatically. That was one time, and it wasn’t an incident anyway. Marie Antoinette thought it was fucking hilarious.

Alex knows for sure that Henry’s had plenty to drink himself when the corner of his mouth twitches and he quips, “Another time, perhaps,” before he strides off, leaving Alex gaping as he tries desperately not to imagine exactly what that would entail.

~~~~~

Despite the sheer amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night and how late he was up, Alex wakes fairly early the next morning. He knows from experience that the rest of the court won’t show their faces until much later today, which means he can enjoy the solitude of the empty gardens as he strolls along finely graveled paths between carefully manicured hedges and sculpted trees. He lets his feet carry him aimlessly, trusting that he’ll be able to find his way back eventually and not really caring that much if he ends up late to some stupid event.

He’s certainly not expecting to encounter anyone else out here.

The quiet crunch of footsteps on gravel alerts him to the other person’s presence somewhere beyond the next turn. He could walk the other way, keep to himself and avoid the intruder on his thoughts, but he doesn’t. Alex keeps moving forward as the other footsteps approach him, until they meet at the juncture of two hedges, a statue of a cherub marking the intersection.

Henry.

He’s wearing a light blue coat with almost no decorative embroidery, which is subdued and boring and also makes his eyes shine with the pale, icy, breathtaking blue of the sky in midwinter. Without a wig, his golden blond hair looks absurdly soft as it flops over his forehead, and Alex catches himself wondering what it would feel like between his fingers before quickly closing the door on that. Jesus fuck, he’s got to stop thinking these things.

Especially since it’s clear Henry doesn’t care for his company either. The corner of his mouth pinches and his posture goes rigid, as it always does when he sees Alex, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s going to just keep walking. He does stop, though, inclining his head minutely in stiff politeness.

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Ambassador,” Alex returns, because he refuses to use Your Grace. “I hadn’t expected to meet anyone else out in the gardens this morning.”

“Yes, well,” Henry says in an odd tone. His eyes skitter away across the landscape and he tips his chin slightly. “Only part of this bloody place that’s tolerable, aren’t they?”

Alex blinks several times, sure he didn’t just hear that. Henry’s member of the aristocracy, born to this kind of bullshit; Alex never really considered that Henry might detest the opulence and artifice as much as he does, even though, looking back, it should have been obvious from the way he comports himself.

He’s not entirely sure what to do with this information.

“I’m glad to see you upright after your indulgences last night,” Henry adds, as if to prove he’s still a prick.

Alex opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get anything out, a rumble of thunder cuts him off. The clouds have been thick all morning, but now they’re downright menacing, heavy and dark and foreboding of a storm. The kind of clouds that impress upon you a desire to get under cover with some speed; too bad they’re deep in the middle of the garden and Alex has no clue where the nearest shelter is. Hardly a moment later, a few fat drops of rain splatter down onto his shoulders and head. Henry turns a frown up at the clouds as dark spots appear on his pale coat.

And then the sky fucking opens.

It’s a pounding, torrential rain, the kind that soaks through layers of fine wool and linen within minutes so that you lose all hope of staying even a little dry. Still, one hardly wants to stand out in it. Alex spins aimlessly, wondering which way to run, when he feels a tug on his elbow and Henry is calling, “this way,” over the din.

Apparently, blindly following his bitter enemy is a thing he’s doing now.

They run, even though they’re both already drenched, and before too long they emerge from the woods next to a small octagonal building overlooking a lake—the Belvedere, sometimes used as a lounge when the Queen entertains guests out at Trianon. At the moment it’s empty save for a collection of couches, and they stumble in, dripping liberally all over the marble floors. Alex wastes no time before stripping off his coat and tossing it onto one of the lounges, silk pillows be damned, and he’s got his waistcoat halfway off when he hears a strangled noise from behind him.

“What are you doing?” Henry asks, a scandalized expression on his face. It’s irritating that even now, when he kind of looks like a wet dog with his blond hair plastered against his head, he’s still breathtakingly beautiful.

“Not particularly interested in standing around in soaking wet wool,” Alex huffs. At least if he gets his outer things off, his shirt might dry a bit while they wait out the storm. It’s not like he’s getting fucking naked.

Which is definitely not something he’s thinking about now.

“Apologies if I’m offending your delicate sensibilities, Your Majesty,” Alex sneers as he drapes his waistcoat over the back of the couch.

Henry’s cheeks have gone decidedly pink, and when Alex turns toward him fully, he looks away, crossing his arms over his chest and staring fixedly at the opposite wall. Outside, the rain continues to pour down, surrounding them with a dull hiss as it pounds on the roof and lashes against the windows.

“What is your grievance with me?” Henry asks eventually, sounding nothing so much as tired.

Alex stares at him. “Is that a joke? I’m American. Maybe you heard, we fought this whole war against you—”

“Not against me,” Henry interrupts firmly.

“Fine, your country. It makes no difference.”

“It bloody well does!” Henry snaps. He turns away again, pressing his lips into a thin line as he stares out of one of the windows. “Did you ever think to ask me what my views were on American independence, Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”

“What?”

“Of course not. You just assumed.”

“You’re a representative of the British government. Why wouldn’t I assume?” Alex thinks it’s a fair question. He knows Henry was a member of parliament before he became Ambassador. His family is exceedingly well-connected and highly placed in the government. It feels like a pretty fucking safe assumption.

Apparently not, though.

Henry gives him a withering look. “Oh, and I’m sure there was no dissension in the writing of your little Declaration, then?”

Alex bristles at ‘little Declaration’, but Henry unfortunately has a point. “Fine,” he grits out. “What’s your opinion on American independence, Ambassador?”

“I wasn’t the only one in Parliament who spoke against the prospect of an expensive and bloody war,” Henry says evenly, staring out the window again. “A few even genuinely believe in the principles of self-governance, as it turns out. We’ve had to be… cautious in expressing ourselves, of course. I happen to feel strongly that people should have a say in their own lives,” he adds, and somehow it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about government anymore. He lapses into silence, letting the sound of the rain fill up the space between them. Then the corner of his mouth tugs into a tiny smirk. “Thought we should have cut you lot loose ages ago, actually. Much more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Hey!” Alex exclaims, but it also shocks a laugh out of him. Which is… weird. He stares at Henry, trying to make all of this new information fit into a portrait he now realizes was startlingly incomplete. He thinks, a little distantly, that he kind of needs a whole new painting. “I’m sorry for assuming,” he says eventually. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re always a prick to me.”

“You hate me, Alex,” Henry says flatly, his mouth going tight again, and something inside Alex turns over at the use of his given name. “Am I supposed to merely smile through the insults?”

Alex can’t help but wince. He wraps his arms around his waist, which he blames on the chill and not the way he’s feeling a little too vulnerable at the moment. Spring’s warmth seems to have abandoned them today, and the cold stone of the Belvedere is doing nothing to help, nor is the way his damp shirt is clinging to his skin.

“I don’t hate you,” he admits quietly. He has a lot of conflicting feelings about Henry. Somehow hate has never been one of them. “I wanted to, but I don’t.”

“I’m not certain that’s better,” Henry says, an obvious wariness in his voice.

Alex doesn’t really know what to say. He hugs his arms a little tighter around himself and shivers.

“For Christ’s sake, this is why you leave the wool on,” Henry huffs unexpectedly, and a moment later he’s crossing the room and grabbing Alex’s discarded coat. He stands right in front of Alex and reaches around him so that he can drape the coat over Alex’s back. “There,” he says as he tugs the fronts close by the lapels, then reaches up to smooth his hands across Alex’s shoulders.

It’s only then that Henry seems to notice their proximity, or the way he’s still holding onto Alex. Their eyes lock together, and a bolt of heat shoots down Alex’s spine that has nothing to do with the coat. A flush of pink blooms across Henry’s cheeks and his lips part slightly as he inhales, and then he starts pulling away, which is the very last thing Alex wants.

“Henry, wait,” he murmurs as one of his hands reaches out to snag the front of Henry’s coat almost of its own accord. Henry freezes. “Don’t… don’t go.”

Alex thinks of all the times he’s caught Henry staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read. Of the way that Henry had said I didn’t say no one here interested me only last night. He looks searchingly up into his blue eyes now, dark and slaty in the low light, full of both trepidation and something like hunger.

“I can’t…” Henry starts, but his voice trails off. He lets himself be tugged in closer, his eyes dropping to Alex’s mouth. “We can’t,” he whispers.

“Fairly certain those aren’t words that are allowed in the Court of Versailles,” Alex quips softly.

He takes a step backward so that he’s leaning against the back of the couch, hoping that Henry will follow when Alex pulls him along. He doesn’t really want to think about the relief that surges through him when Henry does, nor how it feels when Henry lets Alex pull him so close that their hips are pressed together. One of his thighs slots between Alex’s, and Alex inhales sharply at the contact.

“Alex, please,” Henry murmurs tightly, his face tipped down toward Alex’s. Alex can’t tell if it’s please yes or please don’t.

“Shhh,” Alex hushes. He lets his grip go slack, but Henry doesn’t pull away. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

Henry closes his eyes and lets out a shuddery exhale, then he sways forward until their foreheads meet. Their noses press together, and Alex breathes in deeply, filling his senses with Henry. Who turns out to smell like wet wool—which is admittedly not great—but also like the cologne he wears and also something that reminds him of the spring air. Alex nudges forward, tipping his head slightly, until finally Henry closes the narrow gap between their lips and presses their mouths together.

Alex had always thought that if he were to end up kissing Henry, it would be rough and rushed. A battle, as much as their verbal sparring matches had always been, each of them trying to gain the upper hand. He never once imagined it could be like this, soft and syrupy slow, a languid give and take. One of Henry’s hands is clutched almost possessively at the nape of Alex’s neck, the other curled carefully around his jaw, and he takes his time mapping out Alex’s mouth as the kiss gets deeper and more heated, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

It’s a lot to take in, so Alex stops trying; he lets it wash over him, soaking into his bones as thoroughly as the rain had done. His chilled fingers move to Henry’s waistcoat, fumbling with the slippery buttons until he finally gets it open. He slides his hands underneath it, onto the dip of Henry’s waist, his hot skin searing through the thin linen shirt against Alex’s palm. Henry groans at the contact, his hips rocking forward against Alex’s, and the movement makes the depths of their mutual arousal all too clear.

Alex drops a hand to the front of Henry’s breeches and cups him through the wet fabric, which draws another ragged please from Henry’s throat as he presses into Alex’s palm. That one, at least, Alex is sure of. He flips them around so Henry’s pressed up against the back of the couch, then pulls back just enough to reach the buttons holding his fall-front breeches closed. Too many fucking buttons, actually, but he gets them undone, and then he’s tugging out the long tails of Henry’s shirt and dropping to his knees as he finally, finally gets a hand around Henry’s cock.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says without really meaning to, but it’s worth it for the way that it makes Henry shudder and tip his head back as he thrusts into Alex’s grip.

Henry’s knuckles are going white where his hands are tightly gripping the ornate scrollwork carved along the top of the couch, and Alex prises one off to bring it to his head instead. Henry’s fingers twine into his damp curls in a way that makes a hot jolt of arousal lance through Alex, and that’s new information he’s absolutely not going to think about later. Alex licks his lips in anticipation as he works his hand up and down the shaft of Henry’s cock, thumbing over the crown and grinning at Henry’s moan when he rubs at the sensitive spot on the underside.

“Have you ever—” Alex starts, though he can’t quite make himself say it. “With another man?”

Henry lets out a soft puff of laughter before he opens his eyes and looks down at him. “More than a few times.”

There’s something indescribably attractive about Henry’s confidence, in the idea that he’s experienced in something like this, but it does absolutely nothing for Alex’s nerves. He must not manage to keep them off his face, because the smirk on Henry’s lips softens.

“You haven’t,” he says. It’s not really a question. Alex just shakes his head, and Henry’s hand slides down to thumb tenderly along the edge of his jaw. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Alex says firmly. “I want you.” He swallows. Works his hand on Henry’s cock again just to see the way his eyelids flutter. “Want to feel you on my tongue. Want to taste you.”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry groans. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“Not just yet,” Alex says, then wraps his lips around Henry’s cock and slowly sinks forward.

It takes him a moment to get used to it, the weight on his tongue, the taste of his skin, the stretch of his jaw muscles as he moves. He carefully catalogs Henry’s reactions, every gasp and moan and shiver as he swirls his tongue or twists his wrist around what he can’t quite take in his mouth. Henry slowly falls apart under his ministrations, and it’s so unbelievably arousing that Alex is aching in his own breeches, unsure if the curses spilling from Henry’s lips in his posh accent or the way he says that’s good, Alex is doing it for him more.

Then Henry’s fingers close more tightly around his curls as his gasps reach a crescendo, which Alex only later realizes might have been intended as a warning; at the time it just makes Alex moan and try to take him deeper, and then Henry is spilling onto his tongue with a breathless, delirious laugh.

Henry’s chest is still heaving when he hooks his fingers into the front of Alex’s shirt and drags him up into a searing kiss. It’s hard and deep, Henry licking into his mouth and biting down on his lower lip, and it’s all Alex can do not to whimper into it. He’s never had a kiss that felt this all-consuming, like he’s been ignited from the inside and he doesn’t even care if it burns through him and leaves nothing but ash.

He barely realizes what’s happening when Henry grabs his hips and pushes back, manhandling him over to some kind of chaise longue that he only becomes aware of when his calves hit the edge of it and he collapses backward onto the seat.

“Hey, so, uh,” he says as Henry climbs over top of him, a predatory glint in his eye that absolutely does not make Alex’s cock throb. “When you said you weren’t not interested in anyone at the party…”

“Was I talking about you?” Henry finishes, giving him a look like it’s a stupid question.

Look, Alex knew it was a stupid question before it finished leaving his mouth. Still.

“Well, I dunno, maybe you have a list or something.”

Henry stops inches from his lips and glares down at him. “No, you rebellious miscreant, it’s only ever been you,” he says, then kisses him so thoroughly that Alex might actually forget how to speak.

Which is probably the point.

~~~~~

They’re seated next to each other at dinner that evening, which is probably Marie Antoinette’s idea of a joke. A day ago, Alex would have been annoyed beyond belief. Now, though, he knows what Henry looks like as he slowly comes apart. Now he knows what Henry’s lush lips look like wrapped around his cock.

What a difference a few hours makes.

Henry is standing stiffly next to his chair when Alex saunters up, his face perfectly composed in rigid formality as he inclines his head. “Good evening, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

“Your Grace,” Alex returns, pitching his voice to convey just the right balance of insolence and provocation.

Something flashes in Henry’s eyes, probably meant as a warning, but also suggesting that he might enjoy hearing it in a very different context, and also that he’d really like to drag Alex off into the nearest cupboard and do terrible things to him. Alex certainly understands the impulse. It’s been less than six hours since the Belvedere, and Alex still wants him so intensely that it’s nearly a physical ache. His fingers itch to reach out and touch, to tug that stupid wig off his head, to press his thumb to the corner of Henry’s mouth. Fuck.

Instead, he puts on his politician smile and turns to greet the person sitting on his other side, who turns out to be some Spanish princess. She does not seem very impressed with this arrangement—typical for royalty, really—but warms a bit once she realizes she can speak Spanish to him rather than the obligatory French. Alex and Henry spend most of the dinner seemingly ignoring each other and talking to the other guests seated around them. Seemingly, because Alex actually uses the cover of the table to variously press his knee to Henry’s, or hook their ankles together, or slide a hand high up onto Henry’s thigh and squeeze. The latter he does when Henry’s attention is turned away, and it makes Henry choke on his wine and direct a vicious glare at him, which Alex marks down as a victory.

Sometime during the third course, they find themselves both at liberty when the rest of their dinner companions become thoroughly wrapped up in other conversations. Henry is quite clearly trying to ignore him, which Alex just as obviously cannot allow to stand.

“Did you mean it?” Alex asks, his voice low but casual, so as not to draw any attention from those around them.

“What?” Henry asks as he slants a look toward Alex.

“When you said maybe I could fuck you another time.”

Henry’s fork slips out of his grip and clatters to the plate, and several sets of eyes turn toward him. His eyes are wide as he stares at Alex in shock, but there’s also something undeniably heated in his gaze. “You are, without a doubt, the worst person I’ve ever met,” he says flatly, loud enough to be overheard.

Alex can’t quite suppress his grin. It draws a few titters of laughter and whispers from the surrounding guests, most of whom are well aware of Alex and Henry’s mutual enmity. When nothing further comes of it, though, they return to their conversations.

“So is that a no?” Alex asks eventually, still smirking.

Henry glances around, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. “Come to my chambers tonight,” he says crisply, as if they were going to be meeting about policy, “and we shall discuss the matter further.”

~~~~~

They don’t truly revisit the conversation until much later, when Henry is splayed out naked on top of the silk bedding and Alex is two fingers deep inside him. Well, they did cover the obvious question, but:

“The worst person you ever met, huh?” Alex says, pressing the words against the inside of Henry’s thigh.

“Are you really bringing this up now,” Henry huffs, exasperated.

“I dunno,” Alex says. He twists his fingers to reach the spot he’s discovered that makes Henry gasp and tremble. It’s been an enlightening experience so far. “What you really think of me seems relevant.”

“I think,” Henry gets out tightly, “that you’re stubborn—”

Alex bites down on the tender skin at the crease of his hip.

“—opinionated—”

A slow lick up the length of his shaft.

“—arrogant—”

A hot breath, ghosting over the crown.

“—uncouth—”

Alex curls his fingers, and Henry whimpers as his spine arches up off the bed.

“—and if you don’t get inside me right now, I’m going to stonewall all of your treaty negotiations for the next month.”

Alex laughs softly as he withdraws his fingers and climbs up the bed, seeking out the oil to slick himself up. “Oh, well then, how could I refuse?” he returns, grinning at the look of desperation on Henry’s face when he teases the head of his cock at his rim. “You’ve got a real honeyed tongue there, sweetheart. Know how to make a boy feel special.”

Henry gets a hand behind his neck in an iron grip and drags him down into a kiss, digging his heels into the back of Alex’s thighs until Alex is sinking into the tight heat of his body. It’s a lot more intense than he thought it would be, and he makes an embarrassing punched-out sound at the sensation of Henry utterly surrounding him.

And that’s before Henry releases his neck, looks up at him with his face impossibly gorgeous and undone, and murmurs, “I also think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

It’s too much, like the first kiss in the Belvedere was too much; Alex knows how to handle the verbal sparring, the familiarity of traded insults, even in the middle of sex. He doesn’t know what to do with the strange twisting in his chest at Henry’s words, with the knot that’s lodged in his throat. They’re not— this isn’t—

He lets Henry pull him into another kiss, lets the give and take of their bodies quiet his spiraling thoughts, until there is only Henry’s hands in his hair, and the cut of his teeth against Alex’s lip, and the roll of their hips together in perfect, earth-shattering harmony.

~~~~~

Alex needs to go. He needs to get out of this bed, get dressed, and go to his own chambers. It’s not as though people stumbling out of others’ apartments is an unusual sight in the palace during one of these weekends, but if he were to be seen leaving Henry’s—

Well. The rumors wouldn’t stay quiet for long, of that he’s certain.

Instead he curls a little closer against Henry’s side, presses a kiss to his shoulder. That’s probably too much, too, but Henry just hums softly, a small, blissful smile curving his lips. Somehow, Alex thinks he’s even more beautiful in this moment than he’s ever been before.

“So,” Alex says eventually, “when we get back to Paris…”

They both live there, not even that far away from each other. They could…

He doesn’t know what. Have some kind of sordid, illicit affair? What would that mean for their lives? Their occupations? It’d be messy. Dangerous. A terrifically, catastrophically stupid idea.

A little crease forms between Henry’s brows as he frowns, and for a moment Alex fears that he’s misread everything. Maybe this was never supposed to leave Versailles. Alex doesn’t know what’s even possible for them to have outside these walls, but he also doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to what they were before now that he’s had this.

“It seems to me,” Henry says carefully, “that there should be ample opportunity for… improving diplomatic relations when we return?”

There’s a beat of silence before Alex can’t choke back the laugh bubbling out of his chest any longer, and the smile that’s been slowly pushing its way onto Henry’s lips finally breaks free. Then they’re both dissolving into giggles, and Alex is grinning like an idiot when Henry pulls him into another lingering kiss.

Yeah. Worst idea he’s ever had.

#GO READ #anything and everything by chamel #you can't go wrong #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #chamel

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ninzied · 6 months ago

Text

a fp girldads ficlet

their daughter loves to read.

she quotes lizzy bennet from a very young age. she writes weirdly poignant poems about things like trees, and the mushrooms they found on david’s walk that they wouldn’t let david—or clem for that matter—eat.

“no idea where she gets that from,” alex likes to say.

(one day she asks what a torts is and is that the same as the torte cake daddy likes to make and why not. alex can’t really blame henry for all of clem’s odd reading choices after that.)

the kid likes books. alphabet books. love story books. law books (apparently). cookbooks. animal books.

even books for math class.

“if 1 fish and 1 fish make 2 fish,” she says, “then what do daddy and papa make?”

“an apple?” alex guesses.

“no!” frowns clem. “a clementine. duh!”

henry is laughing. clem says, “but why not TWO clems?”

henry takes alex’s hand. they both try hard not to smile.

for history class clem asks if someone from the secret service can come for show and tell. grandma ellen is out of town.

“sure,” grumbles alex. “why would you ask your old papa, he’s only governor of your home state.”

amy, who’s in the private sector now, does him a solid and goes instead.

for science class clem asks if he and daddy can both go. as trees.

she’s wearing a headband with a stuffed goomba attached by a small metal spring. it’s actually david’s so it doesn’t really fit.

she stands in front of her little classroom holding hands with tree alex and tree henry.

“i’m a mycelium,” clem says. she’s just lost a tooth and has a bit of a lisp. it’s adorable. “these are my dads. they are trees.

“i’m a mycelium because they’re big and i am small and they take care of me so that i can grow. but sometimes i can take care of them too.

“if one of them ever gets brown leaves or needs water i can get my other dad to come help. but 10 out of all the 10 times—”

(she’s learning her fractions; alex is so proud.)

“—they’re so happy together and love me so much. and because i’m a mycelium i’m part of how they love each other too.”

henry dabs at his eyes while clem’s classmates and her teacher applaud.

“sweetheart.” alex dries henry’s cheeks with a green felt leaf from his hair. “her speeches always make you tear up, huh.”

“yes, well.” henry gives him a watery smile. “that part she gets all from you, my love.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #iuserzoe #userveronika #chrissiewatts #usersteen #firstprinced #carrythesky #yes clementine is named after chamel's pet tortoise clem

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alicecorpseliddell · 8 months ago

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 CHAMEL-SYSTEM 𓏵

Entomology: chameleon, system

A type of (traditional)subsystem where the headmate's body who hosts the subsystem changes appearance to match who is the main fronter

*THIS TERM WAS COINED BY AN ENDOGENIC FRIENDLY SYSTEM, ANTI ENDOS ARE FREE TO USE THE TERM BUT WE WOULD PREFER IF YOU MADE YOUR OWN FLAG VARIANT SO THERE IS A DISTINCTION

[ PLAIN TEXT ] We Are A Diagnosed Traumagenic System We Have Been Diagnosed For Over 3 Years If You Fake Claim Us Or Send Us Other Hatemail You Are Giving Us Consent To Be An Asshole Back To You

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heart-star · 11 months ago

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Another art piece suggested by the.double.u

A parody of the scene from Sonic IDW comics where he asks Amy to grab dinner together plus an extra part added from a fanart of Sonic realizing he unknowingly asked her out.

I also drew Gavin having a different color by the emotions he has eventually, it reminds me of "Super princess Peach" a little.

Some family bond love in Lps: first the development of the relationship between Matilda Gicat & Ben Boxington (how I call the dog appeared with her the first time), would've you loved to see them becoming a family, the little kitten may never met her biological father but a dog who's definetely loyal and peraphs this one is a police officer in Pawtucket might fill that void and be the best present she could get, as you see I headcanon Balloon & Danny from Puppy in my pocket being parents of Matilda.

Then I drew other Lps characters with their parents including the other franchise, what do you think about my ideas of turning lps toys into actual characters and reimagining Animal crossing ones with a new lore?

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firsttraintovictoriaville · 10 months ago

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Sorry Sky, I know your perfect match is (probably) Felix but im already a felix/Apollo truther so like pick between Ami and Wobbles

#im gonna try with chamel and him but if it dont work....#another all paid vacation to kick someone out to try and find him a date. or maybe felix and apollo will move out soon-ish #love ghostie

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firstprince-ao3feed · 10 months ago

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Tonight You're Gold

by chamel “You could stay with me,” Henry says before he can properly think it through. Across from him, Alex raises his eyebrows. Christ. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Only, my roommate’s already done competing, and he’s moved out. So I have an extra bed.” Alex laughs, his curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to just move into Team Great Britain territory.” (When Alex's room in the Olympic Village becomes uninhabitable, Henry acquires a new roommate who, it turns out, he's maybe, sorta, possibly falling in love with.) Words: 6084, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Percy "Pez" Okonjo Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Rio 2016 Summer Olympics, Sailor Henry-Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Beach Volleyball Player Alex Claremont-Diaz, First Meetings, accidental roommates, Yes Really, Pining, Thirsting, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Non-Explicit Sex, Olympics Slut Henry, just referenced but I still feel like that deserves a tag, Arthur Fox Feels, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor via https://ift.tt/lmebB9t

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #chamel

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the-double-u · 1 year ago

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Here is My Drawing of Gavin Chamelle's Fan Made Movie Design for Littlest Pet Shop: A World of Our Own Movie.

As you can see, Gavin is a Chameleon, so I wanted to draw him showcasing his Color changing abilities (Which would tie to his Emotions, kinda like Penny from Gumball, except Gavin doesn't change his shape,) as well as his Camouflage abilities. Fun Fact though, Gavin Never Changes his Colors in The Show, but he does Camouflage himself. So, One of The Soft Reboot changes I'd be doing with Gavin in The Movie, is have him change his Colors based on his Emotions (He's only doing it at will, for This Fan Art.) Gavin can Camouflage at will in both The Show, and The Movie.

In The Show, Gavin is One of The Bullies that picks on The Main Characters alongside Petula, Sweetie, and Mitchel. But there are 2 Episodes in The Show that show he may have a soft side to him. If I were to make a LPS Movie, I would make Gavin One of The Main Characters, and give him a sub-plot about rescuing his Little Sister (An Original Character I'm making up for The Movie,) and working with Quincy and his Friends to save The Captured Pets from The Pet Catcher and Snapjaw.

Anyway, I hope you like My Drawing of Gavin, it felt like it took 2 Hours to Finish on My Laptop.

#littlest pet shop #littlest pet shop a world of our own #lps #lpsawoo #lpsawooo #hasbro #Littlest Pet Shop A Movie of Our Own #Gavin Chamelle #Chameleon #Color Change

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sporadic-icons · 2 years ago

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Dragon Ball Chamel RP Icons

Free to use. Likes or reblogs are cool. Icons are from Super Dragon Ball Heroes: Dark Demon Realm. I believe there are 30 of them.

#dragon ball #dragonball #dbz #dbs #dragon ball heroes #dragon ball super #dragonball heroes #rp icons #manga icons #icons #dark demon realm #chamel

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chamelonscythe · 28 days ago

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To much loud rn pls halps

#Halp #chamel rambles

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chamel-gaspard-morell-panama · 5 months ago

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Jose Gaspard Morell Analiza los movimientos de las Penny Stocks

¡Bienvenidos a un viaje fascinante por el mundo de las Penny Stocks! Estas acciones de bajo costo han capturado la atención de muchos inversores, desde principiantes hasta expertos, en busca de oportunidades emocionantes en el mercado financiero. En este artículo, exploraremos el enfoque único de José Gaspard Morell, un destacado analista que ha desentrañado los secretos detrás de las inversiones en estas pequeñas pero poderosas acciones. Prepárense para descubrir estrategias, errores comunes y casos de éxito que te inspirarán a lanzarte a este emocionante mundo.

¡Descubre el Misterioso Mundo de las Penny Stocks!

Las Penny Stocks, conocidas por su bajo precio y alta volatilidad, representan una categoría intrigante en el universo de la inversión. Estas acciones suelen cotizar por menos de cinco dólares, lo que las hace accesibles para una gran variedad de inversores. A pesar de su bajo costo, muchas herramientas de análisis y estrategias han emergido para navegar su inestabilidad. ¿Te imaginas comprar acciones de una compañía prometedora por solo unos centavos? Es una de las razones por las que los inversores se sienten atraídos por este tipo de acciones. Sin embargo, también existe un riesgo considerable debido a su naturaleza volátil y la falta de información disponible. El misterio que rodea a las Penny Stocks radica en que pueden ofrecer rendimientos sustanciales o pérdidas significativas en un corto período. Este aspecto impredecible es lo que hace que muchos consideren estas acciones como una especie de aventura financiera. La clave está en la investigación y el análisis; tomando decisiones informadas, los inversores pueden maximizar sus posibilidades de éxito. Aunque la emoción de invertir en Penny Stocks puede ser adictiva, es fundamental no dejarse llevar por la euforia. En este contexto, el trabajo de analistas como José Gaspard Morell es fundamental. Él ha dedicado su carrera a entender los matices de este sector, convirtiéndose en un referente para aquellos que buscan aventurarse en el mundo de las acciones de bajo costo. Las estrategias que emplea son una mezcla de intuición, análisis técnico y fundamental, lo que le permite identificar las oportunidades con mayor potencial en el mercado. Más allá de los números, José también se enfoca en la historia y el futuro de las empresas, buscando señales de crecimiento y sostenibilidad. Además, su enfoque no solo se basa en la búsqueda de ganancias rápidas, sino también en construir un portafolio diversificado que incluya varias Penny Stocks. Esto ayuda a mitigar el riesgo y proporciona una ruta más segura hacia el éxito. Las Penny Stocks nos enseñan que, aunque el mundo financiero puede ser complejo y aterrador, también está lleno de oportunidades valiosas para quienes están dispuestos a explorarlo. En resumen, el mundo de las Penny Stocks es multifacético, lleno de posibilidades y riesgos, y se necesita una buena dosis de curiosidad y estrategia para navegarlo con éxito. Así que, prepárate para sumergirte en el emocionante viaje de la inversión en Penny Stocks, guiados por la experiencia y sabiduría de José Gaspard Morell.

José Gaspard Morell: Un Gurú en Acciones Pequeñas

José Gaspard Morell ha emergido como uno de los analistas más destacados en el ámbito de las Penny Stocks. Su trayectoria en el mundo financiero lo ha llevado a desarrollar un enfoque único, ganándose el respeto y la admiración de muchos en la comunidad de inversores. Desde joven, José mostró un interés innato por la economía. A medida que crecía, comenzó a experimentar con inversiones, comenzando por acciones de bajo costo. Esta experiencia inicial le permitió entender a fondo los riesgos y beneficios que conllevan estas inversiones. Lo que realmente distingue a José es su enfoque metódico para analizar el mercado. No se deja influenciar por las tendencias pasajeras, sino que realiza un estudio exhaustivo de cada empresa en la que considera invertir. Para él, la investigación es la clave del éxito, y siempre dice: "Sin datos, solo eres un apostador." José combina herramientas de análisis técnico y fundamental, creando un enfoque holístico que le da una ventaja considerable. Su capacidad para interpretar gráficos y tendencias le permite anticipar movimientos de mercado, lo que resulta esencial a la hora de decidir en qué Penny Stocks invertir. Además, es un gran comunicador, y comparte su conocimiento a través de seminarios web, blogs y redes sociales. Muchos inversores novatos han encontrado en él un mentor que los guía en sus primeros pasos en este competitivo mundo. Con una mentalidad positiva y un enfoque proactivo, José siempre alienta a sus seguidores a diversificar sus inversiones. Su filosofía es que, si bien algunas Penny Stocks pueden ofrecer altos rendimientos, no hay garantía, y es crucial proteger el capital invertido. El impacto de José en la comunidad de inversores es innegable. Ha creado una base de seguidores leales que no solo aprecian su conocimiento técnico, sino también su ética de trabajo y su pasión por ayudar a otros a crecer. A lo largo de su carrera, ha tenido un enfoque claro: "Invertir no es solo ganar dinero, es aprender a gestionar riesgos y construir un futuro financiero sostenible." Esta visión ha resonado con muchos que buscan un camino en el mundo de las inversiones. En conclusión, José Gaspard Morell no es solo un analista de acciones, sino un verdadero gurú en el mundo de las Penny Stocks. Su dedicación y habilidades lo han llevado a ser un referente en la comunidad de inversores, y su legado continúa inspirando a muchos a seguir sus pasos. Si buscas aprender sobre Penny Stocks, pocos pueden guiarte tan bien como José. Su enfoque equilibrado y su pasión por el aprendizaje continuo son lecciones que cualquier inversor debería considerar.

Cómo Invertir con Éxito en las Penny Stocks

Invertir en Penny Stocks puede parecer una tarea desalentadora, pero siguiendo algunas estrategias clave, puedes aumentar tus posibilidades de éxito. Primero y ante todo, es vital realizar una investigación exhaustiva. No dejes que el bajo costo te lleve a decisiones impulsivas. Identifica la empresa detrás de la acción. Investiga su historial financiero, sus fundamentos y cualquier noticia reciente que pueda impactar su desempeño. Comprender la compañía te dará la confianza necesaria para invertir. Otro aspecto crucial es la diversificación. No pongas todos tus huevos en una sola canasta; invierte en varias Penny Stocks de diferentes sectores para equilibrar el riesgo. Esto te ayudará a mitigar las pérdidas si una de tus inversiones se comporta mal. Es igualmente importante establecer un presupuesto claro. Define cuánto estás dispuesto a invertir y, más importante aún, cuánto puedes permitirte perder. Las Penny Stocks pueden ser volátiles, y es esencial mantener tus finanzas bajo control. José Gaspard Morell enfatiza la importancia de tener un plan de salida. Antes de realizar cualquier inversión, considera cuándo y por qué vas a vender. Esto te ayudará a evitar decisiones emocionales que podrían llevarte a pérdidas innecesarias. También es recomendable seguir las tendencias del mercado. Mantente al tanto de las noticias financieras y las fluctuaciones de precios. Utiliza herramientas de análisis técnico para identificar patrones que podrían indicarte el momento adecuado para comprar o vender. Recuerda que las emociones pueden ser tus peores enemigos. Mantente enfocado en tu plan y en tus objetivos a largo plazo. La paciencia es clave cuando se trata de invertir en Penny Stocks. No te olvides de aprender de cada experiencia, ya sea positiva o negativa. Cada inversión es una oportunidad de crecimiento, y el aprendizaje continuo es fundamental para el éxito a largo plazo. En resumen, invertir en Penny Stocks puede ser gratificante si se hace con estrategias sólidas y una mentalidad informada. Con la guía de expertos como José Gaspard Morell, cualquiera puede navegar con éxito por este intrigante mundo. Así que ¡prepara tu plan de inversión y adéntrate en el emocionante viaje de las Penny Stocks!

Los Secretos de José para Analizar Movimientos Financieros

José Gaspard Morell ha desvelado algunos secretos que lo han llevado al éxito en el análisis de movimientos financieros en Penny Stocks. Su enfoque se basa en una combinación de análisis técnico y fundamental, permitiéndole identificar oportunidades que otros podrían pasar por alto. Uno de sus secretos más valiosos es la atención al detalle. José analiza minuciosamente cada aspecto de una acción: desde los informes trimestrales hasta las tendencias del sector. Esta dedicación a la investigación le proporciona una comprensión clara de las dinámicas que afectan a cada empresa. Otro aspecto fundamental en su análisis es la evaluación de la liquidez. Para José, la capacidad de una acción para ser comprada y vendida rápidamente sin afectar su precio es crucial. Las Penny Stocks a menudo pueden ser ilíquidas, lo que significa que es esencial evaluar el volumen de operaciones antes de invertir. José también presta especial atención a las señales de alerta. Cualquier cambio inusual en el comportamiento del precio o el volumen puede ser un indicativo de problemas futuros. Es importante mantenerse alerta y no ignorar estas señales. Además, utiliza herramientas de análisis técnico, como gráficos de tendencias y patrones de precios. Estas herramientas le permiten identificar puntos de entrada y salida, así como soportes y resistencias que son esenciales para una inversión exitosa. La paciencia es una virtud que José promueve fervientemente. Muchos inversores se precipitan a tomar decisiones en respuesta a movimientos de mercado a corto plazo. José enfatiza que a menudo es mejor esperar y observar antes de actuar. La comunidad también juega un papel importante en el análisis de José. Él se involucra en foros y redes sociales donde comparte ideas con otros inversores. Esta interacción le permite obtener diferentes perspectivas y mantenerse al tanto de las tendencias emergentes. Además, la formación

#jose gaspard morell #jose gaspard #chamel gaspard morell #chamel gaspard

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cha-melodius · 1 month ago

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hihi i love your writing can i request firstprince in the white house !

(thank you so much for this prompt! I had a lot of fun turning it into a silly little AU 😆)

Special Tour (of My Heart)

(M, 3k, read below or on AO3)

Henry hadn’t even wanted to come. They could have gone to Paris, or Barcelona, or Florence, or Prague, or Vienna, or Athens. But it had been Bea’s turn to choose the destination for their annual summer holiday trip, and she wanted to visit a very close online friend that she’d met in a support group. That person lived in Washington, DC. Henry supposes he should be grateful it wasn’t somewhere like Kansas.

To be fair, it hasn’t been as bad as he feared. He’d scoffed at the idea that American museums could compare to European ones, but he had to admit, they’d been to some very nice ones. The Native American museum in particular had been a highlight. He hadn’t been that enthused about visiting the White House, no more than he cared to tour Buckingham Palace, but Bea’s friend had planned an entire itinerary, so here they were.

Specifically, here Henry was, faced with one of the most beautiful men he’d ever encountered in his life.

He’d say it’s made the tour more interesting, except he’s not sure he’s really taken in much of what the guide—Alex—has been saying, distracted as he is by big brown eyes framed with obscenely long lashes, a perfectly cut jawline, a chin dimple, and those forearms. Even his voice is deeply sexy, which is not helping Henry’s predicament. That being, arguing with himself about whether it’s completely mad to ask out your tour guide when you’re a tourist and leaving in two days.

Normally, he’d just appreciate from a distance and go about his life, perhaps write some rueful poetry about missed chances. But Alex keeps looking at him, and not in the way his eyes skip across the other tour group members as he talks. He looks at Henry with intention, with the kind of heated gaze that would usually lead to a very enjoyable night if someone fixed him with it in a club. Not that Henry goes to clubs much anymore. The music is always too loud and he is not a dancer, and after sowing no shortage of wild oats in uni, he’d kind of gotten tired of one night stands as a rule.

He’d be willing to make an exception for Alex.

The tour is over far too soon. They finish in the State Dining Room, then Alex is leading into a grand entrance hall on the north side of the building and thanking them for visiting. He invites anyone to stick around if they have more questions, and the way he stares directly at Henry when he says it has Henry rooted to the spot.

“You two go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later,” Henry says to Bea without looking away from where Alex is now talking with some other visitors.

“Henry,” Bea sighs with a chastising note in her voice. “The tour guide? Really?”

Henry sticks his nose in the air. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just have a question.”

“Right. Well, text me when you have your questions answered.”

Unfortunately there are some visitors with actual questions. A family from Topeka has a seemingly endless supply, which Alex, to his credit, answers patiently. The entire time, his eyes keep flicking over to Henry like he’s afraid Henry might leave before they can speak. Not that Henry has any bloody clue what he’s going to say. He wonders if he should make up a question, just so he actually has some reason for sticking around. Can’t seem to come up with anything that’s not just can I have your number?

Finally, the last person files out, and Alex hurries over to Henry’s side. Then, unexpectedly, he takes hold of Henry’s elbow with a low, “Come with me,” said under his breath, and walks him determinedly back through the corridor. Pausing at a door, Alex looks around to make sure they’re alone, then pushes Henry through it.

They’re back in the Red Room. It’s strangely silent now, just the two of them among the ornate furnishings. Alexander Hamilton stares down at them judgementally from his portrait, as if he knows they’re up to something untoward.

“Wha—” Henry starts, but he doesn’t get far because Alex shoves him back against the table in front of Hamilton’s portrait and crowds up close, until their noses are only centimetres apart.

“How dare you stand there the whole tour, being incredibly fucking distracting with your eyes and your lips and your fucking cheekbones, and give me those fucking looks,” Alex practically growls.

“What looks?” Henry tries weakly, not completely certain he’s not about to be punched.

“Fuck, your voice, too,” Alex groans, the muscle in his jaw clenching as he closes his eyes and exhales heavily, and Henry comes to the strange realisation that although he’s just spent forty-five minutes listening to Alex talk, he’s said a grand total of three words. Two and half, really. Not that it seems to matter. Alex huffs, “You know what looks. Like you wanted to fucking devour me.” He meets Henry’s eyes steadily. “Am I wrong?”

This time, Henry can’t find his voice at all. He shakes his head, and Alex doesn’t waste any more time before kissing him soundly.

It’d be easy to say he’s never been kissed like this—by a man he’s barely spoken to, pushed against a portrait in the bloody White House—but that’s not even the most remarkable part. Because Alex kisses him with a confidence that’s dizzying, like he already knows exactly how Henry likes to be kissed, like they’ve kissed a hundred times before and he’s staking a claim on Henry’s mouth for the next hundred as well. He teases Henry’s lips open with a slide of his tongue and tests the cut of his teeth against the fullness of them, then bites down harder when Henry whimpers in response. And for a moment Henry loses himself in it, gets his hands in Alex’s curls, hooks a leg around Alex’s thigh and pulls him even closer, grinding their hips together.

Then his head thunks back against a heavy gilt frame, and he abruptly remembers where they are.

“Shouldn’t we—” Henry starts, only to be cut off by Alex’s mouth on his. He tries again. “What if someone comes in—”

“We’ve got twenty minutes until the next tour gets here,” Alex pants into his mouth. “So unless you’ve got somewhere to be…”

His hands tighten where they’re clenched around Henry’s waist and on top of his thigh and he leans in again, like he already knows the answer to that question. But Henry decides that if they’ve got twenty minutes, then he does have somewhere to be, so he shoves Alex backward and ignores his yelp of protest as Henry flips their positions, pushing Alex against the table as he drops to his knees.

“Fuuuck,” Alex groans as Henry tugs his trousers open. “Are you actually gonna…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t make any moves to halt the proceedings.

“I am,” Henry confirms. He slides a palm over Alex’s cock, straining against his boxers, and watches as Alex’s eyelids flutter as he presses his thumb just under the head of it. “Unless there are any objections…?”

Alex’s eyes snap open and he licks his lips. “Nope, none. Please, uhh, continue.”

Right, then. No time to waste.

Alex’s cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, long and curving and leaking at the tip, and Henry mourns the fact he won’t be able to take the time he wants with this. That he won’t be able to take Alex apart piece by piece, to draw whimpering moans from his throat and leave him writhing in desperation, to make him yell until he’s just as hoarse as Henry will be after this. Still, there’s something incredible about this moment—here, in this place, on his knees for an American boy he’s just met. The ghosts of the American founding fathers must surely be conflicted, if any were around to witness.

Henry shoves the thought out of his head and focuses instead on the heavy weight of Alex’s cock on his tongue and the ache in his jaw. On the slide of smooth skin under his palm as he works the base of the shaft, and on the musky scent that fills his nose and the little bursts of salt that trickle out onto his tongue. Above him, Alex is breathing heavily and making little bitten off sounds every time Henry swirls his tongue just so. Clearly, he’s trying to stay quiet, and Henry doesn’t want them to get found out, but he also can’t quite help but try to make Alex unravel a little further.

Also, the clock is ticking. Quite literally. There’s an ornate one on the table next to Alex’s hips and nearly at Henry’s eye level, helpfully marking time until the spell they find themselves under crumbles apart. And that’s assuming Alex’s ‘twenty minutes’ was accurate. Henry pushes a little harder, hollowing his cheeks and taking Alex deeper, and is rewarded with a hand in his hair as Alex’s hips hitch forward minutely.

“You are—ah—way too good at that sweetheart, fuck,” Alex murmurs, keeping his voice low. One of his thumbs presses to the corner of Henry’s mouth, brushing over the mole there as saliva dribbles unchecked down Henry’s chin. “So fucking pretty down there for me.”

Desire curls almost painfully in Henry’s gut at the words, his own cock throbbing where it’s trapped in his trousers. It’s so tempting to reach down and give himself some kind of relief, but he abstains. Partly because he doesn’t want to risk any telltale spots on his clothes, and partly because the delicious ache of it—in combination with that of his jaw and the pressure of Alex’s hand in his hair—is making him almost lightheaded.

“Fuck,” Alex whimpers softly again, “fucking— fuck. Holy shit, I’m gonna—” His grip tightens in Henry’s hair and he tugs, just the right side of painful, but Henry takes him down to the root and swallows. Then Alex moans a broken “baby,” and Henry doesn’t have the time to process what that does to him before he feels sudden heat and bitterness filling his throat. He keeps working, swallowing, until Alex lets out a hiccupping laugh and all but collapses back against the table like all his strings have been cut.

He laughs again, a little helplessly, as Henry licks him clean and tucks him away again. “This didn’t just fucking happen,” he says. “I’m fucking dreaming.”

“I hope it was a good one,” Henry rasps, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

His voice is a wreck; he’s never going to hear the end of this from Bea. He lets Alex tug him back to his feet and into another kiss, tongue sweeping into Henry’s mouth like he wants to taste himself there.

“Best one I ever had,” Alex murmurs against his lips. Christ, it’d be so easy to get lost in this. Alex’s hand presses against his lower back, urging Henry’s hips against the crease of his thigh, and Henry shudders at the pressure.

Then they both freeze. Voices, in the next room over. Another tour. They spring apart, and Henry’s still shoving at himself, trying to make his erection less noticeable, when the door between the Blue and Red Rooms swings open.

“Oh,” the other tour guide says, an older woman with her grey hair pulled into a bun, as she looks between the two of them. Henry cannot imagine what’s going through her head right now. “Alex. What are you still doing in here?”

“I—” Alex starts, but Henry must have sucked his brain out through his cock, because his voice fails and he just looks at Henry blankly.

“My sister lost an earring, and I told her I’d go look for it,” Henry lies. “Alex volunteered to help me.”

The other guide’s eyes narrow. “That was good of him. Did you find it?”

“Ah,” Henry says, well aware that his cheeks are far too flushed. “No. Unfortunately not.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” Alex says, having apparently recovered some of his faculties. “You should give me your number, uh—”

Christ, he doesn’t even know Henry’s name. “Henry.”

Alex doesn’t look the least bit abashed by this fact. “Right, Henry. So I can text you if I find it.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Alex offers. He nods at the other guide, who’s still looking at them suspiciously, and the collection of tourists behind her. “Have a good rest of your tour.”

They don’t speak until they get back to the north entrance. Alex follows him outside and stops on the steps under the north portico, then turns to Henry and holds out his hand palm up. It takes Henry a moment to realise Alex is asking for his phone.

“Oh,” Henry says as he fumbles for it in his pocket, “you were being serious about the number.”

Alex scoffs and looks at him like he’s crazy. “Of course I was fucking serious.” He takes the phone from Henry and sends himself a text. When he’s done, he holds it out again, though he doesn’t let go when Henry’s hand covers his to take it. “I’ve got a few more tours to do today, but I’d like to see you later, if you’re not busy.”

Technically, Henry has plans to go to a show with Bea and her friend. Plans that he will be entirely abandoning. He rubs his thumb along the side of Alex’s hand and watches as Alex takes a deep breath. “And what exactly does ‘see’ entail in this case?”

“Actually, I want to get you in my bed and do some very bad things to you, but I was trying to be polite. Since we’re in public.”

Henry swallows. “Ah. Well then. I’m free.”

“Yeah?” Alex says, smiling like he’s won the lottery. “We could do dinner first,” he adds, almost shyly. “If you’re interested.”

Henry can’t help it—he pulls Alex into a brief kiss right there on the White House steps, heart fluttering as Alex smiles into it. “I’m interested.”

~~~~~

Alex pads back into the bedroom juggling two glasses of water and a tupperware container, which rattles when he drops it onto the bed. After he deposits the water on the bedside table, he climbs in after it, settling with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out next to where Henry is still sprawled on his stomach and feeling utterly fucked out. Henry watches through cracked eyelids as Alex peels open the lid and extracts two dark brown, round circles, which turn out to be some sort of chocolatey biscuit.

“Here,” Alex says, holding one out. When Henry doesn’t immediately take it, he wiggles it a little in front of Henry’s nose. “Homemade.”

Henry can barely move, but the smell of chocolate is a seductive one. He manages to prop himself up on his elbows and takes the biscuit, which turns out to be delicious. “You made these?” he asks Alex through a full mouth. Alex nods, looking pleased. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Carry a tune?” Alex offers.

“Hm,” Henry hums. He shifts a little closer, so he’s pressed up against Alex’s leg, and presses a kiss to his hip. “Still not convinced you’re real.”

To be fair, the last two days have passed in something of a haze. Henry has barely left Alex’s bed, much less his apartment. Bea, as it turned out, had been perfectly happy to spend time with her friend without her little brother hanging around, and Henry has been perfectly happy to immerse himself in all things Alex. He knows much more about Alex now—that he’s a law student, that he wanted to be the President when he was growing up, that he works at the White House during the summer holidays, that he’s sweet and funny and smart and passionate, and everything Henry could ever want in a man.

“Can I confess something?” Alex asks as they each crunch into another biscuit.

“Of course,” Henry agrees, perhaps too easily. He can’t help it. He wants to know everything about Alex.

Alex swallows and looks down, his eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones. “I don’t want you to leave.”

It’s so vulnerable and honest it makes Henry’s heart ache. “I know, love,” he sighs, because he does know. It’s impossible not to with the way Alex looks at him. And it’s only been two days, but this feels… significant. Like the kind of thing that he can’t—that he shouldn’t—just walk away from. Henry looks up into his big brown eyes and hears himself say, “What if I didn’t?”

Alex frowns. “What?”

“I’m on summer holiday from my graduate program for another month and a half. I could just… stay, until then.”

Even as he says it, he knows it’s true. What does he have back home? His empty flat. His deserted office on campus. Sure, he’d miss Pez and Bea, but it’s only a month and a half, and Pez could come here. The only real question is whether Alex would actually want him here.

“Are you being serious right now?” Alex asks, his voice creeping higher.

Henry rolls onto his side and looks up at him, holding Alex’s gaze steady in his. “I am if you are. Would you actually want me to stay here?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” Alex says with a huff of incredulous laughter.

“Here, here,” Henry clarifies, gesturing around Alex’s place. “I can’t afford to get my own flat in DC. Though I could help with rent.”

“Fuck the rent. And if you think I’m letting you leave this bed, you’re crazy.”

Henry can’t help the too-large smile that takes over his face, though he tries. “We will probably need to leave the bed occasionally,” he says, with as much mock seriousness as he can muster.

“I guess,” Alex says with a theatrical eye roll.

“Where’s my phone?” Henry asks rhetorically, casting a look about the room for his trousers. When he finds them, he pulls it out to find a decent number of unanswered texts from Bea, and several from Pez. Whoops.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks.

“Telling my sister about my change in plans and cancelling my flight,” Henry tells him. First, though, he pauses and lowers himself back down on the bed next to Alex, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. “If you’re sure.”

Alex squeezes his hand, then slides his other behind Henry’s neck and pulls him into a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m sure,” he murmurs when they part. “A thousand percent.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #firstprince fanfic #rwrb fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

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