Work Text:
January 1799
“I’m busy, my love,” Alexander said, his attention barely wavering from his writing as Eliza let herself into his office. She shifted the tray on her hip and closed the door behind her.
“You need to eat,” she said sternly, sliding the tray onto his desk. The coffee pot he’d absconded with when he’d refused breakfast this morning stood empty and abandoned on the floor in the corner, she noted. “You haven’t had a thing all day.”
He grunted, utterly distracted, quill scribbling along the page all the while.
His appetite had always been mercurial, but the renewed stress of army life combined with his legal practice had rendered it nigh nonexistent over the past weeks. That combined with a recent rash of digestive discomfort meant he’d barely been eating at all. “You need to eat, honey,” she repeated. “You’re worrying me. Is your stomach still bothering you?”
His eyes softened with affection as he finally looked up at her. “I feel fine today. Just very busy. I’ll eat later, I promise.”
“You’ve already missed dinner and supper,” she pointed out. “When exactly are you going to eat?”
His brow furrowed as he looked around towards his office window, moving aside the curtains to peek outside. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten. I already tucked the children in for the night.”
He ran his hands over his face and sat back. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
She believed him. He got like that when he was working; when an idea took hold of him, it rarely let go until he’d spilled it all out onto paper. “I know, sweetheart. Eat now, though, please? You need to keep up your strength.”
“Easy enough to do. You’re already here with me.” When she frowned, confused, he added, “You’ve always been my strength, Betsey.”
She laughed. “You’re very sweet, honey. But you still need to eat.”
He rolled his eyes and gave a showy huff even as he obediently pulled the tray closer. He poked at the mutton before starting on the roasted potatoes, taking a big bite. When he’d swallowed, he asked, “Happy?”
“Deliriously,” she replied, deadpan.
He grinned at her. She heard a gurgle as the food hit his stomach, which seemed to be loudly protesting having been deprived of sustenance all day. His smile dimmed a little as he looked at down at the offending organ bashfully. “Sorry. It seems I was hungry after all.”
“Imagine that,” she said fondly as she stooped down to kiss his cheek. Stubble had sprouted on his chin in the late evening, pleasantly rough against her lips. He nudged her affectionately with his nose, brushed his lips over hers, then pulled away to resume eating.
As he ate, she noticed his shoulders were still tense even now that he was sitting up more fully, undoubtedly a consequence of the hunched position he’d been in most of the day. She paced around the back of his chair and began to knead her fingers into his shoulders. The soft linen of his shirt was warm from his body heat, wonderful against her chilled fingers. The muscles beneath her palms were lean and tight. When she began to work on the bunched muscles at the base of his neck, he moaned.
“Feel good?”
He sat up a little straighter, leaning into her touch. “Yes.”
“You should have at least taken a walk with me this evening.”
“In the freezing cold? It’s the middle of winter.”
“It wasn’t that cold. And it’s better than sitting at your desk all day. Your poor back.”
He laid his fork down and touched his fingers to his forehead. “I know, you’re right, I need to be better about eating and exercising during the day. It’s just that I’m shamefully behind on the brief for this case. Army business is taking up far too much of my time, lately. My head feels so cluttered.”
She hummed sympathetically. Her hands traced down along the embroidered pattern of his waistcoat, brushing over his shoulder blades. She felt his ribcage expanding with his soft breath. Slowly, she worked her way down to massage the tight muscles of his lower back.
“A little lower,” he said breathily, then let out an almost indecent groan. “Yes, right there. Oh. Oh, yes. That’s perfect.”
Desire pooled in her belly at the sound of his pleased moans. “Alexander,” she whispered, longing audible.
He looked around, eyeing her under long lashes even as he smiled mischievously.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she charged, shoving at his shoulder lightly.
“Maybe,” he said with a charming little wink. “Is it working?”
“Maybe,” she echoed. “Rogue.”
“Good. Come here,” he invited, scooting his chair back from his desk a little. “I need my daily exercise, after all.”
She rolled her eyes, then turned the key in the office door before giving in, hitching her dress enough to swing her leg up so that she could settle in his lap. His breath was hot against her face as her lips caught his. Their tongues pressed against each other as she ran her hands through his hair.
Leaning back, she began undoing the knot in his cravat. She tossed the fabric aside and leaned forward again, kissing the same bunched muscles at the base of his neck. The faint scent of his spiced soap greeted her. He moaned into her hair, his own desire tangible from her new position.
“God, Betsey,” he sighed, one hand firmly on her bustle to keep her flush against him as the other roamed around towards her front, settling just under her breast.
She rocked her hips against him, delighting in feeling his growing arousal straining beneath his breeches. Her arms hooked tightly around his shoulders as she returned her attention to his beautifully pouty lips. When his hand moved to cup her breast more firmly, she wiggled in his lap.
He made a frustrated sound, adjusted to hold her more firmly, and suddenly stood up, lifting her onto his desk. The dinner tray clattered onto the floor, and his papers scattered around them. She jumped a little, but he quickly recaptured her lips.
“We’ll clean it later,” he mumbled, still kissing her.
She reached down to unbutton his breeches, then slid her arms around him as he adjusted her dress to press inside her. They were both panting hard as they settled into a fast rhythm. Her legs wrapped around him, desperate for him to be closer.
The moment of climax came quickly at their rapid pace. She buried her face in his neck again, biting her lip to keep from screaming with pleasure. Her toes curled and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut as she bucked her hips against him once more, and the wave of pure bliss enveloped her. Her eyes rolled up as she happily surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. He pressed into her a few more times before he too found his release, a long low sigh falling from his lips as he relaxed against her.
They stayed curled against each other in the afterglow for a few long minutes. When he finally pulled back, he gave her a tender, slow kiss, the frantic desire from earlier satiated. She sighed contentedly, eyes still closed, and caressed his cheek.
“You know, my love, you’re not going to have much luck convincing me to go on our evening constitutional if I know this is the replacement.”
“I may as well stop suggesting you walk with me entirely,” she agreed.
He glanced down at the splatters of mutton sauce and potato pieces on the floor around his scattered papers. “We made quite the mess.”
“Later,” she insisted, her palm on his cheek to turn face back towards her.
“Later,” he agreed, his lips meeting hers again.
“Much later.”