The Ask
“Alexander,” Thomas says, entering the man’s office.
“Jefferson,” the omega responds stiffly.
“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was awful and I should have listened to your point of view,” Thomas says.
He feels a pang of guilt at the genuine shock on the shorter man’s face by the sincerity of the apology.
“Are you just saying that to get in my pants? If so, then get in line,” Alexander asks, eyes narrowing once the initial shock had worn off.
“Well I wouldn’t mind getting in your pants, but no. I really do find it astounding and awe-inspiring that an omega managed to earn such an alpha and beta dominated profession. I would like to get to know you better. Dinner tonight, 6:30, doll?” Thomas purred, leaning over the desk. Even leaning on his forearms, he was still towering above the Treasurer.
A beautiful flush blooms on Alexander’s cheeks and goes down all the way under his collar.
Thomas would like to know how far that blush went.
“Ok…” Hamilton says, still flushed and shy but uncertainty reflected in his answer.
“I can’t wait, sweetheart,” Thomas says, standing and taking Alexander’s hand to lift it to his lips and kiss it.
“Yeah, ok buddy, out,” Alexander said, flush intensifying as he got up to push Tho-Jefferson out the door.
Thomas laughs but allows himself to be pushed out of the office.
He walked smirking all the way back to his office.
James enters his office and raises his eyebrow at Thomas’s obvious glee.
“Did Martha send you Eliza’s world-class gingerbread cookies?” James asked, genuinely asking.
Thomas shook his head. Eliza could bake like nobody's business. Her desserts were absolutely orgasm-inducing. Martha’s cooking was legendary.
“Then what?” James said, slightly irritated.
“I asked out Alexander Hamilton. And he said yes,” Thomas said with a huge grin.
James blinked.
He exits the office then returns in five minutes.
“Alexander said the same thing. What kind of fucked up prank is this? How did you bribe him?” James snapped, slamming his hands down on Thomas’s desk.
“I asked.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
James sighs.
“Thomas,” James says.
“Yeah?” Thomas replies.
“You better be serious about Hamilton. A lot of people care about him. If anything happens, I will be on your side but I can’t promise that for anyone else. The Schuyler Sisters, Laurens, Mulligans, even Washington will have your head,” James warned.
Thomas nods in understanding.
“I won’t.
Later that day, Thomas was leaning on his car and waiting for the omega to come out.
The crisp winter air made Jefferson wear a long, black coat. It was thin but Thomas was used to cold weather. He was raised in Virginia and lived in France for a while, how could he not be immune to the chill?
As he looks over to the door, he nearly drops his phone at the sight he sees.
Alexander Hamilton, drowning in a large sweatshirt up to his knees, clearly too big to be his.
Thomas felt his mouth dry and primal urges absolutely roared at the fact the omega was wearing something that wasn’t Thomas’s.
Jefferson blinked. He wasn’t expecting the absolute slam of possessiveness he had over the omega.
“Sorry, I was late, I had to finish some work,” Alexander apologizes.
Thomas smiles. “No worries, doll. And if I ask who’s sweatshirt that is?”
The corner of Alexander’s mouth curls up. “Why? Jealous? Wow, I didn’t really peg you as the possessive type.”
“Infinitely so. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in something of mine…. or nothing at all,” Thomas purrs, opening the car door for Alexander.
Alexander laughs and Thomas knows at that minute.
He’s done for.
This pretty omega has the gall to stand up to him and he loved it.
The power, the adrenaline, the thrill of the chase.
The pretty brown eyes, flowing chestnut hair, a light dusting of freckles almost impossible to see.
Thomas wanted it all. And by god was he going to get it.