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"So I say to you again: if all sin is the same, we should indulge. We are not Catholics; there is no need to confess on the morrow. You Protestants believe that to be saved, you simply accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior. No real need for baptisms or confessionals or even repentance, if philosophy of the literal text is what we speak. We love today and perhaps we repent another day, or perhaps we don't. Perhaps we are all full of sin and there is no repentance for every shortcoming of man. In that way, Protestantism makes sense. So do you have faith that you will be saved in spite of your sins?"
Regardless of those heavy words, a soft, easily carried smile was on Laurens' lips. "And what sins do you believe I have committed?"
"'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's home.' 'Thou shalt not steal.'" Hamilton was sitting with his legs over Laurens' hips, facing on another on their makeshift bed in an open and lazy embrace. His fingers ghosted over Laurens' bicep in a manner that elicited comfort more than it teased. "'Thou shalt not commit adultery.' 'Honor thy father and thy mother.' 'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, Thy God in vain.' 'Thou shalt not kill.' 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.' Am I missing anything?"
Laurens laughed quietly. "A few. That's only seven commandments."
"'Remember and honor the Holy Sabbath;' today is Sunday, my dear, but how have we honored it?"
"Working, aiding a war, and fucking," he whispered plainly, thumb grazing over Hamilton's knuckles in their tangled embrace. "'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.'"
"And just what gods have you worshipped before your Lord and Savior?"
With that easy smile, "I cannot help but worship you."
Hamilton laughed. "Oh, you handsome fool. What else?"
"'Thou shalt make thee no graven image, neither any similitude of things that are in heaven above, neither that are in the earth beneath, nor that are in the waters under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down to them, neither serve them:' that is the second one - I thought you could recite all this in Hebrew, how could you forget?"
"I didn't forget. What idols have you made?"
His hand was on Hamilton's collarbone, fingertips tugging at his shirt collar gently. "I think you know the answer to that. So, you think I've broken every commandment there is."
"God knew man would break all his commandments. Is that not why we believe He sent His son, to forgive us our humanly trespasses?"
"Since when do you wear a mask of Christianity in my company?"
"I don't. Royal 'we,' I suppose. For the sake of conversation, say 'we' believe it all."
"I strive to follow the commandments as any good Christian should, but how imperfect I am in your clutches..."
"True, the devil marks us well, yet our country will revere you as the great, well-intentioned, and valorous man you are. We have so far avoided the witch hunt."
"And if they hunted us, what would they find? Your dissident words whispered to me in confidence?"
"Most of our marks are invisible... but perhaps they will find that angel's kiss on your belly from your mother's pregnancy or the endearing moles upon your chest."
"Marks of the witch. Perhaps they will accuse you for your freckles that deepen in the summer."
"Or your left-handedness."
Another soft laugh that was shared between them. "Ah, yes, my most evil sin: proficiency with my left hand. Had it not saved my life on numerous an occasion amidst close-combat battle, I might agree with the biblical philosophers on that."
"May I suggest you refrain from another injury to your right arm? One more might force you to wield your bewitched left hand, and we cannot have that on us, can we?"
"If we are witches, what is it happen to us if we get caught?"
Hamilton shook his head. "Witches are rarely caught, John. They are accused by invisible correlation to a perceived crime and pressed to confess. If your option was to confess to a crime you did not commit at the destruction of your name and influence or to hang for your silence, which would you choose? A life shamed, perhaps a couple hundred lashings in public? Drummed out of camp like a moral disgrace or strung up like a treacherous spy. Which do you choose?"
"...I choose to not be associated the crime."
"Which reminds me, I should burn that lovely drawing before I forget and it is embedded into my legacy. Though it is quite a nice picture."
"Are you flattering my skill or your shape?"
"Can't I do both?" Lord, his smile, sharp and hungry and beautiful. Laurens adored every last piece of him: perceived lechery and all. Nothing that feels this good could truly be evil.
Even so, if all sin is the same...
He closed that short distance between their lips, the air they'd been sharing and teasing near for the duration of their discussion. It quieted his racing thoughts to stimulate his mouth and feel this embrace.