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Lafayette felt, quite honestly, he deserved this respite from the constant harassment that was his post-battle duties, a break from the inevitable stress.
He revelled in this moment.
This, just waking up from peaceful dreams of sun-blushed France with newly budding flowers of spring. There were no fireworks erupting from gunfire, no scarlet ribbons fluttering from his fellow soldiers, no suffocating him in his ears that seemed to bring him a little closer to drowning each time he was deafened by canon. In the brief moments he could feel it ebbing away slightly, replaced only by blossoming warmth in the comfort of rest under the emerald foliage of an oak tree- limbs aching after a torturous battle. The shroud of leaves dimmed slightly as the hazy yellow turned to dusk, and dusk to dark, timed only by the lazy rise and fall of his chest.
Lafayette's breath hitched slightly, eyes fluttering open from his slumber as the shuffle of heavy boots grew nearer. He pondered sitting in a more presentable fashion for one of his rank, in fear it was some fellow soldier, yet he grew curious as he heard the rustle of fabric and the familiar weight lowering down next to him. He almost gasped as two very strong and very familiar arms clung around his nestled frame.
He was not entirely used to this kind of tenderness, it was usually the Marquis himself who tended to the Generals burdens from the shackles of his position- prying away his heavy thoughts from dark eyes in the even darker night. He was not used to himself being held soft in those steady arms instead.
Lafayette thought back to the days that spent his General the most, Washington would match into his makeshift tent with every air and manor of control- only to crumble and faulted under the young mans fingers kneading away the stresses in his muscles when the camp was quiet. He remembered trying to will away the sickness of a war-heavy mind with each tender kiss pressed to chaste lips, resting their foreheads together wrapped up in blankets. Didn't forget how the General had muttered such kindness to him when he was so fragile- promising to return his favours tenfold every time they parted in the shrouding dawn.
His wandering thoughts were interrupted by a sensation of a delicate brush against his forehead, rough fingers gently caressing the curve of his face. The mans eyelashes fluttered as he looked up, gulping in air silently as he watched the great man ever-so gently reach down to stroke his cheek. Washington seemed utterly consumed in the task, eyes a shade of russet in the fading sunset. Lafayette shifted closer to the radiant heat of the older man- his body felt warm and safe- even in the midst of wars Lafayette knew that with Washington's chest pressed into his back like this he would feel secure. The general continued his ministrative movements, humming to himself as he Marquis entangled their other hands together. The hush of getting mans breathing was comforting, his body resting against the steady heartbeat that gave rhythm to his steady affections.
"Marie."
Lafayette's heart fluttered on hearing his name, one of many that he only gave to his dearest. One that had fallen from his lips in the heat of a night spent together in fervent need- a plead that he would be called by his most private name. The arms around the young man tightened- wrapping him into an embrace from behind. Lafayette had practically accosted the space between the Generals hips and his; if there was any to be had in the first place. The Generals cloak creased under this, but the man did it see, to notice nor care of the disheveled fabric as she earned forward into the Marquis.
"Oui, mon chérie?"
Lafayette tried to turn his head to look upon the mans face, but Washington's head was pressed to the back of his neck- brushing lightly against his temple. The man breathed in deeply, savouring the fair smell of lilac, gunpowder and some fine French perfume that emanated from the young man.
"My sweet Marquis," he whispered, lips tenderly surrounding his ears with kisses.
Lafayette's breath hitched a little, so unused to the unwarranted praise that he could feel his heart beating like the drums on the field- louder than any canon fire which sent tremors through his chest. They only time the General would say such things to him was when they nestled into shared blankets, and how he would drift off to the murmurs of the older man as he clutched his arms around his waist. Lafayette trembled a little at the memory, almost stuttering to speak as his half-swallowed vice seemed to prevent what he wanted to say.
"I'm yours."
The words were faint, lightly spoken as a blissful heat rose through his veins and flushed his cheeks at the accomplishment of overcoming his fear. The General wouldn't reject him now, nor would he ever- the Marquis steadied himself at these thoughts as he leaned back into the man.
"Mine," Washington muttered to himself into the back on Lafayette's neck, repeating this again and again between sucking the flesh there until petals of red and purple bloomed on his neck.
The young man was sure if it were not for his resting positron in the Generals lap his knees would have buckled and gave way. He was his. All his.
The pair repeated this mantra quietly between them for some time, self-affirming words that only accompanied he tenderness Washington gave to the young man between his legs. Only until sleep once more stole away the Marquis did the older man subside his affections, preferring to pull him closer until there seemed to be no more room between the two. In this moment Washington succumbed to the lullaby of soft moans that escaped Lafayette's mouth and the blissful warmth that emanated from the young man.
His familiar foreign friend, his lover. His Marquis.
All his.