*Biden’s POV*

As I walked out of the hot debate room perspiration rolled down my forehead and I breathed a sigh of frustration.

That was hard… and so hot.

He surely knew what he was doing to me on that stage.

That brat.

I can’t believe he talked over me…

I’m going to make him pay.

I was risky tonight, more than I should have been.

I hope the media doesn’t pick up on those innuendos…

“We are gonna be in a position where we can make hard, hard….”

I smirked, remember seeing the desperation in Trump’s eyes.

I continued to walk down the hall as members of my team huddled around me congratulating and talking about our plans for the next debate, but I only had one thing on my mind, and it wasn’t politics.

I pressed on passed them even my assistant Demetri and out the door, nodding quietly to the secret service officer as he walked me to the limo.

The car ride couldn’t be over fast enough.

As car ride continued, I felt my body getting more tense with anticipation.

– – –

*Trumps POV*

I always arrived first.

Jo said it was because of my impatience… and he was right.

He had been teasing me rather blatantly this evening.

“Be patient,” he had said, and I had been glad of the podium in front of me.

We tried to avoid eye contact, but it was so hard.

I had headed here, to our hotel suit, as soon as I could.

I had touched Melania’s arm to lean in and whisper “I’ll be with Joe tonight.”

She had nodded.

She understood.

While I wanted to be dignified when Jo arrived I had too much energy to sit still.

What was taking him so long?

As soon as I went to look out the window the door opened.

I spun around and there he was.

Joe.

My Joe.

I quickly composed myself, my mouth puckering.

Gently, he closed the door.

Walking over to the closet Joe pulled off his tie, then, slowly taking off his dress shirt, I saw the black t-shirt.

“Fuck Trump” it said in bold white letter.

He looked into my eyes, and said, “So Mr. President, would you like to join antifa?”

– – –

*Biden’s POV*

I had to keep my composure as I slowly unbutton my dress shirt.

Slowly I told myself.

Make him wait.

But truthfully, I was just as excited as he was… maybe.

I turned to him, and as he waited expectantly on the bed and I walked even closer.

A small whine escaped his lips and his idle hands drifted downward.

“No touching” I snapped.

He whimpered.

“You know better than that Mr. President.”

I lowered my briefcase on to the bed and the loud snap of the hinge jerked Trump from his fantasy.

“You’re in trouble” I said, pulling the handcuffs from the case.

On instinct, he laid down and raised his hands behind his head.

We had done this many times before.

One he was where he should be, I reached down into the briefcase once more.

As if he knew what was coming, trumped moaned in anticipation as I slowly pulled the black doc martin form the case and idlily pulled at the bright orange laces.

“You always talk about us radical leftists…don…but do you know what else is radical…how hard I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

– – –

*Trump’s POV*


Everyone always assumed I was a top, in fact, even I had thought I was before Joe.

That first time he had turned me into something I had not expected.

My body felt as though it would explode as he said, “radical leftists.”

His bumbling persona was Vice President Biden.

This was Joe.

He didn’t look at me once as he slowly laced up the doc matins.

It was torture.

He knew it was torture.

“You’re in more trouble tonight than you thought, Mr. President.” He placed a foot up on the bed. “People say I’m a boot licker. Tonight, it’s going to be you.”