"Obama-sama?" Biden cooed, as he edged the burgundy door open.
Biden's eyes closed and stance hunched as he entered the dark room, creeping along the floor so as to not bump into anything.
"Are you awake?" He called out once more, "I want to see you Obama-sama, please wake up."
At that moment, muffled crying sounded out from the distance. Biden's face scrunched into a confused glare in the dark. He slowly backed up towards the light. The president's room was an ebony sheet in front of his eyes, but he was determined to spot his beloved in the blindness. When this did not prevail he wondered if he should call out one last time.
His palms were fiery and his breathing sounded ten times louder in his ears. To hear the president crying softly could mean anything. The situations flooded his subconscious, panic rose to the top of his throat, and his mind raced through a variety of emergencies, all taking place in his head in under a millisecond. Being the president is very dangerous, from assassination to being held hostage, or maybe he's just crying from the stress? It doesn't matter either way. Biden's secret lover was in distress, and he shall be his mighty knight-like savior.
He drew in two quick breaths, and a third slow one to ease his nerves. The last breath lasted from when he started to reach for the light switch until the shining flicker. Blinded, his eyes squinted shut against his will. The muffled tears turned to muffled screams and through the moisture building in his eyes, Biden forced himself to look at the world before him. Slippery oozing noises that he didn't notice before sounded like he was holding his ears up to a stirring pot of mac and cheese. The violating moist sounds made him uncomfortably hard as he remembered the sloppy sounds of his lover's anus, as it's pumped into. I remember that sound, that precious sound, the sound I've made and heard many times before, He thought to himself quickly before his thoughts raced to another one. "Is he c-cheating on me?"
Before he could see for himself he turned away, tears forming in his eyes. The only idea keeping him from turning to run from the deceit was the fact that Obama, his lover, was very obviously and violently crying with occasional muffled screams. Adrenaline surged to Joe's fingertips as he realized this must mean his lover is being forced upon, violated, defiled. His eyes squeezed close, and brow scrunched he turned into a dash towards the horrible sounds that motivated his attack. At a brisk stop he bared witness to what was unraveling around him.
Transfixed in mid-air, held by fluorescent purple tentacles, his lover's cries turned to muffled moans and squeaks as he gazed upon Biden.
PART TWO COMING SOON
WARNING: LEMON SMUTT
