Love Trumps All

 Bernie woke up in the morning after the best night of sleep he could remember. His bones had been feeling increasingly creaky as he aged, but this morning he felt as nimble and able as he had been in his twenties. He also felt a strange buzz in his nether regions. With a leisurely yawn, he extended his limbs out in a stretch of satisfaction. Mid-stretch, he promptly froze.

His foot had brushed against something. Something that had absolutely no business being in his bed. Bernie moved his foot away, but his toes cautiously felt their way around as if by their own accord. His touch light, he gradually mapped out the gentle contours and protrusions of what could only be another human foot, a foot that was not his own. His eyes darted to the side, but his peripheral vision didn't extend far enough to reveal the identity of his mysterious bedmate. He turned slowly to face the body to his right, afraid of what he would see. He screwed his eyes shut, his usual courage deserting him in this moment of uncertainty.

The memories of the night before came flooding back to him as he stared into the orange face of his political adversary, still deep in slumber. A flush came to his cheeks unbidden as he recalled the actions that had led to his backside feeling so tingly. Somehow, this arrogant, loudmouth man had reduced him to a quivering mess under his touch. His many, rough touches. Sleeping, his face showed no signs of his usual indignant bluster. In fact, Bernie thought that he looked rather...sexy.

As he continued to stare at Trump, he felt something tickle at his own foot, the gentle fluttering of foreign toes against the sole. "If you wanted to wake me up, you could have just given me a holler," Trump said, opening his eyes. Bernie looked away awkwardly, shame burning (or should I say berning) in his stomach. This was the first time in a long, long while that he had woken up next to a near-stranger, and he was ill-equipped to deal with this "morning after" business.

"No need to be shy," Donald said, somehow still managing to be flirtatious despite the rough, gravelly sound of his morning voice, "You sure weren't last night." Bernie flushed at the memory.

----------------- The Night Before

"Harder! Harder!" Bernie cried. Donald responded in kind, picking up the tempo of his slaps with vigor. Bernie was almost incoherent now, letting out an involuntary grunt.

"For someone who "supported the use of force only when it was a last resort," you sure do seem to be a fan of it now," Donald breathed. It sure took a lot of effort, but he was determined to keep spanking away until he succeeded in proving that Bernie's whole campaign was a carefully crafted lie. Which was to say, forever.

-----------------

"So," Bernie started, turning back to Donald, "about last night..."

"What about it?" Donald said nonchalantly. "Do you want a repeat performance?" He waggled his brows suggestively.

"Actually," Bernie continued, but Trump cut him off before he could say anything more.

"Maybe you even want to eat my famous Trump carrot," he suggested seductively, his orange face glowing in the morning light. Bernie groaned, warring with himself.

"As I was saying," he started again, "Actually, can we... pretend this never happened?"

"Sure. Yep. Fine," Trump didn't sound fine. "Can I just say one thing?"

"Certainly," Bernie replied.

"Not wanting my carrot is a sign you're against vegetables. Vegetables are healthy foods. Healthy foods are good the future of America. So not accepting my offer is basically saying you're against a good future for America, you heartless bastard."

Bernie wanted to scream, wanted to tell him that they both knew full well that Donald wasn't talking about vegetables when he mentioned carrots. But, somewhere deep inside of him, he also longed for a repeat performance of last night. And Trump was giving him a perfect opportunity to pretend he was being blackmailed into this.

"Well, I would never want anyone to think I was against a good future for America. Where is this carrot of which you speak?"

Bernie was directed to about halfway down Mt. Donald.

---------------

Bernie wasn't exactly in a position to shout out any words of passion, as he was rather occupied at the moment , and surely if they did they would most certainly be muffled.

Donald, however, had a few utterances to contribute as Bernie worked away in showing his support for America.

"Man," he yowled, "Love Trumps all."

There was a few minutes of silence broken only by groans and sucking noises.

"See what I did there?"

A muffled mhm came up from below him.