warnings; smut, trumpxbiden, professor!trump, third person, UNEDITED
written by zaddyshrekbaby (author no. 1)
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things weren't supposed to be like this.
biden told himself countless times that her wouldn't end up like this. that he'd keep his guard up, that he'd focus on the important thing, he'd never have an error in his ways, nothing would cloud his judgement.
and yet, here he was.
biden had gotten this job first thing out of school, spending years with the same goal in mind. since high school, college and even university - he'd put in all his effort to achieve his goal. he made sure not to jeopardise things along the way, vowing not to risk this position in the future.
and yet, here he was.
biden had his own office, though small and cramped. stacked books sitting upon the window sill, counter, floor, promising himself to clean this up in his free time.
and yet, here he was.
it wasn't really his fault. or at least he wasn't the only one at fault here. he tried to keep his promises, to ignore his interest, to dismiss it completely. more than one did he find himself rolling his eyes during the middle of the lecture.
and yet, here he was.
hot and sweaty, clothes sticking to his skin, back sliding against the doors, keeping them shut.
trump was persistent. surprisingly so, considering his charming face, boyishly uneven eyes, wit that helped him through classes, and body of an ancient Greek Olympics' athlete.
except for his cock. it was nothing like the statues.
and so, with a gift like that, he could have had any. every woman in biden's class drooled over him, and had biden been a student, he would've has well. but he wasn't, and he promised himself that he would become victim to trump's charm.
and yet, here he was, with his cock buried up to the hilt of his body, trump's long fingers sinking into his thigh, breath tickling trump's ear, body shielding his from the outside world.
and yet, here he was, biden's hand on his nape, absentmindedly yanking the little hairs on the back of his head, and other gripping at the door knob.
and yet, here he was trying to contain his whimpers, failing miserably, when trump delivered a particularly accurate thrust, tearing out a surprised yelp from biden's throat.
"professor." biden says lowly, trump knew it was deliberate. nothing more than a cheap tactic to get him riled up.
but not trump, he was already past that point..
who was he kidding, it was working.
"Yeah?" Level of eloquence worthy of National University's lecturer. But he wasn't about to be embarrassed about that, especially when his breath hitches, when biden's hand slides up from trump's thigh, fingers kneading his ass cheek.
biden seemed to be enjoying himself a bit too much.
"you..." he whispers, making it to a point to dan the shell of trump's ear with his breath. and to punctuate his word with a forceful thrust, that kicked the air out of trump's lungs. "....should be quiet."
"just like you in class." trump managed without any pause, he was proud of himself. because as wrong as it was, he knew perfectly what he was doing, biden had probably fucked a fair share of people before ending up in trump's office, among books, fucking him against the doors.
"professor..." biden says, with a hint of reprimand in his voice. from the first time since he entered trump, their eyes never left each other. biden's eyes were glowing, as if he was containing his laughter. "you shouldn't be like that."
even as he says that his breath is falling short. trump could already feel the pleasure pooling in his gut, so forgiving in the face of so many broken vows. trump spasmed in his hold, emitting a low moan, eyes fluttering shut.
biden's hips falter, bringing trump a dose of satisfaction, the knowledge that he could make him flustered just by being wanton.
"professor, there are people outside your door - you wouldn't want them to hear you."
he may be bluffing, he may be not. trump wasn't coherent enough to care, but the warning was valid - anyone could walk past his office, or even try to seek out to him, and could hear him in such a compromising position.
the hand fisted in biden's hair brings his head forward, kissing him, shutting him up, shutting himself up. biden went into the kiss easily, with a visor of a boy that not so long ago was restricted only to kissing.
on the beginning of this meeting, his kisses were tentative, unsure whether trump would or wouldn't throw him out. but he still pushed him back with all his eagerness. now biden was kissing him rough, raw, taking his lovers lips into his possession, like a man that has finally gotten his prize.
and he did, didn't he?
trump realised that he missed his voice, that his speaking, as juvenile as it was, made him harder, made it better. or maybe the unconscious knowledge that someone might be just outside his doors. maybe. trump wanted him to speak up, to taunt him, maybe even patronise him, to try to verbally force his power over him.
trump might be inclined to submit.
or maybe he would fight.
but he wanted to hear nine stretch the vowels, roll the consonants on his tongue, to tickle his skin with every word, with every slow, and somehow shaken exhale.
trump wanted biden to lose his words as he fucked you, he wanted him to fight for his breath, he wanted him to try to focus so he could deliver one more sentence.
biden groaned, rumbling sound reverberates in your office, he realised it was too late for that. he lost his coherence a while ago, he wouldn't be able to speak even if he wanted to.
he crowded trump against the door, and fucked hard and desperate, and juvenile, and it's not enough. he was eager, agile, strong, but trump could feel him rushing for his pleasure, when he was still far behind.
he came, just like that, with a groan lodged deep in his chest.
and yet, here he was.
