Trump that Bitch! - Joe Biden x Donald Trump

one

He took my hand in his warm, soft fingers and shook. His blue eyes staring deep into mine, and my own lingering round the soft orange flesh that spilled from the aching button round his neck. How many years had it been since we had touched like this? In front of the rest of the world I felt oddly exposed, as if all 7.4 billion eyes were watching the intimate linger of my eyes upon his face; a product of pure, beautiful americana.

"I look forward to working with you" we both give each other a smile but instead all that remains is the bitter taste of taboo. He had a wife, several children. He was a pure bred American. All republican, closed minded and deeply, queer.

The first night I spotted him across the bar, dressed in a blue-collar button down and tight dress pants. He sat quietly, his anxious fingers tracing through the soft dribble of dew on his cocktail. I didn't usually go for the quiet type, but I wasn't sure what it was about him. His blue doe like eyes, the anxious fiddle of his fingers as his posture bent under the strobe lights. I suppose in hindsight we were a lot alike; he and I weren't openly queer. We dared not bring those parts of ourselves to light and yet, the aching pain I felt in denying that part of me felt; well, how he seemed to be feeling as well. I make my way towards him, drink in hand, my boots clapping smartly against the concrete floor.

"Wanna dance hot stuff?" I walk to him and shoot him a subtle wink. The drink in my hand was my 4th dirty martini. So, whatever I did with my eyes, I doubt it was intentional. His eyes ponder over my body, eventually making their way back up towards me with a lewd nature.

"You usually drink your martini's dirty?" he asks grinning mischievously. His tongue dipping and whipping from between his wet lips. I shrug.

"I like my drinks like I like my men. Strong, olive and dirty" the strobe lights change vigorously overhead and yet within the flashing light and loud music I knew he wanted me the same way I wanted him. Yet when I look at him dressed in his blue collared shirt and very tight dress pants, I know I'm going to be the one to ask him that dreaded question, the very one I ache someone to ask me instead.

"You wanna come home with me princess?" he giggles, the grip round his mug loosening and coming free,

"You don't wanna stay with me instead?" I laugh in response, taking his warm hand in mine and placing a soft kiss just behind the cuff of his sleeve,

"I thought you'd never ask"