Sex in the White House
Title: Sex In the White House
Author: rock_bottom
Rating: R
Pairing: Barack/Michelle Obama
Summary: Marital love that it seems the media and the rest of the world isn't banking on...
Notes/Warnings:Not explicit, but hot enough.
So, there was this somewhat ridiculous and incredible blog report on sex in the White House, that I just do not find valid, given the obvious way the Obama's love each other. Apart from whatever Huffpo bloggers think, I think the Obamas display a seriously FIERCE love and sexual relationship, and a really awesome marriage.
At any rate, I love Barack/Michelle.
Anyway, here be my fic to respond to that first article's assumption/reporting. (which I think is a farce/joke)
The date was March 23rd, 2011.
The time - 11:08pm.
Barack had just returned from St. George, Utah, where he spent an entire week surveying the progress of a newly built wind-turbine farm several miles outside of the city. The wind farm was one small part of the grand "Green New Deal" Barack's administration had been pushing for, a Deal the punditocracy continuously criticized and speculated on for the thus two years of his administration.
But when Barack returned to Washington late that cold March evening, he had little interest in politics. He missed his wife and his children - he hadn't seen Michelle in well over two weeks - she had been overseas convening a meeting with several European first ladies on the matters of poverty and AIDS in Africa. He'd last seen Malia and Sasha before his trip to Utah.
Secret service surrounded the President when he arrived, and it was a harried, incredibly aggravating process getting him safely inside so that he could finally depart their immediate presence. Barack reached the living quarters, where Michelle, since having returned from Paris two days earlier, was prepared to receive him.
She'd spent much of that late afternoon and evening with the girls, reviewing their homework, chatting with them about their friends and their interests, trying desperately to catch up on whatever she might have missed during her two week stay abroad. By ten, she was ushering them off to their baths and bed, Sasha complaining vocally about "staying up for daddy." Ruefully, Michelle assured her precious daughter that their father would be home far beyond their bedtime, and that they would certainly see him in the morning. Malia, mature and confident, didn't ask any questions, instead chided her younger sister playfully and helped her get ready for bed and for school in the morning. Malia knew their father would be there in the morning.
When the girls were tucked in, Michelle retired to her own room, where she disrobed, showered, and prepared herself for the night. She checked the clock several times, whilst she shaved and powdered and lotioned and brushed her thick, dark hair. Dressed in a red, silk night gown - a favorite of Barack's - she glanced finally at the the time, seeing it a quarter to eleven. Barack had not arrived yet, but the Secret Service had made her very aware that he was in transit. Several White House Officials were still up - Including chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel - hoping to intercept and distract the President upon his arrival with their pressing matters.
Michelle didn't mind, in fact, she smirked at the frenzy, and tucked herself beneath the heavy, warm comforters of their bed. Rahm indeed could be pighead and bold, and would likely try to stop Barack and detain him for much of the rest of the night. Michelle, however, knew Barack far better than Rahm did, and she knew there was little need to worry about how soon or later she would see her husband.
Barack departed Air Force One a few minutes before midnight, and already, Emanuel's aides were eagerly greeting him on the tarp. Barack gave them his characteristic tired, cold, ambivalent attitude, instantly complaining he wanted to be left alone so that he could catch up on rest. Throughout the ride to the White House, and during the walk through, there was a high level of tension between the Chief of Staffs aides and the President.
In the end, the Chief of Staff would be sorely disappointed.
Barack found Michelle twenty past midnight, laid under the covers in their bed, appearing to sleep soundly. He'd already stopped off at the girls' rooms, and his heart was full of content after waking them for quick moments to bid them his love and kisses on their soft, rosy cheeks. With his daughters secure, he stood in the doorway of hid bedroom, a sliver of light streaming in from the nearest hallway, where a band of secret service agents loitered, as per their duty. Barack loosened his tie, and his eyes followed Michelle's form under the covers - he could see the distinct curve of her hip, as she always lay on her side, hands tucked beneath her face. He pushed closed the door and the bedroom was engulfed in complete darkness.
He tiptoed through the dark room as he stripped away his clothes - he'd grown used to it over the past two years and long stopped stumbling over the chest that sat at the foot of the bed.. He had no patience or urge to hang his shirt or his suit, and so, as he shed them, they fell by the wayside, hopelessly forgotten on the floor. He slid under the covers, and one large hand , still chilled from the cold outside, slid over Michelle's back.
She awoke with a start, but she knew the touch, even when chilled by the weather, and her body instinctively leaned forward, looking to collide with his. Her lips spread apart as she smiled, and as Barack's eyes adjusted in the dark, he swore he could see his wife's beauty manifest in that bright offer. He pulled her closer, and their bodies touched.
"You're naked," Michelle finally spoke, after her left hand had run across his body. In the darkness, Barack smiled widely, and pulled her even closer, pressing a kiss into the warm crevice of her neck.
"I've missed you."
"Words," Michelle teased, but as she raised her head, he caught her lips, and they were both caught in an entangled, passionate kiss, one that they experienced not quite as often as they would have liked thanks to the incredible calling Barack's job as President had on him and his time.
None the less, they wasted no time in this moment. As they always did on those occasions where they were together, Barack and Michelle clawed at each other. They ravaged each others flesh, they both touched and fondled and stroked and kissed, and cried out in the name of God, for they loved each other so, and every time they made love, they could not believe how beautiful and fulfilling it continued to remain every time.
They kissed each other with the warmest of sympathies and exchanged their tongues on each other's bodies in the most sacred of practice and place. Each held one another on a pedastal far higher than that which the American people had placed them in governship, rewarding themselves with licentious licks and kisses deeper in body an soul than only that pair could imagine.
She touched and rubbed and pressed her mouth to his manhood, devouring both the man she loved for 18 years, as well as the power he contained now that fantasically intoxicated beyond anythiing she realistically would have admired. He buried his face between her soft thighs, his loving tongue delving in the sweetness he hand known and loved for nearly two decades, and her moans excited him beyond belief.
Barack soon was lying atop his beloved wife, and to her great joy, pushed deep inside of her, and caressed her every peak and crevice with his love and his touch. They melded into one, rocking to a beat that was purely their own, a melody no other could compose or express. Her cries illuminated the night, his fierce embrace of her was like that of Zeus, holding on to the most sacred of power, a thunderbolt that would never be loosed from his hands.
Come early morn, Barack laid on his back, and Michelle was strewn across his chest. Their arms were wrapped across each other, both their breaths seemed to exhault tired but careful puffs. Michelle sighed continuously throughout the night, Barack moaned and groaned and squeezed his wife's hips a little harder.
Until four am, when his first alarm went off to wake him. And again, it was to the taxing rat race.
But even as Barack and Michelle rose to do their duties to their country, not matter how near or far, they both looked at each other that morning, and shared a loving and lustful smile that reminded them both of the true cornerstone and ultimate importance in their lives.
Their love for each other.
~Fin
Author: rock_bottom
Rating: R
Pairing: Barack/Michelle Obama
Summary: Marital love that it seems the media and the rest of the world isn't banking on...
Notes/Warnings:Not explicit, but hot enough.
So, there was this somewhat ridiculous and incredible blog report on sex in the White House, that I just do not find valid, given the obvious way the Obama's love each other. Apart from whatever Huffpo bloggers think, I think the Obamas display a seriously FIERCE love and sexual relationship, and a really awesome marriage.
At any rate, I love Barack/Michelle.
Anyway, here be my fic to respond to that first article's assumption/reporting. (which I think is a farce/joke)
The date was March 23rd, 2011.
The time - 11:08pm.
Barack had just returned from St. George, Utah, where he spent an entire week surveying the progress of a newly built wind-turbine farm several miles outside of the city. The wind farm was one small part of the grand "Green New Deal" Barack's administration had been pushing for, a Deal the punditocracy continuously criticized and speculated on for the thus two years of his administration.
But when Barack returned to Washington late that cold March evening, he had little interest in politics. He missed his wife and his children - he hadn't seen Michelle in well over two weeks - she had been overseas convening a meeting with several European first ladies on the matters of poverty and AIDS in Africa. He'd last seen Malia and Sasha before his trip to Utah.
Secret service surrounded the President when he arrived, and it was a harried, incredibly aggravating process getting him safely inside so that he could finally depart their immediate presence. Barack reached the living quarters, where Michelle, since having returned from Paris two days earlier, was prepared to receive him.
She'd spent much of that late afternoon and evening with the girls, reviewing their homework, chatting with them about their friends and their interests, trying desperately to catch up on whatever she might have missed during her two week stay abroad. By ten, she was ushering them off to their baths and bed, Sasha complaining vocally about "staying up for daddy." Ruefully, Michelle assured her precious daughter that their father would be home far beyond their bedtime, and that they would certainly see him in the morning. Malia, mature and confident, didn't ask any questions, instead chided her younger sister playfully and helped her get ready for bed and for school in the morning. Malia knew their father would be there in the morning.
When the girls were tucked in, Michelle retired to her own room, where she disrobed, showered, and prepared herself for the night. She checked the clock several times, whilst she shaved and powdered and lotioned and brushed her thick, dark hair. Dressed in a red, silk night gown - a favorite of Barack's - she glanced finally at the the time, seeing it a quarter to eleven. Barack had not arrived yet, but the Secret Service had made her very aware that he was in transit. Several White House Officials were still up - Including chief of staff, Rahm Emanuel - hoping to intercept and distract the President upon his arrival with their pressing matters.
Michelle didn't mind, in fact, she smirked at the frenzy, and tucked herself beneath the heavy, warm comforters of their bed. Rahm indeed could be pighead and bold, and would likely try to stop Barack and detain him for much of the rest of the night. Michelle, however, knew Barack far better than Rahm did, and she knew there was little need to worry about how soon or later she would see her husband.
Barack departed Air Force One a few minutes before midnight, and already, Emanuel's aides were eagerly greeting him on the tarp. Barack gave them his characteristic tired, cold, ambivalent attitude, instantly complaining he wanted to be left alone so that he could catch up on rest. Throughout the ride to the White House, and during the walk through, there was a high level of tension between the Chief of Staffs aides and the President.
In the end, the Chief of Staff would be sorely disappointed.
Barack found Michelle twenty past midnight, laid under the covers in their bed, appearing to sleep soundly. He'd already stopped off at the girls' rooms, and his heart was full of content after waking them for quick moments to bid them his love and kisses on their soft, rosy cheeks. With his daughters secure, he stood in the doorway of hid bedroom, a sliver of light streaming in from the nearest hallway, where a band of secret service agents loitered, as per their duty. Barack loosened his tie, and his eyes followed Michelle's form under the covers - he could see the distinct curve of her hip, as she always lay on her side, hands tucked beneath her face. He pushed closed the door and the bedroom was engulfed in complete darkness.
He tiptoed through the dark room as he stripped away his clothes - he'd grown used to it over the past two years and long stopped stumbling over the chest that sat at the foot of the bed.. He had no patience or urge to hang his shirt or his suit, and so, as he shed them, they fell by the wayside, hopelessly forgotten on the floor. He slid under the covers, and one large hand , still chilled from the cold outside, slid over Michelle's back.
She awoke with a start, but she knew the touch, even when chilled by the weather, and her body instinctively leaned forward, looking to collide with his. Her lips spread apart as she smiled, and as Barack's eyes adjusted in the dark, he swore he could see his wife's beauty manifest in that bright offer. He pulled her closer, and their bodies touched.
"You're naked," Michelle finally spoke, after her left hand had run across his body. In the darkness, Barack smiled widely, and pulled her even closer, pressing a kiss into the warm crevice of her neck.
"I've missed you."
"Words," Michelle teased, but as she raised her head, he caught her lips, and they were both caught in an entangled, passionate kiss, one that they experienced not quite as often as they would have liked thanks to the incredible calling Barack's job as President had on him and his time.
None the less, they wasted no time in this moment. As they always did on those occasions where they were together, Barack and Michelle clawed at each other. They ravaged each others flesh, they both touched and fondled and stroked and kissed, and cried out in the name of God, for they loved each other so, and every time they made love, they could not believe how beautiful and fulfilling it continued to remain every time.
They kissed each other with the warmest of sympathies and exchanged their tongues on each other's bodies in the most sacred of practice and place. Each held one another on a pedastal far higher than that which the American people had placed them in governship, rewarding themselves with licentious licks and kisses deeper in body an soul than only that pair could imagine.
She touched and rubbed and pressed her mouth to his manhood, devouring both the man she loved for 18 years, as well as the power he contained now that fantasically intoxicated beyond anythiing she realistically would have admired. He buried his face between her soft thighs, his loving tongue delving in the sweetness he hand known and loved for nearly two decades, and her moans excited him beyond belief.
Barack soon was lying atop his beloved wife, and to her great joy, pushed deep inside of her, and caressed her every peak and crevice with his love and his touch. They melded into one, rocking to a beat that was purely their own, a melody no other could compose or express. Her cries illuminated the night, his fierce embrace of her was like that of Zeus, holding on to the most sacred of power, a thunderbolt that would never be loosed from his hands.
Come early morn, Barack laid on his back, and Michelle was strewn across his chest. Their arms were wrapped across each other, both their breaths seemed to exhault tired but careful puffs. Michelle sighed continuously throughout the night, Barack moaned and groaned and squeezed his wife's hips a little harder.
Until four am, when his first alarm went off to wake him. And again, it was to the taxing rat race.
But even as Barack and Michelle rose to do their duties to their country, not matter how near or far, they both looked at each other that morning, and shared a loving and lustful smile that reminded them both of the true cornerstone and ultimate importance in their lives.
Their love for each other.
~Fin