The Campaign

"Ross," Dean said breathlessly, "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum." It was a simple warning and only turned on Ross even more, who finger fucked his conquest and sucked with abandon.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" Dean cried out as he grasped the sheets and shot volley after volley of cum into Ross's eager mouth.

As Dean started to catch his breath, Ross wasn't done. He grabbed Dean's meaty legs and lifting them in the air, he began to rim Dean's exposed ass. And as he licked, he spit Dean's cum into his eager ass, lubing it up.

"I'm gonna fuck you into the bed," he commanded Dean, who only moaned louder. Ross grabbed a condom from his backpack and rolled it on to his cock. Dean caught a glance of Ross's dick and shuddered. It was easily eight and half inches long and five or six inches around. He'd never been fucked with something so big before!

Ross held Dean's shaking legs as he positioned his cock at the edge of Dean's pucker. He'd been fingering him for a few minutes and with the rim job, he knew that Dean was ready for his cock. He was an attentive lover and wanted his bottom to enjoy this as much as he did.

"Go slow," Dean said in a whisper. "It's been awhile."

Ross smiled at him with confidence. "I got you. And you need this," he said as he slowly pushed his cock into Dean's willing ass.

Dean's eyes widened from the initial sting. But he wanted this and knew to push out as Ross pushed more of his cock in. After a few seconds, the pain went away and the pleasure grew more intense as Ross kept gently but firmly hitting Dean's prostate.

He leaned over Dean and kissed him deeply, passionately. Dean felt desire awaken inside him; he was hungry for Ross and met his every thrust. Ross was enjoying himself more than he could say; he'd long fantasized about being with an older, beefier man. This was a fantasy come true.

After several minutes of kissing and fucking, Ross started to build up a sweat. Dean felt the pressure building inside him.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside you, Dean. I'm gonna make this ass mine!" Dean was incredibly turned on by Ross's dirty talk—it wasn't something Eric ever did and it awakened his desire to be dominated.

"Yeah?" Dean said demanding more. "Fuck me man. C'mon! Own my ass!"

Their fucking grew more intense until Ross cried out, "I'm fucking cumming!" as he pumped his load into the condom inside Dean's ass. Dean, almost at the same time, felt a shuddering assgasm and a second load of cum erupt from his cock and hit his chest and Ross's relatively smooth chest.

They lay in bed panting and kissing. Ross withdrew his cock from Dean's ass and got up to throw the condom in the waste basket. Dean came into the bathroom smiling.

"I think we need that shower," he said with a laugh.

Ross raised his eyebrow and got down on his knees and started sucking on Dean's left ass-cheek. Hard!

Dean moaned. "What are you doing?" He asked breathlessly.

After 30 more seconds, Ross stood up and had Dean turn so he could see in the mirror: a large hickey on Dean's left ass-cheek!

"What the..." He asked somewhat bemused and a little surprised.

Ross smacked Dean's ass hard, causing him to yelp.

Ross kissed him hard. "In case anyone sees your ass, I want them to know it's mine."

Dean shook his head. What did I just get myself into? He wondered. The sex with Ross was some of the best he'd ever had in his life. But this was just campaign sex... wasn't it? He wondered as they finally showered and then fell asleep together.

THREE

Ross's alarm went off at 5am per usual. Normally, he started his day with a run outside or lifting weights in the gym. Today, however was different. Dean was passed out next to him, their legs still entangled. He looked over at the sleeping man and smiled. "Fuck," he thought, "I've got it bad for this guy." He leaned over and gently kissed Dean on the nose, causing the sleeping man to stir and wrap his arms around Ross and pull him close.

"God you feel good," he said as he buried his head in Ross's chest, his tongue lightly swiping Ross's armpit. Ross shook. It tickled. And felt good.

Dean started to suck and Ross's armpit. No one had ever done that before. "Gah," Ross moaned. "More!" He demanded. Dean obliged and sucked the place where his arm met his shoulder, causing it to bruise. He reached down and moved passed Ross's hard dick to play with his asshole. Ross clenched his ass around Dean's finger and moaned, "fuck me baby."

Dean was fully awake and totally hard. He took the lube from the nightstand and rolled on a condom. Ross looked at him with hunger. The number of times he'd been fucked he could count on one hand, all by guys who were much younger than Dean, all inexperienced and pretty lousy. But he knew Dean would be good.

Dean had a sense that Ross didn't have much experience bottoming. So he laid on his back and instructed Ross to sit down on his cock; it wouldn't hurt as much with Ross in control of the pace.

Ross lowered himself onto Dean's nice cock. Dean took his face into his hands and stared deeply into Ross's eyes. Dean—not a guy to get emotional, and certainly not during sex—found himself looking into Ross's eyes and he came undone as he felt his eyes welling up with emotion.

Ross, for his part, quickly got passed the painful part and found himself more turned on than he'd ever been looking into Dean's eyes. He saw how much Dean wanted him. Needed him. He threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep guttural laugh, a place of pleasure and joy.

"Fuck, you're good fuck," Ross said to Dean as he moved himself up and down on his lover's cock. "It's never felt this good before," he moaned.

Seeing Ross's total pleasure only turned Dean on more. He thrust harder into Ross's ass, moaning, "Damn, you've got the sweetest ass. I love being inside your ass!" He cried.

Ross beamed. "Anytime you want it," he panted and Dean reached up and tweaked his nipples.

"I'm gonna cum," he cried as Dean fucked the cum out of him and then blew his load into the condom inside Ross's ass.

Ross collapsed on top of Dean, kissing him passionately and tenderly. Dean was smitten. And, truth be told, Ross was into the older man.

They got up and Dean hit the shower while Ross shaved. Ross headed back to his room to get dressed and found himself smiling, almost radiant.

As Ross was getting dressed, a text came in from Dean. It had a heart and an emoji of a devil. And then Dean texted, "Thanks for a great night. Let's do it again sometime."

Ross sat on the bed and smiled. He wasn't into games and he liked Dean. So he texted back immediately. It was a wink and the numbers 339/10.

Dean replied:???

Ross laughed and responded: 339 is my room number. 10pm. Tonight.

Dean sighed. This was going to be fun.

The two men showed up to the principals meeting at 7:30am. Dean was introduced to the team. Davis, the Campaign Manager ran through the agenda. Thompson was heading out to two farms, a solar factory, and a snow festival. Dean and Ross would be staffing her and managing the media. As they headed out to the campaign bus, Thompson pulled them aside.

"Gentlemen," she said to the two of them. They both listened.

"I saw the looks you gave each other as you came into the meeting this morning." Both men gulped.

"Stop." She held her hand up. "You're two grown men. Campaigns are stressful. We all need to blow off steam. God knows I'd go crazy if Daniel weren't here every night to help me relieve this stress." Dean's eyes widened as Ross looked down at the ground. She was going to fire them. He knew it.

"Just keep it professional. Have fun. And do not fucking upstage me and my husband. You can tell the press about your romance after we win the White House. For now, I'm the Diva on this bus. Got it?" She said and snapped her fingers.

Dean laughed and Ross just shook his head. "Yes Governor," he said, wondering how she knew.

FOUR

Their first full day working together, Ross and Dean found they enjoyed each other's company professionally almost as much as they had in bed the night before. They were both grown men and made the decision they would keep things professional during the day.

Dean was experienced on presidential campaigns and understood Iowa politics at a granular level. Ross was impressed by his knowledge and his strategic thinking. He listened when Dean spoke and took mental notes; his quieter style was a lot different from Waterston's bluster, but Ross found himself learning a lot.

Dean, somewhat jaded from several intense campaigns and the rat race of DC, found himself increasingly impressed by Ross's commitment to making sure the Governor got to tell her story her way. When someone on the team suggested that they poll how to handle a controversial issue, Ross listened to everyone offer their opinions and then offered his own. "I know polling can be very useful. I'm not against it categorically and I think that we can learn a lot about voter's needs and priorities."

He looked at all the principles on the bus and realized that he was the youngest one by far and that gave him momentary pause. Nonetheless, the Governor hired him to offer his advice and he needed to fulfill his responsibility to her.

Ross continued, "But the fact is, Governor Thompson's story, her leadership, her vision, and her terrific success in Montana was precisely because she does not speak in poll-driven sound-bytes. She's a farmer in cowboy boots who is raising four kids and trying to use the power of government to make people's lives better. Get her in front of a crowd and let her tell the story of her successes in Montana and listen to the people here. I know that may not be the most sophisticated strategy, but Iowans just want to hear someone who treats them with respect, listens to their concerns, tells them the truth, and offers solutions to some of their problems. I don't know why we need to spend a million dollars for a poll to tell us what the Governor already knows how to do. And that's lead."

Dean gave a wry smile. He was incredibly impressed with Ross—and more than slightly turned on.

Thompson smiled. "Thank you, Ross. That's my feeling as well. I know who I am. I know what I stand for. If they don't like me, they can have the douchebag from Michigan." Everyone laughed and they moved on to other topics.

Dean sidled up to Ross and whispered into his ear, "I've been on a lot of campaigns, Ross. That was fucking brilliant." Ross beamed and looked over at him while pulling out his phone. He texted Dean. "Keep that up and you won't get any sleep tonight."

Dean felt the phone in his pocket buzz and read the text. He found himself getting red and his cock stirring in his pants. His retort was simple. "Good."

FOUR

Throughout the campaign, Dean and Ross continued to work closely together during the long days and then fuck their way through the night. After Thompson won Iowa in a landslide, Ross was catapulted into the national spotlight as her "Boy wonder press secretary." Dean offered wise counsel about how to navigate making the candidate the story and not himself, but Thompson's ego was healthy and she figured it was good to have press about the diverse and dynamic people on her team.

The campaign would go on to win New Hampshire, coming in a close second in Nevada, and winning again in South Carolina; by Super Tuesday, she amassed enough of a delegate lead that she was considered the presumptive nominee.

At the lead staff meeting in early April, Angela Waterstone was back and everyone cheered. Ross and Dean—who hadn't spend a night apart since December—wondered what this might mean for them. Governor Thompson and Michael Davis the Campaign Manager, however, recognized the unique talents that Ross and Dean brought as a team.

Davis usually lead the morning meeting; this time, however, Governor Thompson went first.

"I'm very glad to have Angela back with us. I can't be the only one on this campaign to keep you fools in line and out drink ya." Everyone laughed.

"But Angela's still recuperating and I need her healthy, especially if we're going to the White House next year. I'm naming her my Deputy Campaign Manager and she'll work out of our Montana office. She'll oversee my Vice Presidential selection—I am NOT picking the dumbass from Michigan! Truth be told, I'd like to name Congressman and former Navy officer David Milk from Georgia and watch all the racists and homophobes squirm when the ticket has a Cherokee woman and the Black gay nephew of Harvey Milk." She was animated now and no one dared say a word. "Anyway, Angela's going to stay put in Montana until the debates next all." Angela nodded and smiled. They'd clearly spoken about this and agreed.

"Dean, you're a damn good Communications Director. How about we make that permanent?" Thompson asked.

Dean looked over at Ross who couldn't contain his smile. "Yes ma'am. I'm on board. And when you win, I want to come to the White House with you. If you'll have me."

Thompson looked at Ross. "Well that depends on whether or not your boyfriend here will say yes to serving as my Press Secretary? I like you. You're damn good. And the fact that you get along so well with my Comms guy doesn't hurt." She laughed and so did the room.

Ross was bemused and couldn't believe it. "I suppose," he said sardonically, "that it would be bad to bullshit a woman who spent most of her life knee-deep in bullshit. So I'll say yes and thank you very much!" Thompson laughed hard and clapped.

"Yippie!" She called. "Michael, you prepare the press release on this one. And my boys (which was how she referred to Ross and Dean), we need to save money on the campaign. You get one hotel room from now on."

Dean was not normally so public about such things, but Ross—being 16 years younger and of a different generation—was happy to engage in friendly banter. "That's fine. But we need a King bed at the end of the hall, far away from the elevator."

Thompson stood up, fake-brushed lint off of her shoulder, and said to everyone. "And that, my dears, is how you win a presidential election."

That night, Ross got back to their room after a phone call with his dad. It was after 11pm. The lights were off in the hotel room. As he was about to turn them on, he heard Dean's voice instruct him, "keep them off. Get over here. And fuck me hard, Mr. Press Secretary!"

Ross got hard immediately and started undressing quickly.

"Don't bother looking for the lube," Dean instructed, "I'm ready for you," he purred.

Ross stroked his shaft and rubbed the end of his cock on Dean's willing pucker. Usually he spent time prepping. But not tonight. Tonight, he shoved his entire cock into Dean's ass in one hard stroke!

"FUUUUUCK!" Dean cried out as Ross slapped his ass so hard it make a mark. "Give it to me big boy!" He demanded.

Ross reached around and tweaked Dean's nipples as he power-fucked him from behind. He leaned down and bit into Dean's neck, driving the older man wild, causing him to buck his ass up and down on Ross's dick.

"Whose ass is this?" Ross demanded lovingly as he slowly pulled his engorged cock out of Dean's hole.

Dean's response was immediate. "Yours Ross. Only yours."

Ross smiled and flipped Dean onto his back. He entered him again, this time a bit more gently, but still in control. He kissed Dean tenderly as he began to slowly rock him back and forth, driving Dean wild with passion.

Ross lifted his head and rubbed his nose on Dean's. He looked him in the eye. "I want to see your face, to see your eyes, the first time I said, 'I love you.'"

Dean came undone at that moment and came harder than he'd ever cum in his life. Ross came quickly afterwards, pumping load after load of cum into Dean's eager ass.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, Dean spoke quietly as he stroked his fingers lightly over Ross's stomach and chest, making the younger man purr softly. "I thought I'd found love with Eric," he began. "And then I thought he broke my heart. But what I realized with you is that while things with Eric may have functioned on the outside, I never gave him my heart. Then you came along. And now I know what it feels like to love a man and to be loved by a man. You make me happier than I've ever been in my life, Ross. I love you, too, with everything I've got." He felt tears drop onto Ross's head and he wiped them away.

Ross kissed Dean's shoulder and nipped him lightly. "I'm glad you said it. I've known for a while. I just didn't want to freak you out."

Dean laughed. "I'm that easy to read, eh?"

Ross smiled. "Just to me."

And they held each other, gently and firmly, knowing this would be the greatest adventure—and most important campaign—of their lives.

EPILOGUE

At the entrance to President Thompson's inaugural ball, Ross and Dean were greeted by a throng of paparazzi who eagerly snapped their photos. A Washington Post story in December featured them as one of DC's new "power couples," and told the story of their meeting and falling in love on the campaign trail. The President-Elect was delighted about the feature story, both because Dean and Ross were two of her trusted advisors and because it was a royal "fuck you" to her predecessor's outgoing homophobic press secretary.

This night, one of the intrepid reporters noticed that Ross and Dean were wearing matching silver rings. "Are you two married now?" He called at them.

Dean ignored him. Ross put his hand up to his ear like Ronald Reagan was wont to do and replied, "Sorry, I can't hear you. Let's go celebrate the Thompson-Milk administration," he shot a thumbs up and the two men made their way inside.

Ross leaned over to Dean, "We probably should let the president know we're engaged. If she hears it from a reporter, we're both fucked and she still scares me." Dean smiled and nodded. Their president loved all the juicy tidbits of her people's lives—and she would be unforgiving if she heard it from anyone but them.

Dean turned to Ross, "She's been kinda busy today. Let's tell her in the morning." Ross smiled and nodded his consent.

As the couple made their way through the ballroom and greeted the crowd, they never strayed far from one another. Angela Waterstone, the brassy woman who had originally hired Ross straight out of college, made her way to the handsome couple, champagne in hand. She was now the Deputy Chief of Staff for President Thompson and both of their bosses.

She pulled them both away from their conversations to her. "You know," she said sipping her champaign, "I had no idea my heart attack would bring you two together to fuck like bunnies!" She wasn't drunk, but it didn't seem like she was feeling any pain either. "I guess it wasn't all terrible that my ticker needed a jump start." She raised her glass, "To love on the campaign trail!" She clinked glasses with "the boys" as they were known.

"And to love in the White House," she concluded.

Dean and Ross beamed. They would go on to be the first wedding President Thompson officiated at in the Rose Garden. Their wedding date? 7/31.

END