At Your Service

"Aaron, can I talk to you in private, please?" Kirkman asked, and Aaron followed without skipping a beat. He knew what this was about. He had been in a terrible mood all day, and not only was it starting to impact his performance but also anybody who came close to him.

Kirkman led him to his office, and while most people likened being ordered here to a child being sent to the principal's office, those who truly knew Kirkman knew that that was not the environment he endeavoured to create. He treated all his subordinates like equals, with respect and compassion, seeing them as humans, not cogs in the big White House machine. However, try as he might, nobody was ever going to feel that way in return. He would always be the president, the man with the world at his fingertips. 

Today, Aaron knew he had crossed the line between authoritative and straight-up snapping. But Kirkman was unlikely to just reprimand him. No, they knew each other well enough and had a solid camaraderie for Aaron to know Kirkman was just going to check in with him.

As Aaron took a seat, Kirkman moved to the front of his desk and leaned against it with a sigh. "What's going on with you?"

Aaron looked down into his lap. "I'm sorry, sir. I know my behaviour today has been unacceptable. I-"

"That's not what I asked."

He bit his lip. "I've just been stressed lately. Because of…" He huffed, gesturing vaguely. "The break-up with Isabel, becoming the vice president, dealing with the press, all of it."

Kirkman furrowed his brow, confused. "Stress comes with the job, Aaron. You've been working at the White House even longer than I have. You must know how to cope with it."

Aaron lifted a shoulder. "I do, I… I usually have a way to decompress."

"Which is?"

Oh, dear Lord, he was not about to talk about this with the president. Some things could be kept private. And really, for the president's own protection, he should be far, far away from this.

"It doesn't matter," he tried to say, but Kirkman insisted. "If being deprived of whatever it is is affecting you this much, then we need to fix that."

Aaron knew that. He knew that well. But he also knew there was no easy fix. No amount of talking would help. But Kirkman was looking at him expecting a reply, and Aaron knew he wouldn't get out of this situation without giving him an explanation.

"I used to frequent… a certain club," he started, regretting it as soon as the words left his mouth. Why was he telling the president about that?

"Used to?" Kirkman asked, and Aaron silently cursed him. Why couldn't he just let this be?

"I've gotten a little paranoid after getting the vice presidency," he explained. He always had been, often donning tracksuits over his leather pants, wearing a low baseball cap and fake glasses to make himself blend in on the street. Seth was the only one who knew the truth, and he always concocted an alibi so that if anybody asked, he could viably claim to have been with Aaron on the night in question. But with him being in the public eye now, he had just been too scared. "When I was just Chief of Staff, there was no issue; the average American wouldn't have recognised me, but now… if this ever got out-"

"Aaron, I doubt anyone would make a big scandal of the vice president enjoying a night out," Kirkman added with an encouraging smile, proving he had no idea what Aaron was talking about. He would realise how big of a deal this was to Aaron if he did.

"Well, sir… I'm not just talking about normal clubs where people go to drink and dance." He tried to stay vague, but apparently, he had been too vague because Kirkman looked at him with a mix of confusion and interest. "Then what kind of club are you talking about?" He studied him for a moment, and Aaron could see the cogs in his brain trying to come up with something that could be so shocking that he was extremely desperate to keep it private. He wondered what Kirkman might guess. He would almost be amused by the situation if it wasn't so surreal.

"Aaron, if it's men, it's not a problem," Kirkman assured him. So, that was the worst possible scenario he could come up with. "There would be no scandal, and I would support you-"

Aaron chuckled as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, his expression almost hysterical. "It is men. But that's the least of my concerns."

Well, that seemed to make it even more confusing for Kirkman.

Aaron huffed, knowing he was going to regret his next words. "Sir, have you ever seen Fifty Shades of Grey?" It was a terrible comparison. He was well aware of it. But he knew it was the most fitting pop culture reference that could at least paint a brief picture of it, enough for Kirkman to not want to pry further. Of course, he could go on at length about how the movies were nothing like real life, how there were boundaries and rules, how consent was emphasised, and how it could just be sex. However, he doubted Kirkman would want to hear any more. At least, he hoped so.

Kirkman quirked a brow, and there was recognition in his eyes. Surprisingly, not disgust, though, which was more than could be said about Aaron, who was trying to act ashamed like it was something he wasn't proud of, just so the president didn't fire him. He knew Kirkman was very non-judgemental, but this was a test of his limits. It wasn't that he expected some kind of BDSM advocacy to come out of his campaign, but it did mean a lot that Kirkman was hearing him out. Only Kirkman could be informed that his VP frequented a kinky sex club and react with genuine curiosity and willingness to learn.

Still, at what point did the expression on Kirkman's face shift from non-judgemental into, dare he say, interested? Aaron decided to push the boundary a little, just to see how much he could.

"I frequent a club that dabbles in… those kinds of activities. It's not a gay club per se, but I only partake in it with men," he explained, and there was definitely something in Kirkman's eyes at that further piece of information.

Suddenly, there was something between them, a tension, but it didn't seem to bother either of them. No, Aaron was enjoying the way the atmosphere was shifting, seeing how far Kirkman's interest went. It allowed glimmers of that part of him to come out. It made him look at Kirkman the way a hungry predator looked at its prey just before the chase started. They seemed to both be aware of it, and one of them would have to move first to trigger a response in the other.

Aaron really hated the reference he had gone with. But to hell with it if it was the only way to explain. However, it seemed Kirkman wasn't asking because he was thinking about the movie. He was using it as a point of comparison, but he was clearly more interested in how it applied to him.

Well, if Kirkman wanted to know more, he would give it to him. 

"The Grey," he answered confidently, and Kirkman's gaze sharpened, making him want to tell him more and more details. "I dominate men. I degrade them. I use them like my own personal objects of pleasure. And they beg then thank me for it."

Kirkman took a moment to digest that. Aaron was sure Kirkman would be more surprised to learn just how many Feds ended up at those kinds of places, but he would never betray anyone's identity, just like how he trusted nobody would betray his. That was the rule. Anonymity was a must, but even if you recognised someone from a press conference, you didn't tell them that, and you didn't tell anybody else that. The lewdness of going to a BDSM club to cope was rooted in how working in the government was chaotic, even on its simplest days. Some needed to relinquish the power that overwhelmed them and just let themselves be used and abused, allowing someone else to make the decisions for them that they had no choice but to obey. Others, like himself, craved stability and control. He relished the simplicity of being able to give orders and watch them obeyed without protest or complications.

Kirkman's voice brought him back to the moment. "And since you've been hesitant to go out lately," he reasoned, but didn't wait for a reply as he continued, "it only makes sense that you're frustrated about how being VP is taking over your life, so you're taking it out on everybody else" Aaron was surprised by how well Kirkman was able to see through him. But he supposed they had known each other a long time, so it made sense. "If control is what you need, then let's try to figure something out. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in seeing how you unwind."

Aaron's eyebrows rose. It sounded a lot like a proposition. Still, he had to be sure what Kirkman meant; he didn't want to risk only hearing what he wanted to. "If you want something, you'll have to ask for it explicitly," he responded warily, trying not to sound too hopeful. This meant nothing, this couldn't mean-

"I want you to show me what you do at that club." He sounded serious, and there was even a note to his voice that if it had been anyone else, Aaron would call desperation. He was used to it, having heard it often enough in the club, but it felt surreal coming from Kirkman.

Aaron still couldn't comprehend it. This had just been harmless flirting. Nothing was meant to actually come out of it. He couldn't quite tell if this was still Kirkman just teasing. He was never one to say something he didn't mean. But as Aaron was occupied with trying to wrap his head around it, he didn't notice Kirkman go to the door to ensure they were locked and covertly message Mike to shut off the cameras to the Oval Office. 

It was only when Kirkman dropped to his knees in front of him that Aaron realised maybe the flirting hadn't been so non-committal after all.

Aaron wasn't sure why he'd even done it in the first place. At first, he had been sure that oversharing would have made Kirkman feel so awkward that he would drop it, and they would never have to bring this up again. But now, he was severely lacking in plausible deniability. He had apparently sweet-talked the president into actually considering giving BDSM a try. This was very dangerous. His duty to protect the president was now at the forefront of his mind. If anybody walked in, he doubted Kirkman could just say he had dropped his pen, not when he was looking at him like that.

"Nobody can come in or see anything," Kirkman was quick to say, answering his unspoken question about logistics, "if this is what you need to stop biting everybody's heads off, then I'm happy to give it to you."

While he had never thought of his boss as anything other than his boss, something about the obedience in his action, the willingness, made Aaron ease into his more dominant side. If Kirkman had taken care of practicality… it was clear he wasn't shying away from this. Still…

"I'm not sure I can see you as anything except the President of the United States," Aaron admitted reluctantly. "It might feel weird."

Kirkman just smiled at him before reaching for the American flag pin on his lapel and taking it off. "There we go," he just said, as if that could make Aaron ignore everything else that reminded him exactly who the man in front of him was, as if they weren't in the White House.

Then, as if reading his mind, Kirkman started loosening his tie and took off his jacket. Aaron became flustered as Tom opened his shirt. He wasn't used to seeing the president with even a button open, always so formal and reserved. There was something intimate about seeing him like this. It was the same feeling he got whenever he happened to see the president after hours; it was like a layer of his walls had been taken down. So, to see him undress a little was enough to throw Aaron for a moment, proving to him that maybe he could look at him as more than just the president or even his friend. Even mentally, he wasn't seeing him as Kirkman or his boss anymore. No, with that curious look in his eyes and having removed some of the formality of his clothing, Aaron started to view him like someone at the club, willingly ready to serve him. He saw him in a very human way. He saw Tom.

Still, that realisation made him protective. Tom was putting himself in a very vulnerable position. While he had some understanding, it was very limited, so Aaron felt the need to be transparent. "I want to be sure you understand how… rough it can get. Hollywood makes it look different to how-"

"Isn't that what safewords are for? I know that much. If I want it to stop, I say the word, then you stop, right?"

But Aaron shook his head. "No need, I'll stop if you ask me to." On any other occasion, he would be the one to insist on a safeword. But he didn't plan on making this situation reach that extreme level. He was new to this. Aaron doubted he would enjoy anything with intense roleplay that had dubious bounds of consent; Tom didn't look like the type to ask him to stop and not mean it.

"But since I plan to put you in a position where you'll be unable to speak, you can tap my thigh three times, and I'll stop."

"Alright." Tom nodded, and now Aaron could see the desire in his eyes, unfiltered, raw.

Despite having established something that made him feel more confident about this, Aaron still couldn't quite fathom it. This had to be some kind of bizarre sex dream. He was going to wake up with his alarm blaring, twenty missed calls, a thousand emails, and a hard-on he would have to deal with in the shower. He still needed to know that Tom wasn't just forcing this because he had too much of a short fuse to be a productive cabinet member.

"Tom-"

"I'm your fucktoy right now, you don't need to use my name."

Aaron blinked a few times. If he'd tried to hold back before, that sentence sure threw a spanner in the works. Where the fuck did he pick that up from? Maybe Tom knew more about this than he was letting on. Aaron was pretty sure that word hadn't been in the movie.

Tom sounded sure, but Aaron was still a little tense. He was ready to go all out, but was Tom? Did he really know what he was getting himself into? If it was someone at the club, after negotiating the safe word, he would go all out, catch them by surprise, and put their service to the test. But this wasn't someone with experience who knew what they were doing. First-timers at the club were usually paired with certain people who didn't quite need to be so rough to get their fix. He wasn't one of them. For this to make him feel better, it needed to be hard and fast. His head spun. He didn't exactly need this to be languid, romantic foreplay, but he couldn't quite let himself go here, either.

"Aaron," Tom said, his voice stern. "You're not making love to me. This is for stress release, right?" he asked, as though reading his mind once again.

He huffed. "Yeah."

"Then I am giving you permission to do what you need to do."

Every time Tom said something like that, it took everything in him to not come right there. Kirkman was too honest and straightforward to secretly resent him for this later, right? He was clearly telling him it was okay. This should be no different to how he would act in a tryst at the club. They were behind closed doors. Even outside of this context, whenever they were behind closed doors, the dynamic between them was pretty informal and equal. Kirkman trusted him. Tom trusted him. And, fuck it, he was stressed, and he did need this, so there was no point denying it any longer.

"Open your mouth," Aaron demanded, using the rough tone he only reserved for nights at the club.

Tom did so, but Aaron grabbed his jaw and opened it further before spitting on his tongue. He panted. Jesus Christ, he just spat in the president's mouth. 

"Say thank you," Aaron demanded, trying not to let his anxiety take control.

"Thank you, sir," Tom replied without skipping a beat.

He did not just call him sir. The President of the United-fucking-States did not just call him sir.

Aaron could feel himself growing hard. He had had people at the club desperately whimpering to serve him. Yet the immediate obedience here was turning him on faster than usual. It was borderline painful, and he quickly worked to unzip his slacks and pull down his boxers, stroking himself a little, but it didn't require much effort.

Tom didn't take much deliberation to wrap his lips around the tip of his cock. Aaron wasn't ready for it. He was so taken by surprise that it made him feel like he had lost control. And he couldn't have that. This wasn't just a hookup for the hell of it. He needed to feel like he was in charge of this if he wanted to effectively relieve his stress.

His hand suddenly seized Tom's throat. Tom's eyes widened in surprise as Aaron forced him to meet his gaze.

"Did I say you could do that?" he threatened, that feeling of towering over someone familiarly arousing. "Did I say you could do that?"

"No, sir," Tom rasped.

"You take orders from me, do you understand?"

Tom nodded as much as he could with the restricted movement.

"So, when I let go, you're going to wait until I tell you what to do. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

Aaron met his eyes before releasing the grip on his neck. Tom panted a little but didn't even try to rub his neck or focus on himself. Instead, he knelt there, slightly antsy, eyes clearly focused on the hard cock in front of him. It was like nothing else mattered. As Aaron observed his obedience, he smirked.

"You're a needy whore, aren't you?" he pointed out demeaningly. "You need it so bad, don't you?"

Tom nodded, his face a silent plea. This was it. This was what got him off the most: having someone at his complete mercy, loyal to him to this extent, looking at him and waiting to be told what to do. He liked watching the desperation in their eyes. He liked making them wait, testing them. He liked driving them to the point of begging to be subservient.

At the same time, they didn't have all the time in the world, and the fact that he was doing this in such a forbidden setting made this more erotic than the average club night.

"You can start again," Aaron instructed. "If you ask nicely."

"Please, sir," Tom implored.

Again, it took everything in Aaron not to rush this and get rough with him straight away. He was walking the fine line between getting this over quickly for stress release and making this last forever to satisfy his growing curiosity at seeing his innocent boss like this. Aaron doubted he was ever going to get a chance to do this with Tom again. This was a favour, right? A one-off? Although he had a few regulars at the club, each so different in the way they served him, something about Tom felt special. It was the obscenity of it. It was the fact that he had the country in the palm of his hand, and here he was, on his knees for him, letting himself be ordered around. His submission was a privilege Aaron didn't take lightly.

The prolonged pause seemed to affect Tom. He must be really intrigued to see how far Aaron would go, how long he would drag this out. That enthusiasm made Aaron's lingering doubts fade.

"I need it, sir. Please," he insisted with a slight whine that went straight to his cock.

Aaron finally nodded. "Then show me. Show me how bad you want it."

Tom did not hesitate as he picked up what he had been doing before. Although Aaron could tell Tom hadn't been with men before – or perhaps not in a very long time – he did not let that stop him from giving it his all. Gradually, he worked on taking more and more of him in, hands coming to the side of his thighs for support. The expression of concentration on Tom's face, one Aaron normally only saw in a tense boardroom meeting, all directed at pleasing him, made him start to breathe heavily.

"Look at me," he commanded, and Tom did so without losing his enthusiasm. "God, you're eager, aren't you? You just want to please me. That's the only thing that matters to you."

Tom hummed in agreement, now having worked to take him as far as he could. Although degrading him was certainly enjoyable, it wasn't quite the stress release Aaron needed. No, it needed to get up to full steam. He trusted Tom was fully into it now, so he could go ahead.

Aaron dropped his hand to the top of Tom's head, pulling his hair roughly, forcing him to keep making eye contact as his head bobbed up and down. He could feel himself touching the back of Tom's throat, but he seemed to pay it no mind.

"You want me to fuck your throat?" he asked, his voice a growl.

Tom moaned around him, nodding as much as he could. Aaron observed that Tom was hard through his pants, which assured him a little but, at the same time, made him even more curious.

In one swift motion, he pulled Tom just an inch closer – he already had taken most of him – and the little gagging noise made Aaron curse under his breath.

"There you go. Take it," Aaron encouraged him with some bite in his voice. But his expression faded quickly into surprise as Tom looked up at him with the same glassy-eyed look he was used to seeing on the men he used at the club: needy, pleading, and completely at his mercy.

Aaron briefly wondered if it just came naturally to Tom, that submission, letting someone else take control of him, or if that was the result of becoming the most important man in the world overnight. Having so many responsibilities suddenly thrust upon him could easily have made him long for anyone to take control of him. Aaron realised that maybe, just maybe, this was something they both needed without knowing it, something that might help them both.

But Aaron found he couldn't focus on his own thoughts as Tom started to get more vocal, his moans getting louder and the vibration all around him sending a shiver down his spine. He was gritting his teeth, getting closer and closer to the edge before he finally pushed Tom's head back so he could finish on his face, coming in short spurts with a groan. Tom just went willingly. He had a sated look and clearly felt so far removed from the situation, completely unfazed.

As Aaron came down from the high, reality hit him like a bus. What the fuck had he just done? Although he had assured himself that Kirkman – because now that he was in a clearer headspace, he very much saw him as Kirkman again – would have indicated a line was being crossed, it was still the sheer salacity of it all. From the location, the knowledge that so many people were just one door away and they hadn't even tried to keep quiet, to the fact that he hadn't just had sex with Kirkman but degraded him and treated him like an object right down to finishing all over his face.

"I'm sorry if that got too much," Aaron said, frantically grabbing some tissues for him to wipe himself off with, "I can pay for the dry-cleaning if it got on your shirt, it's fine-"

But to Aaron's shock, he just reached for it with his tongue, never breaking eye contact as he cleaned what he couldn't reach with his thumb, then sucked it off slowly. The shine in his eyes told Aaron he knew exactly what effect that was having on him. "So," he asked, while Aaron felt like that sight alone could likely get him ready to go again very soon, "did it help?"

"W-What?" Aaron asked, not able to process words yet.

"Do you feel better now?" Kirkman clarified.

He sputtered. "Uh, yeah, I do. A lot, actually."

Kirkman smiled. "Good. Then there's no problem, is there?"

As he stood, taking a moment to lean on the table to get up, Aaron was very aware that Tom was not just a little turned on but a lot. He couldn't walk out of there.

"You can't leave like that."

Kirkman was obviously aware of this, grabbing some documents and strategically holding them over his crotch. "The boardroom meeting will take care of that, don't worry," he laughed mirthlessly, going towards the door.

"Sir, wait," Aaron said, making him pause. "I… I appreciate what you just did for me a lot. It wasn't exactly a simple favour."

He looked back at him. "You're welcome."

"Can I help you, then? It's only fair. I do, uh, serve at the pleasure of the president."

Kirkman's eyes darkened. "Do you do this for the people at the club, too? Or is it just for me?"

The look on his face practically begged for more information.

"Well, it depends on how I feel," Aaron started, taking the tone he had before. It was strange how compartmentalised it was. The second he was in a safe space, where he knew the people around him were into it, it was like a true part of himself came out. The expression just felt unparalleled to anything else. "If they did a good job, I'll finish them off myself and praise them for their service. Otherwise… if I'm still in a mood to humiliate, I'll make them do it themselves, right in front of everyone, so they can all see how desperate they are. But they'll still need to ask my permission to finish."

Tom tossed the files onto the couch, walking towards him and lowering his voice. "So, where do I fall? Are you going to praise me or punish me?"

Aaron grinned. "Depends. Which one do you need?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm still yours to do as you please."

For a moment, Aaron doubted again that this was only helping him. Maybe he had been right. Maybe Tom did need someone to order him around just as much as he needed to do that to others. And now that Tom had helped Aaron, it was Aaron's turn to help Tom; if he needed someone to take control and make his decisions for him, he could give him that.

"Pull down your pants, show me how much you liked being used, then get back on your knees."

Tom obeyed, pulling down his pants and then his boxers, allowing Aaron to see how hard he was. He smirked approvingly, and then Tom got back on his knees. Aaron was pleased to see Tom was a quick learner and had only done what he had ordered. Aaron hadn't given him permission to touch himself, so he hadn't yet and was just waiting, looking at him pleadingly.

The most powerful man in the world was at his command.

He wished he had more time. He wished he could really make Tom impatient. But after just staring at him and licking his lips for a moment, he finally decided to make this progress.

"You're very needy, aren't you?"

Tom nodded.

"I want you to show me. I want to see you touch yourself."

His movements were still hesitant, almost like he was afraid of being punished, which made Aaron chuckle. But Tom was clearly very flustered because he soon sped up his movements, tipping his head back slightly.

"You got so hard just from serving me. You just like being used, being mine, don't you?"

He nodded again, but not very enthusiastically.

"I want to hear you say it."

Tom whined, his hand moving impossibly fast and with more pressure.

"Tell me that you're mine, and I'll make sure you're adequately rewarded. Unless you want to misbehave and make a mess of yourself."

"Please," Tom rasped, and Aaron just bent down, his face just inches away from his. 

"What was that? I didn't hear you." Aaron knew he was being cruel, but he couldn't help himself. Besides, he was sure by now that Tom liked it.

Tom gulped. "I… I'm yours."

"Louder."

He huffed, clearly trying to stop himself from finishing, wanting to drag this out, which made Aaron realise how much this was benefiting him. "I'm yours, sir."

Aaron smiled with a slight sneer. "That's it."

He then swatted Tom's hand away, replacing it with his own, stroking with enough pressure and pace that it didn't take long for Tom to finally finish with a long sigh, panting as he came into Aaron's hand.

Neither of them moved for a moment, all silent save for their breathing. There was something palpable, but they didn't quite know what to say or do, so they just stayed in this little moment. It was so different to the mood they had created before, intimate in a very different way. Tom's eyes were half-mast, indicative of his fatigue after something so intense. But Aaron could still see the vulnerability there, and it made him so appreciative. Sure, they had had fun, but Aaron still recognised this had been a big ask, and he was aware of the trust that must be between them for it to have even been possible.

"Thank you, Tom," Aaron finally said quietly.

Tom smiled a little. "You're welcome."

Aaron wasn't sure what prompted it, but he cleared his throat, and they parted. Tom grabbed the couch to stand up, then pulled up his pants and tucked his shirt back in. Aaron grabbed some tissues from his desk and used the small bottle of hand sanitiser, offering some to Tom. They were reforming their facades piece by piece. It wasn't like they were pretending this didn't happen. They were just putting it aside, acknowledging it was there but also recognising there was a time and a place, and right now, they had other things to focus on. The nature of the relationship between them was professional again.

"You know another time, you should take me to one of your clubs," Kirkman suggested.

"Sir, I-" He still couldn't quite process what he had heard. "You do realise what a terrible idea this is. You might be a progressive president, but there is a line we draw regarding places for you to be seen."

Kirkman just laughed. It was amazing how quickly Aaron had dropped his commanding act and now was his advisor again, worried about risks and image. "But that's just it, Aaron. Nobody in their right mind would believe it's actually me. They'd think I was some imposter or lookalike because if a president had those kinds of needs, they wouldn't be doing that so publicly."

Admittedly, the logic held up, and if his theory was correct, Kirkman wasn't just insisting out of selflessness; he craved that experience, but as much as a part of him wanted to give his sub all he wanted, Aaron still didn't like it. Way too many risks for them to be seen together at a sex club.

"Or…" Kirkman lowered his voice. "We can just make this a recurring appointment in my calendar. Save us the trouble of having to make the trip and risk exposing ourselves. This way, I get you all to myself."

His eyes widened as Kirkman walked towards the door, stopping only to pick up and reattach the pin on his lapel like he hadn't just insinuated that he would like to keepdoing this.

But if Kirkman did… then he sure as hell did, too.